#you’re allowed to like something that has problems

[iznsfw]

Midnight

IZ Days of Christmas 2023: Day 11 - An Yujin

IVE's An Yujin x Male Reader Smut

13,838 words

Categories | toxic relationship, degradation, violence, cunnilingus, jealous!Yujin

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Taylor's Version because we're cultured here. For my @usedpidemo <3

Sorry for being gone. It will happen again.

“It isn’t rocket science,” snaps Wonyoung, “so just tell me what’s better: this hot pink top or this baby pink one?”

You stare at the clothes hanging from the idol's fingers. You’re not colorblind by any means, but the two shirts look exactly the same to you. No differing hue, no richer brightness. If you picked up a spyglass to observe further, you’d still be the same oblivious man.

“Wonyoung, I don’t know,” you say. You really don’t. It’s the same truth you’d profess with a gun cocked to your temple. The mournful would know you were a martyr of honesty. “I’m a guy. I don’t usually choose between crop top number one and crop top number two.”

She sighs, lowering the hangers. “This isn’t a crop top. It’s a baby tee.”

“Someone just fucking kill me.”

Amuse dances on Wonyoung’s expression, something the face mask can’t veil. She likes pissing you off more than the world does. But at the end of the day, you’re the only guy she’d allow to be friends with her. It traces back to playground days—on the swing, fingers linked.

You look around. All the clothes hanging from the racks—dresses, crop tops (baby tees?), knitted Bangkok coordinates—share the same primary color. What the fuck was Wonyoung going on about? 

She slips an arm through the looped curve of your own. Her heels click as she’s leading you away from the hell of hyperfemininity, which just so happens to be her trademark. Not yours, though. Which is what makes this a problem. Which adds to the millions of other problems you have.

“I’m sorry,” she says. This is a tone of voice a friend uses when it’s time: sincere and loving. Wonyoung’s a good friend, your best friend. “I thought I was keeping your stress away from…”

The sentence fades out. Wonyoung avoids your eyes. You look down at your shoes. Hate it or love it, the girl you care about more than anyone else is fueling your emotions. 

She’s not Wonyoung, as many people like to believe. You’re surprised, too. When you were twelve, Wonyoung was the most beautiful girl in the world to you—just not the one you’d end up with. This girl who has your heart’s taken her Aphrodite place and needs a mask to hide her identity, too. 

The love of your life, An Yujin. Twenty years old, K-pop idol for longer than you’re able to fathom, and just about everything. It would take hours to list everything Yujin has going on. And although you know each one, it doesn’t stop you from longing.

You think about her all the time and sometimes, you pray that you don’t so the pain won’t splinter your heart.

“Wonyoung.” You’re tired.

“I’m sorry.”

The world is keen on keeping you in shreds. You see a mother and father shopping with their kid. The little boy has the same dimpled smile as your girlfriend. If only Yujin wanted to actually love you. There’s another young couple taking pictures in front of the wide mirror. Their arms are around each other, photo-ready for Instagram. Meanwhile, Yujin only posts about her ambassadorships. 

Wonyoung doesn’t look at the price tags when she places the tops on the cashier counter. The cashier thankfully doesn’t recognize her. If he did, he didn’t show it at all. She slaps a black card into his hand and soon, you’re exiting the outlet. Thank god for it. You were sure you were slowly dying.

But it isn’t the shopping or the commute or the cash that’s killing you. It’s her absence. Are you just a fan again? Feeding on a relationship that’s almost as nonexistent as it used to be?

“Are you deaf?” 

Raise your head. You’re still in the mall. The crowd bustles between you and Wonyoung, who’s looking at you weirdly.

“What?” you ask.

“I asked if you wanted ice cream.”

Oh. You clear your eyes with a blink, then realize you’re in front of an ice cream truck. Pink and white and pretty, a menu of everything delicious, and a childlike joy in the customers’s faces.

Sure is what you say. If that’ll keep my mind off her is what you don’t.

Wonyoung asks for the largest ice cream. For a girl whose physique is slim and toned, she loves to eat. You picked the habit up from her, too, but you can’t stand making her pay for your own food. A mini cup it is.

You don’t realize your silence. It’s natural—like taking another breath, like taking another look at your phone to see if she’s messaged you. 

The stretch of quietness leaves you time to ponder. The sweetness fills your mouth and you can only think that there are other people sweeter—someone with a smile worth gold and a playfulness you never get tired of. It’s not worth the trouble; you doubt that she thinks of you as often as she crosses your mind. She probably doesn’t at all.

“It’s okay if you don’t wanna talk about it,” Wonyoung adds, thumb stroking the red long spoon. “So we can just eat here and call it a day. Quick and simple.”

Yeah right.

You release a sarcastic huff of breath. The soft hills of the ice cream are delicious but none go in your mouth. “It’s fine,” you mutter. “It’s not like I have anyone to go home to.”

Every day consists of mourning and longing for a girl who isn’t even dead. She’s everywhere in Korea—TV screens, advertisements, large tarpaulins, shop standees—but the only place she can’t be is by your side. 

She’s always with you if you count your phone wallpaper being a stolen picture of her. But besides that, it’s like she’s gone. Cremated in an urn and thrown into the ocean. She’s left you behind for good.

Wonyoung puts down her cup. Sincerity’s evident on her face. “You have to understand… it’s really not all on her.”

Sure, it isn’t. But it’s hard not to put the blame on someone when the other side of the bed is empty. When your phone’s full of messaged apologies and I-love-yous that don’t mean anything. It’s fucking draining. 

You laugh. Nothing’s funny. “Are you saying it’s my fault?” you ask.

“Of course not.”

“So what the hell do you suggest I do?” 

Your voice comes out louder than you expect. Eyes dig holes into your being. Your conversation is a song everyone wants to listen to. They‘ll pick it apart, formulate theories, and wonder who’s the featured artist. 

Wonyoung’s face is full of sadness. You hate that she worries about you the way she would a child. You don’t need parental comfort and a “get well soon” balloon; you need Yujin. And that alone guarantees a wave of pity.

“Well?” you prompt her. She’s got a lot to say, and now she’s refusing to speak about Yujin.

She doesn’t continue.

Lower your tone, for both your sakes. You don’t want a fight to break out here. And she doesn’t need attention when she’s already got enough as an idol. 

Your false smile cracks and you don’t think you can hide the depth of your sadness. In this busy mall, you want to make a scene. Not just a scene, but one that involves a little illegality, which you no doubt would have done if you were raised differently.

You want to tear at the nearest man’s throat. Have him choke, slowly die, and leave his blood as a warning to everyone. His veins would be all over the floor.

You want to break the porcelain plate of banana split over a kid’s head, just to see his cracked skull. Nobody can be happy if you aren’t. There isn’t a treat that would fill the hole in your heart like Yujin does.

You want to hurt anybody, everybody, to make up for your own that’s starting to corrupt your mind.

“We can have this conversation again and again,” you manage, choking up tears, “and she still won’t come home to me.”

Wonyoung looks down at her lap. There’s two perspectives here: yours and Yujin’s. She knows her bandmate’s side better as someone who’s going through the same. She can’t play both roles, choose who’s the victim and villain. 

She’s utterly defeated. But she tries to make you get it. “It won’t be like this forever,” Wonyoung says quietly.

Forever is months of a long distance relationship. You’re in the same country but with the way she never visits and neither do you, you might as well be on the other side of the globe. It’s always texts that go unreplied, occasional pictures reacted to with a heart, that kind of stuff. Always no Yujin, always you looking for her.

You’re a puppy searching for his owner. You’re lost, lost, lost—all while Yujin’s found fame and success. But you don’t need that. You need her.

It looks like fame is more attainable. 

You lift your shoulders. Blink back your tears. “Sure looks like it.”

Wonyoung takes your hand. Her gaze is soft. “She’ll perform with me at a festival sometime next week. I’ll take care of her, pull some strings, let you guys have some time together. Right now, she just needs space.”

Space. Okay. You can do that.

A flash of lightning cracks too close. No storm on the forecast though. Embedded in the illumination, you think you saw Yujin’s face. You see her face everywhere actually—even when she’s not there.

Turn to the empty third chair beside you. If you opened your eyes wider and wished harder, would she come? Or would she be another figment of your imagination?

-

Things weren’t always like this. Once upon a time, Yujin was a love you could go back to. You met everyday, ate together everyday, talked everyday. You’re glad you were there for her after IZ*ONE’s disbandment, a great loss for K-pop. 

She sat beside you in the practice room. Gorgeous. That’s what she was. Yujin was the first love of your life, and the only one. She was pretty back then, too. She had that kind of friendly beauty—it started platonically, but oh, if you were to fall, it wasn’t a surprise. 

Somebody take me back.

Her hair was long and brown, your knuckles sliding down on it. She was dressed in baggy clothes that made her look small despite her height. You couldn’t fall more in love.

“I’m sorry about the… you know,” you said, before stopping to place an arm around her shoulder and kissing her. “I know you don’t want to talk about it, but how are you?”

“Things can be better,” Yujin said with a shrug. “We’d be having our world tour, if things went differently.”

“Damn, Covid was a bitch, huh?”

Then, despite it all, Yujin laughed—that beautiful, loud laugh which made her eyes crease and the cute dimple show. You poked it, and she leaned into you once more, just how you liked it.

She nodded. The remaining parts of her giggles fought their way out of her. “Yeah.” Her eyes locked on the door of the room, as if expecting eleven girls to come back in. She wasn’t laughing anymore. “Yeah.”

Her voice faded out. Dreams were there. A bigger discography was on the way, a last in-person concert was supposed to happen. Each was crushed by circumstance. Yujin was not. She withstood every battle and came back holding a bigger sword each time.

It’s not to say it was easy.

“I can’t believe it ended that quickly.” Her sweet and remorseful smile made your heart crack. “One minute I was fifteen meeting all these cool girls, then I’m all grown up and they’re gone.”

She had to move past it. Experience battered her into maturity but she still yearned for younger days. You knew that feeling well. Barely young but barely old. You didn’t know it at that time, but it was the perfect balance. Youth was right there while adulthood waited patiently. Things went by fast and yet it didn't matter. You had each other.

“You know who won’t be gone?” 

“Who?” Yujin propped her chin on your shoulder. Her eyes glimmered with repressed tears.  

You thumbed away one that let go from the side of her mouth. “Me.”

-

You keep your promises as hard as you can, even if it hurts you.

-

You | Hey baby. Good luck on the music show!

Still nothing. You sent it today, eagerly waiting for her appearance on TV. But Yujin left no sign that she got your text. 

So, nothing unusual.

You sit down and try to assure yourself. That’s fine. Yujin’s fine. She just needs space. She needs to focus on her job where people focus on her and she can’t focus on you. Okay. It’ll be alright. It hurts, but if it’s how things should go, do you have any other choice?

The song comes on. The show is dark red with the background playing a looped animation. It’s a heart, stabbed with an arrow over and over. How familiar. The girls are beautiful, as always. Preppy but kitsch outfits were chosen for them to perform in. The varsity jackets cinematically slip off their arms and the skirts sway like they were paid to look that good. 

Smile, because this is what Yujin loves doing the most: dancing and singing for a crowd. She gave everything up for this. She deserves all this love, and she knows it. Her confidence is the sexiest thing about her.

“Baddie, b-b-baddie baddie—” 

That’s your cue. You’re on the edge of your seat. You’ll cheer for her, even from afar.

However, it’s… not her.

The voice and backtrack are different. Another girl’s taken her place. She’s tall and pretty, too. She performs the line with overflowing charisma, but she’s not Yujin. She could never be Yujin. 

You | uh

Wonyoung

Where’s Yujin???

You take no interest in the stage playing out before you. Your only concern is where their best member is. 

The response takes painful hours. It’s a live stage, so of course you have to wait till it’s over. But everything feels so wrong—the catchy beat doesn’t sound quite as good when Yujin’s rich voice isn’t playing over it. 

Wonyoung | i thought she was with you? what are youu talking about?

Yujin definitely isn’t with you. But she needs space. Besides, it’s nothing out of the ordinary. She might have just needed to visit family that would be announced by the company later. Nothing worth the panic.

But as you look at the screen, you can’t help but feel a little pain in your heart. Like grief that happens a few days in advance.

-

Wikihow doesn’t offer a proper guide in dealing with a girlfriend like Yujin. You’ve resorted to articles, to YouTube videos, to question forums. None of them help you out.

They say, in order to make the long-distance relationship better, you should communicate.

Yujin doesn’t reply to your messages. They’re always left in the conversation without a read receipt, or even a simple reaction.

They say to gift her flowers and sweet things, all through a trusted courier.

The staff always throw them out. They probably think you’re a crazy fan.

They say to let it take time. 

She never shows up. Letting it take time means that it’ll happen. But you only meet her twice a month, if you’re lucky. This time—you haven’t seen her in person at all.

But, like a dog waiting for its owner to unleash it, you wait.

-

And wait.

(What’s lost of Yujin remains as a memory: you and her in a café at midnight, looking sullenly at your cups of coffee. Who gets coffee at 12 a.m.? 

Perhaps a couple nearing the parts of their journey where they crash and go up in flames. The police would be too late.

“Okay,” said Yujin. She crossed her arms and leaned back into the detailed metal chair. “Not to be, like, you know, a nosey bitch or anything. But you’re awfully dismissive.”

Charming. “And you aren’t?” you fired back.

The thing about you and Yujin is that you could beat around the bush for days. She would ignore you, give blunt answers, and keep to herself. You would go around for a drive, sleep in a separate room. It’s all fair and square. She doesn’t bother with you, why should you?

In the end, however, you have to come to a conclusion. It isn’t pretty. 

“Babe, if this is about those MC partners I have,” she told you, sounding every bit the nonchalant partner you made obvious she was, “be a little mature. It’s a job. It pays.”

That was all that mattered to her. She grew up to be the breadwinner of her family and now the feel of paper in her palms was all she looked for. 

You looked past her. The sidewalks and pedestrian lanes were full of people, from all walks of life. There were many women who were kinder than Yujin in the masses. So why did you stay?

“You spend more time with those men than me.”

“Then step up your fucking game.” Yujin regarded her iced latté with a cold gaze. “I don’t remember the last time you got me flowers.”

“I told you, your shit security guard has—” 

You paused. Something just hit you. It was a slap that messed up all the curves and chemistries in your brain. 

“They bring you flowers?”

That’s your thing with her. Yours. You bet that she’s more confident posting the bouquets some stupid florist made for her than the ones you handpicked. Always left in the dust, always turned away.

Yujin rolled her eyes then took a sip of her drink. “There he goes.”

She didn’t see it in the same light you did. You got the thing about keeping the relationship a secret. You knew that. Yet what was better here, a rumor with a fellow idol or someone unknown? 

She gave no fucks about it at all. There she drank the overpriced coffee and looked at you casually. Yujin was ashamed of you, and she hid it so badly it was laughable.

“Thanks for being such an empath,” you said.

“Anytime.”

“Do I seriously mean that little to you?”

“I never said that. You’re the one getting your panties twisted over some sunflowers.”

“Your favorite flowers. Maybe if you showed a little more gratitude to the ones I get you than the crap they paid a florist to—”

Yujin sighed loudly. “For fuck’s sake.” 

She slammed her cup down on the table. The plastic cover was no soldier to the pressure and let the brown liquid explode all over the surface. The open design of the white table let the coffee spill on your pants.

You were horrified. Everyone was looking at you. You drew a crowd every time you were out with Yujin and for no good reason. 

“I’m tired of every conversation, every conversation we have turning into another fight.” Her chair creaked as she shoved it up to the ruined table. You flinched again. The aggressiveness wasn’t the only thing that scared you—she had this snow-cold tone that made you melt in all the wrong ways. “So if you want to say something that’s actually not trash about my job, say it now.”

You held her glare for a while. It was a new record. It was deadly, the expressionless plaque of her face. Her teeth were clenched, her whole being was tense, and all the strength she had was spoken through her eyes. You lost at keeping it.

The lurk of silence felt longer than the hours the moon was in the sky. Yujin waited. Perhaps she wanted you to speak. She smiled bitterly. Whatever response she expected, it didn’t come.

“Thought so.” She licked coffee off her thumb and let her hair be the last thing you saw of her.)

-

And wait.

(Yujin smiled when you saw her again. She threw her arms around your neck, kissed you, too. 

You never forgot what happened. You didn’t want to bring it up—she was so happy that it infected you, too. Still, flashbacks of that moment churned in your head as she picked away at her favorite food and joked around.

“I’m a terrible cook,” she said. She forked a burnt broccoli in the air and shook her head in amusement. “I can’t believe you still eat it.”

“Someone has to.”

Her smile was beautiful. Then, broccoli to your lips, she said “I’m happy you’re here,” and it was better again.)

-

And wait.

(Who’s surprised? It all went down once more.

You never told anyone that sometimes, you were tired of it.)

-

And wait.

(What now?)

-

“That’s the nineteenth time you checked your phone.” Sunghoon leans forward on the floor, thumbs mashing into the controller. He shoots you a look. “Yep, I counted.”

You’re that in love with Yujin. No surprise at all. That doesn’t stop the red in your ears though.

She still hasn’t texted you back. No calls were made, which goes the same for TV appearances. No tall girl is spotted amongst a group of five. She isn’t there to brighten up the set with her clever jokes or charisma. 

You text her continuously. Sometimes you try not to sound so desperate, so you space the messages between hours. That doesn’t work, because Yujin is still nowhere.

“Excuse me for being concerned for my girlfriend,” you say. In the darkness of your apartment, she’s the only one who can light it up. 

Sunghoon shuts the game down. He’s losing the game while you’re losing your mind. You two have your own battles.

It really shouldn’t be this painful having her gone. You’re to blame; you bought into it knowing you weren’t built for this kind of relationship—the one where you scrawl and yell while she couldn’t give a fuck if she were forced to. Her love for you is highly debatable, and you’re still here, waiting for that to change.

How did you and Yujin become a couple if you only hurt each other?

“She’s been MIA for like a week. Not counting the months I haven’t met up with her.” Your gaze keeps dashing to your phone. You’ll stand by forever if you had to, but that doesn’t make it easier. “I’m allowed to be worried, right?”

Sunghoon nods. “But that doesn’t mean you have to stay.”

“What?” 

He releases a thinly patient breath. You remain oblivious to whatever he’s referencing. 

“Dude,” he stresses, a hand in his hair, “I don’t have shit for brains. I know that you and Yujin fight like animals.” 

You wince. The elders were right. The truth hurts.

You and your girlfriend argue so much you’d think you’ve been married for sixty years. She’s a fierce woman who won’t let down an opinion if she believes in it that much. On the other hand, you won’t stop at anything to have her hold faith on your side. The walls are thin and let everyone in the dorm hear your quarrel, including poor Hyunseo. And now, your friend.

You keep your eyes on the desk below your television so you won’t have to look at Sunghoon. And even there you search for her. She could be sitting in your kitchen or studying on the staircase. Anywhere, as long as you’ve got her.

He rests himself on the sofa. There’s a very small grin on his face. “But you guys also…” 

You don’t reply. Wish you could put your palms on your ears without being obvious. You’re not sure you want to hear it.

“You and Yujin.” He turns to you. “You love like animals, too.” 

It’s a lighter truth, so why are you sad? 

