#woke up with a newfound love

[moonpascal]

BEN BARNES ll 42

[i-am-church-the-cat]

my circadian rhythm needs to stop

[liliacamethyst]

Web of Secrets - Miguel O'Hara 

Miguel O'Hara x SpiderSun Reader

words: 3.7K

warnings: secret pregnancy trope, swearing, angst, heartbreak, grumpy/sunshine, smut

Part I Part II Part III Part IV

In your universe, you are known as the Sun Spider. It all started on a school field trip to a solar energy research center, where you were accidentally exposed to a spider that had been subjected to intense solar radiation. You woke up with a white-hot surge of power, and your life changed forever. You donned a suit of pure white, taking the name that reflected both your newfound abilities and the brightness you brought into the world: Spider-Sun.

Your ability to harness solar energy and transform it into powerful blasts or create protective shields made you a formidable superhero in your home city, Nea Yorkey. Your ability to bring light to even the darkest corners of your city earned you the love of its citizens.

However, everything changed when you were suddenly pulled into the Spider-Verse.

Upon arriving, you were greeted by the gruff leader of this interdimensional team of Spider-People, Miguel O'Hara. His reputation preceded him - the genius intellect, the imposing figure, the gruff demeanor. Everyone respected him, and some even feared him. You, on the other hand, were drawn to him. There was something about that guarded demeanor that called to your own sunny nature.

You became an integral part of the team, fighting off anomalies and working hard to maintain the balance in the Spider-Verse. And despite Miguel's stern exterior, you felt yourself falling for him.

One mission was particularly rough, and you found yourself alone with Miguel in a safe house, nursing your wounds. His usually stern face softened as he tended to your injuries. The distance that he usually maintained was nowhere to be seen.

"Thank you, Miguel," you whispered.

He looked at you, his usually hard eyes soft. "You fought well, mi sol."

There was a moment of silence, a strange tension hanging in the air. Then, Miguel leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was filled with unexpected passion.

In that moment, you were not the Sun Spider, and he was not the Spider-Man 2099. You were just two people, seeking solace in each other.

Afterwards, as you laid side by side, Miguel turned to you, a serious look on his face. "This...this can't be more than what it is. Just...you know, stress relief," he muttered, his voice just above a whisper.

His words wounded you. Naturally, they did. He had reduced your relationship to mere stress relief, as if you were some object devoid of feelings. Yet, in spite of it all, you fell for him. Perhaps you were naive, even foolish, but you didn't care. You yearned for him and were ready to accept any fraction of affection he was willing to offer, no matter how small.

During the day, as you fought alongside him against the anomalies threatening the Spider-Verse, his attention toward you was sparse. He mostly shared only necessary information, barely making eye contact. Sometimes he didn't speak at all, and you and the rest of the team would receive mission orders and briefings from Lyla, his AI assistant.

But at night, when the two of you were alone, he became a different person. He'd whisper praises into your ear, telling you how exceptionally you fought, how much he desired you. He showed you his hidden vulnerability under the cover of darkness, the sheets their only witness. He'd gently stroke your hair and peppered your jaw and temple with kisses until you fell asleep, only for you to wake up the next morning to an empty, cold spot where he once lay.

This cycle - his coldness by day, and the fervor by night - repeated itself relentlessly for months.

And so, this is how you find yourself: disoriented, frenzied, and on the verge of tears, seated on the couch of your best friend, Peter B. Parker, in Earth-616. Cradled in your arms is his sweet daughter, Mayday, who, with her innocent touch, tries to console you. Yet her wide eyes dart anxiously to her father, reflecting her own alarm at your distress.

Peter rubs his chin thoughtfully. "Maybe we should wait until MJ gets home?" he suggests, then, with a furrowed brow, he asks, “Have you tried talking to Jess about this?”

You shake your head vigorously. "No, I haven't told anyone. I have no idea what to do," you confess, your voice breaking.

Peter, ever the caring friend, gently takes Mayday from your arms and sets her down. He turns back to face you with a sympathetic gaze. “Do you..eh.. know who the father is?” he inquires softly.

You shake your head again, even though deep down, you know the truth. “The father is out of the picture. He doesn’t know, and he never will because he doesn’t want kids,” you whisper, fighting back tears.

As you and Peter sit down on the couch in his cozy living room, you find a sense of comfort being around him. His experience as both a superhero and a parent seems like it could be a beacon in this storm you're facing. The room is quiet, save for the soft ticking of a clock on the wall.

“You know, Peter,” you begin, your voice almost a whisper. “I’m terrified. What if the baby has powers? How am I going to protect them, especially if...if I can’t stop fighting anomalies?”

Peter looks thoughtful. “That’s a valid concern. First, you should know that you don’t have to do this alone. There’s a whole community of us, and we stick together. If the child does have powers, she or he will be badass like Mayday, right?”

You nod slowly but then anxieties pile on top of each other in your mind. “But... how can I hide this? Nobody and I mean nobody is supposed to know that I’m pregnant. Especially not...” You trail off, not finishing the sentence.

Peter rubs his chin, deep in thought. “We could look into modifying your suit, maybe talk to some tech geniuses in the Spider-Verse about creating something that can shield or conceal the pregnancy.”

You roll your eyes. “That kinda defies the ‘nobody is allowed to know ‘ordeal, Peter. You have to promise me that this stays between us.”

“I promise,” Peter says sincerely.

Silence fills the room again, and then you voice another fear. “Peter, what if...what if I’m not a good mother? What if I mess this up?”

Peter smiles warmly. “You know, I had those same fears when Mayday was born. I think it’s normal for any parent. But, take it from me, the fact that you’re worried about being a good parent means you’re already on the right track. You’ve got a good heart. Trust it.”

You look down at your hands, fingers interlaced. “Thank you, Peter. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“You’ll never have to find out,” he says with a reassuring smile. “We’re family, in this weird, Spider-Verse kind of way. But maybe… and I am sayig this as a father myself… reconsider telling the father. I can’t imagine any guy wanting to give up this.” He says, pointing to his precious daughter playing with a napkin she found on the floor.

"Maybe you should reconsider telling the father," Peter's words are echoing in your mind like a haunting melody. A part of you yearns for that possibility. Perhaps you're not alone in this. Maybe, just maybe, Miguel wants this as much as you do.With newfound resolve, you set off for the Spider-Verse headquarters, expecting to find Miguel tucked away in his office, immersed in maintaining the spider verse or as he calls it "arachno- something-multiverse-thingy” or something similar to that.

Upon reaching his office door, you pound on it sharply. No response. Frowning, you knock again, a little harder this time. When silence continues to greet you, you slowly turn the doorknob and peek inside. There he is, hunched over his desk, lost in a world of numbers and codes.

"Miguel, I-" you start, but his sharp voice cuts you off.

"No," he interrupts, his tone cold. "Did I say you can come in? Dios mio, why are you always so damn clingy?"

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. You stare at him, taken aback by his blatant disregard for your feelings. You can feel the beginnings of tears prick at the corner of your eyes, but you will them away.

He doesn't mean it, he doesn't mean it like that. This mantra plays over and over in your head, like a broken record. You take a deep breath, forcing down the hurt his words cause.

"Look, Miguel," you begin, struggling to keep your voice steady. "There’s something we need to talk about, and I think it's important for you to listen to me."

“Fucking hell, woman! What exactly don’t you understand. I’m busy. I don’t care about your little problems, right now.” he barks, not even looking up.

“Miguel,” you speak up, forcing the words out through clenched teeth, “ I’ve never asked anything from you. Not once have did I ask you to stay, to feel the same I feel, to fucking talk to me when people are around. Please all I am asking you is to just ... listen to me, fpr once.” Your voice grows stronger as you speak, a determined fire igniting within you.

Miguel finally looks up, his eyes meeting yours. For a moment, he seems taken aback by the resolve he saw there.

He rubs his temples. “Can we do this later?”

“No!” you shout. “It’s always later with you. You’re like...like a ghost. Just a figure in the hallway. I don’t need a figure, I need a person! I need someone who listens when...”

He glares at you, his eyes narrowing. “Okay, okay I will listen just not now. Whatever it is, it can wait.”

“No, it can’t,” you retort, your voice shaking a bit. “Why is it that every time I try to talk to you, you just brush me off? Am I that insignificant to you?”

He stands up abruptly, the chair skidding behind him. “This? This is what you want to talk about?” he says with a tone of annoyance. “Look, I have a million things to deal with and-”

“And what? And I’m not one of them? Just five minutes, Miguel! That’s all I ask!”

The room is tense. Your heart is racing. His eyes are fiery. It's a standoff.

“And what is so important that you have to disrupt everything right now?” he challenges.

Your breath catches in your throat. This is it. You're about to say it.

“I...” you stammer. “I need to tell you that...”

Suddenly, the door to the office swings open and Jess storms in.

“Miguel, we have a major issue in Sector 12! The anomalies...” she starts, then catches sight of your tear-streaked face. “Oh, am I interrupting something?”

Miguel seems to shake off the tension and slips back into commander mode. “No nothing important. What’s happening in Sector 12?”

You can't believe it. Just like that, he turns away. It feels like your heart is being squeezed.

Jess starts rattling off data and scenarios. The two of them are talking, but you don’t hear it anymore. All you can think of is how you almost told him. How you just wanted five minutes.

Your hands shake and you quietly step out of the room. The door closes behind you, and it feels like a chapter that you can’t read has been sealed away.

The next day you are on Earth-8311, an anthropomorphic animal-dominated universe. It's the home of Peter Porker, the Spectacular Spider-Ham, and you can't help but find it amusing.

The mission: to transport an anomaly, which resembles an enormous floating jellyfish, back to its home universe. It's been pure chaos here, and you are determined to set things right.

The team: Gwen, Hobie, and Peter B. Parker. You're all in your suits, eyes sharp, and webs at the ready.

"Alright, Spiders. Let's round this jelly up and send it home," Peter B. Parker takes charge, shooting a web towards a nearby building.

You swing alongside him, your thoughts a whirlwind. The world around you blurs - the animal citizens, the bustling cityscape, the strange yet familiar surroundings.

The anomaly appears before you, thrashing and pulsating as it floats through the sky. It releases blasts of energy that ripple through the air.

"Watch out, Sunny!" Gwen calls out as she dodges a blast.

You, however, are a split second too late. Your reflexes are off, your movements sluggish. The blast sends you spiraling towards the ground.

Hobie swings in and catches you mid-air, his guitar strapped on his back. “Get it together, Sun!” he shouts over the noise, his punk-styled hair waving wildly.

You shake off your daze and look up to see Peter B. Parker shooting webs to pull the anomaly back down, while Gwen is deploying a device to open a portal back to its home universe.

Your heart races as you focus on the task at hand. You need to get this right, not just for yourself, but for the life you’re now carrying. Your suit seems to glow even brighter in the chaos.

With a final combined effort, you manage to lasso the anomaly and push it through the portal. The anomaly disappears, and the portal closes behind it.

The team regroups on a rooftop. Gwen is catching her breath, Hobie is tuning his guitar, and Peter B. Parker gives you a concerned look.

“Are you okay?” Gwen asks, her voice laced with worry. “You weren’t yourself up there.”

The weight of the secret you’re carrying feels unbearable. But you're not ready to share it.

“Promise me you won’t tell Miguel about this,” you say, your voice barely audible.

Gwen raises an eyebrow, while Hobie crosses his arms. Peter B. Parker simply nods.

“Nah, Bossman doesn’t need to know about this,” Hobie says, and there’s a firmness in his voice that is strangely comforting.

Back in the HQ, your head spins, and your stomach feels like it's doing somersaults. You mumble a quick excuse about feeling nauseous and practically sprint to the nearest restroom.

Meanwhile, Gwen, Hobie, and Peter B. Parker head to the cafeteria to grab something to eat.

As they sit down at a table with their trays, Gwen breaks the silence. “Is it okay if I say that this mission was kind of easy? Like, I’ve seen Sunny take down Doc Ock from Earth-818, and she did that without any problem. So what was that today?” Gwen’s concern is apparent.

Hobie, munching on a sandwich, nods in agreement. "Yeah, it's like her spidey senses were jammed or somethin'. Never seen her like that before."

Peter B. Parker looks thoughtfully at his sandwich, then glances up at Gwen and Hobie. He’s torn, having promised you to keep your secret but also wanting your friends to understand why you were off your game.

"You guys remember when she fought Morlun on Earth-001? She was a totally smashin’ it, and today, she nearly got turned into spider-paste by a floating jellyfish. That ain’t right," Hobie adds.

Gwen’s eyes suddenly widen. "Oh my God! Do you think she’s in trouble? Like, something from her universe? Or maybe she's having an identity crisis! Should we stage an intervention?"

Peter B. Parker clears his throat. “Maybe she’s just having an off day.”

Gwen’s eyes narrow as she scrutinizes Peter. “You know something, don’t you?”

Peter scratches the back of his head, obviously uncomfortable. “Nope, no idea.”

Hobie puts down his sandwich and leans in. "Oi, mate. Spill your guts. There's something dodgy going on. She's always been our burst of sunshine, lifting the mood. But now she's... dimmed. What's going on with our Sunny, Parker?"

Before Peter B. Parker could answer Gwen’s barrage of questions, Jess - Spider-Woman - appears, her belly showing. She takes a seat at the table and, oblivious to the serious conversation that was taking place, asks them about their latest mission.

"So, how did your mission go?" Jessica asks, while munching on her Burger.

"Nothing to report, Jess," Gwen answers, a little too quickly, her face all sunshine and false smiles. Peter simply nod in agreement.

“Yah, all good!” Hobie chimes in, flashing a grin that seems a little too bright.

“How about you? How are you holding up?” Peter asks Jess, trying to steer the conversation away from the mission.

Jessica shrugs, not overly concerned, and bites into her burger. "'M good. You know,  I'm so glad I can finally eat a burger again. At the beginning of my pregnancy, practically every food made me nauseous, especially after swinging around on missions.”

Suddenly, there's a moment of collective realization among Gwen, Hobie. It’s as if their spider senses are tingling in unison. They exchange knowing looks, all of them silently putting the pieces together.

Gwen’s eyes are wide, Hobie’s eyebrows are raised, and they both turn to look at Peter, who simply nods.

Jess, noticing the silent exchange, squints at them. “What is up with you guys? You’re acting weird. Well, weirder than usual.”

“Uh, nothin’!” Hobie says, a little too quickly.

“Yeah, just tired from the mission,” Gwen adds, trying to play it cool.

Jess rolls her eyes and stands up. “Alright, weirdos. I’m gonna go find some normal people to talk to,” she says jokingly and walks away.

After she leaves, the trio leans in.

“Sunny’s pregnant, isn’t she?” Gwen whispers.

Hobie's eyes are as wide as saucers. “That would explain everything!”

Peter B. Parker nods. “We need to be there for her, but remember, it’s her news to share when she’s ready.”

They make a pact to support you without pushing you to reveal anything before you're ready.

As you walk back into the cafeteria, you find your friends huddled together. They break apart when they see you and welcome you back with smiles and light conversation, but something in their demeanor is different but you can’t put your finger on it. They are being more attentive, considerate, and frankly, a little too curious about your well-being.

"Are you sure you're okay, Sunny?" Gwen asks for the third time since you sat down. Her concern is genuine, but her intensity is slightly off-putting.

"Yeah, do you need anything?" Hobie offers, his eyes gleaming with unspoken curiosity. "Food, drink, or maybe... pickles?" Pickles? Thats oddly specific.

There's a burst of laughter from Gwen, and even Peter is suppressing a chuckle.

"What's up with the pickles?" You ask, looking at them suspiciously.

"Oh, nothing!" Gwen says, a little too quickly, trying to hold back her laughter.

"Hmm, pickles and ice cream, a weird combo, innit?" Hobie wonders aloud, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

Again, there's suppressed laughter, and you look at each of them, a realization slowly dawning on you. You turn to Peter, your gaze steady and serious. "You told them, didn't you?" Peter looks shocked, but quickly composes himself. "I didn't exactly tell them, per se," he confesses, "I might've confirmed their suspicions when they asked, but they figured it out on their own. Spider senses and all that jazz.”

Before you could respond, Gwen and Hobie jump in, both talking over each other in an attempt to apologize.

"We're sorry, Sunny," Gwen says sincerely. "We didn't mean to invade your privacy, it's just that... we're worried about you. Please don’t be mad."

Hobie nods, adding, "And we're right behind ya, whatever comes our way. We've got your back, no doubt about it."

You are happy, while the situation isn't ideal, but at least you're not alone. You have friends who care about you and, despite their unconventional way of showing it, they are there for you. You smile, comforted by their concern, and grateful for their support.

"Yeah," you finally say, "I guess we’re gonna need a lot more pickles and ice cream around here, huh?"

“Sooo...who’s the dad? Is he hot?” Gwen, leaning on the table with her elbows, asks shyly after a while.

You let out a long sigh, “He’s very hot... but also a colossal jerk.”

Peter raises an eyebrow. “You took my advice and talked to him then?”

You shake your head, your eyes starting to well up. “No, I tried. But he wouldn’t listen to me. He was busy, and I guess I wasn’t important enough. So, the baby won’t be either,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Hobie's eyes narrow, and his face is flushed with anger. "Who's this bloke, eh? I swear on me nan's grave, I'll give him a right proper earful! No one treats our Sunny like a tosser and gets away with it!"

Gwen jumps in, her eyes wide with speculation, “Wait, is he a Spider? Is it Peter? Or the other Peter? Or—”

“Guys, guys!” you cut them off, your voice cracking. “Please, it doesn’t matter. He made it clear where I stand, and it’s not with him.”

There’s a silence that settles over the table as your friends look at each other and then back to you. Their faces are a mix of concern, sadness, and frustration.

Peter B. is the first to break the silence. “You don’t have to go through this alone. You’ve got us. If the dad doesn’t want to step up, then he’s missing out on something amazing.”

Gwen nods, her eyes firm with resolve. “Yeah, we’re family. We’ve got your back, no matter what.”

Hobie, still fuming, finally calms down enough to say, "All you gotta do is whistle, love, and we'll be there in a blink. Even if it means thumping some manners into this mystery idiot."

You can't help but crack a small smile, despite the tears. You’re overwhelmed by the love and support your friends are giving you.

“Thanks, guys. You don't know how much this means to me.” 

They all reach out and there’s a group hug right in the middle of the cafeteria. You didn’t know how much you needed this until it happened.

Part 2 “Webs of Fate”

a/n: Thank you guys for all your love on this fic so far.I really appreciate each like, comment, reblog <3. I still can’t reply to your comments so please if you want to tagged (and are not already) comment on part 2 and I’ll do my best and add you.Also I am open to requests, critic and wishes. Have a wonderful day. xx

[somewhatsentientspellbook]

There's just something so fascinating about the way the Exandrian pantheon has decided to handle the Aeor Situation™ - by electing a few of their kind to be born as mortals in order to infiltrate the city.

The first to bring herself low was Ioun, and I can only imagine how lonely that must have been for her. To feel infinite wisdom creeping into her adolescent mind? To rise through Aeor's ranks knowing what they'd do to her if the authorities discovered the truth of her existence? Waiting, hoping, perhaps even praying that the other gods would follow through with the plan.

Sarenrae has a husband and children as Trist. I can't help but consider the parallels to Liliana Temult, with a 'higher calling' pulling a mother away from her family. The conversations in the temple suggest that she would have been aware of what she was by the time she started her family. Yet she loves them, cherishes them, even knowing that she might not see them again. Will Amaris, Haylie, and Topher learn that Trist is a goddess? Or will that only be discovered when they find their way to her realm in Elysium?

The Matron was once mortal, and she willingly returned to that form in order to help her newfound siblings dismantle the Aeorian threat. Her steward since childhood was Purvan, helping raise and guide her despite his old age. Imagine being a little girl, guarded by the Champion of Ravens himself and his wolven companion, completely unaware of your own divinity until later in life. Imagine the night she woke up, remembering her ascendency, seeing Purvan and recognising him.

And what of the families that gave birth to and raised the four Betrayer Gods? What of the halfling family who watched their precocious daughter scale a fence with far too much ease than it should be? The day the tortle's parents found him crying in pain and tearing at his skin to distract himself from a memory so distant and yet so real? Or Milo, who became a priest, not to follow in the light of the Dawnfather (like his parents may have thought), but to mock his brother even as a mortal?

These gods spent entire childhoods with families and friends, taking refuge from the skirmishes caused by their other siblings. Who, despite those similarities, have very different opinions of humanity, of Aeor, and themselves.

[tommyshelbyslittleprincess]

𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒐𝒏𝒆; 𝒕𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒚 𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒃𝒚

𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔; tommy notices your pregnancy before you do

the night was calm, the moon casting a soft silvery glow through the curtains of the room you and tommy shared. as the streets outside murmured with the remnants of the day, you lay in bed, shifting and turning. the sheets rustled as you tried to find a comfortable position, your restlessness a silent symphony in the dimly lit room.

lying next to you, tommy couldn’t help but notice. his gaze followed the gentle rise and fall of your chest, the way your fingers absently brushed against the fabric of your shy pink nightie.

after a moment, tommy propped himself up on an elbow, his brow furrowing with a careful mixture of annoyance and concern. you glance at your husband, eyes meeting his icy ones in the quiet of the night.

“can’t sleep?” he asked softly, his voice a low murmur that carried a depth of understanding for your situation.

you sighed, a hint of frustration tugging at your tender lips. “it’s like i can’t get comfortable. oh tommy, i’ve been tossing and turning all night.”

tommy reached out, his calloused fingers brushing against yours. “something botherin’ you, angel?”

you hesitated, gaze holding his for a moment longer before you shook your head. “i just … can’t get comfortable,” you whine, pouting your lips.

he opens his arms for you and you lean into his comfortable embrace. albeit, it was much easier to feel lulled with him beside you. it was a delicacy that had become so fleeting within a few months of marriage. usually he'd come to bed after you'd fallen asleep, and woke before you started to stir.

as the silence lingered, tommy’s gaze softened, his eyes tracing the soft slopes of your face. in that moment, a realization seemed to settle over him, piece by piece, like a puzzle coming together.

“love,” he began slowly, his voice a mix of tenderness and curiosity. “i’ve been noticing things lately. changes.”

you met his gaze, your curiosity piqued. “changes?”

tommy’s fingers brushed against your flushed cheek, his touch gentle as he spoke. “you’ve been feeling sick over certain smells, right? complaining about the food in the kitchen?”

you blinked, clearly taken aback by his sudden but astute observations. “that’s true.”

“ and i’ve noticed you’ve been tired. more than usual,” he continued, his thumb tracing circles on your skin

you nodded slowly, a mixture of surprise and curiosity dawning in your eyes. “i’ve been struggling to keep my eyes open lately.”

tommy paused, his gaze searching yours before he spoke again, his voice softer. “and there’s the restlessness. tossing and turning all night.”

your breath caught as the realization dawned on you, and you met his gaze with a swirling mixture of emotions.

“tommy, what are you…?”

you trail off as his fingers trace your silky nightie that had once fit just right around your curves but was now becoming snug around your waist. his fingers slid down to cup your gently rounded tummy, his touch light and deliberate.

“your hips,” he said, his voice a hushed murmur. “they’re different now. rounder. as well as your tummy…”

you blushed, your nervous laughter a mixture of shyness and surprise. “oh, so you’ve noticed that?”

you'd figured it had something to do with the way you've been indulging lately. you were thankful your husband chose not to mention your newfound voracious appetite. you were ashamed of how unladylike your eating habits had become, especially on nights when your husband didn't accompany you to dinner.

his gaze held yours, his smile tender as he continued to trace over your softer tummy. “couldn’t very well miss it now, could i?”

tommy’s thumb brushed against your knuckles, his touch a reassuring anchor once he sees you flush at his teasing. “don’t worry, angel, it suits you.”

you smile shyly and bury your face into his shoulder. a moment passes and tommy speaks again.

his fingers brushed against your stomach as he spoke, “i think i might know what’s going on, love.”

a beat of silence passes, then, you realize what your husband could be hinting at.

"yeah?" you breathe, staring into your husband's eyes to confirm your suspicions. you'd figured that you might've been carrying when your monthly had failed to arrive for a second month in a row, but it didn't quite register as a concern until tommy had started to notice.

"i think you're expecting." his words are tender, both of you sharing a moment of silent revaluation.

"tommy..."

you hadn't been trying for a baby, though neither of you were opposed to the idea of children. you'd discussed it on your wedding night, and tommy had promised that he'd give you as many children as you wanted under the humble request that he'd be able to have a year to spend with just his wife before adding any new additions.

“i understand if you’re not happy about this, i know you said you—”you begin to ramble, but get cut off by your husband pressing a stern finger over your lips to prevent any more anxious words from waltzing out.

“shh, love,” he murmurs, “‘m happy about it.” your can feel your eyes fill with tears at his words. mood swings already, you think, how did he notice before you did?

“truly?” you look up into his eyes to see a familiar tenderness, reserved only for you and now apparently your child.

he sighs happily and gives you a soft kiss on the forehead.“truly.”

[sacredsorceress]

Scars / Logan Howlett

pairing: dofp!logan howlett x mutant!reader summary: every person has a soulmate. after settling in the future that he saved, logan starts to consider his next mission when a suspicious mark appears on him. word count: 3.2k a/n: good ol'fashioned soulmate AU. this is the first actual fic i've written in a long time so please have some grace. reblogs and replies are super appreciated! warnings: general mentions of logan's past, scars, self-doubt, alcoholism, reader smokes a cigar, mentions of razors, scars, wounds, two uses of y/n

logan masterlist | inbox | full masterlist

It had been a week since Logan woke up in his healed timeline.

For most people, the change would have been dramatic. But Logan was far unlike most people. The initial dreamlike state he was in when he first walked through the mansion- seeing the ghosts he had once known returned to the flesh, unscathed- quickly subsided. Logan had always been a man thrown onto a new path- how he lived life constantly changing to best fit his interests. Now, with his newfound peace he found the most complicated mission of all: what to do with the life he was now free to live?

Even before the sentinels, the battles, the wars- he had always been a man on the run. He was solo, strategic, concise. For a man who was gifted with infinite regeneration, he had solely concerned himself with staying alive. He ate for sustenance, sought shelter for safety, and nursed a bottle to find enough peace of mind to sleep at night.

The professor had once told him that for a person to reach self-actualization they first had to have all of their needs met. Logan had scoffed at the time, assuring the professor that he knew himself just fine. But now, with his problems so solved that they had ceased to ever exist, he wondered if maybe the professor was right.

Who was he? Where did he go from here?

The answer was found in the form of a scar on his hand.

"Well, everything seems to be just fine."

Logan scoffed at the blue man in front of him

"Well it's not." Logan said. "Check again."

Two days after he had come back, a large, circular scar had appeared on the palms of each of his hands. When they hadn't disappeared after two minutes, he rushed to the bathroom and nicked himself with his razor, watching as the wound healed with only blood dripping down his scruff as a remanent of it. Thirty minutes after that he found himself in the lab with Hank, Jean, and the Professor hypothesizing his miraculous marks.