“It’s kind of—” Sunghoon cuts himself off with a laugh. “You’re lovebirds. If she’s gone, you get so lonely. You’re gonna die if you don’t see her. And I know she’d do the same.”

You never would have guessed. Yujin doesn’t care about you. She doesn’t love you either. Her excuses for not visiting are perfectly designed to look like they benefit you—”I don’t want to disturb you”; “You need more sleep.” 

She’s gotten tired of you.

You lift your head from your hands. “What should I do now?” you ask.

This isn’t a venomous reply. You actually have no idea how to move forward. Yujin’s so far out of reach that you’re beside yourself, scared and helpless. You can’t disturb her schedules and start rumors. You can’t text her too much. There aren’t choices left for you to navigate. And if there are, you aren’t allowed to pick.

You want to curl yourself into a ball and cry yout heart out.

“Hello?” Wonyoung’s recognizable voice sounds out from the entrance, interrupting your trainwreck of thoughts.

You sprint from the sofa. It’s Yujin’s closest friend, the only one who might know where she’s been. You don’t welcome Wonyoung in. You don’t say “hi” or “what’s up?”. The first thing you tell her, upon meeting her at the entrance, is the only thing that’s important to you.

“Where’s Yujin?”

“Has Yujin visi—” Wonyoung pauses, realizing something. The bump in her throat resurfaces again. “She isn’t here?” 

“No. She’s at the dorm, right?” 

“Of course not. Yujin hasn’t stayed over since our last stage. Her parents said she wasn’t at their place.”

That’s more than eight days ago.

Seeing your friend isn’t so pleasant when you know that the one you love most is gone. It’s similar for Wonyoung. The horrors roll scene after scene in your minds, each one portraying Yujin in the cruelest of situations. Not everybody loves her purely—some of them want to hurt and tear and dehumanize her, and you can’t stop it. 

The sobs build up in your throat. “No.” 

“Something’s wrong, something’s wrong, something’s wrong,” says Wonyoung. It’s a singsong without the glee. She laughs nervously as she slips her hands in her pockets and looks behind you, as if it’s all just a cruel joke and Yujin’s safe and sound.

You take it all in. This can’t be real, but it is. The worst thing that could ever happen has finally unfolded. 

Sunghoon gets up, but you place a hand in front of him. He can’t save his friend from this. You feel yourself melting into the person everyone said you were: a mean, jealous god who reigned over Yujin and held her back.

Take a deep breath. “Where is she?”

"I don't know!” she cries out. The puzzle is pieced together. Yujin has disappeared, and both of you thought she was still someplace where it mattered. “She’s not answering my calls. The girls are looking for her. Her family’s looking for her.”

The fear, buried beneath the arteries of your heart, resurrects in the most cruel way. Its bony hand chokes you in its tight grip. If things went wrong tonight, Yujin would remember the merciless words you let go of the last time you saw her. They might be all she’d ever remember.

“Wonyoung.” You try to breathe. You can’t. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I thought you knew!”

You’ve never seen Wonyoung this distressed. Sunghoon’s passed your barrier to comfort her, but it’s not going to happen. She’s pacing around the room and cursing every vulgarity she knows. And the thing about Jang Wonyoung is that she never, ever swears.

The anger stacks up. You did not just let this happen. All those signs—her being missing from performances, the lack of updates—you ignored all of them. 

“You promised to take care of her!” you shout. There’s no room for shame here. You can yell as loud as you want. You’ve been keeping it in for so long. ”That’s what you said to me, now you’re telling me you lost her?”

Sunghoon’s words go unnoticed. You’ve got your own conversations inside your head. The voices go back and forth, saying you’re a terrible boyfriend, saying you’re the worst match for Yujin. This is why she doesn’t love you, they say. This is why she’d rather go missing than see you.

“I’m not the bad guy here!” Wonyoung almost rips her hair out when she faces you. “I’m trying to help you! Don’t you fucking dare pin this on me!”

You and Wonyoung glare at each other. Fierce stares rip at the friendship you nurtured over a girl you both love. Love causes hate and hate causes a flurry of hands and fists. Will you and Wonyoung end up like that, too?

“Wonyoung,” Sunghoon says. His voice is surprisingly steady. “Calm down. Check your phone, Yujin might have texted us.”

Too angry to protest, similar to how she was too angry to hear a notification sound, she turns her spiteful eyes from you and on her device. 

Then, it happens.

Liz | https://gossiphangug/forum/did-i-just-see-ive-yujin

Is that …?

-

오마이갓닛 아이브안유진인가요????????

I saw Ahn yujin at the seoul city highway. i was in my car on a road trip so sorry for the blurry pic but shes so pretty in real life!!!! her face is so small ㅠㅠ i dont think she's shooting something because she's alone. i dont want to invade D: an yujin im your longtime fan!

— What’s she doing all alone???? 

— Yujinieee why do you look sad

— im worried for her, shes famous and a woman. she cant be by herself at night 😭

— OVERRATED……………….

— If you didn’t want to iNvAdE why did you go on a public forum and share her location? Dumb bitch.

-

You get in your car. While you collected your keys from the door, you sent your girlfriend a total of thirty texts. Yujin hasn’t read a single one. You don’t care about space anymore—that’s the last thing she needs. 

The night covers the whole of Korea with an eeriness about it. Shiver, closing your jacket around yourself. The cicadas chirp and footsteps click around when no one’s there. You can’t imagine how scared Yujin must be if these are what she’s going through outside of Seoul, the most dangerous parts.

Place your phone on its holder. It’s always switched on so you can see her picture. She might be gone physically, but she’s always there on your screen—eating lunch, looking at you with wide eyes when she realizes you’re taking pictures of her. She’s in shows. Articles. 

She’s not dead, but she’s been gone for so long you would’ve thought she was.

If you aren’t quick enough, she will be.

Before you drive, you text her again. This time around, she’ll see it. 

You | Yujinnnn how are you?? please reply to me :)i’m coming over right now <3 I’m just here!

You always are, aren’t you? It’s her who’s not.

But you get it. It makes sense that she wouldn’t want to see you after the last time you met. 

Yujin was on her phone, (like always), not speaking a word. You brought up to her that you would appreciate it if you two could go on that dream trip you planned. 

It was the one you formulated when she wasn’t in IVE yet, not even IZ*ONE. You were young and passionate—you had a lot of dreams for yourselves. Being financially stable now compared to those days in Yujin’s practice room, sneaking a little time together, you thought you should go now.

Without looking up, Yujin sighed. “I can’t,” she said. “I’m shooting with the members in Jeju. Maybe next time?”

It was always next time. And it never, ever, happened.

“Okay, when are you planning to live up to your promise?” you told her lightly.

Yujin finally unglued her eyes from the screen. You froze. You didn’t mean to sound so antagonizing. 

Yujin set her hands on her hips, standing to meet your level. She’s scary when she’s mad. The cute dimple’s gone and the brightness from her eyes dissolves. Arguments and silent treatments couldn’t train you from the way the nonchalance on her face disappeared. Or remained. 

An Yujin scares you, and it’s not a laughing matter.

“Why can’t you just wait?” she asked. Her voice was hard as stone. “It’s not that hard. You know I can’t get out of it when I signed a contract.”

Shake your head. You try to focus on the road and its twists and turns, but all you can think about is her. When the possibility that things would go wrong actually happens tonight, you’ll never forgive yourself.

You hear her yells and excuses in your mind. Always the excuses with Yujin. Ladies and gentlemen, what’s new?

Remember how you lost all kindness in that moment and started to spew all these hateful words you didn’t know the impact of. Your hands tighten on the wheel.

“That contract didn’t say you’re legally required to forget about me.”

“I would never do that!” said Yujin angrily, taking a step closer to you. Despite the comfortable clothes, she looked like she wanted to punch you. Her fists were balled and her jaw was taut. She could do it right now and not regret it. “I’m busy, I can’t just show up and say I’m bailing because of a stupid trip.”

Your mouth had fallen to the floor. How could she say that so easily? It was the first promise you made to each other. Something like that ought to be taken more seriously. 

“You think it’s—” No, you couldn’t believe it. You wouldn’t believe it.

But Yujin nodded with all the conviction there was in the world. Your heart was broken, glass shattered from the hit she blew. “As stupid as you think my career is.”

Unbelievable. The apartment you two chipped in together suddenly looked like a blur. In your timeline, the minimal stars in the sky were blobs of unfocused light. Cars looked like clear road. It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t fair. How could she believe something so false?

“Why the fuck are you putting words in my mouth?” you snapped.

She wore this evil smile that challenged you to not back out for once. Yujin pushed you to your limits and loved it. “And why are you such a little bitch about it?”

And you swore you didn’t mean it when you took the quest, when you said—

“Why are you my girlfriend if you’re this selfish and unloveable?”

Her arrogance was gone in an instant. Yujin’s retort never came. She bit her lip tightly,  fearing her response would be in the form of a sob. It was in these moments that you forgot she cried so easily. You shouldn’t have said that. You didn’t intend to.

The words were easy to say, but hard to take back. The expression on her face changed. It went from a fiery summer to a hailstorm that didn’t want to pour down but the clouds overflowed. There was no other way out. In the close distance, you could hear her breath shudder.

Yujin crept up until you were forehead to forehead, nose to nose. Intimacy was out of the question because of her busyness. You hated that she was the closest she’s ever been now—when the tears stormed down her eyes, when her face radiated hot anger.

Her finger jabbed into your chest. She hoped its nail would transform into a knife. 

“Fuck you.” 

You didn’t intend to say what you said, but she did.

She shoved past you and was gone. Her footsteps were loud, crashing down on the floor with the impression that it’s you she’s running over. She wanted to bury you in the ground so you could never hurt her again. So she could never hurt you again.

The door slammed, and since then, you haven’t seen her.

The tear slides down your eye. You can’t hold it back anymore. Before you turn at the red light, you leave her a message:

You | And I love you.

My baby <3 

This is what you meant.

Driving in the night used to be your way of clearing your head. There’s less traffic, less civilians, less everything. The moon signaled home for everyone while you wanted to be anywhere else. It isn’t such a pastime now. Knowing that Yujin is out there, probably feeling very small and very alone—it honestly makes you want to kill yourself.

Not the first time she made you think of it.

The grass tumbles with sprinkler wetness. Trees whip past the vision of your sideview mirror. The streetlights cast a shadow over no one. She isn’t here. 

You won’t accept it. Reject all the paths that she’s been kidnapped and tortured and killed or whatever. Those aren’t true. Yujin’s doing well. She just needs a breather so she went out here.

Going on trying is exhausting. You’ve looked everywhere. You’re already at the darker parts of the highway. The road breaks into the soil and tapers off to the edge of an unprotected cliff. 

There’s no tall girl. There’s no love of your life. Considering that she isn’t here, she‘s most likely dead. She was put in a sack and thrown off this mountain. And nobody heard her screams.

You lost her. Forever.

Then a shadow of frazzled black hair passes by your window. The exhaustion’s creeping into you, so it might be a hallucination. But then you see the fabric hanging below the woman’s hair.

It’s your jacket.

You turn the engine off. Its death allows you to jump out of your car, takes one for the team so your girlfriend doesn’t have to. All the clues are there and you remain unsure if it’s really Yujin.

Until you see the strained, regretful smile that accents a dimple on her cheek.

Until you see the length of her legs as she sits on the edge.

Until you see her face.

“Yujin!” you call out. A murder of crows flies out from your feet as you sprint to her. 

She whips her head to you. Tears still speck her face but she’s wearing your jacket and your boxers. Not a wound blemishes her skin.

The relief courses through your blood like lifesaving medicine. Yujin’s safe! She’s okay. Her sneakers crash on the plateau. She’s missed you, too. The fabric of the jacket lifts to her shoulder as she raises her arm—

“You shameless motherfucker!” 

Yujin brings her hand down and slaps you right in the face. Its brutality brings tears to your eyes yet there are more on hers. Red blooms from where she smacked you. Her round little face is filled with the unholiest anger, the kind the devils would love her for. But she doesn’t seek salvation—because one after the other, she hits and pushes you backward.

The pain doesn’t stop. She doesn’t stop. The violence of it all—her hands reddening your skin, the bruises her knuckles leave on your chest, her booming voice—leaves you speechless. Yujin’s gotten angry, but never this angry.

“Fuck—you—fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!” She says it like a promise, living up to it with accompanying punches to your sore body. She’ll loathe you till the day you die. It’s a pledge she makes to all her red flags. “Get out of my life!”

Yujin shoves you into your car hood and beats your stomach with a plummet of fists. Your legs crumple. The resistance is there. Your shoes try to remain glued to the ground and withstand her assault, but you’re too weak. You’re so dense around Yujin and it doesn’t stop at her little seldom glances, her little touches.

It goes right up to every abuse—the one at your belly, chest, and arms.

The air’s being knocked out of you. Each bout of oxygen you try to take is out of reach. You’re losing what’s left inside thanks to Yujin’s cruel punches. 

Her screams echo through the forest below and the sky above. Not even the crows can stand her beating. They fly away instantly, afraid they’d be next. Fear is wholly understandable. Yujin’s eyes are alight with bloodthirst.

“Stop! Yujin, it hurts!” you scream. You don’t want to push her. But if she keeps hitting you like this, you’re leaving the place seriously injured. Thus, you’re forced to knee her in the stomach. 

And you still don’t want her to leave your touch.

Yujin stumbles backwards. She looks at you, not stunned or shocked, but furious. Angry is one thing. It makes people passive-aggressive, makes them curse, makes them snarky. Furious is what gets her to stand up and approach you. Furious is what makes her throat sore from yelling and her abuse go on despite the skinned burn. 

She’s psychotic—sweat beads at her face and her hair’s messy and knotted. What scares you is how she’s growling. The raspy noises pair with the murderous look in her eyes. She’s ready to beat you up again, and you can’t run to save yourself.

Yujin hurls into you with a shout, using her height and weight to damage you. It’s effective. You lose balance and knock into your vehicle again. The metal cuts through your skin. You don’t want to retaliate. You won’t stoop that low. However, it’s starting to actually hurt.

She’s not a challenge to carry, so why does she feel so heavy right now? Her cries rock your ears like how she’s ruining your strength. She’s beating you down with the goal of leaving you a bloody mess. Yujin won’t stop at anything to reach that.

“Yujin!” 

The more purple bruises she leaves on your body, the more you’re confused. You put your arms up. That’s enough. Yujin yells frustratedly and tries to push through them. So, place your hands on her shoulders tightly. She’s a restrained animal, teeth bared and wildness still running through her blood. Her whimpers speak of frustration and her will to go on hurting.

“Baby,” you say, squeezing her, “what the hell is going on?”

"Why do you care?” Yujin's sobbing. The tears are plump and fast as she’s pushing you off her like you didn't even matter. Your touch doesn’t console her anymore. It just makes her rabid. "Go rail that bitch, you’re all hers, I don't give a shit."

You don’t know what she’s talking about. All you want to do is wipe the sadness from her face and bandage her wounds. What’s stopping that is Yujin herself.

The night is silent except for her heavy pants. Even the crickets are quiet. They seem to be watching and waiting for your next move. 

Try again: "Yujin—" 

"Just go!" Yujin screams. Deafening is not good enough of an adjective to describe her voice. It wrecks your eardrums and you think the trees whistle back because of it. The whole world is static for a minute.

She pins you into the hood of your car again, but then she's suddenly pressed to your form tightly. Her supple body's joined your touch, as if you were always one.

For long seconds, Yujin glares down at you. Her steely eyes force your breaths to shorten. She leaves you breathless in so many ways—in bed, in performances, in the hour where she’s holding you down after cruelty. Fuck. 

You stare right back at her. Yujin’s teardrops land on your face, like a perfect kiss. It won’t save you. Instead, it’ll kill you. Her fingers gather the fabric of your collar around your throat before she shoves you away.

“Forget this ever happened.” She backs off for the first time. She’s tired, too. Furiously dabbing at her swollen eyes, Yujin walks away until she’s at a measured distance where she can actually stand to be with you. “It’s over. It always was.”

She’s so… small. Yujin’s at a height equal to yours, however, there’s her legs being too thin for your boxers. Blood streams from a tiny open wound. Your jacket pools around her arms. Her teary face needs the comfort she rejects. 

You can’t bring yourself to accept that this is how she breaks things off with you. She needs you. You need her, the way gasoline needs a lit match to roar into flames, the way a knife needs ill intent to murder.

“Please. At least tell me what’s wrong. You’ve been gone for months, Yujin. Months.”

“You know what you did,” she snarls, holding her bruised knuckles to her chapped lips. “Parading around with Wonyoung in public, what were you trying to do? Just because that whore bounces on any dick doesn’t mean you have to give in.``

The bricks fall into place. They build a bigger picture where you could see everything. Yujin’s jealous. She thinks you’re cheating on her because you went out with your best friend. 

Her streak of envy is terrifying. It’s never gotten to this level though, where your cheek still burns. The same fire in her face—curled brows, eyes full of contempt—grows higher. You can’t put it out with water or snow. It’ll eternally be there inside her, waiting to be provoked.

“Is that what this is about?” you laugh. Have to crack a smile to keep from crying. 

Yujin tilts her head with a cross of her arms. “What do you think?”

“Oh, I get it. If I’m jealous because you’re with that rookie idol, it’s bullshit. But when you are, I have to get fucking assaulted.”

You’re still recovering. Your body’s sore and your legs feel like jelly. The lengths Yujin would go to make a point are terrifying.

She sucks in her teeth. “Probably because he isn’t my childhood best friend I had my fucking first kiss with.”

“Wonyoung and I were five, Yujin. She’s a friend. I was helping and spending time with a friend.”

“A friend you went on a cute little ice cream date with?” she asks. “The one you drove her to even when your car doesn’t have goddamned headlights?”

Yujin hammers a foot into said headlights. The lights resurrect and die all over again, flickering in hopes that she’d give them a chance.

How does she know about that outing? Someone must have recognized Wonyoung that day. You need to file a lawsuit against whoever took a picture. They caused Yujin’s spiral into insanity. That’s reason enough for the judge to hammer down justice.

Thumbs pressing behind her ears, she screams as loud as she can. She wants to cause an earthquake that’ll eliminate everybody, including herself. Let the mountains fall on her. At least the last thing that hurt her won’t be you. 

“Is she your girlfriend now? Is that what you went to her for: help? Forget it.” She rubs her scarlet eyes. They’ve seen things you can’t understand well—a love she thought was hers only. “I’m not stupid, and Wonyoung isn't better than me. You could’ve texted, called, anything.”

“Yujin,” you reply quietly. “If I did, would you have come?”

You could hear the labor of her breaths, the whip of a crow’s wings. Yujin’s speechless. She’s not as sinless as she thinks she is. You neglected her and she did, too. 

And, as expected, you let her go without an apology.

“P-plus, I bet my life they’re gonna say the same thing: Wonyoung and I are just friends. That’s it.”

“You didn’t call her unloveable or selfish? Wow, you really are a match made in heaven.”

Flustered: “That’s not how—”

It’s your turn to be quiet. You didn’t realize the impact of your words. They hit her harder than her punches did to you. Blood won’t seep yet there’s an ache inside her heart you’ve planted forever.

You see the shape of Yujin’s mouth quiver. No, you can still fix this. This doesn’t have to be the end.

Is it still salvageable when she’s already breaking down? Her whines ricochet and she’s crying into the sleeve of the jacket, your jacket. She’s utterly hopeless. She needs someone. You aren’t an option anymore.

She doesn’t look up from the road. One finger pointed to the car, Yujin says one thing:

“Go.”

It’s all she tells you. She’s ready for it to be over. You’re too intense. She’s gone, you cry. You’re gone, she floods the world with her tears and leaves no survivors. You fight her, she replies with a hit in the face. When she fights you, you fight as a soldier would. Your schedules collide and result in no sweet dates, no time together. You just weren’t meant for each other.

You feel like crying, too. Refuse to believe that the girl you were with ever since the two of you were teenagers—the girl you comforted before she took the risk to become who she wanted, the girl in the trainee headcount—isn’t for you. It’s so wrong. 

Shake your head. “Never,” you murmur.

"I swear to god, leave me alone. You know what? Leave Wonyoung alone, too. She doesn't want a bastard who sticks like glue to other girls."

“I don’t want her. I don’t want anyone else but you.”

She’s so perfect. Yujin’s fingers bleed from hitting you and her face is puffy with dried tears, yet she looks beautiful to you. How could you not? She’s got that sweet puppy love smile, that soft heart that’s so easy to love but so easy to break. You won’t fall for anything else.

Yujin scoffs. “How fucking romantic.” 

Romance. What a dead thing. Its corpse is still lying around and waiting for tears to turn to shy smiles it used to provoke. There’s only Yujin’s bleeding fists, dry pout, and your presence. A presence she doesn’t want.

She turns her back to you and faces the round moon in the sky. Its bright light on her, Yujin laughs into it tauntingly. She wordlessly relays her complaints to it and all of them are about you. How dare it watch idly and not let the sun take its place? 

“You’re a liar,” she spits. “What about me is worth loving?”

Maybe you weren’t enough. You loved and loved and loved her and she still doesn’t want to see the truth. You should’ve made a way to surprise her after shows. You should’ve hugged her and told her you want her rather than expecting her to know it.

“You’re an angel.” You’re near tears. You’ll fight tooth and nail for her to believe you. “You’re such a hard worker and you get me through stuff when I don’t think I can anymore. I’m sorry if I never told you that.”

Yujin sniffles while you pause. There’s more things you need to apologize for. All the times you spoke before you thought, all the times you said something you didn’t mean in the heat of the moment.

“And… and…” Swallow your pride. “I’m sorry if I told you anything else.”

Her shoulders shake. You don’t know how much that means to her. Her doubts are numberless and you just alleviated them, even for a little while. You don’t notice that you’re crying, too. 

“You have this gorgeous smile, your pretty bare face and I fall for it every damn time. You’re so adorable, baby. I think about you everyday.”

“It doesn’t work like that. I’m batshit insane.” Yujin’s inching closer and closer to the edge. She raises her hands and slams them back down on her sides. “I’m always mad, always gone, and always such a fucking bitch to you.”

“Then you’ll just have to fix that.”

“Why?”

Everyday you play a losing game against her when you’re not supposed to be opponents. You scratch and tear but it’s all out of desperation, a dog-like want to be told it’s loved. Lies have been said and the wounds have been made, but this is what you mean after all this time. 

“Because I want to marry you, Yujin!” 

The subdivisions below this mountain hear your proclamation. Nope, you don’t care anymore. Let them hear it, let them wonder about it. You love An Yujin, and that’s not gonna change.

You’re no longer embarrassed about your shaking words and tears. There’s only one thing you’re humiliated of, and that’s the lack of love you showed to her. That will change tonight.

“And when we have kids,” you cry out with your voice breaking, “I don’t need them losing the smile they got from their mother.”

Time slows down. The wind stops blowing her hair harshly. The few cars passing by are nonexistent. There remains only An Yujin, who turns to face you with bloodshot eyes and a red nose. 

The violent fire is gone from her face. Here, you see what she’s trying to hide: a tired, broken kid who needs love. She’s a girl who, behind it all, only wants you.

Yujin and you are a complicated matter. Fame skyrocketed her career while she left you in the dust. It wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t yours. But you go to war until you’re left to die in opposite corners of the room. And the last beats of your hearts will still be for each other.

She’s got everything you like—plump red lips, a sunshine brightness, and faith in herself—that you won’t trade a bloodless battle for. There she goes, also having everything you hate: a workaholic attitude, jealousy, and a boastfulness that, still and all, you find so fucking attractive.

You have a love that can’t be broken, a variety of jackets you hug around her. But then you possess the need to spend every waking hour with her that it gets inconvenient, and a hold over her she can’t shake off. 

Through fights and scars, you stay, because the way Yujin feels in your arms never goes out of style.

-

The rosary on your rearview mirror clinks before you take off. The headlights are off, soft music plays on your radio, and Yujin’s in here with you. You missed her so much that it hurts with just her head on your shoulder.

She’s still crying softly. Your sleeve is wet but you let her sob. You’d be doing the same were you in her position. All this time, it turns out the only thing you needed to do was put yourself in her shoes. 

Yujin’s glassy eyes reflect the road before you. They’re much better to look at than your rearview mirror. You could see galaxies in them—numerous stars, countless worlds.

“Still me?” she asks quietly. Her legs are bunched up under her chin while she’s leaning on you. Forget about the seatbelt, about the fines. They’re all not worth obeying when Yujin’s finally with you.

Ponder about what she’s talking about until you see that your phone’s on. Your lockscreen wallpaper is her. Change your phone, change your device, change your camera, and she remains there.

One hand on the wheel, your other one strokes her hair. Nostalgia pours in and you’re taken back to your shy kisses behind the building, running away from practices and meetings.

“Yeah. It’s always been you.” You look at the mirror. “Always.”

Yujin’s eyelids float closed. “I’m sorry.”

You almost stop driving. Yujin just apologized. She doesn’t do that. Whether it’s because of her ways or pride, the word never left her lips.

Not until now. And it’s in your heart to forgive her, regardless of your bruises and exhaustion.

“I-I’m sorry, too.”

Yujin buries her face in your arm and releases a held breath. There’s relief in it. She’s glad you’ve got her again. Someone has to. And you know, by her hand curling yours into place on her shoulder, she’s got you as well.

Pass through the toll gates with a kind of easiness you didn’t have before. Having her with you creates more of a difference than winning the lottery. She’s worth more than the biggest prize. Before you take out your ticket or cash or say “I’ll reload next time,” you see Yujin’s face. Once, you could only see her in your imagination, in your dreams. Now she basks in the dim yellow light with a comforted smile. Your jacket’s pooled around her legs in the form of a makeshift blanket and her midnight hair’s gotten pretty long. Her lips are kissable despite their dryness and you find that whatever An Yujin does, she makes you want to stare.

It’s a long drive. Not too long, though. Yujin lifts herself off your body to gaze admiringly at the city lights. She’s been here a thousand times before. Something about tonight makes it all better. 

A convenience store’s brightness reflects her expression on the car window. The childlike innocence in it makes you sentimental again. You and Yujin were once barely sixteen, looking out the taxi windows and not believing that life could be so beautiful.

She meets your eyes in the glass for a brief moment before you look away. Without giving her another look, you know she’s smirking through her tears.

“Eyes on me again, huh,” quips Yujin.

“I already told you, baby: you’re the only one.”

“I know that now.” Her brows raise. “Why are we going this way?”

You’re driving up a hill to her group’s secret house. Kept hidden behind trees and a well-guarded entrance, no one knows the girls live there. It’s where she’s safe, from stalkers and paparazzi and the general public. How she got out there all the way to the highway with just one post about her whereabouts, you don’t know. An Yujin has her tricks.

Pull the brakes. “Your dorm, right?” you say.

“No, I want to stay at your place.”

“Isn’t it dangerous?”

Yujin leans in. The windows aren't tinted, so maybe security saw you. But she’s all secure in your arms, lips on yours. 

You forgot how good Yujin was at kissing—her soft mouth feels amazing. Her daring tongue makes you a little wobbly. When it’s over, she’s never looked more sure. 

“Is that convincing enough for you,” asks Yujin, “or do I have to do it again?”

-

Her fists are bright red. The other is skinned through, overlapping with a hissing paleness. The cotton slides over the open wounds and Yujin mewls in pain. Seeing how wounded her hands are, you’re surprised she didn’t break them. 

“You spend too much time in the gym,” you note. Her arm muscles have gotten bigger and her legs are more toned than before. You wonder if she uses exercise as a way to vent out all her anger, just so she doesn’t do so to somebody else. 

Yujin can’t disagree with that. Her posture deteriorates on the carpet. The shoulders of the baggy white t-shirt lift. Almost everything you lend looks too big for her. It’s cute.

The TV’s on, jabbering with news and reporters you don’t care to listen to. It’s mostly on to fill the silence in your apartment. Yujin refuses to talk much.

Her head hangs. “I don’t know why I get so jealous.” She lifts it and there’s tears in her eyes again. “It’s so…”

Yujin’s ferocity scares even herself. There’s a lot of things and places she hasn’t met in your apartment. The kitchen has a newly installed table that serves also as your workplace. Blooming flowers decorate the front garden. But all she takes interest in are her guilty hands. She can’t believe she did what she did: used them to hurt you.

“Yujin, it’s alright. It’s over.” You tape the bandage on. “I forgive you, remember?”

“Doesn’t mean what I did is okay.”

“Then we’ll fix the damage,” you promise. Kiss her hand, then make another promise: “Together.”

The used cotton balls are blood red. Yujin watches as you throw them away and gather the first aid equipment in their kit. You didn’t think you’d have to use them. The alcohol was only ever meant for additional cleansing. The cotton buds were used for your ears. Nothing more.

Then she arrived again. And although she beat you to a pulp, you’re glad she’s home.

Things work differently with her, apparently. 

“How did you do it?” you ask. Sit beside her, your empty space finally being occupied, and hold her bandaged hand. 

Yujin fixates on the screen’s headline. It’s something about a child running away. Speaks to her, in a way. “I told Wonyoung I was going out for a walk,” she tells you simply. “I got my phone, charger, mask, that stuff. I never came back.”

And now she did. 

Her thigh’s propped over yours, reminiscent of the old times. Plus, back then, you didn’t have the TV. The apartment wasn’t this big. The deal about loving Yujin is that you dreamt bigger and bigger to make things better for her. Though she spends time in the dorm the most, you appreciate that she’s here. 

“They didn’t recognize you?”

She strokes the blunt ends of her hair. “Losing the Rapunzel extensions does wonders.”

It must be difficult being under the public eye. It’s a typhoon that isn’t afraid to rain down on her if she slips up. Perhaps that’s why she ran away. An act of rebellion done too late, too perfectly. 

Yujin wipes her face and giggles despite herself. This is the real Yujin: intelligent, prettier without makeup, and sensitive to the point that she acts up. Her fans might not like it, but you do. 

You place a hand over her knee. “You’re beautiful.”

She always is.

“That’s probably why you let me get away with so much.”

Chuckle. “You’re half-right,” you admit, finger raised and wagging.

There’s a funny smile on her face. “What’s the other half?” 

She’s right. What is the other half?

You don’t need to ask yourself a question you know the answer to. 

“I brush off your crimes because… uh, I dunno. I love you?” you say shyly. The confession is truer than diamonds. You find the courage to say it in her touch, trickling over your jaw and shoulder. “I don’t even like getting mad at you. Do you have any idea how much I cry after we fight?”

Yujin brushes her thumb over your earlobe. She has this habit of causing you to burn up feverishly without the need for colds. It’s the charm in her that she brings everywhere. She knows how to make you close your eyes and have you see vividly the dirtiest things at the same time. She’s familiar with you, inside and out.

“We’re more alike than I thought, then.”

“Is that a good thing?” you ask.

She pecks your cheek. The strawberry heat of her breath is, well, a little gratifying. “You got this far,” says Yujin. “I think you can figure that one out.”

You think you’re losing your mind. 

She scatters it more by closing her hands around your face, a gentler touch than earlier. Focus your attention on her—you can’t revert it to anything else. Yujin’s got your heart locked into hers and you aren’t going to do anything about it. Not when she’s this gorgeous, this gentle, this loveable.

You mean it. 

“Thanks.” She tilts her chin, observing your soul and expressions. “For saving me.”

“You could have done that by yourself.”

“No shit,” Yujin laughs. She still has this pensiveness on her face as she strokes your lip. “But it’s nice to know someone’s gonna catch me when I fall.” 

The comfort her touch brings to you almost lulls you to sleep. She’s so soft and gentle that you forget the previous Yujin, who wasn’t afraid to throw you around. Then you study her again—almond-shaped eyes, round lips, and the knife of her jawline—and you realize that you would let her do it again.

This is love. This is love in its prettiest and ugliest form. It isn’t the type you see romanticized in movies or sought after by young girls. Love means staying, because you’re too selfish to let the other have anyone else.

It’s a little fucked up. But that’s you. And Yujin… she’s Yujin.

“It’s weird.” Her grin is mischievous. “When I ran away, I knew you’d come get me. I guess I just wanted to see if you actually would.”

The fact that she’s aware you have her anytime draws a smile on your face. It’s a real one—the ends of your lips pull and they won’t stop past the circles of your blush. You’re enough. Yujin knows you love her. There’s just these doubts sometimes, all the time. Nothing you can’t fix.

“And I did,” you say reflectively.

Her eyelids are lower than before. “That’s why I still have faith in you.”

Your heart floats. Its wings initiate all the butterflies in your stomach. They’re stressed, not knowing where they came from. Meanwhile, your head’s in the clouds and you could never feel any better than this.

After what happened, Yujin believes in you. It makes each aching muscle and permanent scar worth it. 

She gives them a one-over. “Want me to give that some amateur medical attention?”

“I-I’m good. They’re not that bad.”

“That’s okay,” Yujin says. “I’ll just bruise you up another way.”

You want to ask her what that means. Her lips on your neck wordlessly tell you exactly what she’s implying.

Her fluffy thighs top your knees while the kiss reaches up to your jaw. Yujin’s shorts ride up and you’re met with every patch of tanned, full skin closing in on you. She fully got you from that lick behind your ear. 

Sink into the bed of the sofa with no protest. She’s so deep in the crook of your neck and she wants to go further. Knowing who and what Yujin is, you can’t stop her from doing that. You don’t want to.

“My poor baby,” she breathes. Her lips pucker on your cheek, your nose, and arrive at their final destination on your mouth. Stroking your hair, Yujin pouts. “Does Yujin put you through too much?”

Your lips purse above her worrying thumb. “Kinda.”

She’s intimidating enough with the bedroom voice and eyes. You want to run for cover, scream for help. The only thing you don’t want to do is pretend this isn’t happening. 

Yujin grinds herself down deliciously. Friction gives way to heat, and it’s exactly that which gets you to put your hands on her sides and guide her. Your mixed groans spur on the dry humping. 

It’s a little taste for what comes when she takes off those shorts (oh please oh please oh please). Her wide hips come into view as she hovers her naked crotch above your mouth. Her sweet honey drips from her core and onto your waiting mouth.

“Good.”

That’s the last thing you hear before a set of powerful, full thighs immediately comes together to crush your head. Your tongue creates contact with her center and begins to lick fast. The more you lap, the more of Yujin’s juices end up in your throat. She’s a favorite food you haven’t eaten in forever, and now you’re not sure if you want to stop.

Love—a little complicated, isn’t it? You love Yujin (she knows) and she loves you (you know that, too.) Is that what makes you go on eating her out in spite of your neck being her seat, your natural need for air going ignored? Close to that. Yujin’s rich moans—heard even from her thighs, the thickest of earmuffs—trigger a sense of need in you to make her cum that originates from want, then mixes together. It’s confusing, exhilarating, and you don’t think deeper thanks to her face denting your head deeper into the pillows.

However, here’s the conclusion: you love Yujin, up to the sharp danger of death. 

She could suffocate you and not know it. Hours would go on until she notices you’re quite still. But you grab her flesh, every bit of the meaty sweaty skin, and pull her in. Because dying is worth it for Yujin. Perceive your fervent suckles on her clit that evoke the prettiest gasps from her tilted throat as a soldier’s sacrifices for his country. Interpret your nails reddening her thighs as scratches and scrawls to escape a trap you don’t want to get out of. Yujin makes you want to die everyday and she’s the best you’ve given all your lives for.

You leave a kiss on her lips before running your tongue up and down. They’re slick and slippery as they brush on your mouth. When you welcome yourself into her tight hole, you could feel her shake on top of you. She tastes nothing short of delectation. You would eat her out for days if it came to that.

Yujin curls a hand through her hair. “Fucking slut.”

The fact is further founded. 

“You like it? You like my perfect pussy?” She sports a cruel grin. You don’t know where to look: there or her supple tits bouncing as she rocks her hips. 

You shut your eyes and moan. Yujin pushes further down on your face. Her inner thighs warm your cheeks but you’re warm elsewhere, too. Something about her crazed smile while her jagged hair whips against her neck… your blood runs cold. Good thing it’s going south.

She pulls herself off you and you ridiculously chase after her. Her palm flattens you down to the sofa. Whimper, which means nothing to her. She needs to hear it. Or else.

“I don’t think,” Yujin reiterates, grip locked on the base of your neck, “I heard an answer.”

“Your pussy’s the best, baby.”

“Say it like a man. Do you like the taste of my cunt?”

“Yes!” Your words are muffled. “I want it so bad!”

Yujin’s laugh clears any doubts you might have about her enjoying it. She leans down, lets your breaths mingle, then licks her juices off your pursed lips. “Good boy.”

You’re sent back to heaven again.

Capture her clit and seize it with harsh suckles. Her deep cries of pleasure fill the space in your apartment’s four walls. If they penetrate through them the way your tongue does to her folds, the neighbors would have plenty of complaints. 

Nevertheless, you go on fucking her hole with your ready tongue, dragging every bit of the delicious wetness out and for you to take. There’s something you have to prove. What is it?

Yujin’s not worrying about that. The pressure on her most sensitive parts is overwhelming enough. Yujin pants heavily and threads her fingers through your hair. She keeps your head between her delicious thighs, nowhere else. Her hips come to and fro as though they were waves, and you’re the shore drinking up every delicious tanginess in them.

“Oh god, oh shit, you fucking—” 

She rises off your mouth but you pull her back down. You’re addicted now, riding her high. No one can pull you away from her. Her squeals are loud and her pretty head is thrown back. You catch sight of her strong jawline and the sweat rolling down her neck—there’s not a chance in hell or heaven you’d let her run away again. 

Yujin’s strong groans deafen you as she rides your tongue. She’s a source of curses and obscenity, and she gives herself out freely. Her sinful pussy is everything you can ever eat, and her moans and cries of your name are all you’ll ever hear.

“You’re gonna make me cum,” she whines. Her fingernails threaten to pierce right through your skull. “I bet you’d like that. Your dumb whore self is just waiting for it like the whore you are. Am I right?”

You nod. Rub your aching cock over your pants because you can’t take it anymore either. The hitches of her breath and how fucking crazy she is—bouncing on your mouth like it’s just another sex toy, calling you all these names you’d never use to address her in a lifetime—it’s making you pent up.

“Then just take it, baby—” Yujin’s losing herself. Her knees cage your head. “Fuck, do it!”