"Logan, the tests came back clear." Jean assured him, leaning against the wall. "Maybe it's time to consider that it's something else."

Logan quirked his head towards her.

"I haven't had a scar in over two hundred years," he reminded her, his voice laced with irony. "I get not one, but two and you... what? Think it's a coincidence?"

Before Jean had a chance at rebuttal, the professor moved to face Logan.

"That's not what Jean's inferring, Logan." Charles reminded him. "We're simply asking that you consider other options. Less... dire options. It could, after all, be a good thing."

"Yeah?" Logan scoffed. "Like what?"

A silence hung in the air.

When Logan had first come to them with news of his scar, the thought had been on all three of their minds. Still, there were a plethora of things that could have caused that. Though, when the tests came back clear and his skin continued to heal from all sorts of abrasions, it felt as if there was only one answer for his seemingly magical scars.

However, none of them were keen on sharing this diagnosis with Logan. One wondered whether he'd handle the idea of his body failing him over fated love.

Hank was the first to speak up.

"Like a soulmate."

Oh that was rich, Logan thought.

Logan wasn't unfamiliar with the idea of soulmates.

Around the time that two fated lovers were destined to meet, there would be a sign for each of them. In some cases they were eyes changing colors, feeling the other's pain, finding their names everywhere they looked. In other cases they were new birthmarks, tattoos, scars.

In some way, the two were inextricably connected.

In his long life he had seen others experience it dozens if not hundreds of times. When the first thirty years of his life rolled around with no one, Logan accepted that he was one of the outliers. He considered it for the best and by now, with everything that he had gone through, the concept of soulmates almost seemed like an old wives' tale.

Logan glanced at their faces. When he realized they were serious, a deep laugh escaped from his gut. There was a lack of light in his eyes that admitted his insincerity.

"So I disappear for a few decades and you all start believing in fairytales?" Logan pulled the needles from his arm, the heart rate monitor going flat as he did. "What a bunch of bullshit."

Jean laid her hand against his chest, urging him back into the seat.

"Logan." She soothed him. "This is a good thing. Scott and I-"

Oh this was real rich.

"Scott and you are... what, huh?" Logan urged. "Soulmates?"

Logan scoffed, swiping Jean's hand from his chest.

"Bet you're so happy with your 'soulmate' and that's why you lead me on, huh? That it? You're happy?" He taunted, a dark laugh escaping him once more. "Spare me-"

"Logan, that's enough!"

The professor's voice echoed against the linoleum walls of the lab, reverberating off of the medical equipment throughout.

"If you want to wallow in your own self-deprivation, be my guest, but spare the rest of us your grief." Charles continued. "I think it would be best if you go back to your quarters and consider the future the universe has offered you."

The energy in the air was thick.

Jean and Hank avoided Logan’s eye contact while the professor’s nearly burned a whole through him.

Accepting defeat, Logan threw his hands up in the air and pushed himself out of his metal chair.

“Fine.”

Soulmates. Logan thought. Who would believe in a thing like that?

-

"It's a pleasure to see you again."

The atmosphere in the mansion was a stark contrast to the lab Charles had been in days before.

Now the school day had commenced: children skipping from class to class, students chatting with their friends in the hallway, teachers grabbing coffee between lessons. Amidst the organized chaos, Charles had arranged to meet you in the foyer: the replacement history teacher for Logan's class.

"You too, professor." You smiled, reaching out your hand. "I was so glad to hear from you."

Your hand hung in the air briefly, awaiting his return. Charles examined it for a moment- a twinkle in his eye- before taking it. His thumbs brushed against the newfound scars between your knuckles as he did.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but you didn't always have these scars, did you, Y/n?" Charles asked.

You had not.

You had woken with them a few days before. Despite your powers rooted in chaos magic, it wasn't uncommon for blemishes or wounds to etch themselves into your skin. However, you often knew why. These marks, scars, were not faint, but instead quite profound. Three thick, healed over wounds patched together like a stitch on the back of each of your hands.

"No professor."

He closed his eyes, a soft smile gracing his lips. Though you knew he wished to ask more questions, the moment was broken by Logan.

"Ah, the man himself." Charles beamed. "Logan, I'd like you to meet Y/n. She'll be covering your class."

You had seen your fair share of news stories about the Wolverine. Who hadn't? Though the television had never prepared you for just how tall, or broad he was.

"It's nice to meet you, Logan."

"You too." He nodded, taking your hand.

His hand lingered in yours for a moment. Charles cleared his throat.

"We were just discussing the most peculiar scar on Y/n's hand." Charles said. "Appeared just a few days ago out of nowhere."

Charles nodded his head in the direction of your hand, leading Logan to squint. As if a light bulb had gone off over his head, Logan glanced between Charles and yourself and with your hand still in his, he turned it examine the back.

Three scars between your knuckles. Right where his own claws would be.

Though he liked to imagine himself as the patron of remaining suave, Logan's eyebrows shot up at the recognition. He traced his view from your hands, up your torso, to your face where you eyed him questioningly.

He thought back to the way that he woke up in the seventies, wrapped in the arms of another woman. If times had been different and Logan hadn't undergone all the so-called character development in the last forty years, he was sure that a face like yours would have gotten him in a lot of trouble. You were beautiful, and your demeanor highlighted your strength.

Your face radiated kindness, warmth and most of all, sincerity- a trait that was difficult to come by in a trade such as his.

But then Logan recalled that this wasn't the seventies and you weren't at some bar leading him on the entire night: your hand was in his and, according to everyone else, he was yours.

The idea almost couldn't register in Logan's brain.

"Interesting, isn't it, Logan?" Charles asked, breaking the silence. "Almost identical to where your claws are, hmm?"

Oh the professor thought he was quite funny.

Logan pulled his hand back from your grasp and shook his head.

"Not that easy, Charles." Logan commented before turning to you, a spiteful tone in his voice. "See you around, bub."

Before you had the chance to open your mouth, you watched as Logan stomped down the nearest hallway, his boots squeaking against the floorboards as he did. His fists clenched and released at his sides as he disappeared from view.

His reaction had come so far from left field that if it hadn't given you whiplash, it would have hurt your ego. Instead you turned back to the professor.

"Was it something I said?" You asked.

The professor shook his head, patting your hand gently.

"Logan's quite a complicated man." He assured you. "I'm sure you'll come to know that more than the rest of us. Now, to your classroom..."

Glancing over your shoulder to the void-like hallway that Logan went down, you considered the professor's words.

-

A storm had taken over the mansion by nightfall.

As you padded down the wood panelled hallways, the lightbulbs shook in their glass with each thunder clap- wind swatting at the window panes every few seconds. The pitter patter of the raindrops, although harsh, was comforting. It was almost as if the mansion had been engulfed by the storm, trapping everyone inside, while consequently making the outside world feel a thousand miles away.

When you found Logan's door, tucked in at the end of the hallway, you knocked.

"Yep."

The weight of the door fell against the palm of your hands as you pushed it open.

Logan's room was dark. The only light in the space had been from the embers of the cigar that hung in his mouth, cradled between his thumb and forefinger. Despite the darkness, you could make out his figure sitting at his desk chair by the window, feet kicked up on the sill.

Logan only gave you a quick glance over his shoulder before turning back to the view.

"What d'you want?"

His voice was thick and rough around the edges.

"I came for your textbooks." You replied, tiptoeing against his floorboards. "The professor said you'd have them."

The hand of his that held the cigar waved around. Minuscule ashes fell to the floor as your eyes remained trained on the light and the faint glow of the moon that illuminated the side of his face.

"Be my guest," he said. "Don’t have a clue where they are."

The professor had given you the lowdown when he saw your scars.

Charles told you that despite everything that you had learned- the history that you had known- the Wolverine you'd meet was not the same person. He was a man from a different time with far different, darker memories and enough baggage to weigh down dozens.

Amidst the silence, you cleared your throat.

"Must be hard to wake up in someone else's life."

By now you had reached his desk, your fingertips tracing the lines in the dark, lacquered wood.

You could smell him and the cigar from this distance- aftershave mixed with smoke.

"The professor tell you that?"

"Mhm."

The chair creaked as Logan flicked his hand towards the window, ushering you to come closer.

Watching your step in the dark, you maneuvered around the furniture and sat beside Logan on his desk- pushing loose papers to the side.

"He give you his whole spiel on soulmates too?" He asked, eyes trained on the rain outside.

Soulmates.

Now that was the last thing you expected to come from the Wolverine's mouth.

You'd heard of them more times than you could count. You once wondered whether every repetitive coincidence was a sign that your person was coming. But, when that never happened, you lost hope.

Who got to tell you who you belonged to anyway?

Leaning over, you gingerly took the cigar from his grasp and replaced it with your own fingers. Sitting back into the desk as lightening struck a tree in the distance, you took a puff.

"So that's what the scars on my hands were all about," You thought aloud.

The window fogged as you let the smoke leave from your mouth in a breathy sigh.

Logan tapped his fingers on his thighs, counting the seconds between a lightening strike and its consecutive rumble of thunder.

"Listen, I'm no prince charming if that's what you came here looking for."

Logan's chair creaked again as he leaned back in his seat. His arm draped against the desk as he met your gaze.

You chuckled and held out his cigar, offering it back to him.

"I came here looking for textbooks." You laughed. "You're the one who keeps talking about soulmates. I think you're more of a romantic than you let on.”

His fingers brushed against yours as he took the cigar back into his own hand. Another lightning strike met the ground in the distance, a clap of thunder following moments afterwards.

"You don't buy it?" Logan quirked his eyebrow. It was a teasing question, one he was curious to hear your answer to.

You shrugged.

"I don't think the universe gets to tell me who to love," you said. "If I fall in love with you it's because I love you, Logan. Not because some mark told me to. I just think of it as... a little shove in the right direction.”

The corner of his mouth quirked into a smile for the first time.

"A shove?"

"Like a... blind date." You finished. "Ever been on one of those?"

A congested laugh escaped him.

"Sweetheart, do I look like the type of guy to go on a blind date?"

You bit the inside of your cheek at the name.

Rolling your eyes, you swatted at his arm. You wouldn't admit how much it hurt your knuckles to do so. You'd have to make a mental note to remember his adamantium skeleton.

"Gosh, you're cocky!"

Logan shrugged, "You're the one who likes it apparently."

You felt yourself grow hot at his accusation.

Even though he had a mark signalling his future affection for you, you couldn't help but feel embarrassed by Logan's knowledge of yours. You felt like a child who's crush had just been exposed to the whole class. Was he noting ever glance that you gave him? The way you didn't move when his arm brushed against yours?

A brief pause hung in the air until another thunder clap reverberated against the walls.

"So what's your mark?" You asked.

Logan shoved the cigar into the corner of his mouth. The biting motion forced him to flex his jaw in a way that you would refuse to admit made you start to realize that maybe the universe was right.

And that maybe his cockiness was justified.

He laid out his hands for you. The room was still dark, making the ability to discern the details of his scar impossible. Taking Logan's hands in yours, you summoned your magic into your hands, watching as they glowed gold.

Logan had two large, circular scars imprinted into his palms. It was a clear indicator of your own magical power that surged from your hands.

It left a feeling you couldn't describe in your chest to know that someone else was marked for you. They were destined for you. To be with you. You had a future written together before the two of you had met. Even if he rejected you, there was a sign etched into his skin that bound the two of you together in some fateful way.

Gently, you traced your fingertips against the mark, feeling the warmth that radiated from his palms.

When your eyes flicked upwards, you noticed how close the two of you were now sitting. You could feel his warm breath against your lips as the lingering smell of the cigar drifted up your nose.

Although he wouldn’t admit it, Logan was enchanted by the energy radiating from you. Whether people hated or loved him, his ability got a lot of talk. In his mind though, he would never be a hero. He was just some guy who got lucky.

You, though? He didn’t need you to tell him that you were an Omega level mutant. Logan had heard about you from the professor: you could cast spells, read minds, reconfigure reality- to name a few. You didn't need a reason to fight for what's right, you just did. Again, and again, and again. Even here, now, you were picking up Logan's history class when he knew very well you could be on the other side of the world sipping pina coladas if you wanted.

What the hell was the universe thinking putting you with him?

Logan admired the reflection of the magic on your cheeks and the way your eyes stayed trained on his palms. Your touch was so gentle he could have sworn he was in a distant dream until your eyes met his.

The two of you stared at each other for a moment, gaze locked.

Then another clap of thunder shook the mansion.

You quickly leaned back, pulling your hands from Logan's touch.

"I should... I should go." You said, pushing yourself off of Logan's desk. "It's getting late and I have my first class in the morning."

Logan leaned back in his seat. He said nothing but eyes remained fixed on your form as you made your way towards the door.

Looking back at him with your hand on the knob you made a mental note to remember the image of him with his feet kicked back on the window as he smoked his cigar.

A soft smile remained.

"Good night, Logan."

When you didn't leave immediately, he nodded.

"Night, sweetheart."

Mustering up the courage to shoot him one last smile, you pulled open the door and stepped outside.

Now, Logan didn't know how much he believed in soulmates, but he could be inclined to consider that it was one good wingman.

Leaning back in his seat, Logan sighed and closed his eyes, letting himself drown out his worries with the sound of the rain.

a/n: my inbox is open for more requests! thank you for the request @welcometochilis585

[morose-melodies]

Welcome back! So happy to see that you are doing well ☺️

Since requests are open, I was wondering if you could write some headcanons/drabbles about how the Genshin men (including Pierro, Capitano, and Dottore my fave) would react if their darling, who was pregnant with their child, tried to run away? Saying "I refuse to raise my child with a monster like you!"

what it takes to love | various yandere! fatui harbingers x pregnant reader

content warning: mentions of blood, idk if childe's being sorta trad or not but I'll still put it here. I'm also a bit rusty so they might be ooc...

a/n: definitely not a drabble... I hope you enjoy!

CAPITANO

with the newfound knowledge that you were gone, the captain was on the way home.

there was not a lick of hesitation, no, he dropped everything. your leaving meant you were alone on a cold night while pregnant. who knew what trouble you could be in?

the captain knew you couldn't travel far-- it was too dark, too cold. all that surrounded the manor was woods and woods. he made sure to wear his thickest coat and brought with him his weapon in case you were in true danger. he saw your footprints in the snow, it looked as if you were stumbling about in the cold.

Oh, poor you.

this isn't how things should be-- you, running about at night without him there to protect you. you should be in the safety of his arms, in the walls of his manor.

he wouldn't try to further frighten you, that must be why you ran, no? he would place his coat over you and take you home with him.

following those footprints, it seemed you tumbled and fell a couple of times. you couldn't possibly be in a good state. (y/n)... where could you be ?

"(y/n)," the captain called out. he saw you, your cowering form, pressed against a tree, using one of his coats you'd taken with you to warm yourself, "oh, (y/n)."removing his coat, he set it over your shoulders and lifted you into his arms, expecting you to comply.

"no! st-stop. let me go, i... I'm fine!" you'd argue, though, it seemed you were in no state to.

"(y/n), no," the captain shook his head, trying to keep a gentle hold on you even as you squirmed and argued, "you're tired- you don't understand what you're saying. I'll be taking you home."

"i know what I'm saying," you shook your head, pressing your hand against his mask, attempting to push him away, "i don't want to be with you or near you! l-let go of me!"

the cold must be getting to you, capitano reasoned, who knows how long you've been out here? you're clearly not in your right mind. pressing a hand against your cheek, he felt your skin, he felt how cold it was. you needed to be home and in bed. "hush, you're delirious. (y/n), stop fighting me, i need to bring you home. you're harming yourself *and* our child."

"let go of me! stop- i refuse to raise my child with a monster like you!"

his hold on you loosened-- he was stunned, caught off guard. a monster? his hand gripped at the fabric of the coat over your shoulders, "is that truly what you think of me?"

you hated him? that was why you ran? "(y/n)," the captain repeated, his grip on the coat lessened, "answer me. is that what you think of me?"

do you understand how that makes him feel?

it's not as if you always thought this of him, this was a recent development. after getting pregnant, he was... more protective. he took extreme measures to keep you home, to "keep you safe."

it drove you mad.

so, when you woke up one morning to see that all of the house staff, including your maid that you truly loved, had been replaced-- you knew you had to leave.

"yes, yeah..." you nodded, a stray tear running down your cheek, "so, let me down- let me go," you demanded once more, squirming, trying to get away from him once more.

capitano raised his hand and wiped away that stray tear, "(y/n), do not say that-- not to me, not to my face," his hand dropped back to his side. he needed you home with him, now.

and that need was stronger than any other feeling he had at this very moment.

holding you against his chest, trying to keep you as warm as possible as he worked on getting you home.

he needed you back home; whatever happened afterward could happen, as long as you were home with him.

DOTTORE

how things seemed, you enjoy causing dottore problems.

if you weren't knocking his vials over, you were barging in on his experiments, and if not that, you'd rejected him when he expressed even the slightest bit of affection.

it was always something with you.

and now, on his day off-- on the one day when he had nothing to do and nothing planned, you ran away, or at least you tried to.

dottore refused to let his good day be ruined by something so trivial, so he took precautions.

knowing you, you would do something so he prepared for just about anything you could do.

just about anything... well, he didn't expect you, a pregnant woman, to attempt to jump out of your window to get away from him.

he heard the tell-tale shatter of glass and just knew it was you-- it was always you. he begrudgingly got up from where he was resting and went to your room, where you were halfway out of your window, bloodied from the broken glass digging into your skin.

dottore sighed, "goodness, (y/n)," dottore was approaching you and you could hear him coming closer, so, you tried to lunge yourself out of the window, to get away from him-- to protect your future.

pressing your hands against the sides of the window, you pushed yourself forward, slipping out of the window, but, of course, dottore caught you by the ankle just as you were falling.

you wasted not even a second before you began screaming and swearing at him, trying to squirm out of his grip, "let me go! let go-" you kicked at him as he dragged you back into the room.

once you were in, lying on the glass-covered floor, somewhat numb to the pain, dottore stood somewhere near your side, his arms crossed over his chest, looking down at you. he was disappointed, but why?

"don't... lie in the glass. (y/n)..." he sighed once more, and reached out, grabbing your arm and helping you stand.

it was then that he assessed your injuries, asking that you stand still as he looked at your bloodied arms and torso area-- it was painfully cut from the glass.

*you must be in pain, no?* dottore mused, straightening his back as he looked at the thin layer of blood coated on his fingertip, "I'll forget about this-- I'll even forgive you for... attempting this," dottore assured you, holding your arm as he began to guide you out of your room, "I'll forgive you, i just ask that you never attempt such a thing again."

but... you refused, tugging your arm back and out of his hold, "Don't touch me-- i don't *need* your forgiveness!"

you'd never hated him quite as much as you did after finding out that dottore had no problem with experimenting on children that the knave gave him.

it made you sick. you couldn't allow your child to grow up with a man like him, "i *refuse* to raise my child with a monster like you."

dottore's eyebrow twitched, though you couldn't see it. he thought he knew what to expect from you, but, you always surprise him, "a monster? can you genuinely call me such a thing after all I've done for you?"

when you nodded, dottore stifled his third sigh and brought you along with him, despite all of your arguing and fighting. "(y/n), you're hurt. let me clean those wounds of yours. since you cannot accept my forgiveness and let this go, we'll have a talk tomorrow."

dottore cared for you, of course, he did.

he realized just how much he cared for you-- just how much he needed you when he felt his heart drop at the sight of you trying to leave.

he understood just then how much he'd hate it if you left him.

a/n: lowkey ooc...

PIERRO

escape was impossible.

with guards at your door, and all around pierro's manor, you couldn't escape.

but, when pierro found out that you had still tried to leave him-- attempting to walk right out the front door, dressed as if you had places to be, he was displeased.

he was immediately informed of this.

so, as you tried to open the gate that was locked, pierro approached you, "(y/n), where exactly are you going?" he asked, stopping to stand right behind you, "it's cold, and you aren't dressed for the weathers condition... ah, aren't you supposed to inform me of where it is you want to go before going?"

pierro knew exactly what you were doing but for you, he could play dumb. it was better than making you feel cornered and possibly upsetting you further.

he could change, he wasn't above it. after all, there weren't many things he wouldn't do for you.

he held his hand out for you, hoping you'd take it, hoping you wouldn't give him trouble-- not now, not when he was in such a generous mood.

you didn't take his hand, no, you weren't even looking at him as you said, "I'd like to go... I want to stay with my family."

your family? pierro felt his eyes twitch-- he wouldn't allow himself to be seen as the jealous type, no, pierro instead nodded his head slowly, "why don't we go back in? it's terribly cold tonight, is it not?" he'd tried to change the subject, try to ease you back into the house without an argument.

"no, uh... I've got a ride. i just need the gate to open."

pierro saw and understood what you were feeling perfectly-- desperation. "we can talk about this tomorrow, no? it's late, (y/n), im not particularly in the mood to be standing out in the cold while you talk about leaving me."

"pierro- im leaving... I'll send you letters and I-I'll even come to visit," you offered, taking a step towards the gate, looking at the lock, that stopped you from leaving.

"no, no, (y/n), you aren't leaving, at any point. how ever you feel, I'm sure you'd feel better if you spoke to me about how you feel-"

"i want to leave because i dont want to raise my child with you."

first, you cut him off, and now you say this? "you're being very rude-- now, we're going back inside. do not argue with me," pierro took your hand into his and began to guide you back toward the manor.

"no! let go, stop it!" you would drag your feet, crying and arguing, "I don't want to be here! not with you! st-stop it! let me go!"

it saddened him, truly, to hear you cry and beg so desperately, but those words rolled off of him. he didn't care at the moment; he just needed to get you back into the manor, and whatever happened after didn't matter.

he'd have a talk with the guards too.

"You're so evil! let me go-! let me be!" you'd argued, dragging your feet, attempting to make things harder for him, "i refuse to have a child with a monster like you!!"

you couldn't imagine raising a child in this environment, in the fatui...

pierro stilled, glancing back at you, his grip on your hand tightened-- then immediately loosened, "you're testing my patience, (y/n). please, just come inside with me. we can talk about this inside."

because there were fewer places to run inside.

(y/n), you truly are a work of art, pierro mused, as he dragged you along, well, he attempted to be gentle but you were making it hard for him.

but since it was you, he'd do anything, even tolerate your rude behavior, since you were his woman and his alone.

CHILDE

when childe found you, whenever that was, there was no telling what could happen or what he'd do. he loved you, that much was obvious but he was an impulsive guy.

maybe he'd take off his coat and put it over you-- you'd like that, wouldn't you? or maybe, just maybe, he'd hug you out in the blistering cold until he felt good enough to release you... which would be near to never.

or maybe he'd react in anger. again, he loved you, it was inconsiderate, rude even, to leave him while you were pregnant with his child. didn't you promise to start a family with you? (he misheard you. you said you didn't want to start a family with him.)

he wouldn't let his anger get the best of him, no. he was better than that-- he was raised better than that. yeah, he was raised better than that.

childe raised his hand and wiped at the tip of his nose, he was cold. he couldn't image how you'd be feeling right now.

that was all more the reason to find you as soon as possible!

he took this journey alone. he thought it would be somewhat intimate if he found you on his own, it would be manly too-- you'd think he's the type of man you want to raise children with... that's what he thought anyway.

you got a bit of a head start on him, he had just gotten back to snezhnaya when he was informed that you had run off a few hours before he'd gotten back.

oh, he was worried. real worried.

he forgot everything he was planning to do-- eat, change into something warmer, brush his hair, those sorts of things, he forgot all about. you were more important!

before running off, you were staying with his family. it was probably easy for you to leave, just say you're going for a walk and never come back, since his family didn't exactly know all about your relationship with him and how he sorta smuggled you into snezhnaya.

he got home and followed after your footprints for a good while. the sun was setting, and it was only getting colder; at this point, you were probably regretting leaving him and wished to be at home in his arms-- that was just an assumption, of course.

when he finally saw you, in a thin dress and coat, stumbling up a snowy hill, he smiled. (y/n)! its (y/n)!

oh, he felt so relieved to see you!

running past all the bushes and trees in his way, he ran straight into you, hugging you tightly from behind, his hands on your pregnant belly.

"are you hurt anywhere?" that was the first question he asked as he turned you to face him, patting his hands over your arms, checking for any signs of blood on your or your clothes.

he leaned in once again, hugging you after being sure you weren't injured, and his second question, asked in a muffled voice by your ear, was, "What'd ya go running off for?"

"because I don't want to have a child with you."

huh, it seemed childe couldn't hear all of a sudden, as he released you from the hug and slipped his coat off, tossing it over your shoulders, "bet you're cold, huh? now, what'd you say?"

"i do not want to have a child with you."

again, it went through one ear and out the other for childe. he wasn't hearing things right, he couldn't be, could he? "huh? what was that?" his eyebrows raised, and he leaned closer, gesturing for you to repeat yourself once more.

now annoyed, you leaned closer, saying, "I'm leaving you because i dont want to have a child with someone like you."

he straightened his posture, backing away with a less-than-happy expression-- he looked defeated. so, he was hearing things right, huh...

"we gotta see it through... y'know that, right?" still holding your hand, his grip loosened. childe had never felt quite so... sad? angry? betrayed? before.

"no, we don't. I want to go back home, I'll see it through with my famil-"

"we are family," quickly cutting you off, he corrected you, his fingers tensed around your hand, "I'm your family-- everyone back at home is your family. we're your family so why are you trying to leave us?"

he bit at his bottom lip as a means of stopping it from quivering but you could see the tears in his eyes.

"are you kidding me? you forced me to be here with you! you think i came here willingly or someth-"

"you promised me we'd make a family together! you said it yourself, so, why're you acting like you hate me?" his hold on your hand tightened, and he leaned closer to you.

he was desperate-- he didn't want to hear this! not from you, not from anyone he loved, but especially not from you because he didn't just love you; he loved you.

attempting to tug your hand away from him, you shook your head, "I never said that, ever. let go of me- i wouldn't... i refuse to raise my child with someone like you!"

everything he thought knew and believed came crumbling down around him, " oh, well... i don't care," he replied-- he had abandoned his feelings for you, for now at least, he just needed to get you home without harming you, "I love you and... I guess, sometimes that's all that matters."

you could figure it out later-- you could learn to love him later but he loved you now and couldn't let you go so easily.

[kvtyxm]

I want to come on here and talk my shit about this whole entire Nick ‘cancelled’ thing.

I am beyond dissapointed with the things that have been said by Nick. I truly thought that peoples were joking when i woke up and saw a video addressing the things nick said, and i honestly thought that it was sarcasm and he didn’t actually say that.

I am autistic and have ADHD. I am really, truly shocked. “stimming out like a physcopath” is a blatantly ableist comment to make.

We are not mad because he said it to chris and we think it ‘offended’ chris like people are saying in defence of nick. We are mad because it was said infront of thousands of fans, thousands of people who may be neurodivergent. Are people not seeing how wrong this is?

Nobody wants to ‘cancel’ nick. We want him to take responsibility of his own actions and stand up and apologise to everyone who he hurt and offended.

When you have a platform, with millions of fans, there are things you have to filter. The second that camera switches on, you HAVE to think before you speak. A lot of people in their audience may be young, Nick saying this can lead to many young people thinking there’s something wrong them, being insecure and embarrassed about stimming, and creating newfound fears that stimming infront of people makes you look like a ‘physcopath’.

The second i saw that clip, i immediately felt upset and hurt. The first thought that ran through my head was ‘is this what people think of me when i stim?’.

I’m very aware that many people who are neurodivergent were not hurt by this. However, you are not the only people out of 7 million people. More were hurt than not caring.

It’s not being sensitive, it’s called pointing out ableism.

I still love the triplets, however i have been EXTREMELY put off by Nick’s comment.

Just because the triplets are popular, and just because you love them a lot, does not mean you can defend their down right offensive behaviour.

There were multiple different things Nick could of said. ‘jumping around’ being ‘excited’ or ‘energetic’, literally ANYTHING other than ‘stimming like a physcopath.’

Wake up. It’s ableism and there is no defending it.

I have been thinking about this for long and hard, because i am truly, truly, hurt and disappointed.

I’m going to be VERY, very upset if Nick does not apologise for this, or worse, if he says something in retaliation calling us dramatic or sensitive, which i’m concerned he will do.

Please stop dick riding the triplets and defending ableism, it makes you just as bad.

[nathaslosthershit]

Emotional Times (OP81)

Summary: Pregnancy was a time full of hardships. Hormones on high, stress of the incoming baby, and all the sudden changes were what this father-to-be was expecting, ready to face. What he wasn't expecting was having to battle his pregnant wife's newfound sensitivity to everything that could have her emotions changing in an instant Part of my summer event!

It has been a rough time in the Piastri household. Oscar loves his wife, he really does, and god, would he move heaven and earth for her. In her current state though, she doesn’t know whether she wants heaven or earth and if he brings her the wrong one she will burst into tears, but if he brings her the right one, she will also burst into tears.

There wasn’t any winning. During moments like that, he just had to remember that greener grass on the other side. The other side where he finally has his own little family. 

The couple had also both made peace with the fact he would be traveling a lot during the season and she would have to spend some of her pregnancy by herself. It was easy while she could travel in the beginning but a few complications cut her ability to do so off much sooner than the two would have liked. And she did not like this. 

“Honey, please, get back in bed.” Oscar begged at 5 am. He was ready to head off to his next race, when he unintentionally woke his very pregnant wife up after giving her a kiss on the forehead.

This made her frustrated, she had finally gone to sleep after spending so much of the night tossing and trying to turn and the minute she drifts off he has the audacity to-

Then she realized he kissed her on the forehead because he was leaving her. 

Now, she was holding onto him by the front door, in absolute tears at the thought she would have to do another race weekend alone.

“Please, my love. It absolutely breaks my heart to leave you but I have no choice. Don’t make this harder for me…” Oscar tried to reason with her, but he was on the brink of tears himself seeing how much she wanted him to stay, realizing how much he wanted to stay. But he couldn’t.

“Oscar, I can’t do it, please it's so hard being here all alone. I know it's cliché but I can’t even tie my shoes. How am I supposed to do anything? How am I supposed to take care of a baby when I can’t take care of myself?”

He knew she wasn’t trying to guilt him into staying or make him feel bad if he did leave. These were real concerns she had voiced before. But he felt so helpless in this moment, almost as helpless as she felt constantly. 

The realization hit him, he couldn’t leave her like this. It was unfair to both of them. He had to do something.

“I will figure something out, don’t worry, Honey. Go back to sleep and when you wake up it will be much better, I promise.” He really shouldn’t promise that when he didn’t have a plan, but he couldn’t come up with one while she was sobbing into his neck and holding on for dear life.

With a few hiccups and a small nod, he wiped her tears and gave her a kiss as he left the apartment. 45 minutes later than he would have liked, hopefully the group he was sharing the jet with didn’t leave him behind. 

She already felt better when she woke up, having gotten hours of sleep, finally. It felt so good to wake up well rested and without that many aches. Nothing could bring her mood down.

Except when she couldn’t get in touch with her husband.

She knew he was traveling, that the minute his plane landed he was off to start preparing for the upcoming race. But no calls and no messages soured her mood real fast. 

She tried to shake it off, she went about her day trying not to dwell on it, trying not to send him threatening messages for not answering her the second she texted him. 

A call woke her up the next morning, well it was noon but she still wasn't pleased. Not till she saw who was calling.

“Oh sweetheart! How are you?” Nicole Piastri asked.

If there was one person she loved almost as much as her husband, it was his mother.

“I’m okay, haven’t heard from Oscar much, that asshole.” she grumbled.

“Oh I remember the days, that's why I have my twitter afterall.” Nicole said, making her laugh. It was sometimes a wonder how her husband was Nicole’s son. 

“Yeah well i-”

“Oh crap, honey, I have to go! But I’ll see you soon, okay? Hang tight!” Nicole said before hanging up.

She didn’t have time to dwell on the abrupt end to the call as a knock came from the front door. Connecting the two, she wobbled as fast as she could to the door, where her mother-in-law stood. 

And then she burst into tears.

“Oh, he told me you were going to do that but I didn’t know it would be that immediate,” Nicole said as she went to hug her. 

Through the tears and snot, she asked “Oscar? What do you mean?”

“He said he texted you, gosh, he is the worst at communication for someone who spends so much time on his phone,” she frowned at her daughter-in-law.

Quickly opening her texts, she saw he had messaged her a few hours ago:

Oscar: I told you I had a plan, just a few more hours, my love. I can’t wait to see you in a few days :) 

Thus the mother and daughter-in-law started their girls weekend. My god, it was exactly what she needed. As much as she loved her husband, this was 1000 times better than what she would have done if he was here. And despite how much she missed him, the weekend seemed to fly by. 

Oscar: How is she? I am only half an hour away.

Nicole: Currently napping, but she has been good! Relaxed and happy. Hasn’t even cried in the past few days

Oscar: Wow, I am almost offended she didn’t miss me more?

Nicole: She needed girl time, you couldn’t give that to her sweetheart. She also needed someone who actually knew how to correctly do laundry.

Oscar: Alright, mum, nice talking to you. I'll be back soon, please don’t turn my wife against me.

Nicole: 😉

Just as he did when he was leaving, Oscar unintentionally woke his pregnant wife up when kissing her on the forehead. Unlike when he was leaving, she didn’t get upset. She was too happy to see him that the thought hadn’t even occurred to her.

Holding him in a death grip, she recounted all she did while he was gone. She couldn’t really go out much at this point, so hearing his mom still found a way to make her weekend enjoyable was a relief. 

“I haven’t even cried over something stupid in a while!” She said as she finished her account of the past few days.

“I heard, I am glad you are feeling so much better, my love. I hated being gone but hearing you had a wonderful time makes me so happy.” He said as he began to tear up, thinking about how awful it was to leave. 

“Oscar, come on, just cause i'm not as emotional doesn’t mean you have to make up for it” She teased.

After pestering him about how his time away was, he remembered he had picked up something for her, and while he bought it thinking he would use it to stop her tears, why not just give it to her while she is this happy.

“I picked up your favorite,” he said as he reluctantly handed her the food he got, shuddering at the unusual combination she loved oh so much.

The sound of her son gagging as he watched his wife eat had Nicole coming into the room to investigate. The picture of her pregnant daughter-in-law, happy as a clam while she ate her food, and her son holding his nose and trying to stop himself from throwing up was a sight she committed to memory and knew she was going to bring up for years to come. 

“What have you got there?” Nicole asked, knowingly making Oscar gag again as he was reminded of the food combination.

“Cottage cheese and ketchup,” she answered. Instead of disgust, the couple was confused by the light bulb moment Nicole seemed to have.

“My goodness! That is what I craved with Oscar. Gross to think about now but I loved it then.”

“What! You never told me this?” Oscar asked, astounded he would be the reason his mom had to eat a combination that disgusted him so.

“I was saving it for the next podcast I did. Think I’ll have to talk about this moment too.” His mom teased. 

Rolling his eyes, he turned to his wife and immediately clocked in on the frown beginning to form.

Both mother and son had the same exact thought: Uh oh.

“You- you craved the same thing?” She stuttered out.

“Um, yeah? You okay, Honey?” Nicole asked, now on edge at the incoming storm.

Seconds of silence went by but were soon disrupted by the sounds of his wife’s cries as she took in the information.

“Baby, what's wrong? Why are you upset at that?” Oscar questioned as he went to rub her back in comfort.

“Its just- that is so sweet, and the thought that- that I could be having the same cravings, is just- I just-” His wife didn’t get to finish her sentence as more wails came out, followed by hiccuping.  

Nicole and Oscar looked at each other in alarm as they realized that this was most likely the consequence of a weekend with no breakdowns. They had a long night ahead of them. 

[vnti-vntiety-recs]

WILD HEARTS (M)

★ PAIRING: Haechan x Reader (ft. Mark)

☆ WORD COUNT: 12.7k

★ GENRE(S): smut, hate to lovers

☆ Summary: For as long as you can remember, you have always had a crush on Mark. Over the summer, you have the opportunity to get closer to him but there is one problem. For as long as you could remember him, Haechan always got in the way.

★ ☆ WARNINGS: Unprotected sex, rated 18+, mature, MDNI

☆★ NOTES: I had to do this before the summer ended. Would you believe me if I said this was supposed to be nothing but fluff? I tried so hard not to write hate to love but my finger slipped. Next time, I promise. Enjoy.

Since fifth grade, you have had a crush on Mark Lee. In the seventh grade, you spoke your first words to him, and by the twelfth grade, you had at least two or three exchanges. This year you two are attending the same college. You would not let your good fortune be for naught because this year, Mark Lee would be yours.

“Five days out in the woods?” Your roommate quirks a brow at you. “You hate bugs, you’re a shut-in, and you’re not even part of that club.”

“Not yet. I’m working on that, and I’m not a shut-in! I just don’t fit in,” you explain with a roll of your eyes.

You had a hard time making friends back in grade school, graduating with only having made a handful. You were the smart kid, the nerd, and the one people would pick on when they were bored. You had a hard time fitting in, but since you started college, things have mellowed out a lot. College kids didn’t care how you looked, how you dressed, or who you were; they had too many deadlines to meet and too much classwork to juggle to really care about those things. You were finally able to come out of your shell a little, and with your newfound confidence, you are certain you could bag the man of your dreams.

Mark Lee was perfect—he was smart, athletic, funny, and most of all, kind. He was the only one to look at you with any ounce of kindness back in grade school. This year, you had created a plan to finally get him to notice you. Mark is the head of the campus activities board, and this year the club is going on a camping trip. You saw a flyer hanging up outside the student center; it stated that the trip would be five days and four nights at some old camping grounds by a lake. This was the perfect chance to get close to Mark; the only problem was that you weren’t a member of the club yet, and the deadline was fast approaching.

“Whatever, you’re still too scared to talk to him,” your friend shrugs while flipping through her textbook.

“Yeri, you’re not helping,” you whine before flopping onto your bed in defeat. She was right; you hadn’t talked to Mark in who knows how long.

“I’m sorry. I believe in you,” she says unconvincingly.

“I’ll prove it! By the end of this trip, Mark Lee will be mine!” You sit up with newfound conviction.

Your roommate smiles in amusement. “Good luck.”

You woke up early the next morning, needing ample time to get ready and hype yourself up. You got a full eight hours of sleep last night, and you were going to need every ounce of energy if you were going to talk to Mark today. You even had time to make a quick breakfast. As you checked the time one last time before leaving, you gasped. You had spent so much time getting ready—taking a shower, doing your makeup, and eating—but you were still too early. Maybe you overestimated the time it would take you to get ready. You still had an entire hour until your first class.

“What are you doing?” a groggy Yeri asks, rubbing her eyes as she opens the fridge.

“I woke up too early,” you sigh.

“It’s because you’re too anxious. Relax—it will work out. It’s not like you’re asking him to marry you.”

"Not yet," you think to yourself.

You needed to go for a walk; Some fresh air would help clear your mind and calm your nerves. There's a trail near your dorm, so you decide that's where you’ll go. The truth is, you don’t have a clear plan beyond the trip itself. You know the first step is to go, but after that, you’re unsure. You figured there would be plenty of camp activities and various team-building exercises. Maybe a deeper bond could be formed through those? You heard there was archery planned; perhaps you could shoot an arrow right through his heart.

“Hey, you okay?” Yeri calls after you, noticing your distracted expression as you step outside.

“Yeah, I’m just trying to figure out how to make the most of this trip,” you reply with a nervous laugh.

“Well, don’t overthink it. Just be yourself and see where things go. You’ve got this.”

You take a deep breath, nodding to yourself as you set off toward the trail. Each step helps you steady your nerves, your mind buzzing with the excitement of what’s to come. This is just the start of your plan to finally get close to Mark Lee, and you’re determined to make every moment count.

You bite your lip in thought, realizing that before you can do anything, you first need to overcome a major hurdle: talking to him without feeling like your throat is closing up. Mark makes you more nervous than you already are. Just looking at him makes your heart race, like it's about to jump out of your chest. Whenever you've tried to speak with him before, you could barely get a word out without stuttering. There must be a way to make this easier. Maybe you could ask one of the other club members to help you sign up? No, you need to face this yourself; otherwise, you’ll never gather the courage to ask him out.

The trail wound through the entire campus, you took the long way to think and you eventually ended up heading toward your first class. This was where you’d cross paths with Mark every morning since he had class in the same building as you. Spotting him on his way to class, you decided it was time to rip off the bandage and get the ball rolling. The quad between the buildings was bustling, and you had to navigate through a crowd to reach him. Just as you were inches away from tapping his shoulder, someone roughly pushed you aside. You stumble into another student, quickly apologize, and look around for the person who shoved you.

It was him—Haechan.

You burn holes into the back of his head. Your relationship with Haechan isn’t really a relationship at all; it’s one-sided animosity. You despise him for the simple crime of always being in the wrong place at the wrong time, which, unfortunately for you, is always next to Mark. As Mark's best friend, Haechan is always glued to his side, and time after time, he’s managed to come between you and Mark.

There was that time in middle school when you sprained your ankle. Mark was supposed to take you to the nurse’s office because he was the teacher’s aide, but Haechan insisted on taking you instead. Then there was the school project where you were paired with Mark, but because Haechan joined the class, the number of students became uneven, and he was added to your group. When Mark got sick, you ended up meeting with Haechan every Sunday to finish the project instead.

The worst thing Haechan did, though, was steal your first kiss. It happened at the one and the only party you were ever invited to. Eager to fit in, you joined a game of spin the bottle, convinced it would land on Mark. Your heart sank when, at the last moment, it landed on Haechan instead. So he kissed you. When he pulled away, everyone looked at him with expectant eyes. You could see it on their faces: how did the "weird girl" kiss? The embarrassment was overwhelming.

“Your lips are chapped”

Chapped? Chapped! From that moment on, you were called "Chappy" for the rest of the year. You wanted to murder Lee Haechan. Determined not to let him get in your way this time, you head to your class, planning to catch Mark after.

Finally, after an hour-long lecture, you’re free. You take your time exiting the building, scanning for Mark. As you turn a sharp corner, you run into someone and stumble backward, almost tripping over your own feet. An arm reaches out to steady you.

“Thank—” Oh no, it was happening again. Your throat was closing up, your brain was malfunctioning, and you just wanted the ground to open up and swallow you. Yeri called it the “Leeffect.” It was like, whenever Mark was around, you froze up like a deer in headlights.

“Are you okay? You’re not hurt, right?” He asks, bending down to pick up the keys you dropped.

It takes you a moment to realize you haven’t taken your keys from his outstretched hand. No! You refuse to let the “leeffect” ruin this. It’s now or never.

“It’s not too late, right?”

“Late for what?”

Be specific, you chide yourself, you’re sinking here.

“The club!” You blurt out too loudly. “Sorry, um, I saw a flyer about your club going camping. It’s not too late to join, is it?” You finish weakly.

“Wait, you want to join the club? You’re exactly what I needed!”

Mark said he needed you, you think dreamily.

“My friend really wanted to go on this trip, but since it’s already kind of last minute, everyone had already buddied up. But if you join, we’ll have enough people to pair off evenly!” Mark explains, his eyes lighting up.

“That’s perfect!”

This was terrible. Mark was supposed to be your partner. You sigh a little in disappointment when he leaves. It could be worse.

“At least you got his number, and hey, now you’re going on the trip!” Yeri tries to cheer you up.

You pop another gummy worm into your mouth, chewing it absentmindedly. It’s movie night at the dorm: Yeri is sprawled across half the couch, while you’re curled up on the other end.

“Yeah, but I still have to go with someone else!”

“Do you know who your buddy is yet?”

“I don’t know yet; I didn’t have time to ask. We just exchanged information. He said he’d text me the details later because he had to get to his next class.”

“Who knows, maybe you’ll be able to switch?” You hope she’s right.

The next morning, you receive his text with all the information. He sends a detailed paragraph containing the location, fees, departure date, activities, and a short itinerary of the stops along the way. There’s also a list of key items you might want to bring. At the end of the message, he includes your buddy’s phone number. You’re set to leave in two days.

Everything was packed, and you were out the door before the sun was even up. You had a long day ahead of you, but you didn’t care because you’d be on the same bus as Mark for five hours! Sure, you had to sit next to your designated partner, but if he chose an aisle seat, you could sit across the aisle from him.

All club members were to meet at the student center and load the buses from there. You arrive and slip inside with your bags and head to the lounge area. Not expecting to be the first one to show up, you text your buddy to let them know you’re waiting.

You stay positive—nothing could ruin your chance to get close to Mark. People start arriving along with their buddies, and everyone slowly pairs up, but you’re still left alone. Mark finally shows up, and as the leader, he gathers everyone to go over the rules and what to expect for the trip. You’re instructed to sit next to your buddy on the bus, stick with them at rest stops, and stay together if you visit a gift shop. You understand the need for caution, especially when traveling far from campus, but you can't help feeling a bit stifled.

It isn’t long before it’s time to load the bus, and your buddy still hasn’t arrived. You wait in line to pack your bags into the additional storage space under the bus, hoping your buddy will show up soon.

“Dude! What took you so long? I thought you weren’t going to make it!” Mark’s voice cuts through the crowd.

You glance over your shoulder and tighten your grip on your bag at the sight.

“Overslept, sorry,” another voice responds.

Lee Haechan was catching his breath as Mark filled him in on the details. You had a suspicion, and despite your best efforts to dismiss it (such as sacrificing a small child the previous evening to ensure it wasn’t true) there was no denying it now. As he strode up next to you, it became an undeniable reality.

Lee Haechan was your designated trip buddy.

“So, you’re my partner? Nice to meet you. I’m Donghyuck, but everyone calls me Haechan,” he says, shrugging his bag over his shoulder as he introduces himself.

You scoff. Of course he forgot you. After making your early school years a nightmare, how could he not? “Y/N,” you reply coldly, facing forward and closing yourself off from any further conversation. This could not be happening to you.

This trip was starting off terribly. After loading up the bus, you and Haechan were assigned seats far at the back, while Mark was seated at the front. Haechan claimed the window seat, leaving you stuck in the aisle seat with no Mark on the other side. You had no one to talk to and nothing to look at. You were bored.

The only upside was that Mark was sitting in an aisle seat at the front, so if you leaned just a bit into the aisle, you could catch glimpses of the back of his head. Unfortunately, hanging your head into the aisle to sneak peeks at Mark for five hours wasn’t exactly cool and mysterious, so that option was out of the question.

Haechan had given up on trying to talk to you after you had ignored him for the third time an hour into the trip. You had practically acted like he wasn’t even there. You weren’t sure how you’d survive the next four hours.

Finally, after about an hour and a half, the bus stops for a bathroom break. Haechan trails behind you, even when you tell him he doesn’t need to. As you both make your way to the restrooms, you manage to say your first words to him in hours.

“Seriously, you don’t have to follow me everywhere. You wanna wait outside the stall too?”

“I’d actually feel safer inside. Someone might snatch me up,” Haechan replies with a grin.

You roll your eyes as you head toward the women’s bathroom. “And I’d just die if that happened,” you joke sarcastically.

When you exit the bathroom, Haechan is at your side again. As you both leave the rest stop, you notice Mark and his partner chatting on a bench outside. With a few more moments to stretch before loading the bus again, you figure it’s as good a time as any to chat with Mark.

Mark looks up and waves. You wave back but realize a second too late that he was actually waving at Haechan. Haechan strolls over, and you follow behind.

Haechan effortlessly joins Mark’s conversation, and you can’t help feeling a twinge of jealousy at how easily he fits in. You don’t mind too much, though; watching from the sidelines gives you a chance to observe Mark up close without being too obvious

“I’m really glad you decided to come on the trip,” Mark says. It takes you a moment to realize that the conversation has shifted to you and Mark is addressing you directly.

You take a deep breath, remembering your practice. “Thank you for letting me join so late,” you say.

“It's no problem and Haechan's great! I think you’re going to love him. Hopefully, we can all hang out after the trip,” Mark encourages.

You can practically feel the stars twinkling in your eyes at the promise. “That sounds great!”

When it’s time to load the bus, you notice that Haechan is a bit quieter than before. It doesn’t bother you much, but the constant staring does.

“Is there something on my face?” you ask.

Haechan hesitates for a moment before finally speaking. “You like him, don’t you?”

You choke on your own spit. “What!?”

“Mark, you look at him with the worst case of puppy dog eyes I’ve ever seen,” Haechan states matter-of-factly.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Is the heat getting to you? Want me to ask if they can turn the AC up?” In a bus cramped full of college kids, it could get stuffy, so maybe he needed some more air because he clearly wasn’t thinking straight.

“I can help you, if you want,” Haechan proposes.

You’re at a loss for words. This had to be a joke, but if it wasn’t, you had to take the chance. “What’s the catch?”

“You have to talk to me. For the rest of the trip, you can’t pretend I don’t exist anymore,” he whispers, turning in his seat to face you. “Promise to give me the time of day, and I’ll help you win Mark’s heart.”

“And what makes you so sure you can do that?”

“No one knows Mark better than me,” he smirks.

And that’s how you made a deal with the devil.

Although Haechan was your assigned buddy, you ended up with an entirely different bunkmate. You had never spoken to her, but you did know her. She was in one of your morning lectures, sitting a few rows in front of you.

“Hey, I’m Yujin. I’ll be your roommate for the next few days,” she introduces herself as you unpack your bags. You had finally arrived at the camp a few hours ago, and after the initial tour of the grounds, you had been split into pairs and assigned to different cabins.

You liked Yujin well enough. You hadn’t come here with the intention of making friends, so whether you hit it off with her or not didn’t really matter to you.

“I’m Y/N,” you reply, too preoccupied with dusting off the covers on the top bunk and checking for any spiders or insects that might have crept into the sheets. You really hated the outdoors.

“Woman of few words, huh? I think we’ll get along just fine,” she says with a genuine smile. Her sincerity makes you pause and look at her for a few seconds. You appreciate that she isn’t completely put off by your quiet demeanor. Maybe she’s right; you two could definitely get along well.

After settling in, you change into the club’s shirt and some active shorts. You consider staying in the club even if you don’t manage to get close to Mark, because they’ve really made an effort to make you feel welcome. Despite having just joined, someone had already given you an extra club shirt to help you feel included.

There’s little time to rest. There were multiple activities planned for today ranging from high to low mobility. Mark mentioned one of the activities was arts and crafts. After a long day of settling in all you really wanted was to relax but with such an important mission going on you decide every second counts. You and Yujin head over to the cabin that hosts the art activates and you hope you run into mark somewhere along the way. The cabin is spacious, filled with heaps of art supplies and a few tables set up to work on.

Yujin splits off to find her original buddy, leaving you to navigate the cabin on your own. You haven’t seen Haechan since you arrived at camp.

There was a patio at the back with a few more tables, and since the wind wasn’t very strong, you decided to sit out there. Everyone was busy with their own projects, and you had chosen to make something that reminded you of Mark.

“What is that?” a voice asks. You look up from the glue sticks and paper you’ve been using.

“Origami. Do you think Mark would like it?” You ask Haechan.

“Maybe if he was twelve.”

“Not helping.”

“Okay, I think it’s kind of cute. Is it a star?” he asks, opening the notebook he brought.

“No, it’s a sunflower!” You reply, a bit offended.

“Why are you using glue for origami?” Haechan asks, picking up a spare pencil from the table and starting to sketch.

“The paper keeps tearing,” you shrug. “This is stupid. He’s in college, not kindergarten. What am I even doing?” you say in defeat. You still haven’t spoken a word to Mark since you arrived at camp.

You throw the origami sunflower onto the table and cross your arms. Haechan picks it up and carefully tucks it into the pages of his sketchbook. You figure he’s better off having it than Mark.

“Don’t frown like that; you’ll get wrinkles,” Haechan scolds gently.

“Oh, thanks for the advice! Last time I checked, you were supposed to be helping me figure out how to get Mark to like me!”

Haechan sketches absentmindedly. “Okay, let me think. How about you just be yourself?” he suggests.

Your frown deepens. “Have you met me? There’s nothing special about me. He wouldn’t like me,” you reply quietly.

Haechan sighs. “So you’re just going to pretend to be someone else forever if he does date you?”

“Yes,” you say, gazing out at the tree line and taking in the wild beauty. “If it means being by his side, then yes.”

“Fine, if that’s what you want,” Haechan says. “Tomorrow there’s a canoe race. I bet if you win, he’ll congratulate you.”

“You think something like that would impress him?” you ask.

“Mark likes athletic girls who can keep up with him. If you win, everyone will be talking about you,” Haechan explains.

“Maybe... we’ll see,” you say thinking on it. You head back to your cabin.

That night, you stay up with Yujin, talking about everything and nothing. Despite being polar opposites, you click surprisingly well. You’re still hesitant to tell her about your crush on Mark, but you do share your frustrations about Haechan.

“I can’t believe he said that,” Yujin giggles.

“And after all this, he acts like he doesn’t even remember me!” you add.

“Maybe he’s just embarrassed? He probably feels bad about what he did.”

“Well, then he should apologize!”

Yujin just shrugs, popping another candied rope into her mouth. She’s sitting at the only desk in the room, finishing her arts and crafts project from earlier. She’s working on some paper Mache lemon shark, despite your suggestion to finish it tomorrow in the craft cabin.

“I mean, what if this is his way of making amends? Didn’t he say he was going to help you get that guy to like you?” she says. You’ve explained the situation to her but left out any direct mention of Mark.

You consider the possibility but remain unimpressed. Even if Haechan somehow managed to make Mark fall for you, you’d never forgive him for everything he’d done.