She twitches and shivers until you’re sure you can’t take her pending release anymore. The flood she rains down is one you drink of until no drop is left. Feel for her silken walls to have more. You’re greedy. Even here, where she‘s on top of you and choking you with her heavenly thighs—you want Yujin all to yourself.

Yujin’s pleasured noises go from deep to whiny, whiny to needy. Your jaw feels sore at this point. You’ve been at it for an eternity. But, for the first time with Yujin, you don’t feel tired. Keep a cruel suction around her nub and finger her to keep those little sprinkles going. 

Your carpet catches her afterwards, a puff of breath leaving her lips. Yours are smudged by her. You can still feel her on them.

Perhaps you should say something to kill the loud silence. Crack a joke? Talk a little again? Then Yujin’s eyes train on you, and it’s all downhill from here. 

“Come on,” she says with a laugh. Her mouth’s pulled into an eerie grin. You didn’t know you’d be so terrified to see her happy. “You really think we’re over with this?”

You’re unconsciously backing away. “Yujin—”

She rises, and you’re again thinking of how tall she is. Yujin’s leg propped over your beating heart alone could stop everything. She could crush you, and she’ll do it, so help her god. 

She strips you of your jeans and underwear. The cold air hits you and you throb harder. You’re on your trusty old sofa again, which is now witness to Yujin stroking your tip. Her lithe finger, long and thin, curls around your cockhead and teases your slit. You’re dripping, and she is, too. It’s self-gratifying to her, the way she knows she has you—your heart; your brain; your dick—all of you. 

“Whose dick is this?” 

And she still needs to hear it.

You gulp. Her voice has dropped lower and her eyes… she’ll be the death of you. “I—I—”

“Don’t lie to me,” Yujin coaxes, nothing close to gently. Her grip is tight and she’s jerking you off hard, rough palm sliding over your sensitive skin and making you weak in the knees. “You can’t avoid me, unless you’re the property of that bitch Wonyoung now.”

Her nails scrape your cock, sending your teeth burying in your lip. The pleasure is as heavy as the pain. You’re twitching in her fist, whimpering, crying. You sound pathetic, and Yujin loves it.

“N-no. I’m yours, Yujin. Nobody else can have me.” 

Because you know the lives Yujin would ruin if anybody else owned you, the tears you’d cry if you weren’t hers. Pain is a hell of a drug that turns the hurt into pleasure. It’s messing with your head. It violates, skinning away your dignity and dreams, and you can’t get enough.

“Good,” she says. She tips your chin up. “‘Cause nobody can make you cum like I do.”

Her ego can’t get any bigger but it somehow does. You look up at her helplessly, while she proudly admires the purple she’s left on your neck. Her thighs lock your hips in place. There’s no getting out from Yujin.

She proves this further by sinking her core down on you. You let out a dual moan, seizing for the other and tensing up. Yujin’s center is set on a mission to choke your length. She’s so wet and hot and tight, and you already forgot how to deal with it.

“This cock,” Yujin emphasizes, “is all mine. Every drop of cum in these heavy balls are mine. You understand me?”

Her plump ass thunders on your lap as she rides you. You spread your hands on it in a silent urge for her to go faster. And she will. 

Her wetness is enough lubricant for her to sink all the way down to your base. Feel her lips spread to allow you inside, and how they hold onto you and never let go. You’re never completely out of Yujin. It’s always her fluttering walls accommodating your girth, sliding up and down. 

“Aw.” Yujin laughs, soft and nearly delicate. “It’s alright. Don’t talk. I know you haven’t had good pussy in a while. It’s too much for you, huh?”

False concern. All false fucking concern. Yujin doesn’t give a shit. She’ll keep riding you. The impact of her center taking you to the hilt, right up to her womb, and her thighs rippling rid whatever sleep you have in your eyes. It’s been a long night, but Yujin keeps you high and awake. You’re always waiting for what she has next. You can’t miss out.

Her fingernail lightly stimulates your nipple and you cry out. The heat spreads to your legs and arms. You’re trapped in tropical weather with her being the sun that shines and shines and shines.

“Fuck, Yujin—”

“Can’t take it?” She smirks. “You’re a fucking wimp, of course not.” 

Yujin pinches your nipple and reaches to you for a kiss. Her teeth knit on your lip and you guess you know if she meant it or not. It’s one of the few puzzles you can solve about her.

The sofa starts to creak, and you honest-to-god think you’ll have to pay for a new one. Yujin’s weight batters you down on the plush. Save the distraction of her tightness draining the life out of you, you would have told her to calm down. But Yujin’s anger is like that of a jealous god—she’ll flood the world and kill to keep you.

You got to start praying for Wonyoung. But what deity would listen to you? The goddess in front of you, who’s riding you to death and isn’t that convinced you could join her in paradise?

You’re whimpering again. She massages your shoulders, rubs down your arms and returns her touch to the base of your neck. Yujin could read your weaknesses like a magazine. She knows you’ll bow down for the squeeze of her cunt, the gush of feminine pleasure, and her lips on yours.

“Cute boy.” She looks at you the same way she would a camera flash, now that she’s all too used to being its favorite: with a sickening smile that leaves you in awe. She’s a performer for you, a ticketless transaction. “Can’t believe I’m so mean to you when you have a face like that. Not that you don’t deserve it.”

You were right all along. You’re just a pet to her. She’ll keep you around for entertainment, mostly because you’re adorable in her eyes, and scold you for the littlest things. She’ll do more than scold you. 

Like right now: she taunts you, the smile on her face growing, with her fingers on your collar twisting it around your neck like a dog’s. Her other hand sifts through your hair before seizing your scalp. She then uses the grip to ride you harder. You can physically feel your tip push against her cervix, forced to reach further. 

The pain isn’t all there is to it. Beating everything, Yujin remains slick and tight. You have to fight your hardest to pull out and return inside anyway. Her fluttering walls match the throb of your cock. You’re so deep in her, so big, that Yujin can’t have too little of you. 

That’s why she makes it a point that for every move she does—ride you, lick you, kiss you—she moans heavily. It makes all the soreness worth it. The wanton expression on her face casts a spell that lets you forget about the tears you saw on it earlier. All you remember and witness are the wideness of her eyes and her parted mouth. 

“Shit, oh shit, no…” You close your eyes. Why does her body have to feel so good? Her thighs are soft on your lap, her hands are teasingly slow, and you won’t ever forget about her cunt—so fucking hot and ready. “Please make me cum, Yujin, oh my god—”

You feel delirious. All the sanity you have is lost; Yujin feeds on it like a vampire using each sweep of her hips. She feels too good. Your head’s up in the clouds but you can’t breathe. Her pumps strangle you to get the sweet fill of your semen.

“Oh, sweetie.” Yujin stops to grind herself down on you. “I always do.”

It’s purely instinct, animalistic and wild, when you release all your second thoughts and lift her up. You pin her to the nearest wall. Her back curves off it anyway, but you push it back with your steady pumps. The sounds you’re gasping are pathetic, denying you the dominance you wish you had. Yujin’s just there taking it and laughing at your efforts. The choked mixture of a chuckle and a moan escapes her and you know you’re close.

She tilts your head up and constrains you to match her gaze. You can’t. She always wins this. It’s not fair that she has that body and takes the advantage to get you sweating and whining. You don’t have a dog in the game. Yujin never loses. She couldn’t even lose your love.

“You don’t deserve me,” she says after lifting her chin. It’s true, just not in the way you think. “But I’m still letting you cum inside. So make it count.”

You were going to cum anyway. Yujin’s sweaty form pressed on the wall looks too hot and her thighs are soft around your fists. Somehow, the egoistic expression she wears that tells you she’s not kidding ties the last knot in your stomach,

You pump her hard, thinking: oh Yujin, Yujin, Yujin. Does it really have to be this way? You, improving your strokes between her legs and chasing the approval of that stupid shit-eating grin on her face? You do all this with the knowledge you’ll never be enough for her, but she stays because you can’t let go of each other. Her repeated and pretty gasps will echo in your ears forever. The punches you took stay flashing back in her mind.

You stick to each other like glue, white as the cum that fills her.

Her nails sink into your skin. Rest your forehead in the crook of her neck to breathe. Her scent is hypnotizing, somehow making sweat and sex smell like flowers. Kind of similar to how it felt like a kiss when she hit you. 

“I love you.” 

A blink and a quiet. “Love you, too,” she says finally. 

Something isn’t right. The cogwheels aren’t in sync. “After everything that happened, everything you said,” you manage, “do you mean it?”

Pull away. Stickiness and sex aside, it’s difficult. Parting from her touch is traumatic. It takes you back to when you lost her and you don’t think you can ever allow her to be alone again. In your mind, you state a reminder: Yujin will leave you over your dead body.

She doesn’t say anything, only looking at you with misty eyes, but you think at that moment, you sound exactly like her.

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[fallenangelics]

The Taste of Your Lips All Over Mine

PAIRING | Angel Dust/Husk

WORD COUNT | 2632

SUMMARY | Invited to the annual Overlord ball, Angel has big plans for the night. With his father and brother overlooking his every move as the family business is put in jeopardy, there isn't much room for mistakes. Good thing Angel's target for the night willingly walks straight into his trap.

RATING | Mature

WARNING/TAG(S) | Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings

A/N | @rubra-wav created the beautiful banner below so go check out their content since they have some amazing stuff.

EVENTS | @eclipsingbingo | First Kiss | Whispering Sweet Nothings | @fandombingo | Repeatedly Checking Their Pulse To Assure Yourself Their Still Alive | @multifandom-flash | Drugged Lipstick | How Many Fingers | Have I Mentioned I Am Sexually Active Today? | @fandom-free-bingo | Curiosity Killed The Cat | @character-a-character-b | Primal Encounters

AO3 LINK | Read Here

The dress that Angel wore hugged every curve of his body, keeping him snug within the black and pink fabrics. As he walked through the Overlord gathering he held himself with poise, playing the part he needed to for tonight. 

It wasn’t often that a gathering such as this was held. The monthly meetings were a bore of politics that Angel never bothered showing up for, sending his brother in his place so he could hear the conversation later on, but this was different. This was an event that only happened once a year, a gathering of everyone important with even the chance of one of the Deadly’s making an appearance.

Angel had a mission though, one he couldn’t afford to mess up while his father and brother were mingling in the crowd keeping Sinner’s occupied. Recently a chunk of their territory had been stolen, and with it vanished some of their profit all due to a certain Gambling Demon earning more confidence and attempting to reach further across the pentagram.

Though Angel hadn’t cared personally for the loss, his family had taken it as a personal attack, sending him to deal with the problem and what better place than the annual gala that he would attend? That’s why he was walking around the large hall looking out for the short demon while in the best dress he could find, hoping to catch his attention one way or another. 

It was a shame it was Angel who had to complete this mission since he would much rather spend the night getting drinks and mingling with some of the crowd but he couldn’t blame his family for being picked as he was the best choice for this job. No one could seduce an Overlord like he could, it was how he first started getting his family some recognition before they began climbing the ranks of Hell.

A quick and seamless job is all he could hope for but he wouldn’t mind if it got a little bit messy; That just came with the territory.

It wasn’t Angel who found the Overlord, instead, Arackniss came towards him, his pace slow as to now raise any alarm bells, simply making it look as if he had something to say to his brother that didn’t involve singling out an attending Overlord. Having to end his current conversation with one of the Vees who were trying to strike a fashion deal with him, Angel made room for his brother, waiting to hear the new intel.

“You’re boy is over by the bar,” Arackniss started, tossing the drink in his hand in a circle as he stared into it, subtly flaunting the liquor that Angel wasn’t currently allowed to drink. 

Though Angel knew better than to look over at the bar immediately, Angel couldn’t help but take a glance at who may be seated over there. Upon seeing the workers attending the event, he also caught sight of an overly red Overlord sitting beside his short but well-groomed target.

Beginning the short journey over to the bar while doing his best not to spark any unwanted conversation on the way over, Arackniss snorted from behind him, “Don’t fuck it up.”

“I’m not goin’ to,” Angel hissed over his shoulder, shooting his older brother a glare before he focused back in on his target. 

Making sure to rid himself of any prior annoyance, Angel sauntered his way over to the bar, situating himself on the other side of his small target before feigning as if he hadn’t noticed him, instead making a show of pondering what he might get from the drink menu provided.

The ditzy dress may have made him look clueless, or the fact that he was almost unrecognisable as an Overlord since he almost never attended meetings, but the golden eyes of his target turned to his, Alastor turning to shadows as the attention left him. Angel continued to ignore him, waiting for the Overlord to speak up before letting him fall into his trap.

“If you need help I can see if they’ll let me whip something up for you,” His gruff voice pierced through Angel’s ears, making him slowly turn his gaze towards him. Schooling a drink of his own that was almost empty, the Gambling Demon stared up at him, half a smirk lacing his features. “Of course, I’m sure anything on their menu will do.”

“I bet you’d be able to make me somethin’ perfect if you’re offerin’,” Angel took him up, taking a slow seat as he watched the Overlord shoot one of the workers a look, gaining approval which the Sinner would’ve been foolish to deny before he was rounding the counter and taking a look over the stock that the bar had. 

Using the time it took the Overlord to place a martini glass in front of him and begin throwing different alcohols in a mixer, Angel took in his appearance. He wore clean black dress pants paired with some slacks, a slightly lighter suit jacket lined with gold covering a simple white shirt, all of it being topped off with a golden bow. Angel couldn’t help but admire how his hair was slicked back or how the red of his wings almost glowed in the lighting.

“So, what brings a guy like you to one of these parties?” The Overlord questioned as he slid the drink over to Angel, not a drop of it spilling as he came to a stop. Bringing the drink to his lips and taking a slow test sip, making sure the glass or the liquid didn’t actually touch his lips, Angel felt the eyes of the Overlord on him as he swallowed. “I don’t think I’ve seen your face at one of these things before.”

“Oh, my brother invited me. He’s recently started workin’ for one of the Overlords and is apparently ranked high enough for the both of us to turn up here,” Attempting to act as if it were no big deal Angel flapped one of his free hands around, waving off the status he held to lower the Overlords guard. “But what about you mista? What’s a fancy little kitty like yourself doin’ up here?”

“I’m one of the Overlords that’s meant to be trying to bargain for more territory or some sort of deal,” He acted as if the title was a pain in his ass as if it was more hassle than it was worth as his eyes quickly skittered around the room, easily tracking the other Overlords that were doing just that. Pushing one of his hands forward, he offered it to Angel, waiting for him to take it before bringing it softly to his lips where he placed a delicate kiss on the back of his hand. “Where are my manners? I’m Husk, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Throughout the whole interaction, Husk kept his golden eyes locked with Angel’s two-toned ones, both an intimidating aura surrounding him that radiated power as well as a comforting glow that wanted to reach out to him. It was almost as intoxicating as the drink Husk had made for him. “Angel, it’s nice meetin’ you.”

“Hm, fitting,” Husk hummed, his smirk growing if that was possible. Remaining on the opposite side of the bar, Husk leaned forward, resting his forearms on the countertop as he stared up at Angel through lidded eyes. “Who did you say your brother worked for, again?”

“I didn’t,” Angel muses, finishing his drink before he sets it down and leans into one of his hands, resting his head there as he matches Husk’s expression. Doing what he did best, Angel propped his chest fluff up as his dress opened up, one of his fingers toying with the stem of his drink as his lashes fluttered. A quickly raised brow from the Overlord pulled a chuckle out of him, adding, “But he works for the Mafia Demon I think. I tend to tune him out when he rants about work.”

“Maybe you should start paying attention,” Husk spoke slowly, his deep voice gruff around the edges as the words were almost purred to him. Angel couldn’t help but wonder if there was an underlying meaning to Husk’s words. “You never know when he might say something important.”

“I’ll start payin’ attention when he starts talking about somethin’ interestin’,” Angel responded in a purr of his own, bringing a finger up to trace down the fur that lined Husk’s cheek. It wasn’t often an Overlord allowed him to get this close and personal, especially not when they knew who he was. “I ain’t got time to worry about which goon he chased after or whose debt he’s out collectin’. This however is quite interestin’ and seems worthy of my time.”

A huff of laughter snorted its way out of Husk, glee lining his golden eyes as Angel stared into them. He couldn’t help but work his charm; If the old sucker fell for it then that was on him. 

“Say, why don’t we get out of here?” Husk offered, one of the corners of his lips ticking up in a smirk. Staring up at Angel with hooded eyes, mischief poorly concealed behind them, Angel knew he had the Overlord right where he wanted him. The way Husk leaned forward before speaking as if sharing a secret, told Angel everything he had to know. “Away from prying eyes. Somewhere it can be just the two of us.”

“I think… that’s a brilliant idea,” Angel paused deliberately, taking a second to think over his next words as if this had all been a spontaneous encounter. Taking a look around the large hall that they were currently in, Angel’s eyes landed on his father's and Arackniss’s, both of them watching him and Husk’s every movement. It hardly did anything to light Angel’s nerves on fire, instead turning back to stare into the warm glow of the Overlord turned bartended in front of him. “Too bad I don’t know any places nearby. I wouldn’t want to keep a pretty thing like you waitin’.”

“I’m sure I can figure out something for the two of us,” Husk shrugged off Angel’s feigned worries, his posture remaining confident as he stared up at Angel from where he leaned. “I do after all own the building we’re hosting this in.”

That piece of information had been something Angel missed. He wasn’t certain if he wasn’t listening close enough when he was being debriefed on the mission or if it had been something his whole family had missed. Regardless, Angel hadn’t a clue he was standing on enemy territory until a few seconds, nothing having given away since the building was located on what could be considered neutral turf. “Why don’t you leade the way then, Handsome?”

As Angel spoke to him, a challenging glimmer sparked to life in Husk’s eyes. Chancing a glance over Angel’s shoulders for a few seconds, locking onto something before they flicked back to Angel’s. Leaning up for a kiss, pulling Angel down slightly so he could reach Husk’s elevated height from where he was leaning across the bar counter. Husk made a show of licking his lips, savouring the taste of Angel on them. All Angel could think about was how he had just taken a dose of the poison that laced his lips, the reason he had avoided anything touching his lips all night.

“Shall we?” Husk offered Angel his hand as he rounded the bar once more, standing as tall as his short frame would allow. Angel placed one of the hands from his top set of arms in Husk’s, slowly raising himself from the stool. With the additional height of his heels, Angel stood at almost double Husk’s height, towering over him. That however did little to deter Husk as the shorter Overlord began leading the way through the large hall, weaving their way to one of the many exits. 

As Angel trailed behind them, his eyes locked onto Arackniss’s, giving his brother a clear nod as they passed by one another even if Angel was sure he had witnessed Husk planting a kiss on his lips. The job was done. Whatever happened after this wasn’t up to Angel. 

Husk had led him to a hidden door that blended with the hall's walls. He easily pressed a concealed pressure plate as two doors slid open, revealing an elevator. Holding the door open for Angel, Husk allowed Angel to walk in first before he stepped in moments later, the door shutting behind him. As soon as Angel was sure the two of them were alone, his hands were immediately on Husk’s, trying to smear his lipstick from the Overlord’s lips.

“You idiot,” Angel hissed. Husk stood stock still as Angel fretted over him, wiping his thumbs over his lips and trying to eliminate any of the remaining pinkish colour. His efforts didn’t matter too much as Husk had already tasted the lipstick, making that clear right after they had kissed. “Why would you kiss me? You knew the lipstick was poisoned.”