You wake up to a light tapping and realize it’s Haechan knocking on the wood of your bunk bed.

“Rise and shine,” he says, peeking at you from behind his sunglasses.

“What time is it?” you ask, panicked.

Apparently, you’ve overslept a little. You had planned to wake up early, you just needed a few hours to practice for the race but now you were down to just 2. You scramble down from your bunk and notice the empty bed underneath yours—Yujin must have already left for the day.

“Can you step out? I need to change,” you say, ushering him out of the cabin.

Haechan waits outside while you quickly change into something light for the weather. Since you’ll be canoeing, you put on sandals, grab a towel in case you get wet, and slip on a visor.

With some time left before the race, you head over to the mess hall to grab a bite to eat. Haechan silently follows you and sits on the other side of the table, watching as you eat. The silence is thick, leaving you to focus on your meal while trying to shake off the lingering anxiety about the day ahead. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but it made you realize how little you and Haechan had to talk about.

“Have you eaten already?”

“It’s 1 p.m.,” he replies.

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Yes,” he says, and once again, silence falls between you.

You ignore his attitude, he was probably upset you woke up so late. You finish up, and Haechan stands to follow you. Together, you head to the lake to practice for the canoe race later. You find the shed with the equipment and drag one of the canoes to the water. Haechan holds it steady while you hop in, then pushes it into the lake and climbs in after you.

You had watched a YouTube video the other night and thought it looked easy enough. At first its hard to find the right rhythm but when you do, the rowing is relaxing. Unfortunately after about five minutes, your arms start to ache. You quickly realize that you’re not cut out for the outdoors or any physical labor.

“Would you row already? We’re barely moving!” Haechan calls from behind you.

“I’m tired! This was a bad idea,” you whine. Your arms are burning, and it feels like you’re rowing through sand.

“Well, if you don’t row, I’m not rowing either,” Haechan huffs, pulling his oars into the boat.

“Hey! Those are wet—you’re getting them on me!”

“Well then, pull your weight!”

“This was your idea!”

He glares at you in annoyance. “Fine! If you want to sit out here, we can!”

After sitting in silence for at least five minutes, you finally lean back against Haechan’s knees, surprisingly finding he doesn’t push you away.

“The race is going to start soon. We need to get back,” Haechan says. “I’m really going to need your help if we’re going to win.”

You look up at him and sigh in defeat. Knowing your probably being really childish, you pull your oars up, ready to help steer you both back to shore.

As you row in sync with Haechan, he starts singing a melody that matches your rhythm. His smooth, relaxing voice makes you forget about the burn in your arms. You don’t even notice when the canoe gently bumps against the sandy bank. By the time you pull the canoe to shore, everyone else is already preparing for the race.

“I know we just got the hang of this, but I definitely don’t think I can row again so soon. My arms feel like they’re going to fall off,” you say, stretching your limbs after being in the canoe for so long.

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re a quitter, Y/N?” Mark says, walking up to you in nothing but a life jacket and swim trunks.

Your breath catches at the sight of his toned arms. “Um, no, absolutely not! I would never quit on you, Mark!” you say suddenly feeling energized.

Mark quirks an eyebrow at you with a smile. “What she meant was, you’re going to feel like quitting after we win first place.” Haechan says

"I'll be happy regardless of who wins,” you say cheerfully

"pick me" Haechan coughs out under his breath.

“That's the spirit! No one likes a sore loser!” Mark calls out before turning back to his team mates

After the initial overview of the rules, the announcer gives everyone 10 minutes to prepare. You don't have very high hopes of winning anymore, but you hope to at least have fun. You spot Yujin somewhere in the crowd, and she waves at you, giving you a thumbs up. There are 5 teams competing, while the rest of the people have either taken to the stands or are off doing some other small activities set up around the camp.

The race is starting, and once the gun sounds, you and Haechan get into your canoe and push off.

You start the race strong and manage to keep up with the others. Mark and his partner are in 1st place, while you are in 4th, just barely ahead of two girls rowing their canoes.

Your arms are growing tired, and you can feel your grip slipping on the oars. The other teams speed ahead without looking back. You try your hardest to row and are almost close to catching up, but then one of your oars slips.

“Wait, Haechan! I need to get my oar!” You call out, reaching back into the water to try and grab it before it floats away.

“Just leave it! Stay in the boat; it’s dangerous!”

You manage to grasp the oar with your fingertips, but suddenly, the canoe begins to tip over, and you’re falling into the lake.

You’re sinking.

In your haste to start the race, you had picked a lifejacket from the storage shed that was too big and didn’t fit properly. When you fell in, the lifejacket floated up to the surface and slipped out from under your arms as you sank to the bottom.

You lose consciousness, and the last thing you see before blacking out completely are two figures swimming towards you from above.

You wake up, coughing up water as someone hovers over you, patting your back to help you expel it all. You half expect to see Haechan, but when you look up, it's Mark.

"Are you alright?" he asks, concern in his voice.

As you take in your surroundings, you realize you're lying on the shore, surrounded by everyone. Yujin stands nearby, her eyes glistening with fresh tears as she looks over you. You search for Haechan and finally spot him kneeling on the other side of your body.

"Were you the one who saved me?" you ask Mark as he passes a soothing hand over your back.

"I heard all the commotion when you fell in. I had to do something, so I jumped in and went after you," he confirms.

Before you can think about it, you lean over and hug him. Silent tears stream down your face as you weep into his shoulder. You cry so hard that you don’t even notice Haechan’s slight frown that takes over his face as he watches Mark embrace you.

Today, you woke up early for breakfast. You sat with Haechan outside on one of the benches beside the lake as you ate.

"I can't believe Mark gave me CPR!" you gush. "He literally kissed me on the lips, and I have you to thank for that." You flash him a smile as you take a bite of your pancake.

"Well, drowning you was definitely not part of the plan," he replies. He's been a little quieter than usual this morning, and you can't help but wonder what's got into him. "You weren’t even awake for it, so it doesn’t count."

"You're just jealous because I got a kiss from Mark. Be honest, you like him too, don’t you?" you ask jokingly.

"And what if I do?"

“That makes you my love rival and I would have to kill you in your sleep,” you say, waving your fork in his face.

“Only if you promise to choke me out,” he says, taking a bite of his food with a playful smirk.

You stick your fork into his plate and take a bite out of one of his pancakes, not fighting the smile that spreads across your face. A part of you still feels a twinge of disgust at the thought of Haechan attempting to flirt with you, but you're in such a good mood that you can’t care less.

"Hey, Y/N. Good morning," Mark says, sitting down with his own plate of food.

"Oh, good morning, Mark!" You smile at him but can’t bring yourself to look him in the eye, so you focus on cutting your pancakes. You’re still embarrassed about crying all over him.

"I was just coming over to check on you. After yesterday, are you alright?" he asks.

"All thanks to you," you say, forking a piece of pancake into your mouth.

"Well, Haechan helped too," Mark adds matter-of-factly, glancing towards Haechan.

You do remember seeing another figure dive in after you, which might explain why Haechan has been so quiet today. You didn’t bother thanking him at all.

"Thanks," you say as sincerely as you can muster, but it still doesn’t carry the same weight of gratitude as when you thanked Mark. Haechan rolls his eyes playfully.

"I can really feel the sincerity," he says sarcastically. "It’s not like I saved your life or anything. If it wasn’t for me, you would have died and become a virgin ghost."

Mark chokes on a piece of sausage he was chewing, and you kick Haechan under the table. After clearing his throat, Mark makes an effort to change the subject.

"Hey, we're doing tug of war today. I want you on my team if you're up for—"

"I would love to!" you say before he can even finish, then awkwardly apologize for nearly cutting him off.

"Don’t be sorry. I really like that about you. You're so eager, and I’ve seen more drive in you than anyone else," he praises you.

You can’t even muster a reply, only offering him a shy nod, which he returns with a smile.

"Later on, do you want to meet up? we should go over a plan on how to win" he asks.

Your heart races, and you feel like you might die from excitement. Mark wanted to meet up with you to talk! You think you might have died and gone to heaven.

You spend time with Yujin and her friend wandering around camp because you couldn’t find Haechan again. You must have really upset him earlier. You make a mental note to properly thank him later.

After hiking with Yujin and Sungchan and playing a few games of ping pong at the rec cabin you bid them farewell. You know you need to meet Mark before the tug of war match so you head out to find him.

You spot him sitting under a tree, lounging in the sunlight that filters through the branches, much like a cat basking in the warmth of a sunlit window. He doesn't even open his eyes when he speaks to you.

“Isn't this so relaxing? We should just sit here and enjoy the sun.” he says

“oh? what about the game plan,” you say teasingly.

"Hmm..." He scrunches his face up in thought "ok the game plan is to win. now relax with me" he pats the spot next to him.

you feel your cheeks heating up. Was that just an excuse to get you alone?

He turns to you and finally opens his eyes. “You know, after all this time, you really haven't changed. It's just like how you were in high school.

He says, looking you over, like he was trying to piece the face of the young girl he once knew with yours.

“That doesn't sound good. I feel like I was so embarrassing back then.” You snort out a humorless laugh.

“No, you were really shy back then but I always thought you were adorable. I still think you are,” he admits.

Your heart stops beating in your chest. Mark Lee just called you adorable. You couldn't say anything as you just watched the large grin spread over his face. “See, like now, you always get so nervous when you talk to me”

You can feel the heat flooding your cheeks even more, and for a moment, all the years of awkwardness and uncertainty vanish in the warmth of his compliment. “Nervous? Me?” you tease, trying to regain your composure, but the softness in his gaze makes it hard to maintain your facade. Deep down, that shy girl still lingers, and as his smile broadens, you wonder if perhaps some things—like the way he makes you feel—never really change at all.

“Tug of war is starting,” a voice cuts off your train of thought along with any moment you and Mark had begun to share.

The familiar voice snaps you back to reality, and just like that, the moment dissolves into the background noise of laughter and playful shouts around you. Haechan stood in front of you. hands shoved deep inside his pockets as he regards you both. You were sitting shoulder to shoulder with Mark underneath the large oak tree and somehow his fingertips were just shy of yours, like he was just seconds away from reaching out to hold your hand.

“Lets go, captain; we won't be able to start without you,” Haechan says before turning around and walking towards camp.

“We should get going,” Mark says, standing up and outstretching a hand towards you. You take his grasp and he helps you up. You shift your focus, momentarily startled, as groups of people gather in anticipation for the game. Mark’s eyes sparkle with excitement, and his grin widens as he turns to join the crowd.

You find yourself standing in front of Mark in line for tug of war, with Haechan, the captain of the opposing team, glaring at you from across the rope. He seems a bit annoyed as your eyes meet over the mud puddle, perhaps wishing you'd joined his team, but there's no time to ponder that when the game starts and you're yanked in every direction. You dig your feet into the ground to stabilize yourself as your team struggles to hold on, determined to avoid getting covered in mud.

Despite your efforts, you slip, and with one final tug, your team is launched into the puddle. Mark manages to catch you before you fall, but you both tumble into the mud together. Wiping the dirt from your eyes, you see Mark fighting back laughter, which prompts you to scoop up some mud and toss it at him in retaliation. His laughter fades, and yours takes over as you watch him try to clean himself off, leaving you feeling like a kid again.

You both look ridiculous, covered in muck and breathless with laughter, the tension between you melting away in an instant. He glances at you with a mixture of surprise and delight, and you can't help but grin wider. “What was that about me being adorable?” you tease, wiping your hands on your shirt.

“Here, let me help you wipe the mud off your adorable face,” Mark threatens with muddy hands

“No, you don't,” you stand up and run. Well, you try to as you slip and slide from the mud caked on the bottom of your shoes. Even though you had lost, your team was full of laughter as Mark chased you through the field. Just when you think you might escape, you glance back, only to be pulled straight into his embrace—mud and all—in a blissful tangle of limbs, and for a moment, the entire world shrinks to just the two of you.

As you step out of the showers, the cool night air hits you, and a tingle of unease settles in since the walk back to your cabin feels especially long in the dark. Yujin had left with Sungchan earlier, leaving you solo and curious about their relationship; they'd grown really close during the trip, and you wish you had the chance to ask her about it. Shrugging it off, you gather your belongings, take a deep breath, and start the trek back, the soft sounds of the night around you doing little to ease your apprehension.

As you gaze over the serene lake, mesmerized by the moonlight reflecting off its surface, a sense of tranquility washes over you, and you momentarily forget your worries. You spot Haechan sitting alone on the dock that stretches out over the water, his silhouette framed against the shimmering backdrop. Curiosity piqued, you debated whether to approach him; he seemed lost in thought, and something about the scene felt deeply intimate.

As you approach Haechan on the dock, the soft fabric of your towel robe sways lightly around you, a reminder of the hasty shower escape and your choice to skip the communal changing area. You feel a mixture of vulnerability and determination bubbling within you—this is the perfect moment to apologize for ditching him during tug of war and to express your gratitude for coming to your rescue. You sense a warm openness in the air. Summoning your courage, you clear your throat and prepare to break the silence, hoping to bridge the gap created by your earlier absence.

"You can really see the stars out here," you say, settling down on the weathered wooden dock next to him. The cool night air wraps around you, and the gentle lapping of water against the dock.

"It’s my favorite thing about coming out here to the middle of nowhere," he replies, his eyes scanning the sky, sparkling with a mix of starlight and mischief.

"I thought being my partner would have been the best part of coming to the middle of nowhere," you joke, nudging him playfully with your shoulder as a breeze rustles through the trees nearby.

He turns his gaze toward you, the moonlight illuminating his features, and a warm smile forms across his face, making your heart flutter.

As you catch him admiring your star-lit features, your smile fades slightly with the weight of earlier events. You turn toward him more seriously and say, "Hey, I’m really sorry about earlier. I didn’t know you were captain of the other team; I would’ve joined your side for sure."

He scoffs lightly, and that infamous smirk dances back onto his lips, infectious and teasing. "I knew you were going to choose Mark over me. It’s no worries." His tone carries a hint of playful exaggeration, but you can sense the underlying disappointment, mixing with the warmth of the night as the stars twinkle endlessly above, both an audience and a comforting blanket to your candid moment.

“And about the lake, I want to properly thank you,” you say, your voice earnest “I saw you swim in after me; I should have thanked you for trying to save me.”

“Look, it’s nothing. Just drop it,” he replies, running a hand through his hair, frustration shadowing his once playful demeanor. The way he shuts you down, the subject must be sensitive.

Somehow, after all your gratitude, you’ve managed to turn the mood sour. “No, because you’re clearly upset about something.”

“I came out here to get some peace and quiet,” he snaps, irritation flashing in his eyes.

“Well, too bad. I’m not leaving you alone until you accept my apology,” you shoot back defiantly, crossing your arms.

“You are a spoiled brat, you know that?” he snaps, shaking his head in disbelief. Instead of backing down, he stands up, and for a moment, you expect him to walk away to his cabin. But then he unexpectedly pulls his shirt over his head. Your cheeks flush, and you quickly look away, heart racing, caught off guard by the intensity of the moment. The cool night air feels electric, and as he stands there, bare and confident, you sense a mix of irritation and something deeper stirring between you, leaving you breathless with unspoken tension.

“You pervert, what are you doing?” You exclaim, shielding your eyes but unable to resist peeking through your fingers.

“Going somewhere you can’t follow,” he replies with a mischievous grin as he shucks down his bottoms, leaving only his boxers.

Before you can even question his intentions, he plunges into the lake with a splash.

“Haechan! What are you doing?” You call out, watching as his head bursts back up, catching his breath.

“You want to talk about it? I dare you to jump in,” he smirks, water dripping from his hair and the moonlight dancing on the surface around him.

That jerk! He knows you can’t swim. There he is, the Haechan you knew and hated—cunning and infuriating. “You think I won’t?” you challenge him.

“I think you don’t have a death wish. Not before fucking Mark, at least,” he teases, pushing your buttons.

“I do not want to sleep with him!” You retort, frustrated, realizing he’s just trying to provoke you out of spite.

“Not before you kiss him, right?” Haechan replies, his words laced with subtle venom, making your heart race with anger and confusion.

“What are you talking about? What’s your problem, anyway?” you snap, irritation bubbling up inside you.

All you have is your robe, and jumping in would leave you completely naked, but he must know that. He’s banking on it, counting on your backing down. “You don’t think I’ll jump in? Watch me,” you declare, defiantly shedding your robe and standing before him, bare and unyielding.

The late hour feels charged with adrenaline, both of you possibly the only ones awake while others are tucked away in their cabins or lost in the woods. Your focus sharpens on the mission at hand: wiping that infuriating smirk off Haechan's face, proving him wrong.

“What are you—” Haechan stutters, his face beet red beneath the moonlight as he treads water, clearly taken aback by your boldness.

“Save me!” you shout just before you leap in, diving into the cool depths. You hold your breath, trying to swim to the surface, but panic begins to set in when you realize it’s no use. In seconds, Haechan is there, pushing your body against his as he powers you both upward.

When you finally break the surface, gasping for air, Haechan doesn’t miss a beat to scold you. “Are you fucking insane? What’s your problem? What if you would’ve drowned?” The worry in his voice makes you realize just how reckless your stunt was.

His grip on you slips, but you quickly wrap your legs around his waist to steady yourself. “I knew you wouldn’t let me drown,” you say with a teasing smile, and for once, Haechan is left speechless. In that moment, he becomes acutely aware of your naked body pressed up against his; the coolness of the lake contrasts sharply with the warmth radiating from you. As your skin brushes against his, he struggles to maintain his composure, desperately trying to think of anything but the sensation of you against him, knowing that if he doesn’t, you’ll surely feel the evidence of his escalating emotions pressing against your stomach.

“You need to learn how to swim,” is all he says.

“Teach me”

Haechan spends the next hour teaching you how to float. You liked that the most because you could just lay back and watch the stars. The next hour he teaches you how to doggy paddle something easy enough for you to learn in such a short amount of time.

After the initial adrenaline rush, you realized just how close you two were. You noticed the way his skin warmed yours against the cool lashings of the water. You don't know how or why but your heart starts to race and suddenly you wish you would have thought a little harder about jumping in completely naked. His hands hover near your waist as you practice, and in that moment, the usual teasing banter dissipates, leaving an intimate stillness between you. Out on the lake, it was just you, Haechan and the stars that lit the deep, dark sky.

As the chill begins to seep into your bones, Haechan helps you back onto the dock, where he hands you your robe with an embarrassed smile. You quickly slip your arms through the sleeves, wrapping it tightly around your body, grateful for the warmth it provides. Just as Haechan tugs his shirt back on, you realize how close you were to him moments before, the intimacy of the swim still lingering in the air. "So, you ready to talk? What's up with you lately?" you ask, your curiosity piqued by the quiet moments that have felt so different between you two. His expression shifts slightly, and you can sense there's more beneath the surface, waiting to be uncovered.

“Mark wasn’t the one who saved you,” Haechan states after a thick silence, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air. A shiver runs down your spine, the truth of the moment crashing into you.

“Well, sure he was. He said he pulled me out of the water,” you reply, but Haechan’s firm correction stops you in your tracks.

“We both pulled you out, but I was the one who did CPR on you, not Mark.”

Panic and realization ignite within you; Haechan was the one who had kissed you, the one who had breathed life back into you. The memory floods back—soft lips, warmth—and your heart races with the implications. “Are you kidding me?” you say with an incredulous laugh, frustration bubbling over. “Every. Single. Time. You do this every single time!” You stalk towards him the distance between you narrowing as you search for answers in his eyes.

His confusion was palpable as he struggled to grasp the depth of your feelings, completely unaware that for years he had been the invisible barrier between you and Mark. He had stolen your first kiss and now your second one as well, leaving you tangled in emotions you didn't quite understand.

“You cannot seriously be upset about that. Some thanks for saving your life,” he scoffs, rolling his eyes at the situation as if it were trivial.

Anger surges through you at his nonchalance, and you can't hold back the words that spill from your lips. “Fuck you!” you shout, the weight of your frustration fueling every stride as you storm back to your cabin, casting a final glance over your shoulder at the boy.

Your heart raced as anger coursed through you, mingling with an unwanted thrill that made you uneasy. You desperately wanted to push that feeling away; Lee Haechan could only ever make you feel disgust, not excitement. Yet, despite your efforts, you couldn’t shake the confusing mixture of emotions he stirred within you, leaving you frustrated and conflicted.

Despite your anger towards Haechan, he was the only one around lately, as Mark was swamped with camp activities and Yujin had been occupied with her partner. You couldn't help but recall teasing Yujin about their closeness. Being around Haechan felt risky after last night.. You weren't sure how you felt about him. There was a nagging emotion tugging deep in your gut and you were afraid of what it was. Even still, you figured awkward silence with him was preferable to slogging through Yujin's special edition of Moby Dick for a second time this trip.

Part of you was intrigued by the feeling bubbling inside—an inexplicable pull toward Haechan that you couldn't ignore. It was confusing, blending annoyance and curiosity, drawing you closer despite your better judgment.

Haechan seemed unfazed by your presence as you lounged on his bed, absently picking at a loose thread on your tank top. Surprisingly, you weren't as upset about the kiss anymore as you'd anticipated; the initial fury had faded, replaced by a sense of resignation. Given your streak of bad luck, perhaps you should have seen it coming all along.

“Are we really just going to sit here in silence?” Haechan sighed from his spot on the floor, tossing a poorly inflated volleyball into the air and catching it.

“Thank you for saving me,” you said, wanting to clarify. “I shouldn’t have been so harsh yesterday; I was just upset because the one step forward I thought I had was actually two steps back.” You tried to explain, hoping he understood it was nothing personal.

Haechan took a seat beside you on the bed and shrugged, a playful smile on his face. “I want to say I get it, but honestly, I really don't,” he laughed. “I’m a way better prize than Mark.”

You shoved at his shoulder, laughing, and for once, you weren’t preoccupied with all the things you disliked about him or the past he had put you through. As the evening wore on, you both found yourselves deep in an unexpected conversation, swapping stories about your earlier lives and uncovering shared interests in music, along with a mutual disdain for the mess hall dinners.

To your surprise, the tension began to dissipate, giving way to a reluctant camaraderie as you relaxed in his presence. In that quiet cabin, with the day’s light fading, something shifted in the atmosphere—something you couldn’t quite name yet, but it lingered like a promise of something more. Could you two actually become true friends?

“Have you ever kissed anyone before?” he asks.

“Do you really not remember after all this time?” You ask skeptically.

Haechan joked, "Was I your first kiss?"

"Yes," you replied seriously, watching as his smile faded and surprise lifted his eyebrows.

"You never kissed anyone else before that? Well, lucky for you that you almost drowned," he quipped, trying to lighten the moment.

Confused, you shook your head. "What? No, not at the lake. Back in high school," you explained, frustration bubbling inside as you attempted to jog his memory. Haechan fell silent, narrowing his eyes as he searched his mind. You watched as the gears slowly turned, his expression shifting from confusion to sudden clarity, like a puzzle piece snapping into place.

"Chappy?!" he exclaimed finally.

You slapped his shoulder hard, fuming, “Yes, you asshole! Because of you, I had the worst 8th-grade year possible.”

Haechan’s mouth dropped open, and you could see the regret wash over his features. “I am so sorry. I never meant for that to happen,” he said, his voice laced with sincerity.

"Well, unlucky for you, that wasn't your only sin against me," you shot back, your tone sharp as you began to recount everything, filling in the blanks for him. By the time you finished revealing how many times he had sabotaged you throughout that year, the shocked expression on his face almost made you want to laugh—a bemused mix of disbelief and guilt that momentarily bridged the chasm of your shared past.

Another wave of realization crossed his face, and before you could ask if he remembered anything else, he said, "You must have hated me. You probably still do, huh?"

You answered honestly, “Maybe a little, but if there's anything I've learned from this trip, it's that you're not half bad,” offering him a small smile.

Haechan shrugged as he leaned back on his forearms. "Well, I guess that beats being a complete asshole," he replied, and you could see him processing all the new information. Suddenly, a devilish smirk appeared on his face, signaling that he was gearing up for another playful jab.

"If you think about it, those weren't really real kisses. They don't count," Haechan said, his gaze fixed on your lips. "If you want to have a real kiss, you'll need to practice. I can show you how, you know, so you'll know what you’re doing when you kiss Mark."

You hesitated, fully aware that Haechan's ideas were often terrible, but his playful intensity was hard to ignore. He leaned in closer, and as the air thickened with tension, you countered, "Well, if those aren't real kisses, then I still haven't had my first kiss. That means Mark still has a shot at being my first”

"Well, yes, but kissing me is different because we've already kissed. So any other kisses, especially ones done for practice, are null," Haechan argued, his eyes glinting with mischief. "That makes no sense," you replied, tilting your head in confusion. But then, with a breathless urgency, he added, "Kiss me." To your own surprise, you complied, drawn in by the moment's gravity, as the familiar spark ignited once more, blurring the lines between practice and something far more real. You didn’t know why you did it, but deep down, you blamed that feeling you had been trying to keep buried in the depths of your chest. As your lips met his, the warmth and flutter of emotions you thought were dormant surged back to life, leaving you breathless and questioning everything. The kiss stirred a whirlwind of confusion and desire, awakening a longing you had been too afraid to acknowledge.

You were awkward, that much was certain; you struggled to find the right angle, unsure where to place your mouth against his, yet you couldn’t deny the rush of warmth that spread through you at the contact. This kiss was different—driven and lingering, lasting longer than any before. You could feel his energy intertwining with yours, igniting something bold within you.

He pulled away slightly, a teasing smirk on his lips. “That’s how you kiss?” he quipped, and a wave of indignation washed over you. “Go to hell,” you shot back, rolling your eyes, but a newfound determination surged within.

With a fierce resolve, you leaned in again, pouring every ounce of passion you could muster into the kiss, playfully shoving him back until he was flat against the bed. You positioned yourself over him, straddling his waist, kissing him deeply again, letting go of all your inhibitions.

You pull away after a few more heated moments, breathless and eager for feedback. “How’s that? Better?” you ask, hopeful yet nervous.

“Hmmm, not bad, but you could use more tongue and you’re rushing,” he says.

“How am I rushing?” You retort, brows furrowing.

“You kiss like this; come here,” he replies, effortlessly pulling you back into another kiss. He bombards your lips with quick, short, frantic kisses and your shocked when he finally stops.

“No way!” you gasp, eyes wide. You kisses were definitely rushed and a little desperate. You cant help the way your cheeks heat up.

“Yes! So if you don’t want to embarrass yourself in front of Mark, you better practice,” he says with a cheeky grin, leaving you flustered and eager to improve.

The fact that you could count your steamy interactions with Haechan on one hand while not being able to recall a single one with Mark left you vexed. It felt as if the universe was trying to convey something crucial to you—actually, scratch that; it was YELLING at you. Every thought for the past hour had revolved around Haechan.