“To make sure your family got off your back,” Husk’s hands fumbled for Angel’s, putting a stop to his frantic attempts to clean his lips. Husk didn’t take into account Angel’s other set of arms or even the third set that were kept hidden most of the time. A new pair of hands were instantly on Husk’s face, attempting to do the same thing that the first pair had failed to do. “We had to make sure they saw you give me the poison so they couldn’t blame you for me not dying.” 

“You didn’t have to go lickin’ your lips to rub it in their faces though,” Angel almost shouted, panic seeping into his words. Husk stared up at him with a small smile on his face despite it all, only pushing Angel further on edge as he turned frantic. “Now you’ve consumed it. Quick, how many fingers am I holdin’ up?”

“Stop with that bullshit,” Husk had to drag another one of Angel’s hands away as he attempted to check his pulse to make sure it was still beating smoothly. Rolling his eyes at the low squeak that erupted from Angel as he was dragged around, being pulled out of the elevator doors once they opened as sat on a plush bed after they walked through a long hallway. “I’m the one who gave you that drugged lipstick, don’t you think I’d make sure I’m immune to it first?”

“Oh,” Angel came to a slow end, sitting on the edge of one of Husk’s beds, his two sets of arms being held by Husk, a soothing thumb running over the back of both of them. Angel guesses he should have thought of that. Husk hadn’t become an Overlord off of pure luck, even if that was his trademark. Though, now that the worry had fled from Angel’s being, a firey annoyance filled it instead as he glared at Husk. “Why’d you scare me then? You could’ve said somethin’ sooner so I didn’t freak out.”

“I’m sorry Legs,” Husk murmured, finally releasing Angel’s hands so he could use one of his own to cup the spider’s chin. His hand alone almost dwarfed Angel’s face, just like most things in comparison did–other than his height, of course. “Didn’t think you’d work yourself up so much over it. But since we’re up here… we might as well put this room to good use.”

A large grin split across Angel’s face as he wound a hand up Husk’s suit, tangling the Gambling Overlord’s tie within his fingers before tugging him forward, bringing their faces within inches of one another. “I like the sound of that Whiskers.”

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin husk #huskerdust #angel dust x husk #husker #angel dust #hazbin angel dust #angel dust hazbin hotel #arackniss hazbin hotel #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #ao3fic #fanfic #fanfiction #eclipsing bingo #eclipsingbingo #fandom free bingo: wbn edition #fandom bingo #character a character b #characterAcharacterB #multifandom flash #overlord husk #overlord angel dust

[itspileofgoodthings]

also I had a breakthrough today that I had in fact overthought a Specific Problem to Death and that I had created a monster in my own mind and that’s why it felt like I was being eaten alive every time I tried to solve it.

#not to put too fine a point on it but that’s what happened with the whole is Maria going to become a nun question tbh #and I needed a counselor to say to me objectively and yet also crucially without any knowledge of me or my past: #you have overthought this and now you’re terrified of it #anyway it’s so obvious but it came home to me today. slowly. #like it was just like. Oh. You did it again #you’re terrified of this because you have thought of every possibility and every outcome and every twist and turn and shadow—- #until it has become a bloated demon in your mind that is totally separated from reality #while made up of real facts and details! and tbh I know it’s a common problem #but the anxiety chokehold I can put myself in is something that is so impressive and so disturbing #I can render myself absolutely helpless through the meanderings of my own thoughts #and what makes it worse—immeasurably worse—is that I get OUT of problems through careful thought and analysis #I’m programmed that way #so I can’t escape it by the usual means. I have to back away from the monster and see it and NAME it and then it can die away. #and only THEN can I apply my usual ways of going about things. I don’t know it just all clicked today #these past few days have just been bringing it all to a fever pitch for me #anyway I guess it’s also important to me that I still be allowed to be analytical about it!!! I have to use my brain!!!!!!! #in my desperation I have tried to shut it off to feel only with my heart. To try to catch the whisper of God’s voice in the wind #but tbh I am meant to use the gifts I have! But only in the right context #and that’s only after the demon has been killed or more accurately —deflated #my counselor has been so good about this tbh. she’s so matter of fact and blunt and salt of the earth and also she sees how my mind works #and wants me to be able to use it!! #so I’m just going to tell her that I did the bad thing with this other problem and can she help me find a way forward #ANYWAY THE MONSTERS TURNED OUT TO BE JUST TREES

[mattodore]

i hit 3k pins on the oc boards last night without even noticing 🥺

#river dipping #what’s funny is i just deleted like forty pins from theo’s board that didn’t represent him anymore and i STILL have 3k 😭 #theo’s board is years old and i cleaned it out a few times before but i finally was like okay no. #some of these pins just don’t make sense for him at all you need to delete them even if you’re attached to them atp. #i need to do the same with some of matthias and dionte's early pins too but i've been putting it off #anyway <333333333333333!!!!!!!!!! i'm going to read for an hour or two and then it's back in cas to start on theo's mom #i finished his dad last night i just didn't post abt it #theo's parents are gonna look much younger than matthias's but they're probably close in age. theo's are maaaybe a little younger... #ALSO...... i realized when i was making theo's dad that like. theo and matthias aren't close in age like matthias and imani. #like there's a 2-4 year age gap there... so like. for the edit i'm just gonna make them both fifteen anyway and say Oh Well! #like just pretend there's no age difference #me being like 'i don't wanna give exact ages at the current spot in the story' is fine until i wanna do something like this kdfjgnk #theo's in his early twenties and matthias is in his mid-twenties #theo's like..... somewhere between 22-24 and matthias is somewhere from 25-26... no more than 27 that's for sure #theo's still in university is the thing... like i've always been like theo's 24-ish but realized like hang on... he should be younger #he's very studious and his course load is STACKED so if anything he should be out of university by 22... which is where i've hit a snag #i was thinking oh maybe he could've taken a gap year but like. his parents wouldn't have allowed that at all. #and then i was like okay... maybe he went to rehab for a year so he's behind...? #but again........ his parents wouldn't have allowed him to disgrace the family name publically like that by admitting he has problems #so like... i'm just sort of covering my mouth and mumbling whenever i talk about ages lmao #i just don't want theo to be really young and i don't wanna budge on matthias's age either #idk idk i'll think of something. maybe it can relate to the breakdown he's meant to have... #...anyway. out of the oc soup and into this book <3

[junosmindpalace]

you don’t like to kiss satoru when he wears his blindfold.

you understand why he wears it, and you don’t have any problem with it besides how distanced you feel from him when he tries to be intimate with it on. so while you never ask him to take off his blindfold, you simply refuse to engage him when he wears it. 

guilt eats at you for even feeling this way in the first place—after all, satoru’s health came before your own menial, selfish wants. still, you couldn’t help the uneasiness that came as a result of trying to be affectionate with him while half his face was completely blocked off from you. 

and satoru doesn’t like this. he’s not immensely clingy, or at least not often enough to call him clingy, but he does like to have you near him, tuck you into his side and steal a slow kiss or two from you on occasion. especially when he’s feeling stressed or annoyed does he seek out your soothing touch, which tended to be pretty often from how demanding the higher ups are of him. 

you’ll still lend a listening ear, lean in real close and scan his face as if trying to see those bright blue eyes of his through the dark mask he often wears, perhaps even wrap your arms around him and card your fingers through his hair held up by the fabric around his head. and most of the time simply being near you, touching you in one way or another is enough to soothe his aching muscles and tense mind. but when he leans in to press his lips against yours and you dodge, he immediately realizes that it’s not enough.

“you’re mean.” he pouts, and though you can’t see his eyebrows crease in distress, you can certainly imagine it, and you laugh.

“when we’re at home.” you reassure him, rubbing your hands up and down his arms. 

he speculated for some time that you rejected him because of the setting, that it was unprofessional or perhaps embarrassing. but you had no problem angling his head toward you and stealing a kiss from his lips on the rare occasion he decided to wear his glasses to work, and so he eventually managed to piece together that the blindfold was the problem.

satoru’s frown only deepens, because he wants a kiss from you now. why should he have to wait to kiss his own partner? 

“just a small one. a quick one.” he tries to bargain, holding your elbows, but you only shake your head with an amused smile. 

“later.” you promise, and before he can press further, your students start to approach and your attentions are required elsewhere.

you uphold your promise, cupping his face and kissing him with so much love behind closed doors, as if you were anticipating the moment as much as he was—when his blindfold is off. but he’s still troubled by the fact that you refuse to kiss him with it on. it’s a part of him. do you think he’s ugly with it on? that’s got to be it.

he continues to whine and chase after your lips when the two of you are at work, but you only chuckle and angle his face away, and eventually it really strikes a nerve with him, frustrated over not knowing why you were so adamant on avoiding his kiss when he wore his blindfold. you haven’t tried to initiate, or even reciprocate his advances, even once! 

he brings up this concern one day when you two are at home, when your bodies are messily intertwined on the living room couch, satoru’s chin propped up on your chest and your hand cupping his face as you cuddled and giggled about whatever sort of conversation you were making that night. in the security of your shared home, and in your comforting embrace, does satoru allow himself to wind down, letting his cursed energy seep out, and using it as an incentive to relax a slight bit. 

you say something and he laughs, and upon seeing his smile and endearing eyes crinkle happily, you lean in to close the space between your lips.

he immediately reciprocates the kiss, the hold he has around your waist tightening. but then he remembers being in a similar scenario hours prior, and you refusing to meet his lips then. he pulls away gently as the dejection bubbles up in his stomach again, and his smile slightly drops.

“why don’t you kiss me when i wear my blindfold?”

the question, coupled with the blunt and slightly miserable tone satoru asks it with, catches you off guard, and his knit brows makes your breath hitch.

this was the thing about satoru without his blindfold. every piece of him—every vulnerable expression, every crease on his face, every emotion of his—was on display for you to bask in. rubbing your thumb over his cheek is welcome. there isn’t any fabric to bump into and make you feel like you’re being pushed out, make you feel like your affection is being suppressed.

satoru without his blindfold was open, intimate—whole. but when he wrapped the fabric around his eyes, it felt like he was also hiding a part of himself you adored. not the overwhelming strength he held in those enchanting cerulean eyes of his, but the love and affection they glimmered with when he was with you, a glimmer you’re sure was reciprocated in your own eyes as well. a part of him that displayed his adoration for you, for the things he loved most, clear as day. 

“it’s silly, satoru.” you tell him reluctantly, gently playing with his hair. his sad smile makes you feel guilty, gnaws at your heart. but the part of you that feels shut away with that blindfold overtakes an insecurity deep inside. “i don’t want to concern you with it.”

“you gotta tell me what’s up, sweets. think i’m ugly?” he tries to tease, and you roll your eyes.

“just feel distant from you, ‘s all.” 

voicing it aloud makes you feel just as small and silly as you told him it is. perhaps you were overthinking things too much. 

you’re afraid to explain any further, because you don’t even know if you can without sounding even more insecure than you feel, but satoru immediately understands, and all the tension he’s built over the situation melts away in an instant, and he chuckles.

“like my eyes on you, huh?” he wiggled his brows, and you scoff, moving your hands down to his neck. he leans in a little closer, speaks a little softer. “they’re always on you.” 

your heart flutters as satoru kisses over the side of your jaw, giggling at the slight tickling sensation. he mimics your smile from against your jawline when he hears you laugh. 

he thinks he understands. if he wasn’t able to see those gorgeous eyes of your as they crease when you laugh, or gaze up at him in awe when he pulls away from a kiss only you could make so sweet, he thinks he’d also feel shut out, robbed of that small but intimate and beautiful part of you that leaves him breathless. he had a responsibility as the strongest to keep himself in line, but he also had a responsibility to you. he committed himself to that responsibility ages ago when you first met. 

satoru stares up at you from the crook of your neck, and it’s as if there’s hearts in his eyes, a sight that never fails to fluster you when you realize that it’s all directed toward you, a result of you. it reminds you just why you were so insecure in the first place. why would you want to kiss him when he wore his blindfold when you were deprived of this sight while doing so?

“just try to kiss me with my blindfold.” he mumbles, and it sounds insensitive after what you told him, but it’s exactly why he wants to prove that not a single ounce of love for you is hidden away when he wears it.

you frown, but still reach to grab the black band from when he threw it on the coffee table hours ago. you wrap it around his eyes for him, feeling slightly saddened by the sight already, but his lovesick smile never falters.

as soon as your hands lower from behind his head, he’s gently pushing his lips against yours, and it feels every bit of kind and loving and special as it did when you kissed him without it. his lips move slowly, yet passionately, with yours, and for the first time, your hands move to cup his face in reciprocation. the touch elates satoru like nothing else in the world, and you can’t believe you ever expected anything different.

when he finally pulls away, you could swear you see those bright blue eyes of his staring at you with that dizzying gaze that makes you feel light and loved. the blindfold makes you feel a lot more exposed than he is though, and you can’t help but blush and bring your hands over your face to try and even the playing field.

he laughs at this reaction and tries to pry your hands away from your face. “so? anything different?” he grins, feeling proud knowing he accomplished his goal from your reaction, and you laugh. 

“i still prefer it off.”

“that’s fine,” he hums, lowering the band so it hangs loosely around his neck with one hand, bringing your hands down away from your face with the other. “i prefer it off, too.” 

and from then on you become a little more comfortable kissing satoru with his blindfold on, and he’s over the moon at you now indulging him when he’d pull you into a random empty classroom and lean in close.

but he doesn’t see the harm in compromise, however, so he’ll indulge you too. and when he’s feeling particularly eager, he’ll wrap an arm around your waist, quickly tug his blindfold down to his neck, and capture your lips in a breathless kiss. 

whether he does this in an empty classroom or to say hello or goodbye before heading off on a mission with his students, you get to see those mesmerizing eyes of his shine with all the affection and love he holds for you. 

besides, you can't help but admit that it’s even more satisfying when he does it in front of others, tugging the blindfold off simply for your sake, showing off to everyone else the state you reduce him too. 

so perhaps you’ve grown to like kissing satoru when he wears his blindfold.  

#wtf. this is the fastest i've blown up #THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL THE KIND FEEDBACK #no way two posts in the same week?! #this will never happen again #in honour of gojos 0.0001 second scene in the trailer #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo fluff #satoru gojo oneshot #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru oneshot #gojo satoru fluff #jjk x reader #jjk oneshot #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen oneshot #jujutsu kaisen fluff

[rafeandonlyrafe]

demonstration

words: 2.8k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, reader is toppers girlfriend, struggling to cum, female receiving oral and fingering, multiple orgasms, edging and overstimulation, protected and unprotected sex, cheating

“maybe you could ask one of your friends for help, top.” you pout, rubbing your hand over his shoulder, not wanting him feel any more upset than he needs to be, but at the same time, you’re not sure how much longer this can go on.

“you can't tell me what i can do to fix it?” topper asks.

“you know i was a virgin before you babe, i really don’t know.” you sigh, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “maybe ask rafe?” “rafe?” topper turns suddenly to look at you. “why him?” “i’ve just… heard talk from some of my friends. he can probably give you some good advice. i don’t know.” you shrug. “maybe it’s something wrong with me.” “no, don’t say that.” topper shakes his head, turning to pull you into him, a hand around your waist.

“you ask your friends and i’ll ask mine.” you give as an option. topper nods, pressing a kiss to your forehead, hoping the next time you’re in his bedroom, it’ll go a lot better.

--

“what?” rafe gawks at his friend, unsure if he heard him right or if he was going crazy.

“ive never… i’ve never made y/n cum before and i just… i need to know what to do rafe! i’m worried she’s gonna leave me if i can’t get it together and i guess- fuck! i don’t know! just help me out man!” topper paces quickly, bringing his hands to his hair, tugging on it, stressed out of his mind.

“okay, alright, jesus, just clam down!” rafe says, sitting down on the couch, gesturing for topper to sit as well. he’s not sure how long he can keep himself still, already feeling awkward and nervous about not being able to make you cum, only made worse by trying to talk to rafe about it.

“every time i fuck her, i just get so over excited and cum too quickly and i know this is tmi but i just try my best and every time she doesn’t cum and she says its okay but i know it’s really not.” topper blurts out.

“alright, well…” rafe sighs, pushing his hand through his hair. he’s never had this type of issue before with girls. “do you finger her? or eat her out? before you fuck her, i mean.” “i eat her out sometimes.” topper shrugs. “she says my tongue feels good and i can make her cum like that, but not when im fucking her, i just don’t know what to do, i just get so excited and… and i’ve never had this problem with girls before, it’s just y/n.”

“to be fair, she’s hotter than any girl you’ve been with before.” rafe comments. it’s no secret, so he doesn’t feel bad saying it, especially when topper nods.

“she’s way out of my league, thats why i’m sure if i don’t fix this she’s gonna leave me.” topper sighs.

“maybe a demonstration could help?” rafe suggests, making toppers head snap towards him, a look of fury in his eyes.

“you are not allowed to fuck my girlfriend.”

“no, man.” rafe shakes his head. “what if i’m there while you fuck her? then i can give you specifics, and she will know you are really trying. she told you to ask me right?” “yeah, i guess you have a reputation of being really good.” topper cringes at his own words.

“i am. so, let me help you, top. brother to brother.”

--

rafe understands why topper has such a hard time keeping it together as you lay out naked on the bed, eyes flickering between your boyfriend and his best friend, a cautiously optimistic look on your face.

“go ahead and spread your legs.” rafe says, trying to keep his tone even, to disguise the lust that he feels as his eyes move from your breasts down to between your thighs.

“can you get naked first topper? i feel weird here.” topper was shirtless, but still had his shorts and underwear on, even though he was obviously straining against the fabric. 

“yeah.” topper glances briefly to rafe before tugging them down his hips, letting his cock spring free. 

“so have you ever cum before y/n?” rafe asks.

“yeah, um… with my own fingers.” you cough awkwardly. “and when topper eats me out.”

“its really just when i’m inside of her.” topper says with a thick swallow as your thighs part, opening them wide to show off your pussy, already gleaming with wetness and a peachy pink color that makes rafe want to bend down and bury his tongue inside of your folds, but he has to behave himself, just happy to have this opportunity to see you like this.

“why don’t you finger her first? then you can show me. open her up a little, it’ll help.” rafe instructs.

topper nods, reaching down and pressing one finger against your hole. you tense up briefly before relaxing, allowing topper to push his finger in.

“is she tight?” rafe asks, without really meaning to, but he figures you must be from the way you are squeezed so tightly around his finger.

“yeah, that’s why i can never last.” topper says, thrusting his finger in and out, the slick sounds of his movement squelching throughout the room.

“does that feel good y/n?” rafe asks, eyes flickering up to your face.

“mhm.” you nod, but you don’t feel any urge to moan, needing more. “could add a second, top.” “okay.” topper nods, trying to work a second finger in, but you hiss at the stretch, primarily hurting around your entrance, despite your wetness.

“gotta rub her clit too.” rafe says, reaching over and pressing a fingertip to your clit, rubbing it. you gasp out, not just from the good feeling but from rafe touching you, like he swore to topper he wouldn’t do before he agreed to this.

toppers finger slips easily in once you’ve relaxed to having your clit rubbed. topper looks slightly annoyed, but he stays silent when he sees how much you’re liking it now, unable to hold back your moans. “oh, just like that.” you moan, eyes fluttering closed.

“see if you can add a third.” rafe says, flicking his finger over your clit before going back to rubbing.

“i’ve-i’ve never been able to take more than two.” you sit up slightly, surprised when topper presses a third finger and manages to begin thrusting it inside of you.

“aw, fuck.” you whine, trying to close your legs, but topper holds one thigh open with his hand while rafe grasps the other.

“keep ‘em open, cutie.” rafe says. “gonna cum?”

“yeah, yeah keep going-” you cut yourself off before you can yell rafes name instead of toppers.

“pull out, top.” rafe says, suddenly taking his hand away, making your back arch off the bed as you squirm, trying to chase their fingers, to get them back touching you.

“no, no, no.” you whine when topper also pulls out, leaving your hole clenching around nothing.

“sometimes if you’re struggling having her cum with your cock inside her, you can edge her first.” rafe says, switching easily back to teacher mode.

“should i fuck her now?” topper looks to rafe, before glancing to you, realizing he shouldn’t be asking permission to fuck his own girlfriend, but rafe has that type of energy, that commanding presence that easily makes him in control of any situation.

“yeah, put the condom on though.” rafe glances to the bed where topper threw a condom out of his pocket earlier. while topper slides it on, your focus on him, rafe takes a moment to reach to his crotch, squeezing his cock and begging himself to settle, to calm down.

topper lines himself up with your entrance, placing one hand on your hip as he lines himself up with his other hand, pushing inside of you slowly as you moan, eyes squeezing shut, obviously aroused and feeling good by him stretching you, so rafe is unsure what the issue is, until topper begins to move.

he’s thrusting too rapidly, overwhelming you. rafe shakes his head, “slowly, topper. deeper thrusts.”

topper manages to get control of himself, slowing down but still not thrusting deeper, and rafe realizes its because of the angle, topper not holding himself low enough to properly thrust.

“here.” rafe grabs a pillow, a different one from the one you’re laying your head on. rafe taps your hip and you lift them as he stuffs the pillow underneath. “try now.”

topper scooches closer, now able to thrust much easier, entering you at a far better angle as he takes you repeatedly, still going too erratically, too random.

“on a beat.” rafe says. “gotta fuck her steady, can’t just jackhammer.” “i-i-” topper groans out, pulling out, much to your disappointment as you let out a deep sigh. “i can’t, was about to cum.” “damn, baby, you must be real tight.” rafe glances to you, making you blush and close your legs slightly, which is hard as you are propped up, spread open on display.

“try again, top, it’s okay.” you soothe him, keeping your voice soft and steady.

topper nods, retaking his cock in his hand, pushing it back inside. you nod in encouragement as he moves, already going to shallow and too fast to properly build you up.

“gotta rub her clit too, man. remember she’s already close from getting edged.” rafe tries to instruct, but when topper places his thumb on your clit, his movements are jerky and too harsh, almost hurting as you cringe, but in your displeasure, your cunt clenches around toppers cock and he looses control, moaning as he cums, pumping into the condom.

“shit!” topper shouts out in pleasure, before he realizes you’re looking up at him with disappointment in your eyes. “shit.” he groans again, this time angry with himself as he pulls out in shame.

“it’s okay, top.” you sit up, moving the pillow as you reach out for your boyfriend, or at least attempt to, but he moves away, looking down in shame.

“you’re gonna break up with me now.” toppers voice is sad as he speaks.

“what?” it takes you back, not expecting it.

“you’re gonna break up with me, aren’t you? because i can’t make you cum, you’re gonna leave me? god, i’m so pathetic.” “i can’t believe you think i’m that shallow.” you scoff as topper pulls the condom off and tosses it into rafes trashcan, who is simply glancing back and forth between the two of you. “that i would break up with you over sex?” “you wouldn’t?” topper questions.

“you would?” you question back, growing frustrated. “topper, i let you take my virginity, i can’t believe you thought i would do that just… just go.”

“no, baby, listen.” topper begins.

“i’m not breaking up with you yet.” you tell him. “but i need some space, please just go.” 

topper can’t hide the tears welling up in his eyes, and he doesn’t want to cry in front of you, and especially not rafe, so he pulls his clothes back on quickly and haphazardly before leaving, slamming the door shut behind him.

you sigh, burying your head in your hands. you wouldn’t break up with topper just because of sex, but his reaction to what happened makes you question everything.

“you okay baby?” rafe asks, making you jump, forgetting he was there.

“yeah, sorry, i can leave.” you move to get off the bed when rafe grabs your wrists, making you stop.

“or you could stay.” rafe says, his voice suggestive, as well as the look on his face.

“i-but topper…” “just finishing off what he started. come on, you came here for help anyways. lets see if you can cum when i fuck you.” “i-i guess it wouldn’t hurt to try.” --

rafe finally picks his head up from between your legs, cunt now bright red and covered in mess due to your three orgasms his tongue and fingers brought out of you, deciding to go for overstimulation instead of edging, now that he was the one getting to have you.

“still thinking about topper?” rafe asks, pressing a kiss to your puffy clit, making you whine out.

“no.” you admit honestly, all of your thoughts have been replaced by rafe. “fuck me, please, rafe.”

rafe smirks, standing up and taking his shirt off, pleased that your eyes glaze over as you watch him undress, jaw dropping open when his cock is revealed, already hard and leaking.

“yeah, i know i’m bigger than him.” rafe smirks as he climbs onto the bed. “but i opened you up enough, didn’t i? or do i need to make you cum again?”

“n-no.” you shake your head, already so overstimulated. “i want your cock, i need it.” “he always fucks you in missionary?” rafe asks, wanting to make you cum in the same position that topper couldn’t, proving yet another way he’s superior.

“yeah, we haven’t tried anything else.” you say, leaving out the word yet not sure if you can go back to topper after this.

rafe nods, looking towards his drawer that he knows contains condoms, going to grab one before you speak up suddenly, “you-you can fuck me raw. if you want. i’m on birth control.” rafe can’t help but smirk, nodding as he grabs the same pillow again, placing it under your hips, bringing your tired legs up, thighs falling open.

“tell me if it hurts or if anything doesn’t feel good.” rafe says. he’s sure it’s toppers' inadequacies making you struggle, but just in case he wants to take good care of you.

“mkay.” you nod, hands fisting in the bed sheets as rafe rubs the head of his cock through your sticky folds, making sure to tap against your clit, just to tease you even further.

“gonna fuck you so much better than he ever could. ‘ts why you should be with me instead, baby.” rafe says, not letting you respond or even think too much about his statement as his cock pushes inside of you, making your back arch off the bed.

“oh my god!” you shout out, moaning wildly without care as rafe begins to thrust, deep and hard, hitting spots inside of you that topper has never touched before.

“oh, fuck.” rafe groans out. “you are tight, baby.” your cunt is squeezing him, molding to his walls. “no wonder he cums so quickly.” you shake your head, not wanting to think about topper, not wanting to feel any guilt or regret as rafes hips swing forward, cock pressing against your gummy walls as he moves a thumb to your clit, rubbing it in that same enticing way that made your high build so quickly last time.

“feels really good, rafey.” you moan, raising and lower your hips slightly in time with his thrusts, forcing his cock even deeper inside of you, feeling his hot skin against yours, the first person to take you bare.

“i knew there was nothing wrong with you.” rafe smirks. “already close to cumming, aren’t you?”

despite your body being tired from your three previous orgasms, you do feel another one building in your stomach.

“yeah, thats what i thought.” rafe moves faster, rubbing his thumb more intensely. “nothing wrong with you baby, you are perfect. perfect tight little cunt.” “please.” you whine out, unsure what you are begging for as tears slide down your cheeks, purely from being overwhelmed with pleasure. you’ve never managed more than two orgasms in a night, and he’s close to doubling that.

“cum for me, doll. don’t have to beg. wanna feel that cunt squeezing around me.” rafe encourages you, pumping quickly as he pinches your clit between his thumb and finger before letting go and rubbing quickly, forcing the orgasm out of you as you scream, entire body tightening as your hips rise, high overtaking you as your eyes open to see rafe looking back at you, cocky look in his eye, but his jaw is slackened in pleasure as your cunt spasms around his dick.

“that’s it, good girl.” rafe affirms, thumb now gently touching around your clit, bringing you down slowly as his cock stays lodged deep inside of you.

you shiver as you lower your hips, breath slowly coming back to normal. 

rafe bends over your body, taking your lips in a kiss. you moan into his mouth, his tongue licking against your bottom lip before pushing into your mouth.

“you just came on my cock, pretty girl.” rafe says.

“i know, i loved it.” you hum, eyes sliding shut as rafe kisses your jaw, obsessed with the taste of your skin almost as much as your cunt.

“hmm, so two more? three?” rafe suddenly snaps his hips forward, making you realize he’s still buried inside of you.

“wait, wha-” your question is cut off as rafe straightens, resuming his same pace as if he didn’t just deliver you the most mind blowing orgasm.

“you think i’d be satisfied with getting you to cum just once?” rafe tsks and shakes his head. “we aren’t even close to done.”

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[dadsbongos]

then, and again, and once more

6.9k words

Summary - Yuuji tries to impress you and win your heart, with the help of Sukuna… who seems weirdly knowledgeable about and interested in you.

Warnings - p in v sex, FULL NELSON BABY!!!, yuuji eats pussy :), oh yeah fem reader btw, sukuna is here too (and his cannibalism is mentioned), idiot friends pining for each other, very vague timeline idk but yuuji is aged up

sukuna-centric part 2

There it is again.

Ba-dump. Ba-dump.

That unbearable thick bass in his chest, banging so tirelessly against his ribs that it threatens to make him nauseous. A quick inhale and yep - scratch that - he’s definitely already nauseous.

Yuuji sinks his sweaty palms deeper into his pants pockets, eyes darting sharply down to his beaten sneakers. The once vibrant ruby shade is now marred by dirt and aging threads - and if he turns his right foot just so, then he can see an old, blackened stain from pizza sauce he spilled while eating out with you. The memory, or more specifically how you’re giggling in his memory, makes him smile.

And in the real world, Megumi is watching his friend grin ear to ear while looking at a black, crusty splotch on the inside curve of his right shoe. After having just wide-eyed stared at you from across the room while you and Nobara heatedly debate where to go for dinner.

He glares at Yuuji, lashes narrowing, “You look insane. Knock it off.”

That snaps the boy from his reminiscing, and it takes him three long seconds before he registers the insult, “I was thinking!”

“Obviously,” Megumi scratches the side of his nose, more to just have something to do with his hands than anything else, “What were you thinking about?”

Humming quietly to himself, Yuuji shrugs, “Oh, the usual.”

“You’re hopeless,” Megumi maintains his efforts to keep his hands busy by scratching the back of his head, “Just tell her already. What’s the worst that happens?”

“She rejects me and avoids me,” Yuuji pouts, “Honestly, ‘gumi, I would’ve thought you’d be more sympathetic - being a standoffish and awkward guy yourself.”

Swatting at his friend’s shoulder, Megumi shakes his head, “The hell is wrong with you? Was that just sitting in your mind?” he shakes his head again, glare growing stronger, “And don’t call me that.”

“I thought you had anxiety or something,” Yuuji shrugs, “Why else would you be so weird in public?”

Any previous concern regarding Yuuji’s well-being immediately flies from Megumi at that. He folds his arms across his chest with murmurs of hatred floating out from his lips. All as he waltzes over to where you and Nobara are seated around your laptop at the chipping hardwood table.

Yuuji has no problem shrugging off Megumi's irritation, but when it comes to the mere idea of your face stretching in disgust at him - God, isn’t that the worst?

“You’re the worst, brat,” comes that rumbling, terrible voice in the back of his head. The nagging used to sound more like him - and when he’s really stressed, it still sometimes does - but now his own voice has faded into the King of Curses’. Now his own voice is sweeter, more prone to praise and positives - in a weird way, Sukuna has made Yuuji better.

But in a lot more ways -

“Oi, don’t ignore me.”

He’s made Yuuji’s life so much worse.

“You like that one, right? I can help.”

You’re sitting back, allowing Megumi to take the reins on shooting down Nobara’s suggestion for sushi. Normally, that demand isn’t a problem, but this would be the fifth night in a row she’s tried roping you all into ordering sushi for her. You lean into Megumi a little, and Yuuji hates the way his chest tightens at the display.

It isn’t even affection. It’s just…

“You want to be the one she’s on, right?”

Yuuji sighs to himself and sneaks out of the kitchen, though it’s hardly a challenge when Nobara raises her voice to defend her long-lasting cravings.

With tense shoulders and a red face, Yuuji glances down each side of the hall to ensure nobody is nearby, “How could you help with this?”

Sukuna’s eye on Yuuji’s cheek has flitted up to stare into Yuuji’s, and that sickly crawl of his skin stretching to accommodate Sukuna’s wide grin makes his stomach turn, “You’re just a child, you don’t know anything about women.”

Yuuji could double over, hands on his knees and breathless in sputters of laughter, but he refrains - unwilling to let anyone hear his schizophrenic ramblings, “And you do?”

Sukuna’s eye rolls and Yuuji hates the way it feels under his cheekbone, nearly retching in response, “Of course.”

And that strings up some different terrible question in Yuuji, “But why would you help me?”

Sukuna has been so unwilling to do anything useful for Yuuji despite the fact he’s allowed to reside in this body - so what could possibly possess him to do this now?

“Do you want my help or not, worm?”

Yuuji sighs through his nose, eyes fluttering shut, thinking hard about the offer. He’d come to the conclusion not too long after swallowing his first finger to simply not question many of Sukuna’s motives, mostly since his goals are: chaos, women, and chaos.

“This better not be some gross pass at my friend,” Yuuji sneers, body electrified on the ready to smack down his own cheek should he hear an answer he doesn’t like.

Sukuna is too quiet for too long, and Yuuji is fully prepared to swipe at the parasite on his face when finally, that deep voice rattles again. It buzzes in his flesh, uncomfortable and itchy and so quiet he barely hears what the curse mumbles into him.

The boy pauses and lets the words melt on his tongue, he turns them between his molars and laves the roof of his mouth with the remaining implications. He wasn’t expecting Sukuna to be honest, not to that degree at least.

And Yuuji smacks Sukuna’s bulbous eye down anyway.

“Fine then,” Yuuji pulls his hand down and curls his fingers into a fist, another great big awful ragged sigh roughing over his tongue like barbed wire, “I’ll listen to you, but if you ruin this for me- “

“Calm down, brat,” the mouth pops back up stubbornly, bitterly spitting out his version of a promise, “I don’t plan on failing.”

Yuuji pushes himself off the wall and spins back into the kitchen unnoticed, hands locking behind his head as he saddles up beside you at the table, “So, what’s for dinner?”

He snorts at how you groan, looking up at him from your seat with tired, low-lidded eyes and gesturing across the table to where Megumi and Nobara are still arguing, “You tell me.”

“Why don’t we just go out?” Yuuji shrugs, grinning broadly despite the way his two friends both twitch their necks over to glare at him, “Come on, it’s not even dark! We can walk around and do a little looking; get some air!”

Nobara’s pitched shoulders drop, pinched expression falling into her usual lax, she looks over at Megumi again with a raised brow. Megumi shrugs, his own eyebrows still scrunched together, “If it’s fine with you two, I don’t care.”

You snicker, standing up against the stiff wood supports of the chair legs, one elbow digging into the table to further help hold you up while your spare fingers dance up to smooth out the crinkled space, “I think it’ll be fun.”

Megumi snatches you by the wrist and tosses your hand to the side while Nobara hops down from her own chair, stretching out her back until it pops obnoxiously. She’s already bouncing out of the kitchen to snag her shoes before shouting back, “Well, come on! We’re on a timer now, people!”

“Jeez,” you slip off the chair pegs, bumping slightly into Yuuji’s side - entirely oblivious to the sparkly fireworks you sweep across your poor friend’s body at the contact, “Should’ve just suggested that from the start, huh?”

Shrugging, Yuuji waits for you to begin walking out of the kitchen before following, “Sometimes you just need fresh eyes on a situation, you know?”

“I guess,” you fold your arms, evidently frustrated, “Just feel like that was something I should’ve seen.”

Yuuji feels that disgusting, familiar thumping in his chest just by looking at you now. Heat radiating from his cheeks to the expanse of his chest, throat swelling with the uncomfortable need to spill his guts - dump every little thought and feeling he’s ever had for you into your ears until you force him to shut up. Like how he can’t even look at Jennifer Lawrence the way he used to simply because she isn’t you.

Maybe then he’d tell you that this hasn’t happened in the six years since he first saw Silver Linings Playbook. Maybe you’d tell him to stop talking, and that you two would never happen.

Maybe then he can move on, when you crush his hope. But he doesn’t really want that.

And he doesn’t really know why he agreed to let Sukuna lend him any advice.

Oh well.

It’s when you’re rushing out the door to keep up with Megumi and Nobara that Sukuna opens his mouth for the first time.

His voice stabs into Yuuji’s ears, but it isn’t exceptionally as cruel as he usually finds it, this, instead, is purely instructional, “When you two are out tonight, tell her about that cat you saw around the garden today.”

Yuuji scratches through his messily filed memories, “I saw a cat?”

“Yes, twit, a black one. Tell her about how its fur changed color in the sun.”

“Okay…?” Yuuji huffs in his daze, finally putting effort into walking alongside you and the others, “Hey! So, I just remembered something.”

“Oh yeah?” you smile at Yuuji, purely encouraging, and he’s disgusted at the way he almost trips over his own feet.

Nobara and Megumi pay the both of you little mind, instead pointing out different potential favorite hotspots they could creep into for the night. Well, Nobara points out, they could even stop at two places if they’re feeling adventurous. And Megumi says they can do whatever the rest of you think is best.

But Yuuji isn’t listening, and you’re hardly lending an ear, he swallows down the rock in his throat and nods, “I saw a cat this morning - a black one! - and it made me think of you,” the gentle warmth spreading through him could either be the way you’re lighting up at him, or Sukuna silently congratulating his good line, “Its fur was all brownish red in the sun, it was…” your eyes are so starry and sweet, solely on him - it makes his tongue tie up in knots, “It was beautiful.”

“Bummer I wasn’t there, then,” you pout a little, “You need to get me for things like that!” he laughs at the way your face has morphed, all stern and strict business, “Seriously!”

“Okay, okay,” he surrenders, both hands up in playful defense, “I promise to call you if I see another cat.”

“Could’ve at least taken a picture for me,” you histrionically sigh, “And I thought we were friends.”

A sudden thought invades the back of Yuuji’s mind. Some hidden, more primal part of his mind that he doesn’t usually listen to flashes back to a time he doesn’t remember.

We used to be more.

You and him are sitting out in the sun with a fluffy little Bombay cat tucked into your lap. It paws at the buttery dandelions that bloom between you both, his own legs are sprawled out impolitely and your own are crossed to wall around the feline in your hold. His knee knocks against yours whenever he shifts his leg. You lean in, shoulder digging into the meat of his muscled arm and temple resting on his shoulder.

Your body is entirely at ease. His is, too.

Yuuji knows exactly where the thought comes from. And if that dark, creepy place weren’t so infested by evil then maybe he’d feel a little pity for it. But you’re in front of him now, and you’re excited to be here, and your pinky keeps knocking into his as you two walk side-by-side - so there’s no room for pity in his heart.