His soft lips, that cute smile that recently made your heart race, the way his soft brown hair begged for your fingers to tangle in it, and the warmth he radiated that made you crave closeness. You wanted to scream, overwhelmed by the intensity of your feelings bubbling just beneath the surface, pulling you closer to Haechan despite the nagging logical part of your mind.

You tried to remember all the sweet moments with Mark—his laughter, the way he made you smile, and those cozy evenings together—but nothing worked to take your mind off Haechan. For hours, it felt like Haechan had consumed your thoughts completely, his playful smile and warmth overshadowing everything else.

Today's activity was hiking, and while everyone paired off, you decided it was time to step up your game. You needed stories to impress your roommate, Yeri, who doubted your chances with Mark. Spotting Mark alone with his planner, you approached him. "Hey Mark! Let’s partner up; I haven’t seen Haechan around."

“That actually works out, apparently Hyunjin got sick and is sitting out today.” Today might finally work out in your favor.

RIP to Hyunjin, but honestly, that was the best news you’d ever heard. As long as Haechan stayed out of the way, you could spend so much more time with Mark. About ten minutes later, everyone began the trail after checking in, and you felt a surge of excitement. Haechan ended up tagging along with Jeno and Jaemin, which you were grateful for, but a glance at his face made it clear he wasn't thrilled about you ditching him. Deep down, you hoped he would understand; after all, this was a chance you couldn't pass up.

Today was so perfect, it almost made you want to cry. The weather was lovely; despite the heat, a refreshing breeze blew often enough to keep you cool. As the group began to disperse, stopping to admire the scenery, it ended up being just you and Mark. As long as you didn’t glance back at the people about ten feet behind you, it felt like you and Mark were the only ones in the world. This was the most you had ever spoken with him, and soon a comfortable silence settled between you two. Your heart soared with every smile and laugh he shared, filling you with indescribable joy. This was right—this was where you were meant to be.

“You know you’re really cool; we have to hang out back on campus,” Mark says, breaking the silence.

“Of course,” you reply with a smile.

“You’re not just saying that, right? You promise to hang out with me?” He asks teasingly.

“I should be saying that to you; you’re not too cool to be seen with me, right?” you counterplayfully.

“Absolutely not,” he states with a tone of finality, and you believe him. Throughout the trail, you take plenty of photos of Mark and the beautiful surroundings, even snapping a few selfies together. Tomorrow will be your last day with him, and you’re certain that, above all else, you’ve gained a friend. As the sun sets and you walk back to camp with a lightness in your step, you spot Haechan engrossed in conversation with a girl who laughs at everything he says. Jaemin and Jeno are nowhere in sight, and unease settles in as you notice the way Haechan looks at her and how she stands too close for comfort. Mark notices the change in your expression and follows your gaze, a knowing smirk dancing on his face.

“Haechan, huh? I always thought you two would be cute together,” Mark says teasingly.

“Huh? What are you talking about? I don’t like Haechan!” You reply, trying to brush it off.

“I can practically see the jealousy radiating off you. Don’t worry, I won’t tell him,” he laughs, raising his hands in mock surrender.

“No, no, you’ve got the wrong idea,” you start to insist, but suddenly, a voice cuts you off.

“MARK!” Jaemin calls out, standing with Jeno and Chenle. “We’re heading to dinner! We can’t promise to save you a seat, so hurry up!”

“I’m coming!” Mark shouts back, then turns to you. “Are you coming?” With a heavy heart, you reply,

“Nah, I think I’m going to head back,” attempting to cling to the remnants of your joy. As Mark walks away, your resolve crumbles, and you fight back tears, feeling the sting of his words. The realization that Mark believed you had a crush on Haechan cuts deep, turning your emotions into a bitter swirl.

“Well, you know who else would make a cute couple? Me and you,” you think angrily, silently cursing him for misinterpreting your feelings.

You were livid. The emotions swirling inside you were a chaotic storm—jealousy, hurt, confusion—but anger was the one that cut through clearly and sharply. Anger was familiar; anger wasn’t confusing. Fueled by it, you stormed over to Haechan and interrupted his conversation with the pretty girl, who was hanging onto his every word. Without uttering a single word, you seized his arm and yanked him away from her. He followed you, bewildered but compliant.

You dragged him towards your cabin, deliberately ignoring the whoops and hollers from Jaemin and the others. Their laughter and commentary only fueled your resolve. They probably thought it was some melodramatic jealous lovers' spat. You didn’t care. Mark had only ever seen you as a friend, and after all these years, you were beginning to accept that he probably always would.

You burst into the cabin, startling Yujin, who was busy packing for tomorrow's departure. “I need a moment, Yujin. Do you think you could...” You start, but the words fade as she swiftly grabs her phone and exits. The door clicks shut behind her, sealing you in with Haechan. Finally releasing his arm, you spin around to face him with fire in your eye

"You! Always Lee fucking Haechan! Since the beginning of time, you've done nothing but get in my way! I'm so sick of you; stay away from me!" You scream, feeling the weight of your emotions lash out. You know it doesn't all make sense, but in the heat of the moment, you couldn't care less.

Haechan narrows his eyes, defensively replying, “I don’t know what your issue is, but I didn’t ask to be your partner if that’s what you’re mad about. If anyone should be upset, it’s me! You ditched me today and then snatched me away like some jealous girlfriend when I’m trying to get laid!” His annoyance only fuels your fire.

“Tragic! Try being cock-blocked for years!” You shoot back, the words spilling out as raw emotions clash in the air between you.

“Can’t cockblock if you never stood a chance,” he sneers, a smirk playing on his lips, but you let the insult roll off your shoulder—if he wants to bite deep, you can certainly bite back.

“And you think someone as pretty as her would have given you the time of day?” You mockingly laugh, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “Please, in your dreams,” you add, relishing the way his expression shifts, a mix of anger and disbelief flashing across his face as the words sink in, igniting the tension that crackles between you both.

“Well, you didn’t seem to have a problem talking to me,” he says, and you open your mouth to retort, only to close it in confusion—did he just indirectly call you pretty? The realization swirls in your mind, making it hard to concentrate. “You want to know what you are? You’re selfish. You use me to get close to Mark and then just throw me away. You were supposed to be mine, you hear me? You think I want her? I want you!” he declares, closing the distance between you, and as his words sink in, your mind races to catch up, grappling with the intensity of what he just revealed and the undeniable heat of the moment.

“I want you,” he repeats. “Do you hear me?”

Your heart betrays you, racing faster than you'd like to admit, while your limbs feel unsteady and weak, like jelly under his intense gaze. Butterflies flutter in your stomach, a sensation more intense than anything you’ve felt before, and you wrestle with the surge of feelings you'd tried so hard to suppress. But when he reaches out, cupping your face gently, you don’t shy away; there’s no twisting in disgust. Instead, your eyes soften, and you lick your lips, anticipation thrumming in the air as he draws you in slowly, inching closer until you're just a breath apart, the tension palpable and electrifying.

“Tell me you want me,” he murmurs.

“I do,” you whisper back, your heart racing with each word.”

“Say it.” His insistence draws you in deeper.

“I want you.”

“And who am I?” he presses, seeking affirmation. He wants you to acknowledge that you’ve chosen him, not by chance or coincidence but by deliberate choice, over Mark.

“Lee Haechan,” you breathe, almost as if casting a spell. His name feels imbued with a kind of magic, because in that breath, he kisses you, and everything around you blurs into a mesmerizing haze. His lips move against yours—slow and deliberate, every sensation amplified, as if he’s savoring every second. His lips are warm and soft, brushing against yours with a tender urgency. The contact is electric, sending a shiver through you that pulses with each heartbeat.

As his lips continue to dance against yours, the softness of his touch is a gentle counterpoint to the intensity of the moment, creating a tantalizing balance of passion and delicacy. His hand, still cradling your face, provides a reassuring sense of grounding. The gentle parting of his lips was an open invitation to surrender to the kiss and let him slip his tongue inside your mouth. You could taste a hint of his mint gum as the kiss grows more fervent. His other hand finds its way to the small of your back, pulling you even nearer.

You soon realized that Haechan’s kissing “lessons” would have never worked on Mark. Haechan had shown you exactly what he liked—how he wanted to be kissed, how he wanted to be touched. Through these lessons, he had sculpted you into the perfect match for him. You had become attuned to his desires because he had made you so—you were made uniquely for him.

Haechan was never going to help you win over Mark—how could he when the two of you went together?

You’re not quite sure when it happened, but suddenly you realize both your shirts have been pulled off, his warm skin pressing against your stomach and through your bra. His hands travel down your back, gripping your hips. As your feet shuffle, your back meets the mattress of Yujin’s bed, since you usually sleep on the top bunk. You know you’ll have to apologize to her later, but at the moment, thoughts of anything other than Haechan vanish from your mind.

“I’ve always wanted you; I never forgot you,” Haechan confesses, pulling away from the kiss. His lips find your skin again, kissing softly along your shoulder and down your chest. “I’m sorry. I’m going to make it up to you—all night if I have to, until you forgive me,” he promises, gently pulling your bra down before lavishing kisses on your exposed skin. The quick nips of his teeth elicit small, involuntary moans from your lips, leaving you breathless and yearning for more.

“I don't know; it might be awhile before I can forgive you for the chappy bit,” you tease, your breath hitching with excitement.

He chuckles softly, his confidence shining through. “You can stay as mad as you want; just means I have more time to work my charm”

The laugh that you let loose turned to muffled moans as you bit your lip as he seductively licks his way down to your body until he's pulling at your shorts and underwear. You were both covered in a light sheen of sweat already after from the warm summer air so his skin stuck to yours as he pressed your naked bodies against each other. He settles between your legs and nuzzles into your neck as he rocks his hips into yours. Each pass through your folds had his length more and more slick with your juices. You glide your fingers through the back of his head before you tug, pulling him, wanting to join your lips again, wanting to swallow his moans.

You could feel his desperation in the way he kissed you. He kissed you like he had been waiting a thousand years to get you exactly where he wanted you. He kissed you like he had missed you. He kissed you like you were supplying his last breaths. This is when you knew it.

It was never going to be Mark, not if Haechan had anything to say about iy.

You lock eyes before you shift your hips in a way that has him slipping deep inside of you. You wouldn't tell him but you find it amusing how, no matter how far back you looked, you always had strong feelings about him. Weather that was anger, irritation, or adoration. He always made you feel something. He made you feel.

Mark made you think.

Think about how you would get him to like you

Think about whether you would ever be enough for him

Thinking and obsession all over him

The way Haechan controls his hips as he drives deeply into you has you curling your legs around his waist. You couldn't describe the feeling as anything other than drunken ecstasy.

Your breaths intertwined, creating a melody of soft moans and whispered exhilarations that echoed in the stillness around you. The heat from your bodies mingled with the warm air of the early evening, amplifying the intoxicating blend of passion and desperation that lingered between you.

His gaze, filled with an intensity that made your heart race, locked onto yours as he captured your lips once more, deepening the kiss The world around you melted away, leaving only the two of you wrapped in this shared moment of intimacy.

You could feel every pulse of pleasure radiating through you, each one more potent than the last, as he pressed deeper, his hands firm on your thighs, anchoring you to him as if he were afraid to let you slip away. The sensation was electric, sending shivers down your spine, and you reveled in the way he made you feel so completely alive.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmured against your lips, his voice a sultry whisper that sent another wave of heat pooling within you.

All you could do was moan in response, arching your back and urging him on, your body craving more of him, more of this exhilarating connection that felt so right yet so incredibly wrong. You were aware of the uncharted territory you were embarking upon, but the allure was too potent to resist.

He shifted, locking you against the mattress as he picked up the pace, the intensity of his movements sending you spiraling further into bliss. You surrendered to the sensations, to him, letting every ounce of pleasure wash over you like a tide. In that moment, the chaos of your thoughts faded, leaving only the euphoria of the now and the magnetic pull you felt toward him.

“Make me yours,” you breathed, your voice thick with desire as you searched his eyes for assurance.

His expression shifted, a mix of mischief and sincerity washing over his features. "You were always mine," he urged, his lips brushing against yours, igniting yet another spark of passion as your bodies moved in perfect harmony.

As the world faded away, everything came down to this—two bodies entwined, two souls colliding in a moment that felt both inevitable and exhilarating. And as he filled you completely, you understood that this connection was one you had always longed for, a connection that set fire to your inhibitions and awakened a part of you that had long been dormant.

You had no idea how you would explain this to Yeri back at home—how you left on a mission to win Mark but managed to bring Haechan back. You thought back to the way he had made you feel—how vibrant and alive he made you feel. It was exhilarating and undeniably real, and you couldn’t help but smile at the thought of it all.

“Is something funny?” Haechan murmured, looking down at you with a playful sparkle in his eyes, breaking you from your reverie.

“Just thinking about how hard it’ll be to explain all of this,” you chuckled softly.

He arched an eyebrow, a grin spreading across his face. “Oh? And what are you going to say?”

You shrugged, unable to hide the smile creeping onto your lips. “I guess I’ll just have to tell them that life has a way of surprising you.”

A mischievous glint danced in his eyes as he leaned closer, his breath tickling your ear. “You could say you went for one guy, but the universe had other plans.”

You giggled, feeling the playful banter flow between you. It was easy, natural. Just like this connection you had found, so unexpected yet somehow right.

In that moment, nestled against him, you realized you didn’t care how you would explain it. You didn’t need a plan or a story—what mattered was how you felt right now, the joy and passion igniting your heart. You had gone out seeking one thing, and you had indeed found it—but in Haechan. You found something amazing.

[atyourmerci]

⌘ enough for now ⌘

⌘ ⌘

Summary: You’re left in the WLF interrogation room to be punished when you meet your attacker, the girl you can’t stand and one of her groupies.

Warnings: smut, MDNI, !!VERY DARK MATERIAL!! Talks of death/dying & pain but nothing inflicted, dark!abby, dom!abby, sub!reader, slight dubcon but there is verbal consent given, reader is a cuck (i don’t wanna hear it), knife play, spanking, degradation, praise, bondage, fingering, strap (not used on reader), no use of y/n, no physical description of reader, plot twist?? Idk either

A/N: soooo…hey. This has been sittin for a minute in the drafts. This is actually the first abby fic I ever wrote and I thought it might be a little much. Everyone can thank @littlegingerperson5 bc she encouraged me to share<333 I just want to give one more warning, this fic IS NOT FOR EVERYONE! it’s quite dark esp in the beginning. Just protect your peace and enter if you dare. Okay I love ya, enjoy this utter disgrace of literature. 

⌘

Your eyes flutter open to a dark room, your head is pounding, body weak. The only thing you can make out was the ceiling lamp hanging over an old wooden desk. You attempt to touch the drip on your forehead when you realize your arms are bound to ropes hoisted from above you. You pull on the scratchy ropes to no avail, your body was too weak to fight.

You groan at the pain growing in your arms, there’s no telling how long you had been here for, days, hours, weeks maybe. As your memory starts to flood back in, the prison had not been as foreign as when you once woke. This was the WLF interrogation room. Most people never made it out of it alive, but you still couldn’t come to understand why they had brought you here, you were apart of them.

A guttural scream escapes you once more, the newfound motion caused your head wound to trail blood down your cheek. Before you can make your second attempt at freeing yourself there’s a rustling at the door, you watch as two figures make their way in, one much larger than the other. You blink repeatedly as they make their way closer, still foggy from previous impact.

When the figures make their way to the lit desk you make out your captures, Abby Anderson and Jill Meyers, one of the many girls that threw themselves onto Abigail at any chance she might fuck them. You had never returned the same sentiment, you despised her, she was arrogant, selfish, and got anything she wanted from women or the WLF. She hated you just as much, probably since you refused to beg for her to simply give you the honor of touching you.

“Abby what the fuck is this,” you bark with gritted teeth. Abby stands smugly with her large biceps crossed, smirking at your position, “awhh did you think you’d just get off the hook for running off on mission like that,” Jill snickers at Abby’s snarky remark. Your memories start rolling back before you can respond. “I just got lucky enough having the honor to… fix your behavior,” Abby says almost pouting, digging into you.

You can’t understand what to be angrier about, the fact that the WLF sent Abby here to reprimand you or that fact that she brought the little bitch Jill with her. Your face turns to Jill that plays with her long brunette hair, twirling it around her fingers, inching her crotch into Abby’s thigh like a gloried toddler with tits. “What’s the need for your slut of the night? Cant trust you wont touch me before you kill me?” You jab at Jill but remain in eye contact with Abby with every word.

“Watch it bitch! Jus’ mad she doesn’t want you,” Jill says grabbing onto Abby’s arm, bulging with veins as she begins heating up. “Don’t worry Jill she’s all yours…and every other girl in the next 15 mile radius,” you say with a light giggle. Abby never takes her eyes from you, her breath growing heavier with anger, “will you shut the fuck up already,” Abby barks.

With no denial of your statement Jill hits Abby’s arm with a scoff, “can we just kill her now, take me back to your room, I need you abs,” Jill cocks into lust as if I wasn’t listening, I guess it didn’t matter if I wouldn’t live to tell the story. Abby’s eyes remaining on your beaten body, covered in only ratty panties and a cut up tank top that barely covered your midriff. Her eyes clung to you, making her way up and down your revealed body with her eyes making you shutter. You were always attracted to the brute woman but shoved it far back into your mind once she opened her fucking mouth.

“Get on the table,” Abby demands not moving an inch. “What?” Jill says confused, probably unsure of who Abby is even talking to since her eyes remain on you but sensing you are bound at the wrist... could she have at least brought a whore with at a few brain cells to torture you. “Get on the fucking table Jill,” her eyes finally fall to Jill, picking her up with ease and throwing her on the old wooden desk, Jill gasps at the suddenness.

Within seconds Abby rips down Jill’s pants and panties in one foul swoop, then trails her hands up to her blouse to bring it up above her breast. Jill taken aback from Abby’s manhandling throws her head back in pleasure, moaning out and gripping into the blonde’s head. Abby advances her open mouth onto the girls’ cunt, lapping her tongue at her slit. “God, are you fucking serious!” You say in disgust, ignoring the way your thoughts roam to how good she looked taking control of Jills body effortlessly.

Abby grins up at you, tongue still deep into Jill, she lets out a huff of satisfaction. Jill was so pleased she gave no attention to how Abby glared at your body as she ate her out. She was enjoying this, watching your arms aimlessly tug at your restraints while Jill was sprawled out whorishly for her use.

You couldn’t help the aching pain that now grew in between your legs, begging for attention. Abby moves her head up from the girl’s cunt into a standing position and begins drilling her pointer and ring finger into her sopping folds. She looks up into your eyes, head slightly cocked upwards, slick wet on her chin with parted lips. A reluctant whimper escapes your mouth at her gaze. Your response causes Abby to grip her free hand onto the edge of the desk, licking her lips pleased.

Your body becomes restless, squirming around in your restraints, you bite into your bottom lip for some type of release. “God you’re such a whore,” Abby directs to you with a smug look, Jill moans out in the assumption its for her since the blonde continued to beat into her cunt. Another moan escapes from your mouth at her words, muffled enough by Jills screams.

Abby suddenly shifts her direction and rips her fingers out of Jill, instantly shoving them into the girl’s mouth. Once Jill had sucked the slick from Abby’s thick fingers, she trailed her fingers to her belt unbuckling it herself. “Get on your knees,” She demands, which Jill eagerly agrees to dropping herself onto the floor.

Abby unsheathes her long black strap, veins trailing up it, the sight causes you to gawk. Abby takes notice of your gaping mouth and shoots you a pleased smirk while grappling the brunette’s hair roughly, shoving her cock into her mouth suddenly.

The ache growing in your pussy begs for release, you grip them tightly to create friction that sends your head back in pleasure, whimpers flowing out of your needy throat. A trail of slick begins trailing down your dirty thighs. “Not even touching you and your cunt’s that wet, s’fucking pathetic,” she says huskily. Your eyes are directed back to her, watching her biceps flex in Jill’s hair as she fucks into her mouth. You hear Jill begin to gag on Abby’s length as she relentless drills into her, like nothing would be enough to fulfill her needs. “Abby-“Jill muffles out in chokes in attempt to regain her attention.

Whimpers continue to spew out as you eagerly rub your thighs needing her touch. “Needy little slut, aren’t you?” Abby growls at you, ignoring Jills gags. “Abby, it hurts!” Jill blurts out ultimately regaining breath. Abby finally directs her attention down to the fucked-out brunette, “what is your fucking problem?” Abby says gripping her neck with her strong hand, now hovering over her. “C-can you just fuck me,” Jill says meekly under her grasp.

“You’re pissing me off, go back to the room ill deal with you later,” she unleashes her grasp on Jill. She scoffs at Abby’s dismissal as she pulls up her pants, throwing her blouse back on in an exaggerated sigh and huffing her way out like a spoiled brat. Abby had treated her like shit, but your pussy begged for her sole attention.

As the door slams shut Abby makes her way to your hanging body, cunt throbbing with slick. She begins circling around you slowly, “and what am I going to do with you huh?” she parks her body in front of you, inches away from your sweaty face. “Pathetic little girl, dripping down your thighs watching me fuck Jill,” her breath so close causes the hair on your body to spike.

Without warning she lays a slap onto your pulsing cunt that makes you yelp. She rubs your clothed pussy before laying another smack onto it, this time causing a pleasurable moan to discharge. “Abby please-” you beg her with weary eyes. “No… you don’t get to rush this,” she says with no remorse.

Her eyes are dark. Pitch fucking black. Like something had taken over her that you’ve never seen. Sure, you’ve seen her kill people with her bare hands, ripping people open at the tips of her fingers, but she had never seemed this menacing, this deranged. You looked like her next victim, and maybe you were ready for that, as long as she showed you a blissful summit before tearing your throat out.

She begins to pace around you again, slower, inching her eyes up your body, completely at her disposal. Trailing her fingertips gently down like she was deciding where she wanted you first, where she could inflict pain first that would keep you alive long enough for her full amusement. If you died too quickly that wouldn’t be fun for her, would it?

“wh-what are you going to do to me,” you barely mutter out as she’s behind you. You can’t see her, but you feel her gaze, the heat of her piercing into your skin without the need to even feel her. She doesn’t respond at first, enjoying the sight of you squirming under her touch-less gaze. The only noise in the room was the enthralled whimpers that couldn’t seem to be held back- until it was penetrated by the merciless breathy laugh from your capture.

You froze when that breathe was so close to the shell of your ear that it sent goosebumps flying down your figure, “I just want to play with you.” You bite your lip to hold back any reaction, but it couldn’t stop the subconscious tightening of your thighs in search of release.

And she saw it.

She began agonizingly dragging her calloused fingers up the tops of your thighs, inching towards your clothed core, still breathing deeply in your ear. Your legs were shaking restlessly, growing tired of pressing so harshly. “That’s what you want, hmm?” she taunts, as her fingers roam, catching the hem of your panties but never allowing you the satisfaction of pleasure.

“You want to get played with, like a toy? That’s what you want.” She answers the question for you, as you didn’t give her any sense of a verbal response.

“You don’t play nice with others,” bitchy response, but you were hoping she’d get on with punishing you for it. Any touch would be better than this, the lack of her. Her large hand darts to your core, handling you in her grasp, the suddenness mixed with the intensity sent your body flying back into her chest as she stabilized your body with her free hand gripped onto your breast, her fingers pinching at your hardened bud. She was so fucking close now, the heat of her transferring into your skin.

“Never said I did.” Her breath had increased in speed, just as affected by having you in this way. There were no words that could formulate as you both heaved, your body subconsciously grinding into her hand as a groan rang in your ear, finally allowing herself to inform you how badly she needed this, needed you, even if she didn’t want to admit it.

After aimlessly grinding into her hand, she finally began to pulse the edge of her palm start into your swollen clit, eliciting a guttural moan from your throat. As your moans quickened, her speed did as well. She pushed her body further into you, like she needed to be as close as she could get.

“Do you want this?” she says in almost a whisper, barely heard over the desperation in your voice. Your eyes dart open with her sentiment, a branch, an exit door, a way out. You should say no, tell her to stop fucking with you and get it over with, put an end to your suffering.

“Y-yes,” blurts out, you didn’t command the response rather your body spoke for you.

Her hand rips out of its grip on your pulsing cunt that provokes a whine of neediness from you. You feel her reach from behind her, and a click of a switchblade unclasping from the safety of its cover.

Fuck.

The hand adorned to your red bud darts back down to your panties, she hooks her fingers under and pulls them up harshly as she uses her other hand to slice them clean off your body, falling to your feet on the cold floor. A relieved breath falls from your throat. Her free hand now meets the back of your neck to stabilize you so she can watch you from below her.

She begins dragging the sharp tip of the blade from the bottom of your lip down, achingly slow, any sudden movement risking the consequences of penetrating your skin. She gets to your navel when she realizes your stillness, your strategy to walk out of here with no other wounds that you possibly came in with.

She lets out a smug sigh at your determination while she circles your stomach with the tip, “tell me why I shouldn’t mark that pretty tummy right now.” Your breath hitches, eyes widening. “I-I,” you attempt to muster up any plea for your life to no avail. At your pathetic attempt she tightens her grip on your neck, bringing your ear closer to her lips, “give me one reason.”

All morals leave you, the distain you had for the brute woman vanishing in mere seconds. “You fucking won okay…y- you have me. Fuck me like you fuck your whores.”

Pathetic? Absolutely. But a lie? No. Your body craved her, it always had, your mind wouldn’t let you have her. That’s when the tip began its decent down to the top of your cunt, inching down so close you’d accepted that you would get off on the simple touch of the shiny dagger on your swollen clit.

Your body tensed as the tip was so close to your clit if you would’ve breathed too harshly you could’ve done it yourself when you she darted her dagger clad palm above your head, slicing down the ropes holding you hostage.

Your body came tumbling down, crashing weakly onto the cold cement. While she had cut you loose the ropes still bound you at the wrist. She picked your body up gently, strangely kind, as if she was not here enforcing your demise. She carefully walked you to the wooden table, placing you where Jill had been, minutes, hours? ago. Time had left your senses with the connection to the wound now blood-dried on your forehead.

Your legs subconsciously opened for her, bottoms of your feet placed down on the cracked wood. She hovered over you, bringing her hands to either side of your face, closing in on you. For a moment she just watched you, a glimmer of almost curiosity in her eyes as you watched her.

Neither of you spoke, she was the one calling the shots but she just…looked at you, watched as you waited for her command, but it never came. She was frozen over your gaze.

“Kiss me.” You command her. It was a shot in the dark, a wild assumption, but you had to try.

A puzzled look contorts her face, “what?” It landed. She never kissed Jill, and definitely not you. She could kill, she could fuck, but she couldn’t handle the sense of connectedness, vulnerability.

“You know what I said,” you were getting head strong at this point, but you had already cracked her, the true light pooling over you wordlessly. “No.” She says in a breathy scoff, still unmoving from her stance, still frozen from after she placed you.

It was only long shot but your body made it for you, using the strength your elbows still had to hoist yourself up, so close to her face you could feel her breath falter above you. Her eyes trailing between your eyes and lips. “Kiss me.” You repeat yourself.

In seconds her walls break around her as her lips meet yours, hungry, unsatisfied, as if she never allowed herself the pleasure of true intimacy. One of her hands came up to cup your cheek as the other met the small of your back to support you while your arms are still bound at the wrist, in between your thighs uselessly.

Her hands only stray for a second to release your aching wrist, but her lips never left yours, she let herself have it, and now she couldn’t get enough. She would have Swallowed you whole if you would have let her.

As you were sat at the edge of the table, both of her hands met your back, pulling you as close as she could get to you. Your hands were finally able to touch the warmth of her, the scars that littered her skin, the lines and definition of her arms, the veins in her hands. You allowed yourself to roam every inch of her, while you gave her the time to indulge your mouth.

Her hand snaked from your back to your still throbbing core, only intensified by the withheld touch of her. When her calloused fingers met your clit for the first time your mouth gaped at the sensation of relief. Allowing her tongue to enter as you moaned out for her.

She couldn’t pace herself, rubbing quick circles around your puffy clit, your whimpers causing moans to slip out of her own mouth and into yours. Your legs were already shaking, nearing an early climax.

She brought you to the edge without letting you finish, moving her fingers down your slit, gliding easily with the pent up slick she had coaxed out of you. “Abby please-“

Her mouth still agape she begin to toy with your fluttering hole, “not yet,” she heaves out. She plunged her ring and middle finger deep inside you, groaning at the feeling of you pulsing around her.

“Fuck!” You scream out, latching onto her broad shoulders to stabilize yourself. “I know…I know,” she coos.

While her kisses came gently…her fingers did not. She drove them as deep as she could, making sure the palm of her hand left pressure on the swelling of your clit. Your body was giving out, you tried hold yourself up by digging your nails into her shoulders but in the state you were in, it wasn’t going to last much longer.

As your hands begun to waver, losing grip she lowered your back onto the table, never leaving your lips as she continued to stretch you out. You were finally ready to let go, give up complete control to your capture.

“A-abby I’m c-close I don’t-“ you began to breath out when she stops your pathetic attempts to warn her. “It’s okay pretty, cum on my fingers.”

Her words forced you to the edge, shaking under her while she watched you. As you rode out the bliss of your climax she continued to coax you through it with ‘there you go’ and ‘doing so good for me’. You were completely under her spell.

When she finally slowed the pace of her fingers, you lied there trying to regain your breath. Your body was completely spent, bruised, abused in more ways than one. You stared at her doe-eyed in adoration to your attacker. “Can I-“ you began to speak, seeking out the chance to return the sentiment, let her feel the same bliss she granted you.

She shook her head with finality. “That’s enough for now.”

Taglist: Taglist: @wishbones999 @bookpagecandlescent @littlegingerperson5 @lookforthelight1 @fict1onallyobsessed @littlemisslexapro55555

[edenesth]

TWTHH Bonus: Honeymoon Avenue

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.

A/N: This picks up directly from the final part of TWTHH, and takes place before the events of Wooyoung's spinoff.

Fic Masterlist | Star of the Show

You let out a small groan as you woke up from your slumber, feeling a familiar pair of arms tightening their hold around you. Your heart skipped a beat as you remembered where you were, blinking a few times to clear your vision and take in the surroundings you recognised as Seonghwa's private quarters.

Warmth rushed to your cheeks as you felt your husband's steady breath against the bare skin of your shoulder from behind. Shyness washed over you when you realised you were both still completely bare beneath the fabric of his comforter.

Memories of the intimacy from the previous night flooded your mind, and you buried your face in the pillow. It was as if you could still feel every touch, every kiss, and every moment of pleasure he had given you. So, this was how it felt to be loved so passionately. You hoped for nothing more than for him to be your first and last.

"Good morning, my love. I see you're up," his deep voice greeted, sounding even deeper than usual as he had only just woken up. He leaned in to whisper sensually into your ear before planting a soft kiss on your cheek, "Did you sleep well?"

Turning to face him, you nodded meekly, biting your lip, "I did, Hwa. Good morning to you too," you replied, feeling your breath hitch as his gaze focused solely on your lips.

He nodded in response, "Good, so did I." Without hesitation, he cupped your cheek and pressed his lips firmly against yours.

Your eyes fluttered shut the moment his familiar lips met yours. Kissing him back as if it were second nature, you wished for this moment to last forever as his larger frame enveloped yours, the skin-to-skin contact creating an intimacy that made you feel closer than ever. His ability to make you feel vulnerable yet safe at the same time still filled you with wonder. At that moment, his presence was all-encompassing; he was all you could see and think of.

I can't believe this man is all mine.

Seonghwa, equally content, felt his heart swell with affection for you. Caressing your cheek, he tilted his head to deepen the kiss, struggling to control his breathing when you bravely reached up to run your fingers through his hair, gently tugging at it. Despite witnessing your growing boldness since his return from war, your reciprocation of his affections still stirred his heart.

I'm yours and only yours, my love.

As you finally broke the kiss to catch your breath, he grinned and murmured, "Damn, Lady Park, who would've thought you'd be such an excellent kisser." Despite the blush creeping up your cheeks, you scoffed playfully. Moving to lay your head on his chest, you traced patterns on his skin with your finger, "What do you know, General Park? You speak as though you've kissed anyone other than me."

His pride swelled as he nodded in defeat to your response. Day by day, you were increasingly embodying the essence of the general's wife with your newfound demeanour. It wasn't that you needed to change for him; rather, it was remarkable to witness your transformation into a confident woman who knew her worth, having shed the old shell crafted by your so-called family. Reflecting on his time away at war, he began to see it as a blessing in disguise. Perhaps it was necessary for you to undergo further personal growth.

Nestling into the curve of his neck, you pulled the comforter up higher to conceal your front. A shiver raced down your spine as his hand traced gentle patterns on your bare back beneath the fabric, making you feel slightly bashful at being so exposed to him. He smirked, placing a kiss on your neck and teasing, "Are you getting shy now, my wife? There's no need to cover up or hide from me; I've already seen everything."

"You can be so annoying, you know that?" Rolling your eyes, you playfully pushed at his chest, but he easily resisted, his strength overpowering your feeble attempts. With feather-light kisses dancing across your skin, he tickled you, eliciting a giggle. Chuckling, he remarked, "Oh, come on. I miss the bold Lady Park who took charge last night."

Blushing, you let out an embarrassed squeal, "Oh, quit it! Stop reminding me!" He chuckled, hugging you close against him, his voice teasing as he whispered in your ear, "Remember how badly you wanted me to undo your hanbok?"

"Shut up, Park Seonghwa, or else—"

"Or else what, my dear Lady Park?"

Your husband's smug grin only fueled your frustration. Summoning a surge of determination, you swiftly flipped him onto the bed, looming over him as you straddled his hips, "I'll make you regret it," you declared, a playful glare in your eyes.

His heart skipped a beat as he looked up at you, struck by your beauty with your long hair framing your face like a curtain.

"Go ahead, my love. Make me regret."

Unbeknownst to the two, Eunsook and the group of maids assigned to bathe the couple all exchanged sheepish glances. The head maid cleared her throat, shooting a stern look at the young maids to silence them for fear of alerting you both, ordering in a soft voice, "We'll come back later. It seems the master and mistress are not quite prepared to begin their day just yet."

Jongho was taken aback to see the elderly woman return with the maids she had brought along, supposedly to get the couple ready for the day, "Huh? Are you all finished already? That was fast."

Dismissing the maids, Eunsook offered the assistant a knowing smile, "It appears the master and mistress are, um... still occupied at the moment. We'll come back later to check on them. For now, please ensure no one disturbs them."

His ears turned red as he registered what she meant by that, nodding quickly, "Y-yes, of course! I'll make sure no one passes through."

As half a day slipped away, you and Seonghwa finally emerged from his quarters, ready to receive your baths. The maids couldn't contain their giggles as they noticed the new marks adorning your skin, evidence of the passionate night—and morning—you and the general had shared. These marks were different from your old scars—they spoke of love and affection rather than pain. You pouted at their laughter, but they only laughed harder, "Enough, you meanies."

Eunsook softened as she washed your hair, "We're just happy for you, mistress. You are happy, aren't you?"

You bit your lip, nodding, "I am happy. The happiest woman on earth, if possible."

"Then that's all that matters to us."

Their hearts warmed at the beautiful smile that graced your face, wishing for nothing more than for you to remain content for as long as possible. You, the miracle who had brought so much light into the once sombre halls of the general's estate, truly deserved all the happiness in the world.

On the other side of the room, while assisting his master with the final touches of his outfit for the day, Jongho couldn't help but notice Seonghwa's dreamy expression and the persistent little smile on his handsome face.

"You seem to be in a good mood, sir," the assistant remarked as he focused on fastening the ribbons on the general's attire. Your husband nodded, "I am. Who would've thought married life isn't half as bad as we initially believed. In fact, it's pretty damn amazing. You should try it too, Jongho."

Blinking rapidly, the younger man raised a brow, "Try what? Marriage? Sir, I have no time for that. I'd make a terrible husband."

Seonghwa sighed, "See, that's your problem. You're always too dedicated, never making time for yourself. As much as I value your dedication, I want you to find happiness too."

"I am content, sir."

"Oh, come on, that's not what I meant—"

"Your outfit is ready, sir. You're all set."

Shaking his head in resignation, the general rubbed his temples, "Wooyoung was right about you. You need to get a life."

"He said what? The audacity—"

Heaving a deep sigh, Seonghwa rubbed his eyes after going over all the reports Mingi had prepared detailing every aspect of the recent war with Ruhon—the strategies employed and areas for improvement. The documents required his stamp of approval before they were shipped off to be stored in the palace archives. The military strategist had provided such detailed explanations that they were now giving him a headache.

"Gosh, I can't decide whether I love or hate Officer Song for these long ass reports. They're thorough to the point of being exhausting," he said with a shake of his head, "Is that everything, Jongho?"

The assistant nodded, gathering the completed scrolls to be delivered to San for a final vetting, "Yes, sir. That was the last of it. You're finished for the day. If that is all, I should probably hand these over to Royal Secretary Choi immediately."

"Oh, thank god. Go ahead, Jongho."

With a respectful bow, the younger man did not waste another second making a beeline for the exit, his mind focused on nothing else but his task. The general stared after him with a defeated huff, wishing for his aide to be a little less uptight and to live a little, "I should probably find him a wife."

Speaking of wives, he was reminded of his own. Suddenly, all concerns for Jongho's love life were pushed to the back of his mind and forgotten. Excitedly rising from his seat, his heart raced with anticipation as he set off to find you. He felt bad for leaving you alone for most of the day due to his work, but now he couldn't wait to have you all to himself.

Oh, it would feel like paradise.

He frowned, his steps faltering when he found you nowhere in the House of Lotus. Hastening his pace, he headed to the garden, where you often spent time tending to the flowers with Eunsook and the maids, only to find it empty. As a last resort, he even checked Yunho's quarters, torn between relief at finding the physician alone and frustration at not finding you.

Could you be upset with him for not spending time with you all day? No, that didn't seem like you at all. You were literally the most understanding person he knew. So, where could you be hiding? The wildest scenarios began to creep into his mind when he couldn't find you. What if his enemies had somehow infiltrated the estate? What if you were kidnapped? What if—

His thoughts were interrupted by the sight of you in the living hall, seated with Hongjoong and Wooyoung, seemingly engrossed in something. The two men watched you intently, particularly the investigator, who seemed more focused on your face than whatever you were doing. With a clearing of his throat, Seonghwa crossed his arms over his chest, "What are you three up to?"

Turning to glare at him, the dressmaker hushed him, "Keep it down, you doofus! She's trying to concentrate!"

Feeling offended, your husband narrowed his eyes and stepped closer to finally see what you had been up to; you were focused on learning embroidery. It dawned on him that Hongjoong must be teaching you a bit about his craft. He softened as he observed the deeply immersed look on your face, with your tongue poking out of the corner of your lips in concentration.

Good lord, she looks adorable.

In his attempt to move closer to you, he was met with yet another warning glare, causing annoyance to bubble within him. While he was grateful for the company Hongjoong and Wooyoung provided you in his absence, a part of him couldn't shake the irritation of seeing you accompanied by other men, even if they were his friends.

At that moment, he questioned why the guys were still around. The dressmaker, physician, and investigator had only been summoned while he was away at war to watch over you. Now that he was back home, he realised their presence was no longer necessary. It was then that he made a firm decision. From now on, he was determined to spend this time after your wedding alone with you.

The general wasted no time gathering his three friends that evening as soon as your embroidery lesson came to an end. With a polite yet firm tone, he explained his desire to have some alone time with you, dismissing them from the estate. Hongjoong and Yunho exchanged knowing glances, understanding the importance of the honeymoon period for passionate newlyweds like yourselves. Although Wooyoung was reluctant to go, he ultimately knew he had no choice but to comply with Seonghwa's request.

In a matter of days, the trio officially left the estate, returning to their own lives. This left you and your husband alone at last, ready to begin this new chapter of your lives together.

True to his expectations, the weeks that followed were pure bliss. He requested time off from work, and His Majesty was happy to oblige. He spent nearly every waking hour glued to you. By this point, everyone in the estate knew better than to interrupt when the master and mistress wanted privacy, ensuring the couple had all the intimate moments they needed. There were even jokes among the staff that a little Park might be on the way soon at this rate.

And perhaps their predictions weren't so far-fetched after all. It was on a fine day when you were spending another lovely afternoon in the House of Lotus practising embroidering, or at least tried to, with your husband seated behind you, his arms encircling your frame, that you began to show signs of sickness.

Leaving kisses all over your neck, he tickled you endlessly, causing you to giggle and push him away, "Hwa, please, I can't focus when you keep—" Before you could finish your sentence, a sudden wave of nausea hit you, and you let out a small gasp, pressing a hand to your chest to contain it.

Concerned, he immediately stopped and turned you around gently, "What is it, my love? Are you alright?"

"I-I'm fine... the feeling's gone, maybe it was something I ate," you reassured him when he suggested summoning the physician. Eventually, he relented and left you alone.

The second time occurred during dinner, with the kitchen having prepared one of your favourite dishes. Instead of savouring it as you normally would, you pressed a hand to your nose, "You okay, my wife?" you nodded and attempted to eat, only to end up retching from the smell of the dish.

Once again, you insisted you were fine and refused to see the doctor. He let you be, telling himself that if anything else were to happen, he wouldn't hesitate to call Yunho over. You convinced him that you must have caught the cold or something, seemingly fine after some rest.

The breaking point came during a leisurely stroll together in the garden. He tightened his hold on you when he noticed you swaying slightly. Smiling up at him, you reassured him, "I'm fine, Hwa. You worry too much." To ease his worries, you pressed your lips against his. For a moment, it worked, and he lost himself in the sweet kiss.

However, when you pulled back, seemingly out of breath, his heart lurched in his chest as your eyes rolled back, and he didn't waste a second catching your limp form in his arms.

"Jongho! Get Physician Jung here now!"

The sense of terror hit Seonghwa like a tidal wave as he found himself cradling you, unconscious, on his bed. Seeing you like this scared him more than any war ever could. Yunho rushed in shortly after, and the general reluctantly stepped aside to let the doctor examine you. Gently, he held your wrist, reading your pulse, after ensuring you were physically alright.

A few tense moments later, the taller man turned around with a smile, and your husband held his breath, "Congratulations, General Park. Your wife is with child."

Emotions surged within your husband as he released a sigh of relief, tears gathering in his eyes. The realisation dawned on him—of course, you were pregnant. How had he not considered that sooner? Slowly, the significance of it all began to sink in. The love of his life was carrying his child.

I'm going to be a father.

Y'all, I was sleep-deprived asf writing the second half part of this bonus part HAHA I hope it didn't seem rushed or anything.

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

Tag list (1/3): @huachengsbestie01 @evidive @weedforthoughtz @ssrnghwa @yunnieo @sunnyhokyu @lynnsqueendom @frobin4ever @chwesuh-imnida @thunderous-wolf @itstheghostofmypast @professormingisglasses @deltamoon666 @avantalem @famishalll @yungilia @soobiverse @joongified @scuzmunkie @http-gyu @mentoslol @atinyreads @angel-hyuckie @anxiousskylar @onedumbho3 @narashii @ddaeing @sansaurora9904 @sohnfile @scarfac3 @dreamingofyeo @puppyminnnie @tinyteezer @vantediary @satsuri3su @mismatchfluffysocks @aliona124754 @bts-army380 @lilactangerine @atinyniki @pay13 @1117promises @xoxkii @st4rhwa @hikarii02 @nescaffei @xdolls-crownx @ashrocker123 @skzline @minkiflwr @starssongs98 @baeksofty @skz1-4-3 @kawaiikels @madnpan @en-happiness @cheolliehugs @persnyako @startinystay @fatspecimen @christinerose380 @stfu-rina @kyukyustar @taytayy178 @appleschre @brielle-in-the-galaxy @laurenwidjaja @yangwonielvrs @n1k1mura @idkwgoh @loveateez @linosllvr @idfkeddieishot

All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[bucketsofmonsters]

The Morning After

(A Sequel to Ace in the Hole)

A commission from the lovely @spoczkot :)

Cw: miscommunication, insecurity, gambling, oral sex, vaginal sex, tentacles, double penetration, sensory deprivation

male shadow monster x afab reader

Some beautiful art of our lovely shadow monster

Word count: 5k

Most days, you woke up suddenly, to an alarm or a nagging feeling that there was something you needed to do. 

You absolutely hated it. The sudden shift from sleep to the waking world. It always left you feeling anxious and restless. 

The best way to wake up in the morning was the was you were waking up now. Slowly, barely able to tell where your dreams ended and where the light, silky blankets began. You drifted slowly, softly, back into consciousness, and finally, when you were good and ready, you opened your eyes.

All you could see was black. 

You blinked, confused and disoriented, half convinced you’d just forgotten to open your eyes. 

When the darkness persisted, a spike of panic ran through you. 

You wanted to reel backwards but you didn’t know where you were or what was blocking out your vision. 

You felt a warm presence at your side and pulled away from it, sending yourself tumbling off the edge of the unfamiliar bed. 

The bed. You could see it now, sprawled across the floor, tangled up in a blanket you’d ungraciously taken with you in your panicked frenzy.

A low voice grumbled from the bed, you presumed disturbed by the newfound lack of blankets and the sound of someone falling to the floor beside him. 

You managed a sheepish smile as you gathered your bearings, the events of the night before surfacing in your mind. 

You were here, with Nocturne. 

A pitch-black face peeked over the edge of the bed as he rose from sleep more gracefully than you had. 

“You having fun down there?” he asked, his morning voice a little gravelly.

You nodded, pushing his blankets back onto the bed as you clambered to your feet. 

“Didn’t take you for that much of a clutz,” he said, a teasing lilt ever-present in his voice.

You smiled, sliding back under the covers. “I’m not really, I just don’t usually wake up blind. I feel like that’s excusable.”

He was so hard to read, his void of a presence difficult to gather coherent facial expressions from if you didn’t know what you were looking for, but you saw him tense for a moment before turning to the clock at his bedside. 

“Fuck, I’m late.”

He rose from the bed in a hurry, haphazardly grabbing clothes from his closet and throwing them on, you all but forgotten in his bed. 

You took the hint, rising beside him to grab your own things, admittedly in less of a hurry to leave than he seemed to be. 

He paused, shifting to look over his shoulder to look at you as you gathered your things, pulling your clothes on quickly. 

He shook his head. “No, you don’t have to leave. You can stay as long as you want.”

You knew he didn’t mean it, that he didn’t actually want you in his apartment on your own, but you appreciated the sentiment nonetheless, that he was at least being as gracious as he could.

You waved him off, working quickly towards making yourself scarce despite the feeling inside your chest tugging at you, pleading with you to stay. 

But you didn’t want to stay, not really. Not with him gone.  

Upon seeing that you were set on leaving he slowed, his frenzy calming seemingly to ensure he could leave with you. 

It was a considerate gesture yet still it pulled a thread of guilt tight inside you, at inconveniencing him, holding him back from whatever he had to do. 

You left at the same time, him being a perfect gentleman for you all the while, holding the door open for you and giving you a gracious nod as he headed on his way.

You spent most of your day debating whether or not you should show up at the casino that night. Would it look desperate? It probably would but to be honest, it wasn’t that far from the truth. Would he want you there? 

When you got particularly nervous you couldn’t help but imagine him turning you away, deciding he was done with you, or pretending not to know you at all. You weren’t sure which would hurt worse. 

But in the end, you couldn’t keep yourself away. It would take more self-control than you had on hand

You’d never been so nervous walking in before. It felt like everyone was looking at you. When you looked up, you saw Nocturne. His lack of features did nothing to disguise the fact he was staring at you. 

You settled at his table, and he dealt cards while looking straight at you, his face entirely unreadable. 

You had gotten no better at poker, despite his ‘lessons.’  In fact, you’d say you’d gotten much much worse. 

You lost all your chips incredibly fast, not pacing yourself like you normally did, far too frazzled for that. In about an hour, your entire budget meant for your next visit was gone. 

Part of you hoped maybe you’d be familiar enough with him soon that you wouldn’t need to come here every other week anymore. But maybe that was wishful thinking. 

Everything in you wanted to go get more chips so you could return to his table with an easy excuse but you were already running ahead of what you should have spent this week. 

So instead you waited, hoping he’d come up to you when his shift was done. 

And so you sat, with about two hours ahead of you, waiting for midnight to come and for him to get off work. 

You didn’t have much to do in the meantime. Normally you headed out as soon as you lost but part of you thought, or maybe just hoped, that he’d come talk to you. 

Even if nothing came of it, you couldn’t leave without at least talking to him. 

Not after last night. 

You were incredibly bad at looking busy, it seemed, stirring a drink you didn’t want halfheartedly as you waited. 

You tried not to feel too self-conscious. Other people were idling around you, you were far from the only loiterer, but you just felt like you were doing it wrong. 

As long as you didn’t look too out of place, you supposed it didn’t matter. 

And so there you sat, staring at the little whirlpool you’d formed in your drink as you waited, trying not to look up too much. You imagined it would only serve to make you look more nervous and flighty. 

This determination to keep your head down meant that when someone cleared their throat next to you, you almost jumped out of your skin. 

Your head jerked up to find a familiar, dark face.

He leaned back a little, looking almost sheepish. “Didn’t mean to startle you. Just wanted to say I’m sorry about this morning. I thought maybe you could come over again and I could make it up to you?”

“More lessons?” You weren’t sure if you were more excited or nervous about this turn of events. 

What did he want? Just a repeat of last time? Probably. You set yourself on being grateful for it either way. 

“Whatever you’d like.” He reached out to take your hand before clearly thinking better of it, pulling back as you followed him out of the casino and back to a familiar apartment. 

The mood was decidedly different from the night before. 

He shuffled off towards the kitchen immediately, looking back at you standing near the door. 

“Come in,” he said, beckoning you forward. “What would you like?”

“What?”

He gestured back towards the kitchen. “To eat. I’m afraid I was a terribly rude host last night, I didn’t make you anything.”

You shook your head dismissively. “You weren’t rude.”

He shrugged. “Maybe. Anyways, what do you want.”

“You really don’t have to-” you tried to insist before he cut you off. 

“And yet I’m going to. You’re not going to decide anything, are you? That’s fine. Do you like pasta?”

You gave him a small nod and he immediately started pulling out pots and boxes and fresh ingredients faster than you could keep track of them.

You wanted to help but you didn’t know where to start. He moved so swiftly and fluidly through the kitchen that it felt like any attempt to assist would hinder him more than anything. 

You hesitantly moved to his side, asking a quiet, “What should I do?”

He gave you an amused glance. “Nothing. I’m making it for you, your job is just to sit back.”

You frowned, a crinkle forming between your brows. “I want to help.”

“You really don’t have to.” His voice was soft and low and you could feel your cheeks heat at the sound of it. 

“But I want to,” you said, giving him what you hoped was a winning smile. “Now what are we making?”

He let out a fond little sigh and then put you to work. It was not lost on you that he was giving you the easiest tasks but you didn’t mind, you were happy with the compromise, so long as you were being helpful. 

What made less sense to you than his insistence that you let him do most of the work was the way he made a point to stay away from you, keeping a careful distance as he moved gracefully about his tasks. Whenever you drew nearer to him he always found a convenient excuse to move to the other end of the kitchen. 

At one point you reached out to grab the handle of a pan at the exact time he did and he pulled back before your hands had a chance to meet, almost like he’d been burned. You couldn’t help but worry you’d done something to upset him and that was why he was keeping his distance. But then why would he invite you here?”

So you tested the waters, intentionally bumping into him a few times, trying to make it as casual as you could.

He seemed nervous about it more than anything, almost leaning away as you got close to him. 

You felt him go completely stiff as you brushed up next to him, your arms barely touching. 

“You should be more careful,” he said, and you pulled away, embarrassment coloring your face. 

But he hadn’t asked you to stop, he’d asked you to be more careful. Surely if he wanted you to stay away, he’d tell you as much. 

So you pressed on, brushing up against him on occasion, desperate to figure out what was clearly making him uncomfortable so you could fix it. 

The problem with touching him, which you wanted nothing more than to do, was it rendered you functionally useless. If you so much as bumped against him you were left grasping blindly for utensils and sticking your hands out in front of you to try desperately not to bump into anything. 

It made you feel like an idiot. When he had to grab your hand to avoid you smacking it right into the hot stove that you would’ve sworn was feet away, you sheepishly stepped back from him, determined to stop making a fool of yourself. 

But as soon as you both strayed far enough away from the stove you were back at his side, brushing against him again. 

Your hand shifted around, feeling for a spoon in the dark, refusing to move away from his side as he just stood there. He wasn’t pulling away for once, you weren’t about to ruin this. 

It wasn’t entirely unselfish. You wanted to touch him, you liked having him close. At least when he wasn’t desperately pulling away from you. 

You heard a low chuckle and then a voice right next to you said, “Open your mouth,” his words moving hot air over your neck. 

You did, patient and trusting, and were rewarded with a mouthful of warm food, delicious on your tongue.

“It’s amazing,” you declared, determined to show him how much you appreciated everything he was doing for you. 

“Good, I’m glad.” You could practically hear the smile in his voice. 

And then he pulled away and color bloomed back into your vision, leaving you feeling more disoriented than when it had been black.

“So what did you get up to today?” you asked, leaning back against the cold marble of the countertops.  

He shrugged. “Nothing much, mainly just working.”

“Oh.” You’d hoped he’d at least pretend to have a reason he’d rushed off this morning. 