Your quartet winds up squished into a teal leather booth towards a back corner of Nobara’s selected diner. You and Nobara sit on the interior seats, pressed into the windows, with Yuuji and Megumi caging the both of you in. Megumi having shoved Yuuji down next to you before the boy could even see who was where.

“What were you thinking?” Nobara sits up, jabbing your arm with a manicured finger just to annoy you.

Flicking at her hand, you shrug, focusing on the boards plastered behind the front bar counter for any eye-catching special offers.

Yuuji can feel the tightening of his cheek skin as the eyeball threatens to pop out, it stings when his cheek is forced to split for Sukuna’s eye. His cheek below that parts as well for his lips.

And Sukuna is kind enough this once to be quiet, “Tell her to get the wildfowl bowl,” as if sensing his arising questions, Sukuna continues, “And tell the kitchen worms to make sure the vegetables are soft. Not well, not sturdy,” he sounds disgusted as he says it, “Soft.”

“Hey,” and against everything he’s been told by Gojo, Yuuji puts his entire trust into the curse inside him, “that wildfowl bowl looks good, right?”

You lean closer to Yuuji, arm brushing his as you try to see where he spotted that, “What’s in it? Duck?”

He gives a conformational hum even though he has no idea, “Probably good with soft vegetables.”

Megumi shakes his head, “What does that even mean?”

“When they steam the veggies for longer than usual,” you pat Yuuji’s shoulder while defending him, “I get what you mean, Itadori. Sorry Fushiguro is so judgemental.”

“I was just saying…” Megumi’s voice flutters out of Yuuji’s focus.

Instead, another memory he never made begins to flourish from that black, mushy, rotted back of his brain.

You’re sat in his lap, large thighs perfectly bracketing around your own. A neglected bowl of slim slivers of perfectly browned duck meat sits atop cooling rice, carrots, and green beans. No doubt soft and easy to chew. In your hands is a steaming bowl, larger than the one in your lap, weighed down by thick cuts of juicy meat slabs. Almost like steak, but there’s no outer hide tanned by flame. It’s red, almost raw, and even after trimming the fat - it’s still bathed in pink, fleshy trails.

Grinning so lovingly, you pinch the slabs with your bare fingers and merely giggle when Sukuna’s sharp teeth prick at your skin. His long tongue works to clean your fingers of the excess meat juices as he eats. Two of his hands are on your hips, holding you steady, a third is steadied beside him against the cold bone of his throne, and a fourth resides at the back of your head. Almost big enough to palm the whole of your skull like a children’s ball - he pats and pets and smooths his fingers over the slope of the back of your neck.

Preening under gentle attention, you’re sure to empty Sukuna’s bowl before picking your own back up.

People watch with blood at their feet, none dare to move. Fearful to become the next hot meal in your hand should they disobey Sukuna’s silent command.

As your hands wrap around your cold bowl, a deep grunt reverberates behind you in Sukuna’s broad chest. He tugs the dish from your grasp; plucks the duck meat between his forefinger and thumb and holds it above your nose, forcing you to look up.

He waves it in front of your face, “Open,” and you follow his order, lips parting yet still pitched up in the impression of a pleased smile. And when he flattens the meat to your tongue and you begin chewing - you’re still smiling. That earns another fond stroke down the back of your head, pausing at your shoulder and digging his thumb into the muscle just to hear you sigh, “Good girl.”

Yuuji doesn’t see all of that. He can grasp some vague sense that you two have shared meals he’ll never get to taste, but he never sees the gristle left behind on your fingers or the saliva webbed between your fingers after feeding Sukuna.

That - Sukuna ‘hmph's proudly as he watches you beam at Yuuji over your modern interpretation of your favorite meal - the King of Curses keeps to himself. Selfishly, just as he always has.

That next morning, you sheepishly prattle into the dusty, creaky classroom with only four rusty, barely used desks and slip into the one by Yuuji. You’re toying with the tips of your hair, eyes bouncing from where Yuuji sits on the desktop beside you and the classroom door.

Nobara sits backward at the desk directly in front of you, arms coiled around the back support of her chair as she speaks and Megumi sits normally beside her - attention solely on his book. Yuuji watches you fiddle with the ends of your hair while pretending to listen to Nobara.

And then he sees it. The new cherry shade decorating your lips, and before Sukuna can sprout and tell him to - Yuuji’s leaning down with his best smile, “New lipstick?”

Jumping at the sudden voice, your rigid posture melts under the boy’s gaze, “Yes, actually. You like?”

It could be puke green and Yuuji would still want it smeared across his face from your kisses.

But despite housing Sukuna Ryomen and battling dreadful curses, Yuuji fails to muster the courage to say that to your face, “Yeah! It’s really pretty.”

Ba-dump. Ba-dump.

There goes your annoying heart, hammering just from the sound of Yuuji’s overtly positive lilt. It makes your cheeks burn and fingers skittishly tip-tap against the pencil-scratched desk, “You think so?”

But he’d never lie, you know that.

So even though it shouldn’t be a surprise when he doubles down, your annoying heart won’t stop dramatically tossing itself around when Yuuji nods with a determined, boyish grin, “Definitely.”

It’s all so saccharine and perfect, it makes Sukuna nauseous. Which, in turn, makes Yuuji nauseous.

Face paling, Yuuji jumps onto his feet and excuses himself, rushing out of the room (with no Gojo even in sight, by the way) towards the bathroom.

“Is he okay?” Nobara murmurs, stretching her neck to see outside the door frame, “What a weirdo.”

“Yeah,” you sigh dreamily, “He is sometimes, huh?”

Megumi gags at your tone, “Seriously…?”

“What was that?” Yuuji’s question is spikey and venomous while he stares into the cracked, water-spotted mirror - straight at the little eyeball on his cheek.

“You two are disgusting,” Sukuna stares back into the glass, low-lidded and unimpressed, “Get this over with and ask her out, brat.”

“But what if she says no?” Yuuji reaches up and toys with the little pink hairs at the back of his head, eyes suddenly unable to meet Sukuna at all, “It’ll totally ruin everything.”

“Enough whining. She won’t say no.”

He doesn’t know how it took so long to recognize, or maybe he just needed an excuse to display his old, unbroken knowledge of you before your fleshly little weakling friends even knew it. But he’s seen the little bursts of color and stars and sparkles and all that cute mess before.

He’s seen it many times. It was the only way you used to look at Sukuna.

That puppyish, lovesick wonder as you fluttered your pretty eyelashes at him.

Even when he would return to you in blood and sweat and muck and smelling of the death and despair he expertly wrought.

You were always at least five paces ahead of Uraume, hands bunching up in the pretty flowing silks that decorated your body. Excitedly, you’d pounce and he would hold you. Sapping up your energy and feeding off the way you’d press cherry-tasting kisses all along his hardened face. You served yourself up to him on a silver platter, all your heart and soul and mind devoted entirely and without ulterior motives. That’s why you were always his favorite.

Nothing before or after you was ever up to par. And he felt disgruntled at every turn into different worshippers and concubines and lovers - somehow wronged simply by the fact they were not as you were. It was all so disappointing.

And every now and again he’d flash back to you while with others. He imagines it’s how children feel when they remember a lost or broken or tossed-out favorite toy. That ache of times lost and never feeling quite fulfilled again.

Which is why when he saw you again through this brat’s eyes, he could instantly remember those nights with you. Full-bellied and raw-lipped and your pulse between his teeth.

But Yuuji knows nothing of that, and so when he returns to the classroom - neither of you says anything.

It’s only the two of you. Everyone else was cast out in the violent, unwilling acceptance that they had done all they could. With no open wound, there was a horrific list rattled off in Sukuna’s ears. Illnesses and infections that attacked the lungs and nervous system and skin and heart - things that would eat you alive from the inside. And when all could be done about that, you remained in bed.

In and out of consciousness and delusional, proclaiming twisted lights and shadowy creatures trying to rip you from yourself.

Perhaps, one of the women called to care for you shyly spoke up, perhaps she’s just too old.

And that was something he avoided admitting to himself.

But it was time now.

With dew still moist on the blades of grass and morning sunlight streaming through the window beside your bed - the bell tolls. Your fingers are stiff in the sheets, limbs cold and stiff when you’re found. Wide, puppylike eyes gaze up at the ceiling and Sukuna has you buried beneath the tallest, most twisted tree he could find in the surrounding forest. And when Sukuna returns from your grave that night - alone - he crosses into a dark tunnel.

It’s cold and solid beneath his feet, paces echoing back for his ears. He keeps his eyes down to avoid maddening himself over the plainness - the displeasure of even glimpsing this tunnel’s repetitive nature.

Until there’s light, golden, with the shrouded, clumsy shape of twisted branches and lanky trunks coming into view at the far open end.

And faintly, like the sweet singing of a beloved music box, he hears the tune of your voice. A high scoop towards the end.

“Itadori, right?”

Sukuna’s feet move faster before he even fully knows he’s moving.

On the other side is you, a hand jammed out in front of you in a polite wave - as if the both of you are strangers. Then that name creeps back up his spine.

Well, it’s not truly his spine, is it? It’s this new brat’s.

But then there’s your honeyed voice again, “Huh, third eye.”

Right. You wouldn’t remember it, would you?

You wouldn’t remember any of it.

Yuuji shoots up, dark sheets tangled around his ankles and cold sweat beading down his forehead - strings of pink hair matted down to his skin uncomfortably. His wide eyes scramble across the shadows of his room, slowly refamiliarizing himself with the expanse and soothing his pounding heart.

He smoothes back his hair, running through the small kinks and knots, “What the hell was that?”

That slicing pain along his cheek shocks him awake further, but no sore, deep voice follows. The eye sits there, downcast. Sitting inside this body is one of the last things he saw for himself, but to exist beside you again is liquid gold just flowing in a river. A river his new body refuses to swim in.

“She’s still awake.”

Yuuji looks over to the red numbers lighting up from his bedside alarm clock, “It’s midnight.”

Sukuna inhales sharply, irritation scorching a hole in his tongue, but he withholds the many sudden hateful thoughts he has towards Yuuji and simply repeats himself, “She’s still awake.”

“It’s weird how obsessed you are with this,” Yuuji swings his legs over the edge of his bed and slips his feet into the slippers you’d gifted him. They’re cheesy and themed after fire engines and just barely fit, but he wears them at any given opportunity.

The eye sinks back into his skin, lips sealing shut, and a thick sludge boils in Yuuji’s stomach. Quiet King of Curses is an unsettling King of Curses, and Yuuji barely finds himself able to tune out the exhaustive wave of Sukuna’s criticisms. That is much preferred to this buzzing silence.

Creeping down the moaning wooden panels to your room, Yuuji raps his knuckles against your door before immediately shuffling his fists into his gray sweatpants.

Something clatters against hardwood, sheets ruffle, and your footsteps thump, thump, thump up to your bedroom door. Your face peeks out from the sliver of cracked doorway, and there’s no hint of sleep in your gaze. You seem alert, if a little lazily slouched against your doorframe.

“Itadori?”

Oh, right. He was here to say something, wasn’t he?

But he can’t possibly find the strength in his tongue, not when you look at him like that.

With some impossible adoration, like you simply can’t wait to hear whatever stupid bullshit he’s about to spout. He feels so unworthy of it all, and he can’t wait to find out more about you and mold himself to it. To become someone you can’t imagine waking up without. To study and be studied, he’s ready to throw himself into the horrors of being known - if it’s you he’s known by.

The air is punched out of him as he speaks, “Can…” you nod him along, opening your door wider, “Can I kiss you?”

Now that he’s so close to the sugary river, he can’t wait to dive in.

“Seriously?” you laugh in shock at the outburst, but when his face persists, you fling the door open entirely, “Seriously?”

Yuuji winds his hands tighter, to stop himself from desperately clawing his way down your throat, “I like you. I’ve liked you…” he’s unnatural like this, red in the face and dodging your stare, “I don’t even know.”

But you do, you felt it when you first saw him. However, you’re not plagued by the chains of past lives, so the implications are lost. Winding your arms behind your back and grinning at Yuuji with toothy glee, “Me too.”

His eyes nail you with that doughy, desperate plea for attention - the need to be seen as himself. And you’ve always been glad to lend it over in plentiful bounties.

That buzz of silence stabs the both of you.

Until Yuuji can no longer tether himself to his pockets, his big hands gentle as he cups both your cheeks. He molds himself to you, hoping that those troublesome flashes of times he never lived will at least serve his muscle memory now.

Your hands twist into the front of Yuuji’s shirt, nails biting into the black, soft, loose fabric and tugging him closer. Yuuji’s lips are slightly chapped, and you can feel the imprints from where he’s bitten them raw. He hisses when you peek your tongue at the smooth spots.

Wrenching your hands back, you quickly run them under and up his sleep shirt - his skin is warm and he gasps against your lips when your fingertips skim along his sides.

Yuuji pulls back, cheeks flaming, and shoulders his way past your bedroom door, kicking it shut behind him and placing his hands over his shirt - finding yours through the material. He grins, chuckling at how you grope his muscle, squeezing around your hands, “Enjoying yourself?”

“Whatever,” you huff, embarrassed, then ripping your hands out from under his shirt and twisting your fingers between his before - just to prove a point - planting his palms below your own shirt, “You try being normal like this.”

Yuuji’s broad palms are still only burning into the soft flesh of your stomach, but his heart is terribly out of whack.

Ba-dump. Ba-dump.

“You can go higher,” your voice lilts higher, a mere soft whisper as if anything louder could entirely break the poor boy’s brain, “If you want…”

Of course, he does. He’d trade a thousand years with that Sisyphus guy Megumi mentioned to him just for twelve seconds of his hands sizzling up your body. Maybe even just for the chance.

His hands scope higher, palms glued to the planes of your body like he’s trying to scar himself along your skin. The sudden need to leave some lasting impression that he was there - here with you.

Yuuji does his best not to jump when Sukuna’s voice slithers into his ear, polite enough to whisper so he doesn’t alarm you, “Get her on her back. Tongue her cunt.”

You look at him all sweet and concerned when Yuuji’s nose scrunches, “Are you okay? Is something wrong?”

But he has no idea how to tell you that Sukuna’s words make his stomach churn, and by the time he even tries to form the words he’s thinking about it. Imagining himself on his stomach with his head between your thighs, your hands tangled in his hair, and eagerly trying to annoy your friends as much as possible with how loud he can make you. And he feels so, so lightheaded at that.

Yuuji’s eyes are wide, staring into yours with such fire that it almost makes you shy away, “Can I eat you out?”

But you brave his dissecting gaze, heart pounding in your ears.

Ba-dump. Ba-dump.

And, oh, Yuuji could just about die happy right now.

On his stomach with his head between your thighs, your hands screwed into the twirls of his tousled hair and (hopefully) annoying at least a nosy Nobara should she be listening to your soft moans next door.

Yuuji wiggles his tongue into your weeping hole, nestling his nose against your clit with a wheezy little whine. His eyes flutter up at you through the gaps between your shaking arms.

“Get your hands in there,” Sukuna’s voice is muffled against the thickness of your thigh, “Thumb her clit, don’t rely on your nose.”

Crinkling his brows, Yuuji has to bite back his remarks about how Sukuna could’ve told him that sooner. Snaking his right hand over your leg, Yuuji flattens his large hand against your lower stomach and pins your bucking hips. His thumb taking residence on your swollen clit, the bridge of his nose still saddled beneath it.

Your back arches, hips grinding down into Yuuji’s thumb and tongue. He’s messy with it - head shaking just to tease and feel the wetness of your pussy slip and slather across his chin. He tongue-fucks you in earnest, practically moaning into you as he grinds against the mattress. Swishing his thumb against your clit faster when he can feel you tighten around him, chasing the feeling of you cumming all over his face.

He can hear it despite his desperation - the way your breath hitches and throat cinches out a squeal. Your thighs squish around his head and Yuuji has to force his hips still lest he be submitted to the horrors of cumming in his pants.

And it isn’t even the fear of your reaction - no, he knows better than to think you’re capable of making him feel shame. It’s just-

“Yes,” Sukuna’s voice is husky, tongue lolling out along Yuuji’s cheek to lather up your juice, “Yes!”

Yuuji knows exactly who will be making fun of him instead. He smacks at the unwanted presence and takes it as pure luck when Sukuna actually stays down.

He works his tongue out of you slowly, letting you whine and huff the way off your high naturally before peeking up at you. He’s grinning, eyes wide and hands retreating to dig hungrily into the meat of your thighs.

“Hey, I wanna try something,” Yuuji’s shamelessness in licking at his soaked lips makes heat flush all the way to your forehead, “Just let me know if it’s too much, okay?”

You nod sheepishly, body jittery with the little bugs crawling beneath your sweltering skin. Yuuji bends to the sudden thought he’s sure has something to do with the curse inside him with a mysterious catalog on all things you.

Yuuji slips onto his back beside you, curled against the cold wall corning your bed with his feet flat against the mattress and legs bent. He uses the unnatural well of strength he’s harbored since birth to squeeze at the fat of your sides and lift you atop of him. He can feel the warmth of your cunt on his pelvis and it wracks him with a shiver, you whine helplessly when his right hand immediately welds to your slit. His index and ring fingers part your lips so his middle can swipe coyly over your clit.

“Hah,” you watch his ring finger abandon its post to join the rude teasing, “Yuuji…”

“I know,” Yuuji sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes glued to where your wetness drips onto his skin, his hard cock peeking up between your legs, “I know, I’m sorry,” but he doesn’t sound very sorry. Especially when he’s continuing to tease you while pressing a kiss to your cheek, “Okay, serious now,” but he dips his fingers lower and prods at your hole, “Serious.”

You giggle, hot-faced, at his focused gaze, “Yuuji!”

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” he spreads your lips again just to stare from over your shoulder, voice hoars when he finally speaks up, “Alright. Serious now.”

Reaching between your legs, Yuuji grabs hold of his cock - hissing at the contact - and is internally grateful when you raise your hips to meet his head. He presses his forehead against your shoulder when his tip pushes inside you. You feel the hot puffs of air he sends against your back as you continue lowering yourself. He whimpers, the hand at his base flying across your abdomen and gripping your breast. He squeezes and pinches and tries suffocating the embarrassing little noises escaping his lips when you rock your hips down on his pelvis.

“Okay down there?” you twist your head to look back at Yuuji and you’re so glad you did.

He’s flushed down to his chest and his lashes are kissing his cheeks to keep himself together, when he finally opens his eyes fully and looks up at you. His bottom lip is red and puffy from how hard he’d been biting it, “Now I’m gonna do something new.”

This wasn’t new?

Yuuji’s arms stretch under the backs of your knees and come over your shoulders before winding behind your neck, pressing his palms flat against the back of your head. Your arms dangle uselessly at your sides, hands stretching out to graze his ribs and legs bouncing limply as he manhandles you.

His cock bullies itself in your cunt, hips jerking up into the fat of your ass.

Yuuji tries to suffocate down his groans in favor of your sweet moans being punched up from your gut every time he sweeps deep inside you. His lips press tightly just as your own pop open for adorable “ah, ah ah!”s - fighting to maintain his pace despite how badly he wants to pin you to his body and wallow through the wetness sucking him back in for every thrust. Feel your sweaty skin slide and stick against his and whine at the pulling sensation when you peel apart.