You shouldn’t be here. You weren’t really sure why he’d invited you over at all. You’d clearly misread the situation, at least some part of it. He didn’t want to be close to you, had lied to you. All the evidence felt overwhelming. You were being a fool. There was nothing to figure out, you were taking advantage of his hospitality. He didn’t want you here, of course that was why he was pulling away. What other reason would there be?

His head cocked to the side. “What did I say? You look like a kicked puppy.”

“No, it’s fine, I can take a hint. I really didn’t mean to impose, now or this morning.”

He froze. “Oh my god, I forgot. This morning I was… I… No, you caught me, it was an excuse.”

You felt like the wind had been knocked out of you. “Right, understood. I should go.”

He reached out to grab you and then stopped, pulling back again. “Don’t go,” he settled for instead, sighing out the words with both of his hands firmly at his sides. 

You shook your head. “I really don’t want to impose.”

“You’re not. It wasn’t an excuse for me.”

“What?”

“It wasn’t… I just wanted to give you an out.”

“An out? You were the one who left, you said I could stay.”

He sighed. “Not from my apartment, from me.”

You flinched back. “I get it, I understand not wanting some stranger to stick around, I promise in the future you can just tell me that. You didn’t have to lie.”

He groaned. “No, it’s not like that. I like you, I really do. You’re sweet. I thought you’d stick around just to be kind, I didn’t want to make you think you had to stay just because we slept together.”

You started to laugh as soon as he got the words out, unable to control the instinct. He stared at you in clear confusion until you managed to force out the words between giggles. “I was thinking the same thing about you. You know, I was trying so hard to be casual, I guess I fooled you a bit too well. Why would you think I wanted to leave anyway? I was clearly crazy about you. I was there constantly fawning over you and you thought I wanted to leave?”

“It’s not that crazy. I saw how scared you were when you woke up. I know I’m not exactly a convenient person to be around. Plenty of people are attracted to me, sure, it’s cool and sexy to be stuck in the dark like that, but it’s not something people want forever. People try blindfolds on for a fun, kinky night, they don’t do it every day. You can’t hold hands with me on walks, would have to avoid touching me if you wanted to do basically anything. I’ve been here before, the novelty wears off fast and I get left behind with it. Figured it was good to give you an out. And sometimes, maybe, it’s a little easier to leave first. Hurts less that way.”

You froze for a moment, unsure what to say. You leaned forward a bit, half intent on hugging him but as you watched him tense up once again, you leaned back into the counter. 

“You know,” you began, choosing your words carefully, “I had the biggest crush on you for ages. It wasn’t just about your quick fingers and card tricks, although I have to admit, they didn’t hurt,” you said with a smile. “I first came there, to see you, because my friend said you were sweet. She said you made sure she felt safe there, that you kept a guy who was bothering her away. But more than that, you made her laugh afterwards, cheered her up. I had no idea how right she was. You always paid attention to me, made me laugh the whole time I lost, and let me hang around after.  At first, I thought it was some sort of tactic, a way to get better tips, and I didn’t mind. But you never really seemed to pay that much attention to anyone else and I thought that it was awfully considerate of you to at the very least make sure I didn’t see when you did, to try and make me feel special, because surely that was all it could be. And even that gave me butterflies. You were so sweet and funny, but it couldn’t be anything more than that. So when you decided to take me home last night I was so excited not because it was some fun fantasy, but because it was you, and because you wanted me. You’re not a blindfold, you’re a person. And I can get gloves for walks or you can help guide me or.. I don’t know, I haven’t had much time to think about it, but I’m sure we could figure something out. If you wanted to, that is, I don’t…”

And then his mouth was on yours and the words you’d been saying faded away entirely.

His hand rose to cradle your cheek, holding you close, as he pulled you with him, slowly and steadily leading you somewhere, your mouths never parting. 

The two of you fell back onto the couch and you didn’t even flinch at the movement. You trusted him, he wouldn’t let anything happen to you. 

In the position you’d fallen into, you were on top of him, pinning him to the back of the couch. 

He didn’t seem to mind, two of his tendrils snaking around your hips to pull you even closer, his hips just barely bucking up, begging for friction. 

You gave it to him, grinding down on him as his tongue grazed the seam of your lips and you opened them to allow him inside. 

He deepened the kiss eagerly, thumb stroking your cheek gently, sinking back into the couch to bring you further over him. 

And then you smelled burning. 

You pulled away from the kiss, trying to look towards the kitchen before realizing that you couldn’t. 

He rose to try and meet your lips once more, tendrils trying to pull you back towards him. 

You resisted the urge to give in to him, instead muttering a quiet, “Do you smell that?”

He flew off the couch and was in the kitchen in a second, taking the delicious food that had been basically finished and that you’d barely gotten a taste of off the stove. 

He took a quick peek inside and you could tell in an instant that it was ruined as he dropped it into the sink with a sigh.

His hands rose to cover his face as he looked back at you, sitting disheveled on the couch and you swore if he were human, he’d be a bright red right now. 

“I just wanted to make you dinner, oh my god,” he said, his voice muffled by his palms. “Some date this is.”

You perked up instantly. “This is a date?”

His fingers shifted open so he could look at you. “Maybe. If that’s alright with you.”

A delighted laugh escaped you, unbidden, before you were throwing yourself at him again, lips crashing together as you pulled his hands away from his face. 

He took it in stride, hoisting you up onto the counter, which pulled a surprised little squeak from you.

His fingers hooked into the waistband of your pants, tugging them down impatiently. You lifted yourself a little on the counter to allow him to pull them down, pressing a gentle kiss to the inside of your thigh as he did.

“At last one of us should get to eat,” he muttered, nipping playfully at your thigh as you giggled, hands falling to tangle themselves in his hair. 

It really was a shame, you decided, that you couldn’t admire him like this, between your thighs. 

You whined out a quiet “please,” and he buried his face in your core in an instant, wasting no time and mercifully, making you beg no further. 

He ate you out like a man starved, hands firmly pressed into your hips, holding you close, keeping you unmoving as you tried to buck into his face. 

His tongue was longer than that of any man you’d been with before, snaking inside you before withdrawing so he could suck on your clit dutifully once more. 

He didn’t so much as come up to breathe, lapping relentlessly at you. You were sure most of his face was covered with your wetness at this point and he couldn’t seem to care less. 

You came like that, on his counter, his mouth working you over tirelessly. 

Your back arched, shifting into him even further, practically fucking his face as you came. 

Even as you came down from your orgasm he didn’t stop, tongue pressing deep inside of you as you let out whines of overstimulation. 

You tugged him back by the hair and didn’t need your vision to be able to imagine the smug little self-satisfied look that was plastered across his face, You’d seen it more than enough times. 

You shifted to move off the counter and his hands met your hips, pulling you off and making sure your feet reached the floor safely. 

You smiled at him as he led you back towards the couch and you pressed a quick kiss to his lips. 

“My turn,” you said, leaning down before a tendril wrapped around your chin and pulled you back up. 

“No, stay up here with me.”

You gave him a teasing grin. “Come on. I mean, you were supposed to feed me.

His grip on you remained unrelenting. “Please. I want to kiss you,” he said, his voice softer.

Who were you to deny him that?

Nimble fingers moved down, gentle and careful with you as they pushed inside you, and his lips met yours once more. 

He tasted of you, a little sweet, moans escaping him as you licked into his mouth, desperate to feel more of him.  

His fingers pulled out of you soon after he’d begun touching you and you couldn’t help but whine in displeasure.

Almost instantly his fingers were replaced by something thicker. He held tight to you as he pressed inside, slowly, until your hips met. 

The tendril inside you now, the one that sat right between his legs, refused to stay still, squirming around in your tight heat, pressing against you perfectly, your back arching up at the movements. 

He buried his head in your neck, his hands and tendrils alike keeping you close to him, as close together as two beings could be. 

“God, you feel so good, so good for me. My perfect girl.”

Your hips bucked up, try to get movement, to get more. 

He pressed soft kisses across your face as you hurtled towards a second orgasm, approaching much faster than the first. You were too far gone to kiss him back properly but he didn’t seem to mind. 

Everything was messy and disorienting and you couldn’t be more content in it all, gripping onto him, wanting everything he’d give you as long as he’d stay close like this. 

You were more than happy to let him do the work, to surrender to the sensations

As his hand absentmindedly stroked your lips, pressing soft kisses to your forehead, you took his fingers in your mouth, sucking on them dutifully, wanting as much of him as you could get. 

“If you wanted your mouth filled so badly you can have it, you just have to ask nicely. 

You let out a pleading noise. Talking felt impossibly hard, your thoughts moving slowly but desperately towards things that felt much more important than words, reaching for him again. 

In a moment, that was no longer an issue, a thick tentacle entering your waiting mouth, pressing down gently on your tongue, almost caressing as your mouth hung open. 

You came a second time like that, with one of his tendrils in your mouth as he thrusted in a steady rhythm inside of you. 

It was less slow and soft than the last one, hitting you suddenly and quickly, leaving you with nothing to do but hold onto him. You let out a cry and gripped him hard enough to leave bruises on any human as he fucked you through it.

The tendril currently in your mouth squirmed and you could practically feel him trying to keep it from pushing further inside, 

You moaned around it, unable to do much more than that as he thrusted hard and unforgiving into you, the rocking of his hips moving you in time with him. 

His arms held you as more and more of his tendrils snaked across your body, wanting to touch as much of you as they could, endlessly greedy. 

He grunted out the word “close” and as soon as he did, your mouth was suddenly empty again before impatient lips pressed against yours. You swallowed down his moans as he came inside you. His grip on your hips remained tight and you thought it just might leave marks. You hoped it would, wishing you could leave any on him in return. 

He pulled out of you with a little hiss and moved to walk away before your hand swiftly reached out, pulling him back toward you as quickly as you could. 

“You’re not going anywhere,” you said as you tugged him into a tight embrace. 

He chuckled. “As much as I appreciate the sentiment, I should clean us up.”

You leaned back into the couch with a huff before suddenly and without warning, you were being lifted. 

You sunk into his embrace, more than happy to be carried around. The sound of a tap turning on came from beside you but you ignored it, leaning into Nocturne’s chest. 

And then, unceremoniously, you were dropped onto a familiar, soft bed. 

Your vision returned for barely a moment before it was gone again, a warm cloth being stroked across your skin as he sunk into bed beside you, quietly cleaning both of you off as you snuggled into the covers. 

He tugged at your shirt and only now did you realize it was still on. It had been all but forgotten during sex but now he pulled it off indignantly, like it was a barrier too much. Like he needed to be able to touch you. He pulled it off with a little of your help, throwing it unceremoniously to the floor and burying his head in your neck. 

“No running off tomorrow morning, right?” you asked as your fingers carded through his hair. 

“Of course not,” he said, his breath tickling your skin as he spoke. “I think I owe you breakfast.”

You gave a content little hum, hoping breakfast tomorrow was at least a little more successful than dinner had been. 

Or maybe, upon reflection, you wouldn’t completely mind a repeat of tonight.

But then, you wouldn’t mind a cozy breakfast either. Wouldn’t mind eating across from him, not touching for a while so you could have the time to admire him. Wouldn’t mind eating in the dark so you could lean against him as you ate. 

No, you thought. You wouldn’t mind any of it. 

His tendrils snaked around your arms and waist to hold you close, all but trapping you against him, pulling you into a little cocoon of warmth as one grabbed the blankets and tucked them carefully around you. 

“Is this okay?”

You nodded, pressing a soft kiss into the closest one. 

He let out a quiet groan, the tendril reaching to caress your face. 

Amidst the nest of tendrils you found yourselves cuddling inside of, you felt his hand reach for yours, your fingers entwining with his. 

“Next time,” he muttered, “I’m going to make you the best dinner you’ve ever eaten, mark my words.”

You felt your heart swell, holding him tighter as he spoke. 

Next time.

[downwhorendous]

happy wife, happy life

— in which Satoru has a crazy idea at how to get back at your husband for being a piece of shit.

pairing : gojo × fem!reader

warnings : smut, cheating, oral, fingering, penetration, sex tape

note : tumblr debut? I'll yap more at the end... (j.ai 10k special!!!)

It was a beautiful day; you couldn’t have asked for better weather. You were all dressed up, which confused Satoru since normally, when you two hung out, your outfits consisted of sweats and old, worn-out shirts. When he questioned you on it, you deflected, claiming you just felt like dressing up. Truthfully, you had hoped your husband was going to surprise you with a breakfast outing this morning. Last night before bed, you had caught him looking through a breakfast menu from a fancy restaurant nearby on his phone. Assuming he was planning on taking you there, you had decided to wake up early to get ready. You spent the early hours of the morning doing your hair, applying makeup, nit-picking through clothes, and drowning yourself in face creams.

When your husband woke up, you pretended to start working on breakfast, thinking he would stop you, surprising you with a breakfast date.

He didn’t.

“Got a company breakfast meeting today; I’ll be out.”

He didn’t even notice how you had gotten ready, or if he did, he made no effort to comment.

To say you felt dejected would be an understatement.

Out of paranoia and some newfound desperation, you ended up trailing behind your husband in your car. You had had your suspicions these past few months, but you hadn’t wanted to confront them. A large sigh of relief left you when you saw him arrive at that fancy breakfast place, his coworkers present. You still felt a little stung; when was the last time he had taken you out on a date? Or given you a compliment? You were pulled out of your thoughts when you saw a notification flash across your phone screen.

“Pancakes.”

Satoru had such a way with words, didn’t he? Deciding you needed the distraction, you met him at the local cafe, which you both had been regular customers at since high school. Satoru was beaming when you arrived, immediately gravitating towards your favorite table. It was too bad you were wrapped up in your thoughts, or you would have heard Satoru whispering to himself as you sat down.

“Beautiful.”

He knew something was off; Satoru always knew when something was off with someone, especially if that someone was you. However, just like all his questions about your attire, you brushed them off, giving him the usual excuses of “I’m tired,” “I’m hungry,” or “I need coffee.”

Satoru knew something had to be weighing on your mind. He knew damn well you weren’t tired over anything your husband had physically done; there was no way that shrimp could lay pipe that could leave you tired into the morning. However, he did assume it was something to do with your husband. You would never go into much detail, but he could tell your marriage had been going downhill the past few years. Satoru loved to nag you about it, but you were a fierce defender, arguing that nothing was wrong and Satoru was just looking for drama. He knew better than to push you, lest he wanted you to start pushing him away, but it nagged him that you weren’t happy.

In usual Satoru fashion, he had been pestering you for the past twenty minutes about none other than your husband. Of course, he was being smart about it. It started with small comments, ones that you couldn’t necessarily get mad at.

“He’s lucky, y’know? An average guy getting someone like you.”

“Seems like he’s been busy lately, hm?”

“Does he know how lucky he is to have you?”

With each question, his face got a bit more tense, and you felt as if there was more and more strain building up in his voice. Satoru, being the smarty pants he was, pieced together why you looked so down and why you were so dressed up. Your husband had definitely let you down in some way, maybe forgetting about a date? Or canceling at the last minute? Whatever it was, Satoru could slowly feel the resentment he had towards that pathetic worm of a husband of yours build up. It was like he was a volcano, and each question was adding to the impending eruption.

“Why won’t you tell me what’s going on?”

A blanket of thick silence fell between you two; he didn’t need to elaborate; you knew exactly what he meant. It was about time something was said.

“Nothing is going-”

“Don’t give me that horseshit.”

Satoru didn’t want to snap at you, but if seeing you being miserable was enough to drive him this crazy, he couldn’t imagine what you were truly hiding.

“Talk to me.”

The drive to your house was silent, except for the song playing on the radio, not a word had been exchanged between you two.

I hope we never change.

Satoru wasn’t stupid; he couldn’t just get you to confess to all the flaws of your marriage in a crowded coffee shop. He offered to drive you home, to which you accepted. You were being quiet, and Satoru wasn’t sure what else to say. He could press all he wanted, but nothing would change unless you wanted it to.

I hope we stay the same.

“If I tell you, then what?”

When you finally spoke up, your voice was a mix of frustration and vulnerability. Satoru glanced at you, noticing the tears forming in your eyes, and softened his approach.

“Whatever you want.”

If you wanted him to be your lawyer and process your divorce, he would. If you wanted him to beat up your husband to a pulp, he would. If you wanted to initiate an affair-

I hope that we can love through the pain.

“Okay.”

“Okay”

After the honeymoon fades…

With a heavy heart, you entered your home, the familiar surroundings offering little comfort. Satoru followed closely behind, his presence reassuring amidst the turmoil swirling within you.

You sat down on the couch, playing with the hem of your dress as you tried to figure out where to start.

“He’s not cheating.”

Satoru quirked his head to the side as you spoke. He wasn’t sure where this was heading, but he was glad something was finally happening.

“At least…I don’t think he is. I got freaked out a couple of times and went through his phone. There’s nothing.”

You looked ashamed, and you were. Snooping through your partner’s phone was a new low for you. Satoru remained silent, waiting for you to continue.

“I thought he was going to take me out on a breakfast date this morning, but he didn’t. I don’t remember the last time he took me out or even complimented me. It’s like I’m fading away in this marriage, and I don’t know how to fix it.”

Satoru could tell you had been holding this in for too long, especially with how you were holding in your tears. It pained him to see you like this; it was as if someone had ripped his heart out of his chest. Words couldn’t describe how badly he wanted to see your husband reduced to fucking nothing for making you feel like this. Perhaps a swift right hook to the jaw would straighten things out.

“What can I do?”

“Just listen, please.”

“Always.”

Over the next few days, you saw more and more of Satoru. He would come over to your home with a breakfast you thought was too expensive and listen to all your worries. It was like you were having marriage counseling, except your husband wasn’t present…or aware.

It felt oddly wrong to have Satoru coming to your house every morning after your husband left. It wasn’t like you were doing anything wrong, right? You were just spending time with a friend. A friend who showered you with gifts, gave you compliments galore, and treasured you with all his heart.

Platonically, as far as you knew.

Over the course of these “sessions,” Satoru was able to gather a lot about what was going on in your married life. Your husband was being a neglectful piece of shit, to be blunt, although you were definitely sugarcoating a lot. Despite you now being honest with him, Satoru couldn’t help but feel like you were hiding something from him.

“Call me crazy, but I feel like you’ve been avoiding telling me about something.”

“I already think you’re crazy.”

“Spill it, smart ass.”

After some intense interrogations, Satoru was finally able to get you to confess.

“The last time I snooped on his phone…I…found porn.”

Satoru didn’t know whether to laugh or backflip out the window.

“WHAT?!”

After some more probing (this was starting to feel like a detective vs suspect situation rather than a friendly venting session now), Satoru was finally able to get you to crack.

“I don’t know if I’m being dramatic! But…we haven’t done…it, in a long time. I’m usually always home when he is, so I just wonder why…he’s downloading and watching that…”

This was Satoru’s way in; he had been looking for something to give you that final push, and now he had it.

“Well, if you ask me…”

Mischief shone in his eyes; he had something downright sinister planned.

“…personally I consider that cheating; if you were my wife, you’d already be my personal porn sta-”

A croissant narrowly missed his face.

“C’mon! We gotta talk about this.”

Satoru was a pain; you had only briefly forgotten because he had been a sweet friend these past couple of days.

“You’re gross. Also, what am I supposed to do in this situation? Politely ask him to stop and admit I’d been going through his phone?”

“Well, I, for one, have an amazing idea.”

You knew Satoru was crazy, insane actually, but this?

“Satoru, are you drunk?”

“I don’t drink, you know that.”

“Maybe those croissants had weed in them…”

Throughout high school, you had always gone with Satoru’s wacky plans; you were both young and dumb. However, now you were older and mature, er, at least you were supposed to be.

“Just think about it.”

Adults don’t make rash decisions.

“I’ll be at my apartment tonight if you decide you wanna go through with it.”

Adults thought things through.

“I know you’re tired of living like this.”

Adults thought with their heads, not their hormones.

“Let me help.”

Fuck it, it’s fine.

“Satoru, this is crazy.”

“I thought we already established that?”

A sex tape; this blue-eyed monster was offering to make a sex tape with you.

If you thought this was so crazy, why did you come over? Why did you barely hesitate to leave your house tonight? Why were you secretly wearing lingerie? Why was your abdomen fostering a slight ache at the sight of Satoru right now?

Fuck it, it’s fine.

“If he wants something to watch, you might as well give him something to watch, right?”

And that was the crazier part: Satoru had devised this whole plan for you to not only make a sex tape but to send it to your husband as well. He even offered to edit it. Fucking weirdo.

Now, perhaps you didn’t really understand yourself very well at this moment, but Satoru did. Not only did you feel immeasurable sadness at your failing marriage, no, it was more than that. You felt rage, a fierce and burning anger that bubbled beneath the surface. Whether you wanted to admit it or not, it was ready to come to a climax. Satoru knew how hard you worked for others. For years, he had been a silent observer of your selfless endeavors, the countless times you had sacrificed your own needs for the sake of others. Whether it was dropping everything to assist a friend in need or forsaking your personal interests to ensure the happiness of someone you loved, you had been a pillar of unwavering support. Your entire life, you had poured your heart and soul into nurturing those around you, sacrificing your own needs and desires for the sake of others. You were the dependable friend, the steadfast confidante, the pillar of strength upon which others leaned. But in your relentless pursuit of selflessness, you had neglected to tend to the flames of your own discontent, allowing them to smolder and intensify until they threatened to consume you whole.

Everyone has their breaking point, even the most kind-hearted souls.

The injustice of it all, the sense of betrayal, the crushing weight of unmet expectations – it was enough to make even the most saintly of hearts question the very essence of their humanity.

“Let’s do this.”

This was crazy, this is crazy.

You had been whispering to yourself while Satoru set up a very expensive-looking camera in the corner of the bedroom. Were you seriously about to fuck your best friend to get back at your husband for being a jerk all these years? Was this-?

Your thoughts were interrupted when Satoru turned back around, his eyes scanning you up and down.

Rational thinking could come later, you decided, cause you needed to cum right now.

“Okay, let’s talk ground rules.”

Satoru leaned back into his bed, leaning against his headboard as he motioned for you to come closer. You wish you could say you hesitated, but you crawled right into bed with him, not even resisting when he pulled you closer to sit between his legs.

Satoru’s hand rested on the side of your head, gently caressing your hair.

“What’s your safeword?”

“Uh…red?”

“Basic.”

“Shut up.”

You couldn’t help but fucking giggle. Despite the situation, you felt anything but guilt; you felt giddy, like you were back to being a high schooler laughing in the back of the classroom with Satoru at your stupid classmates.

“Not that I plan on going rough on you, but is there anything that’s a hard ‘no’?”

“I’m not calling you daddy.”

“Tch, how dare you.”

He chuckled as he pulled you closer, sitting you on his lap. Your thighs wrapped around his hips as he positioned you to straddle him. His hands rested on your hips, squeezing them lightly. You could feel something poking you right between your legs, hm, wonder what that is…

“So?”

“…so?”

Satoru looked at you expectantly, and you could feel your heart rate start to speed up. The weight of the situation was suddenly crashing on you. There was a camera in the corner of the room, you were in bed with your best friend, and there was a sex tape to be made.

“I thought I should wait for you to start since you’re probably nervous. So, how do you wanna start?”

“Oh, do you-?”

“You’re taking too long.”

Without a moment to spare, Satoru’s lips were on yours, one of his hands traveling to the back of your head to deepen the kiss. His movements showed that he was in no rush. Not that you had ever thought about what it would be like to kiss Satoru, but if you did, you would think Satoru would be a more playful kisser; this felt…oddly intimate.

If you had peeked your eyes open, you would have noticed that one of Satoru’s eyes was cracked open, staring into the camera.

“Ha ha, I’m gonna fuck your wife.”

“God…”

He bit back a moan as he pulled away from you; he couldn’t have you know he had been hard ever since you walked in. Wrapping his arms around your torso, he lifted you off his lap, placing you down onto the bed. His eyes briefly flickered over to the camera again; he felt so damn smug.

“Tell me what you wanna do first.”

“Uh-”

“Taking too long.”

His hands slid under your shirt, earning a gasp from you. He caressed the skin of your stomach, purring at how soft it was.

“Wow, you have to tell me what exfoliator you use.”

“Are we filming a comedy show?”

“No, it’s a sex tape.”

Before you could give a smart reply back, Satoru pinched your belly, laughing mischievously at your yelp. He slowly lifted your shirt up, revealing your soft stomach to his gaze.

“Cute.”

He murmured, bending down to pepper kisses around your belly button, which made you giggle again. The noise itself was music to his ears. His kisses trailed up, lingering just below where your shirt still covered your breasts. He stopped, peering up at you through his eyelashes.

“May I?”

Your breath hitched as you felt him lick a stripe along your skin. God, you needed him so badly. Feeling heat rush to your face, you nodded, your eyes flicking away in embarrassment.

“Say it.”

“Yes.”

Satoru lifted your shirt up farther, eyes widening as he discovered you weren’t wearing a bra. He lifted the shirt to rest right above your breasts, too impatient to take it off right now. His eyes shone with mischief as he brought his hands to your breasts, softly squeezing the flesh.

You couldn’t help but gasp; his hands were so big. You found yourself feeling slightly shy; Satoru Gojo was literally playing with your breasts right now; were you dreaming?

“Squishy!”

He chirped as he kneaded your breasts, eyes flickering over to meet yours as his face started to descend towards your chest. First, he stuck his tongue out, just lightly licking at your nipples, but your mind went blank. Just the small touch sent pleasurable shockwaves straight to your clit. When was the last time your husband had touched you like this? You couldn’t remember, and neither did you care at the moment.

“O…oh…”

Satoru took your small moan as his incentive to keep going. His lips latched around one of your nipples, sucking eagerly. He swirled his tongue around your hard little nub, occasionally flattening and lapping at it. He hummed, the vibrations sending pleasure buzzing throughout your body.

His mouth switched to your other nipple, leaving both shiny and sticky with his spit. Your quiet whimpers and whines were doing wonders for his ego, but he wanted more. He could feel precum already staining his boxers; if he was gonna cum in his pants from just sucking your nipples, he was never going to live it down.

“I wanna do so much to you…”

He mumbled as he lifted his head to look back at your face. He had imagined fucking you stupid so many times over the years; now that he had you, he wasn’t sure where to start.

“Wh…why’s your shirt still on?”

Your petty whine was met with a chuckle from Satoru, who brought his hand back to your breast, his pointer finger flicking your nipple around, which immediately sent a flurry of whines and gasps out your mouth. He was good at getting you to shut up.

“Technically, you’re shirt is still on…but I can change that.”

Helping you sit up a bit, Satoru slipped your shirt off completely, tossing it onto his bedroom floor. His own shirt followed the same fate. He thanked the heavens for his good genetics and vigorous gym routine because the way you were gawking at him made him feel like he was on top of the world.

“Take a picture; it’ll—er, I guess the recording should do.”

His mind blanked again, before him laid the woman his heart had been chasing for years, his pulse was going crazy, and he was so hard he felt his dick just might fall off. He wanted to take his time to explore you, find what made you moan loudest, arch your back, mind go blank. He hadn’t even taken off your pants, and he had already lost it.

“Take a picture; it’ll-”

His gawking was disturbed by your smart mouth, which he again quickly silenced by shoving his hand down your pants, feeling around blindly for your clit. It was quite easy with how the sensitive bud was poking through your panties—which were absolutely soaked to his delight.

“You’re this wet from just getting your tits sucked?”

Usually, you would have a smart-ass reply to dish back, probably about how you could totally tell he had been trying to hide his bulge since you walked into his apartment or how you could see himself staining his sweat pants, but it’s quite hard to form a coherent reply when your hot best friend is so sweetly rubbing your clit through your panties. It was as if the little bundle of nerves was being discovered for the first time.

“Nothin’ to say, hm?”

He paused for a moment, not only caressing your clit, but feeling the fabric of your underwear.

“Is this…lace?”

Using his free hand, Satoru grabbed the edge of your pants and tugged them down, revealing you to be wearing a pair of lace panties—burgundy. This tape was going to need a lot of editing how much marveling Satoru had been doing. His gaze connected back to yours; the look in his eyes was anything but sane. If his cock could talk, it would be screaming to be set free.

“Don’t let this go to your he-”

“Too late.”

Forgetting his strength, Satoru yanked your pants off, almost flinging you along with them to the floor.

In almost an instant, Satoru’s mouth was on you, sucking on your clit through your panties like he was a starved animal. His arms were hooked around your thighs, holding them apart as he feasted with reckless abandon.

“So…pretty…”

He swirled the tip of his tongue around your clothed clit, poking it through the fabric. He felt light-headed as if he was high on ecstasy. Your little whines were music to his ears; he hoped the camera was picking them up.

Satoru could tell you were growing impatient; the yanking of his hair was all the proof he needed. A part of him was hesitating, though. The thought of having his mouth on your bare pussy felt so damn intimate; sure, he had just had your nipples in his mouth a few minutes ago, but this was just next level.

Peering up at you from between your legs, Satoru hooked a finger around the hem of your panties, harshly pulling them upwards so they brushed up against your clit. Your folds were taut against the thin lace as Satoru kept your underwear yanked upwards. Keeping eye contact with you, Satoru let his tongue run up the material, dipping down into the clothed slit that had formed from him tugging up your lingerie. His tongue ran between the thin valley between your lips, slightly digging into the fabric.

“Satoru, just fucking take it off-”

He didn’t make you wait another second. In an instant, your panties were slid to the side, revealing your drooling slit to him for the first time. His eyes flickered over to the camera before returning to your cunt, a small smile spreading across his face.

“God, m’gonna…”

Satoru trailed off as he found the lucidness to slide your panties off, throwing them off to the side. His hands came to rest on your inner thighs, holding them open as he gazed at your glossy pussy. He knew he looked like a total pervert right now, but from how you were panting and squirming, Satoru was sure you didn’t exactly care as long as he did something soon.

How many times had you left his mind blank so far? It would be humiliating if you could hear the actual silence in his mind as he tried to think of what to do.

“Baby.”

The pet name caught you off-guard, baby? Satoru had always been one of your more affectionate friends, but this was new. You couldn’t ignore how the nickname made your pussy clench, and Satoru noticed. You tilted your head up to look at him between your legs.

“Baby, you’re driving me crazy. Are you sure you want this?”

You nodded a little too eagerly, but Satoru didn’t seem pleased.

“Yes, yes, m’sure.”

Satoru felt the last of his sanity leave him as his head sunk, mouth sloppily meeting your pussy. The second his lips touched yours, he let out a moan which sent vibrations straight to your clit. His hands pushed harder against your thighs as his mouth latched onto your aching cunt, practically making out with it.

“Baby, baby, oh my fucking god, you taste soooo good…”

His tongue squirmed its way into you, his eyes drooping as he lapped at your essence.

“So good, don’t ever wanna stop.”

His babble of praises went straight to your pussy, and he could feel you tightening around his tongue. It was as if he couldn’t get close enough to you; he shoved his face deeper between your legs, tongue playfully dragging between your entrance and clit.

“Mmm…f-fuck…”

Finally, pulling away from your cunt, Satoru sat up, bringing two fingers to your folds, spreading and holding them open for his viewing pleasure. He was panting; having you like this under him was literally making him forget how to breathe. Maybe that’s why he was so dizzy. Satoru watched as your poor little hole clenched around nothing, smalls traces of slick coating your pussy like gloss.

“You’re so wet…”

He rubs his fingers along your lips; he can practically scoop your wetness with his fingers. You can feel him start to rub tight circles on your clit, and your thighs refuse to stop shaking. You needed release so badly; all this exploring and teasing was making your muscles feel like they were going to slide right off your bones.

Satoru pushes in one finger, and you gasp, letting out whiny, high-pitched sounds when you feel him curl his finger up. You had always admired Satoru’s hands; they were so long and pretty, and now they were making you see stars. He adds another finger, and it’s as if the wind has been knocked out of you, you have to gasp for air. They feel so deep, stretching your walls out, and you instinctively want to close your legs, but Satoru is using his other hand to hold your other thigh down.

“No, baby, lemme make you feel good.”

Your gummy walls are pulsating around his long fingers, rubbing against spots you didn’t even know existed. Had your husband ever reached spots like these?

Satoru leaned down to whisper to you, his lips ghosting the shell of your ear.

“You wanna cum, yeah? Wanna cum all over your best friend’s fingers?”

You shouldn’t be this soaked from your best friend’s dirty words. He’s so deep, and it’s only his fingers.

“I can feel you clenching; you like that, don’t you?”

Continuing to pump his fingers into your eager hole, Satoru uses his free hand to maneuver your body, positioning you so your spread legs are in perfect light of the camera. In all honesty, you had temporarily forgotten about the sex tape, too drunk on chasing pleasure. Satoru had always been a creative spirit, and he wanted to make sure your husband could see the real angles. Glancing at the camera, Satoru contemplated whether he even wanted your husband to see this tape after all. A flash of jealousy rushed through him, but he quickly brushed it off; he had more important matters at hand—literally.

His fingers speed up inside of you, loud squelching noises echoing in the bedroom, and he can’t help but let out a smug smile. He had you so messy right now, your inner thighs coated with your own wetness.

“Poor baby, you’re so needy, aren’t you”?

The way he’s angling his fingers feels so deliciously good; you can’t help the way your mouth just falls open, gasps of his name rushing out. His thumb presses hard against your pulsating clit, and you nearly scream had you not been already out of breath, your orgasm rushing over you so suddenly you thought you were going to pass out—or see the heavens.

“So beautiful when you cum…”

Satoru murmured, his fingers continuing their relentless pace as you rode out your orgasm.

Your entire body felt limp, and you were sure you couldn’t will yourself to move after that mind-shattering orgasm. Satoru snaked his arm around your waist, the other sneaking to the back of your head so he could lift you up, sloppily slapping his lips to yours. He pulls you onto his lap, and you jerk away when you feel something wet on his sweatpants, the fuck was that? There’s a large wet spot across his crotch, and the dots slowly connect.

“Did you just-?”

“Shut up.”

The hand behind your hand brings your mouth back to his, your tongues sliding against each other as you messily make out. Your ego was sky high; you had made the arrogant Satoru Gojo cum in his pants—just from him watching you get off.

“M-mm…baby, need you so bad…”

Satoru groaned against your lips, hands roaming across your naked body. You were getting a little annoyed at how he was being so coy with keeping his clothes while you were fully naked. Your hand slithered down his chest, tracing his abs, making him sigh into the kiss. Arriving at the hem of his sweatpants, your fingertips just barely brushed against his bulge. Satoru flinched, his breath hitching as he pulled away, lips trailing down to your neck.

“You don’t understand how you ruin me.”

His breathless whisper against the column of your throat sends shivers down your body.

Gently, he shimmies you off his lap and quickly wrangles his soaked sweats down and off, boxers following soon after. His cock springs up like it’s happy to see you. He’s still leaking precum, and he’s so sensitive he’s sure he could cum just from you touching him. You’re a little shocked by how big it is. Satoru had always talked a big game, but you didn’t expect him to actually live up to it.

Noticing your surprised expression, Satoru chuckled and gently guided you back onto his lap. The proximity and lack of clothes between you two was making you woozy. On top of that, the feeling of his dick sliding up your stomach was giving you butterflies; you were genuinely contemplating whether that thing was actually going to fit inside of you. Going out via big dick didn’t sound too bad to be honest.

As if sensing your worries, Satoru pulls away, laying you back down on the mattress. He gently spreads your legs again, moving to be between them. He holds his cock, guiding it to lay down across your mound and tummy.

“See how deep m’gonna be in you?”

His cock just barely brushes against your clit, and you let out a blissful sigh. Satoru lifted your legs, holding your ankles with one hand as he rested them on his shoulders. You could feel his cock just hovering over your clit, sending a slight but sharp buzz throughout your body.

“F-fuck…baby, I-I…”

Satoru whimpered, gasping as he fucked your plushy thighs. He was so close to just being inside you, so close to having you as he had dreamed for so many years. Unraveling your legs from his shoulder, he spreads them apart and pushes them down to your chest.

He feels crazy; all his muscles are completely tense, and his mouth won’t move properly to form words. It’s as if he’s drunk, and it’s all because of you. He’s sliding his thick length across your slit, small little gasps leaving him as he tries to formulate his thoughts.

“Baby, baby, baby, lemme put it in—pleasepleaseplease.”

Your nodding, mumbling “yes, yes, yes,” among other words and random babble. Satoru whines as he positions his cock at your entrance, hands slightly shaking as he rubs his tip against your sticky folds.

You cry out at the way he stretches your walls. It feels so good, and your pussy is sucking him in, hugging his cock like it’s in love with him. Inch by inch, he’s stretching you out so well you feel like you’re floating.

“H-hngh…you’re so tight…”

He wasn’t even all the way in yet, and he felt like he was going to cum immediately. He moans, sheathing himself inside you in a slow thrust. He pauses, basking in the feeling of your pussy clenching him like it never wanted to let go. He feels like he’s going to collapse, so instead, he leans down, caging you between his forearms.

“S-Satoru…”

He’s so big, filling you up so good you could cry from pleasure. Satoru can feel his dick crying from how you moan his name. He starts moving, each thrust slow, but oh so deep you can feel him in your throat. You feel the breath of his panting as he leans down close to your face to give you a kiss, it’s sloppy, but neither of you gives a damn. His hips move against yours, and you don’t even remember the camera in the corner of the room, not when you’re getting the best fuck of your life; what even was your husband’s name?

His lips trail down from your mouth to your neck, sucking dark lovebites as he continues to thrust into you without hesitation. He doesn’t care if you have a husband who is definitely going to see these marks, he’s fucking the love of his life, and that’s all that matters to him.

“Mmm…you like it when I fuck you like this, don’t you, baby?”

You let out a sudden gasp when you feel Satoru suck your nipple into his mouth, circling his tongue around your nub like it was candy. All the combined sensations have your cunt clenching; all you can do is nod, arching your back and pushing your nipple into his mouth. Satoru just continues to suck eagerly, alternating between your two nipples.

“Your stupid fucking husband doesn’t know how to fuck you right, who would deny pussy this good?”

Your eyes snap to the camera, which is still recording. Your mouth is slightly parted, and nothing but moans and whimpers of Satoru’s name escapes. You should feel disgusted with yourself, but instead, you’re squeezing Satoru even harder.

“B-baby, you’re gonna make me cum if you keep doing th-that…”

He rests his forehead against yours, cock still fucking into you, but he’s going faster, and you can feel the heat in your abdomen about to boil over. Your pussy was making embarrassingly loud wet noises as he continued fucking you like his life depended on it. Angling himself, Satoru brings his hand to your abdomen, pressing just under your belly button.

“You feel me here? Feel me filling you up?”

He’s insane and you’re about to cum. Satoru can tell that you’re nearing your peak; instinctively, you try and push yourself away, but Satoru keeps you grounded, whispering into your ear.

“No, no, baby, you deserve this, lemme take you there.”

Satoru doesn’t even get to finish his sentence before your vision goes white, your hole pulsates, and your orgasm washes over you. It feels hot and cold; everything is too much, and yet just enough at the same time. You’re babbling, crying, and whining his name as he continues thrusting into your sloppy cunt.

“So beautiful, so p-perfect…”

He would have loved to hold on a little longer, but Satoru’s own orgasm soon follows, ropes of warm cum shooting into you, coating your walls and painting them white. His hips stuttered, cock plugging you up, and he slowly comes to a stop. The room was filled with your shared panting, and Satoru gave in, forearms giving out as he collapsed on you.

“Just…let’s just stay like this for a while…”

You could feel his cock softening inside of you, his heated breath on your neck, as well as your skin sticking to his in the suddenly humid feeling room. Satoru rolled to the side so he wouldn’t suffocate you and pulled you closer, his strong arms caging you in. You could feel his cock swirl inside of you from the movement and felt your breath suddenly dip, one more orgasm, and you would probably go unconscious. His white hair tickled your nose as he nuzzled his face into your neck, his lips sticking to the skin of your throat.

How did you get here again?

You just had sex with your best friend, and recorded it. You glanced at the camera in the corner of the room, which was still recording this oddly intimate moment.

Fuck it, it’s fine.

OKAY, BACK TO EARTH HORNY FUCKS.

tumblr debut...I have no idea how this app works, I've never written anything like this before, and I'm panicking.

LMFAOOO IDK HELLO GUYS!!!

this is also another part to the 10k special (if anyone who doesn't know me sees this, I'm from Janitor AI, I hit 10k there, not here 😭)

thank you to all my j.ai babies! Please excuse any mistakes, I'm rusty cause j.ai forces me to only write from the char's pov, so help me godddd

"when are you making this into a j.ai bot?" ahahaha...

anyways, there'll probably be a part two to this fic

hope this wasn't complete shit, and thank you for 10k on j.ai!

AND THANK YOU TO @ilumibunz AND @kaeyasblvd FOR BETA READING (and watching me go crazy)

[sexlapis]

꩜ mine all mine

❀ : toji x female! reader

. synopsis : toji sees the reader’s rare soft side.

꩜ cw : s4w, short fic grumpy! reader, toji & reader are married, toji & reader have a daughter, singing, lullabies

.. wc : 593

-> a/n : i think this is kinda shit & cringe but we go on 🥁. mitski singing in a genius interview inspired this :)

masterlists

*

toji has always known that you were not exactly…a ray of sunshine. sure, he isn’t either, but you are something else. you were not at all mean or unkind in any way but you are crazy, grumpy, passionate…a ball of fire some would say.

a resting bitch face, hot-tempered, unapologetic, loud…you weren’t exactly who people think of when asked to name a gentle, soft woman.

with the continuation of your relationship with toji, you mellowed out. after all, to be loved is to be changed. but you still had your moments (everyday) and you were still a little grumpy, passionate, crazy, rageful person. but toji knows how to handle you. and he knows you to be a loving person.

even with your pregnancy and birth of your daughter, you still kept your personality, not letting yourself lose your sense of identity in the trials and tribulations of motherhood.

toji loves his daughter, mina, the new addition to your small family and he’s glad to be at home, caring for the both of you for six months. he’s convinced this is what he wants to spend the rest of his life doing. living with his two favourite girls and making them happy.

but one thing he has noticed since mina had been brought home, is that you always insisted on putting her to sleep, without fail. you would also insist on putting her back to sleep if she woke up crying (much to toji’s disapproval). and somehow, you have her asleep in minutes.

he knows it is normal for mothers to want to be around their child, but rarely would he put mina to sleep. you would ask (demand) him to let you hold little baby mina and tell him he could go back to sleep, which he does after ten minutes of persuasion on your end.

toji knows you’re not telling him something, though he does not think that it's a deep, dark secret.

so one night, after you and toji go to calm a fussing mina and you telling (ordering) him to leave, he stands outside with his ear pressed to the door, listening in.

what he hears surprises him greatly.

you were singing.

grumpy, angry, hot-headed you was singing.

your sweet, soft voice billows throughout the room.

‘cause my love is mine, all mine

i love, my, my, my

nothing in the world belongs to me

but my love, mine, all mine, all mine…

toji hears mina’s crying quieten, hears he little babbles and giggles, and then silence. now toji knows how you get little mina to sleep. you beautiful voice soothes her, lulling her into a deep sleep.

despite what others may think about how ‘unsuitable’ your personality was, you were a good mother, a kind and loving soul, perfectly compatible with your daughter.

toji quickly and quietly returns to your shared room, not wanting to be caught eavesdropping. he didn’t want you to know he overheard your sweet melody. you were like a cat, if he startled you after that intimate moment, you would most definitely get angry and embarrassed and probably never do it again.

you walk into the room, satisfied yet tired. it was 3am and you just wanted to sleep.

toji opens the covers for you to climb into and you curl up in his big frame, laying your head between his chest. he holds you close, kissing your forehead to say goodnight. you’re snoring within two minutes and he admires your stupid drooling face, absentmindedly stroking your temple.

toji will keep this newfound secret to himself.

[samptlay]

♡ ⁠◍⁠• Skin That Cries Golden Tears • Chapter 1 ◍⁠

◍⁠ Summary:

It had to be by God’s will that your life had come to a short end. Why else would he allow you to get pushed off of a bridge and drown to your death, at the age of 26? Well, what should have been the end of your life when your ex killed you off for rejecting his love once again. So you were definitely in a haze when you woke up at the highest peak at Qingyun Peak on a floating island, inside your favorite game.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn't your fault. Why did he hate you so much? You let him go, told him to move on, that you would even bless him with his newfound lover. Even if he didn’t stay loyal, even if he begged on his knees to have a chance of making things right. Though there wasn’t anything that could change your mind, cheating is unforgivable and unforgettable. 

However, you were too precious, perfect, and good for everyone else. So he decided. If he couldn’t have you, no one would. Hence the downfall of your life. Or the uprising? The people of Teyvat are sure to make your arrival a pleasant experience, after all, they’ve been expecting you for centuries.

It had to be by God’s will. Why else would he allow you to get pushed off of a bridge and drown to your death, at the age of 26?

It wasn’t fair. It wasn't your fault. Why did he hate you so much? You let him go, told him to move on, that you would even bless him with his newfound lover. Even if he didn’t stay loyal, even if he begged on his knees to have a chance of making things right. Though there wasn’t anything that could change your mind, cheating is unforgivable and unforgettable. It means you have no respect for your partner and no loyalty. Both those things are required if a couple wants to last. Without them, the relationship is doomed to fail, which is what happened.

However, that could never be the end, not for you or him. 

Greedy. too greedy, and so, so selfish. He couldn’t let go. He couldn't move on, even with another woman waiting for him at home. He couldn’t take a step forward in life, knowing that someone could sweep you off your feet at any moment. Knowing that your heart can belong to another. Knowing that he’d be replaced eventually.

So he believed it would be best if the possibility of that happening is zero.

Why did you trust him? “For closure”, he told you. So, initially being the soft-hearted being you are, you meet up with him. Agreeing to meet in the middle of your local bridge where everywhere is surrounded by water positively wasn’t the smartest decision of your life. While you thought he was late, he had been just on time creeping up behind you while you were looking at the vast ocean. And in the next moment, you feel familiar arms wrapping around your waist. You let out a long exhale, knowing it’s him. You used to smile every time you felt his touch, but not anymore.

“Didn’t you say we’re meeting for closure? This should be the last time we see each other before going our separate ways, so I don’t know why you’re touching me. I don’t think we misunderstood what we meant by closure. It’s nothing intimate.” You feel the arms around you tighten, and you wonder for a split second if this is the best situation to be in. You should have stuck to that thought.

“Mh. It is the last time we’ll see each other.” You felt uneasy with the way he was saying that. It was making you nauseous. “But I’m giving you one more chance. Come back to me. It’ll be better this time, I won’t make the same mistake again. Why do you have to be this difficult?” The grip was getting tighter, and you felt as if the oxygen flow from your brain was becoming less frequent. But you still felt the annoyance grow in your body. Did he have no shame? “You have to be joking. Even with your what, fiance living with you right now, you still want more? Even if that woman has no respect for me, it's human decency not to have an affair with someone.”

You could tell that he didn't like the words coming out of your mouth. You could tell you were safe and needed to get out of her, quickly, desperately. But his grip was becoming threatening, and it was getting harder and harder for you to breathe.

“It's disappointing. We really could have had it all, if only you were willing to cooperate.” The words that leave his mouth are followed by what feels like a really hard punch to your back. Suddenly, your body falls limp and he catches you. You weakly reach for your back and quickly discover a knife. The person you once called the love of your life had stabbed you, and there's now blood trickling down your back, it's running cold rather than warm.

“W-Why-” You could barely get anything out as your vision was seeing little black dots. When you felt that he was picking you up, you couldn’t help but want to vomit at the thought of what he might do to your body. “Don’t worry, I'll let you rest in peace. Well, as peaceful as the ocean floor gets.” You want to scream, but nothing’s coming out. It shouldn’t be a surprise he can read your expressions by how long you were together, but you wished the past had never happened. Wished you never even gave him the time of day. Now you know why it’s no wonder his lover before you left the country. Why did you stay? Why didn’t you see the signs? 

From what you could still see, he’s tying something to your neck that you’re sure is supposed to act as a weight. Meaning that once you go in, you're most likely not coming back out. Not even for your own funeral, they won’t find the body. It breaks your heart. You don’t want to die. You don’t want to leave so much behind.

With one more breath from your lungs, he leans down and kisses you. How disgusting. He wouldn’t even allow you to rest in peace. It shouldn’t be that much of a shocker, but it still baffles you, and stuns you into silence. You don’t move, don’t breathe. You’re frozen, all up until he’s holding you over the railing, and your heart is in your head, your whole body’s shaking.

“Goodbye, love.”

Those were the very last words you heard before plummeting to your death.

.

.

.

The water is cold, you’re shivering.

You can see red water, or what’s most likely your blood floating around you.

The stab wound in your back aches, you want the paint to go away.

The black spots in your vision are growing. 

You reach out for the surface but you’re sinking.

The weight attached to your neck just makes it harder to breathe, to move. 

This isn’t what you wanted.

You just wished to be admired, loved, cherished. Just as you did for everyone else, even if it hurt you.

Even if it eventually led to your death.

~

Ǔ̷̷̵̸̴̢̡̯͕̻̝̻͈̝̺͕̲̣͍̩̻̫͓̰́͌ͥͣ̒ͥ̒̇̈́̽̎͊ͮͣ́͘͡͡͞Ȉ̶̢̨̖̼̻̦͍͔͖̱͙̩͔̟͊͂̓̇̉̄ͯ̓́̋̄̿͌̾̐ͯͯ͌̌ͣ̿̏̽͜͞D̨̡̡̛͚̙̺̜̮͔̲̙̙̹̳̰̪̬͓ͫ͆̊͑́͋̉ͬ̑̓͂ͧ̎̿̀̕͟͞͠:̶̷̸͎͓̙̗̭̳̣͚̲̫͍̘͇̳̹̈́ͨͯ̊ͨ͋̏̆͒̒̎̓̍̆̍͘͢͝ 6ͫ͒̃͋5͙̹̱̖ͯ͌̄̄̿͗͘_̜̣̻̃̋4͕͂ͨ2̧͙̻͚͎̲̦̼͋̒͗͋ͬ͊̔̋̑ͯ͐̒̓͟͡͠ͅ6̸̷͖̲͙͕̠͓͚̠̬̲͉̞̗̼̭̒̀ͦ̊̏̊ͣͮ͆͒̔͋͂͊͑ͫ͑͛̍̀͞͝5͇̰͎̰͖̟̳̜͑̌̒ͧͪ̃ͤ̉͑́́͛̅͟͜8̴̧̢͇͔͖͉̳̠̪̲͎̫̙̪̃̑̀̑͊̃͑͊ͦ̒̓̂̈͂ͮͦ͘͠ͅ_̶̠_͔̂͒͢͡0̴̢̥͖̖̺͇̼͚͔̣̺̩̗̠͛̃̽͢͞ͅ6̹_̨̞̥ͫͬ̒ͫ͘͟͟_̷̨̥͓̲̞̿̽͆̅ͨͯ_̵̘̬̖ͤ̇̌ͧͨͫͦ͟

Loading…..

Player’s Soul detected, transferring now….

Welcome, Creator.

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A Seelie was floating in front of your face. Blue, alive, breathing, moving. In front of your face. In front of your eyes. You lie motionless on the grass for a few seconds before jolting up with a screech. While doing so, you collide with the Seelie, which feels like flowing silk, the smoothest thing you’ve felt on your skin.

Is this heaven? Or am I just having a very long and realistic dream? Isn’t that an entity from Genshin?  So you’re dreaming about a game that you gamble your soul away to…. Okay. But out of all of them, couldn’t it have been HSR? You feel like you’d have a better chance of surviving there.

…

This is not a dream, is it?

Okay, fine. You died, you remember that very vividly when you were in a literal sense, dragged down to your death. So the universe has decided to grace you with a second chance at life. In an open-world survival game. How gracious.

You can’t lie in flowy grass forever. Even though the moon light makes it perfect. You’re living in a fantasy world, everything is possible.  anything could happen. To you. You have to be smart about this, you can’t just appear out of nowhere and act clueless and all lost. You’ll be questioned immediately and might as well get yourself killed. No matter what nation you go to, who could explain what has happened to you? You’d like to know, but you wouldn’t want to go back. Some things are just better outside the real world. There are no serious politics, no pollution, and no war if you ignore whatever’s happening in Natlan. No absolute need to work a 9 to 5. 

Gathering the courage, you finally get up from the ground and observe your surroundings. Right by your feet, there’s a Windblume. You must be in Mondstant. In all honesty, it’s always been your least favorite nation. Uneventful and quiet. You could live a simple farm life in Liyue. It would be quiet, as long as you avoid Hilichurls.

Speaking of which, while you’ve been standing still and daydreaming about your thoughts, there’s been a distant sound of what seems like life yelling and footsteps getting closer and closer to you.

You finally snap out of it and look behind you, seeing two Hilichurls and one giant Lawachurl heading straight for you. 

Shoot.

You screech and start sprinting, but they’ll catch up in what, 20 seconds?

“Hey, you! Get down, as in right now!”

You can’t tell where the manly voice is coming from but faced with a split-second decision, you instinctively crouch down, shielding your head for safety. All you can hear is the fluttering of a bird and the sensation of heat rushing overhead. You can only catch a glimpse of red hair in a low ponytail.

Edit: I just realized that the summary says you wake up in a different place than Chapter 1. So sorry about this, it's still accurate but it just isn't the first place you wake up.

A/N: Life happened. This is long overdue so thank you all for the wait and sorry and all the empty promises. I'm back, however. I'll go back to my 1-2 week schedule. I found it easier to do with school in session, somehow. But I hope you all enjoyed Chapter 1. I'll make a Masterlist soon.

Sorry if I tagged you twice!

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