Another sudden idea pops into his brain and it’s almost instinctual how he follows it. Besides, it isn’t like he’s going to complain about being brain-blasted with memories that aren’t his if it means not having to hear Sukuna’s voice while fucking you.

Hips never falter in their snaps up into you, Yuuji cranes his neck to teeth at the meat of your nape. He bites possessively and grunts in response to your immediate pitchy moan. Then licking over the marks apologetically.

You try to smother down your breathless moans as Yuuji bullies his cock repeatedly into that spongy spot shooting stars behind your eyes. With an angle and drive and care you’re sure would be lost on any man other than Yuuji - and you’re dumbly struck by the hope that maybe this hard work is only because he’s here with you. And that coherent thought is fucked out of you with Yuuji’s next whimpered request.

“Don’t do that,” he gasps when you tighten around him after a particularly rough thrust, “Please don’t keep it down- wanna…” he moans and the sound flutters straight to your tightening gut, “Wanna hear you so bad, pretty girl.”

Unlatching your teeth from the plush of your bottom lip, flames lap through the wiry twists of your veins - burning through the stretch of your skin and scarring Yuuji. And he eats it up and greedily begs at your feet for more. It shames Sukuna just as much as it excites him to taste the salt on your skin through his vessel’s tongue and watch the way your legs shake and bounce under his vessel’s iron hold. His favorite way to have you and your favorite way to take him.

Yuuji unwinds one of his arms from behind your neck, lowering half your body slightly to swipe his fingers between the junction of your thighs. Right over the slippery spot where you’re creaming on his cock and taking the soaked fingers to your clit. His canines and soft lips battle for a monopoly of your neck and shoulder, swiftly circling your clit with his middle and ring fingers as his hips continue fucking you stubbornly.

“Hng, Yuu…!” you gasp, head throwing back and narrowly missing his - the coil winding tighter and tighter and your walls milking Yuuji tighter and tighter, “Yuuji!”

“I know, baby,” he kisses up your bent neck and presses his flaming cheek against yours, “God, please, cum for me. Cum for me,” his hips stutter, and his breath hitches and oh, he’s so close, “I wanna feel you cum on me, baby- I need it. Need it so bad.”

“Oh, Yuuji,” you dig your face closer to his as if trying to meld yourselves into one body, “‘m cumming,” you clench and he’s damn near wheezing, the knot in his lower belly popping as he feels you cum and drips down his balls, “‘m cumming, I’m cumming, I’m cumming…!”

And just to avoid embarrassing himself from admitting he’s in love with you while spitting his own cum in your warm, wet walls, Yuuji strangles down his own final cries with a coppery, abusive bite to his bottom lip.

It starts to hurt, how he overstimulates himself through his slowing thrusts - letting you slip down onto his thrumming, sticky chest. Your legs sprawled across his sides, Yuuji slipping his softening cock from your hole.

You lazily roll off of Yuuji, landing face-first into your sheets at his side.

Yuuji can hear it again, that terrible, grating voice telling him, “Clean her, brat.”

And what’s the most terrible is he knows Sukuna’s command is entirely warranted. Flopping a hand onto your back, Yuuji traces heart shapes into the skin as he talks, “I’ll be right back.”

And when Yuuji’s wetting a soft, clean cloth he braved the hallway (nude) to retrieve from his room, he hears that voice again. It echoes in your bathroom.

“I want a turn when she’s awake,” a pause, “Fully awake.”

“Aren’t you charitable?” Yuuji rolls his eyes.

And that same utterance from hours before rings through Yuuji’s ears once again. Why Sukuna cared so much about petty crushes. Why Sukuna bothered himself by actually giving genuine, helpful points. Why Sukuna was fascinated by you.

“She was my most devoted and favorite lover in her past life.”

The way he says it inspires no respect for Yuuji - underlined in his thriving desire to be worshiped, as he imagines he deserves. Yuuji wouldn’t dare uphold you to that.

When he tenderly presses his thumbs into stiff muscles with a red flush and warm smile, Yuuji knows that for sure.

“Can I stay the night?” he whispers, folding his discarded towels and lazily tucking them by your bedpost on the floor. He feels that same hurried ache in his chest, awaiting for your impatience.

Ba-dump. Ba-dump.

You hum, lifting your head off the pillow and snickering, your drowsy face pinched to look at him like he’s stupid, “Duh.”

Giddy, Yuuji slips under the blankets he’d slid over you after cleaning the mess from between your thighs, and slots himself right next to you.

Rolling again, you twist into an open space against Yuuji’s chest and under his thick arm. Warmth drapes across your shoulders when he rests that arm over you. He circles his other arm around you and squeezes, grinning so hard he can feel it burning in the balls of his cheeks. Your ear rests against Yuuji’s chest, and you soothe yourself to slumber on the rhythm of his heartbeat.

Ba-dump. Ba-dump.

Blissfully unaware of the fact that when your bones are rotten and six feet deep, two more people will be curled into each other’s arms. With your same starry eyes that some pink-haired kid falls in love with every time they’re on him.

#jjk x reader #jjk smut #yuuji x reader #yuuji smut #yuuji fluff #yuji x reader #yuji itadori #yuji itadori x reader #yuji itadori smut #yuji itadori fluff #and sukuna too i guess

[tojikai]

Sundered 9: RESOLVE

Pairing: Gojo x reader

• Part 1  |  Part 2   | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 …+

Genre: Angst

tags/cw: angst, babydaddy!gojo, babymomma!reader, motherhood, insecurities, arguments, mentions of abortion

word count: 7.8k

a/n: sorry, it took so long. i had problems lol mb

You can’t remember at what point everything started going right but you’re not complaining.

 “I don’t think I can continue like this. I don’t think we should continue like this.” 

“Like what?” You looked up at him, a look of worry filling your wide eyes. He stared down at you with an expression you can’t read. You felt his hands trail beside you, before cupping your cheeks, kissing your lips softly. “Toji, was I not-” And he was quick to quell you

“No, Y/N. It’s not on you, stop putting everything on yourself, baby.” He hates that the first thing you think when something fails is your fault. He hates that he’s making you feel like you’re the only one who needs to put in the work. 

After your arguments, Toji’s been thinking that his emphasis on how you’re being pointlessly jealous of a dead person is why you think you’re the only one who has to make big adjustments. That’s probably why you think you have to put in the most effort to make this work.

“Then, what is it? I thought we were doing well, Toji.” The worried look on your face mixed with frustration as you took a step back from him, rubbing your face with your hands. “We are doing well, Y/N.” He was firm with his answer, and you know he’s telling the truth. But why? “We work so well together. But this isn’t the relationship we deserve.” He sighed.

“That doesn’t make sense, Toji.” You pursed your lips, emotions getting stronger. “If we work so well together, then how can you say that this isn’t what we deserve?” You sat on the bed, patiently waiting for an answer.

“We deserve to be in a relationship where we don’t have to remind ourselves how we should be constantly.” Toji mentally cursed himself for putting you in such a situation early in the morning but he doesn’t think he could sleep another peaceful night with everything in his mind. 

“Relationships are things that flow naturally, Y/N. You do not do things just because you have to, or just because somebody told you to do it. You shouldn’t feel like you have to remind yourself what to do.” He breathed heavily, sounding as if he’d been practicing this in his head for a while now. “Is that how you feel with me?” You tried him, only to get the question back.

“Is that not how you feel with me?” Your silence answered his question. There was a pool of hot liquid in your eyes that you wouldn’t allow to fall. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Think of the strain that you’ve been putting on yourself, Y/N. Tell me you had not once thought of letting it all go even just for a second.”

A sob erupted from your throat; one that you didn’t see coming. It’s a thought you always choose to ignore because you really want to try hard for him, for this thing to work. Now, you understand when they say that sometimes it’s more painful to hold on than to let go.

As if getting burnt by holding on to a rope too tightly, hoping that the other end would stop pulling away.

But right now, Toji’s slowly being torn away from you. And you can’t do anything about this unbearable pain that feels like it could tear you apart; limb for limb. You realize that even if he doesn’t pull away, you’d still end up being hurt for this rope that you are holding on to is too far out of your reach. 

“Toji… I don’t know, I thought I found something good with you. And now it just felt like I’m losing all of it like I’m losing—” Toji quickly shushed you, hugging you ever so tightly to him and it scared you. It almost felt like he was letting you memorize the comfort of his body against yours because this was the last time you’d be feeling it.

“You’re not losing me, love.” He consoled you and though, you can’t express it, the words brought you comfort. “I just don’t think we’re meant to be in this setup but that doesn’t mean you’re losing me.” And just like that, the pain was back again.

“Do I not deserve it?” You asked him, almost flinching at your words when you promised yourself you’d never ask anyone that. Toji sighed, taking both of your hands and bringing them to his lips. “Not this. You deserve more than this. You deserve to be genuinely happy without sacrificing anything, without feeling spent.”

You can’t remember, or more like you chose not to carve into your memory how that day ended. The only image you can see in your head is how he cuddled you to sleep, woke you up to eat with him and the kids, and went home. You remember him saying that they could always visit. And you hated yourself for doubting him.

“Mama, look it.” You heard your baby talking to you as she showed you the screen of your phone. It was Toji. It surprised you that you weren’t crying, or hurting as much as you thought you would. Maybe it’s because of the reassurance that you received from him. 

And it’s not something like hoping that you’d be back together again but it’s more of a security that you didn’t just lose such a good man in your life; even as a friend. “Yeah?” You answered, pulling your toddler closer to you just as she started to move near the edge of the bed. “Just wanna know how you're doing.” 

You chuckled, finding it funny that your now ex is calling you, indirectly checking if you’re still crying. It’s normal for him to expect that kind of thing but the difference between this and other breakups is that you actually ended on good terms and with valid reasons, seeking only the best for each other.

“I am a bit ok, surprisingly.” You answered, you heard a sigh from the other end of the line and a tiny laugh from Megumi, probably watching something on his iPad. You looked at your daughter, thinking if she’ll start looking for her little friend tomorrow and how you’re going to handle that. 

“I’m sorry.” You rubbed your eyes, humming at his words. “This is for the best, I guess.” You spoke, remembering how you used to tell that to yourself when you found out that Satoru got himself a new girlfriend; throwing all his promises out the window and choosing to move forward away from you. 

“You know Yui can still come over for play dates, right?” He spoke as if reading your mind. Toji knows of your concern about this matter as you expressed it earlier to him. Yui has spent a lot of time with Megumi and you know how she is with him because he’s her real first close friend.

“I won’t mind if she’ll be dropped off by Satoruf, he could even accompany her with you guys. I won’t mind, really. I know Megumi will ask for Yui.” He laughed lightly, patiently waiting for your answer, only to receive a hum.

“Y/N, you’re free to make decisions now—” You know that he’s talking about your reconciliation with Satoru but to be very honest, that’s not in your mind right now. You might be yearning for that whole family, and you can see Satoru’s progress but that doesn’t mean you can just bounce back like that. 

“I don’t know, that’s not how I really feel, I think  I should focus on building myself as an independent person for now.” You pursed your lips and you could just imagine him nodding his head to your words. “It’ll happen if it’s meant to happen.” You know that Yui needs her father, and you know that if she could talk to you right now, she’d probably wish for the two of you to be together with her.

But you want to know if this thing you’re feeling for Satoru is real or if it’s only because you longed to give your daughter that fulfillment. It’s not a bad thing to want that for her but you don’t know if you can handle another heartbreak for rushing things. “I’ll just let things be for now.” You added, sighing deeply.  

The conversation with Toji went on for a couple of minutes before you said your goodbyes. You know it won’t be like this every night and that makes your chest squeeze but it’d only feel like forcing things if you asked him for that. You’ll move forward. Like you always do. Your child is growing and maybe it’s about time she learns something valuable from you.

—---------------------------------------

“Da!” The little girl squealed as her father entered your apartment. She got up and ran to him, almost tripping on one of her toys. “Careful. I’m not going away.” He picked her up, kissing her cheek. You closed the door behind you, rushing to kick away the things on the floor. It’s still a bit messy because you’re trying to get her ready for the day before you head to work.

“You’re early.” You spoke to him, watching them sit on the couch. “I’m…uh, cooking something. Have you had breakfast?” You bite your top lip as you turn away from them. “I had coffee.” Yui was trying to put a clip on his hair, laughing when she thought she got it done. “Come, eat with us, then.” You picked your daughter up, heading to the kitchen.

“Mama! ‘Gumi?” You put her in her chair, sighing lightly at the mention of her playmate. It has been almost three weeks and you still haven’t told Satoru about what happened with Toji and you. He’s not asking either, but you can tell he’s curious, eyeing you as he enters the small kitchen.

“He’s at daycare. Maybe next week, when Mama’s not busy, alright?” You spoke, placing the food in front of her, and pressing on the plate to make sure that it was stuck on the surface. “Haven’t seen them around.” Satoru cleared his throat, playing it cool as he didn’t want to seem like he was intruding into your “love life.”

“They, uh, they won’t be around so much anymore.” You put the plates on the table, tucking a hair behind your ear as you turned. Satoru pursed his lips, not wanting to pry any longer but the next sentence made his eyebrows raise. “We kinda…Toji and I broke up. So, if not for the kids, we won’t-“ 

“Since when?” If it was before Satoru would probably be thinking about how this is a chance for him but right now, as he sat on that kitchen table, all he could feel was worry. He thinks that you really love Toji and he became your rock during the times when your baby daddy’s acting up.

“Almost three weeks ago. It’s, uh, nothing too heavy. The relationship just became too much.” Satoru doesn’t know if it’s right for him to say “sorry.” He’s scared that it might break you and he doesn’t want to see you cry again. 

He made you cry many times and he hated himself for it. He can’t help but feel like any anger he might harbor towards Toji would be… invalid.  “I didn't think dating when you both already have kids would be so different than when you don’t.” You chuckled half-heartedly. 

“We just don’t think it could stand in the long run, so…” You shrugged, finally sitting down after you placed the glass pitcher on the table. You peeked at Satoru, attempting to read the expression on his face. 

“Look, I know Yui’s always been our priority but if you need a bit of time for yourself, you know you can leave Yui with me.” He cracked his knuckles, not sure of how to help you with this. “You should take a break from work, if you think that’s what you need, I will-“ You placed a hand on his arm, stopping him.

There’s not much he can offer that wouldn’t make it look like he’s trying to take advantage of the situation. That’s the last thing he wants you to think. He thought you were a bit gloomy during the past couple of weeks and assumed it was just a lover’s quarrel or something.

“Thanks. But it’s alright. We’re good, we’re just…not dating anymore.” You let out a laugh, retracting your hand away as you reached for the towel to wipe your daughter’s food-stained cheek. “Megumi and Yui still play together, I mean they’re besties now, right?” Yui giggled at the mention of her friend.

“That’s nice, he’s her first friend.” Satoru smiled genuinely. Aside from Yui’s occasional babbles, Satoru and you ate in silence. Eating together at your home is beginning to become a normal, regular thing now. And for some reason, it doesn’t worry you anymore. 

Getting Yui ready took a bit more time than it should have when she wanted her Dad to pick her clothes. Of course, none of you could say no. You quickly brought out your phone to take a photo of her and her father, holding hands as they stood before the clothes she took out of her drawer.

“It’s chilly. You can’t wear that.” You commented on the shirt she brought out. With a pout on her lips, she continued to pull on her clothes. “We’ll pair it with something. Yeah?” Satoru consoled her, earning a smile from the little girl. “I’ll make the two of you fold all of that.” You joked before turning to pick up a few scattered clothes. 

You checked her bag one last time, counting all the things she needed in your mind. You can hear her laughing as Satoru struggles to put on her boots. She is the happiest when he’s in the house. You fear that she’ll soon start asking about why her father lives in a different house, unlike most kids. 

“You don’t have to worry so much if she left something. We’ll probably be here tomorrow, you know how she is.” Satoru laughed, lifting the child. It’s true that even during the days when she’s supposed to be with her dad, she still asks him to see you. There was one time when they showed up at your work and everybody thought that you’re back together.

“It could be something important.” You sighed, leaning in to give your daughter a kiss. “Be good.” She nodded her head, wiggling her brows in the process, knowing that it never fails to make you laugh. Satoru can’t help but stare, statued by how close you are to each other; paralyzed by the fact that this could’ve been better if he never did what he did.

“Don’t forget the face creams at night, please.” You reminded him, stepping away as you locked eyes. “Of course.” He took the bag, walking towards the door with you trailing closely behind them. “Buh-bye!” She waved at you from her car seat. You watched as Satoru made sure it was locked before closing the door behind him.

“See you in a few days, Mama.” He spoke playfully, and you know that he’s just trying to say it for your daughter but it made your heart swell for some reason, a blush forcing its way to your cheek. This has been happening a lot with him, even when you were still with Toji. You tried to convince yourself that you were just “caught off guard.”

Work kept you busy for the whole day. It wasn’t long until you found yourself on your couch, smiling at the video Satoru sent you. Yui was holding an elephant bowl full of ice cream, focused on the movie playing on the screen. Their matching lilac pajamas made everything more adorable. After sending a reply, you put your phone down.

Days and weeks went by fast. Megumi and Yui played at the park together last week. You thought it’d be awkward but it was pretty much the same with Toji minus the intimacy. He was still chill to be with and he was still very caring towards you. And you admired him for all of it.

“I ran into them at the mall once. I think they went toy shopping.” He spoke, looking over at the kids as they struggled to understand how to make the seesaw work on their own. “Oh yeah, he mentioned that one time.” You replied, before giving a warning to your daughter who’s now so ready to climb the metal board.

Your mind went back to the image of Satoru coming in with boxes and bags, and a little kid trailing behind him, holding on to the hem of his jacket. He couldn’t even carry her because of everything but she was overjoyed, showing off her new stuff. 

“You can’t leave all that here. Her room isn’t big, Satoru.” You sighed, picking your daughter up, “You already have so many toys.” You reminded her but she wasn’t listening at all. “It’s alright, I’ll bring them to my house,” Satoru spoke as he put them on the couch. 

Sometimes you wonder if you’ll ever save up enough to get a bigger space for you and Yui. Satoru once brought it up, offering help but you don’t want that. You’re not together, so to you, being able to provide and improve on your own for your daughter is a goal. You trust that things’ll get better for you, even if you’re alone.

“You two working it out?” Toji's voice brought you out of your memory. You looked at him for a couple of seconds, and he just stared back at you, like he just asked the most normal question an ex could ask. “N-no. He’s not even trying, I mean he never even explicitly tried to show any hint. I doubt that any of us are thinking about that right now.” You rambled and he just nodded.

You didn’t mean to blurt out something like that so casually. But in all honesty, that made you more comfortable and less tense about all of this. He doesn’t make you feel awkward at all. He doesn’t make you feel like you’re stuck in your past with him. It’s almost as if he’s just been a friend, a very close one, all this time.

There was a moment of easy silence between the two of you. You can only hear the noises from the other kids and the two in front of you. But it wasn’t long until it was broken by Toji. “He loves you, you know?” You feel like even the sound of your breaths paused. “I’m not saying that you should force yourself to try again with him. I just want you to know that Satoru genuinely loves you.”

Thinking about it now, you realize that you and Toji never really talked like this about your relationship with Satoru before. It’s always just the problems and the past that you always claimed to be only bitter memories now. 

Toji leaned back on the chair, not caring if you were answering or not. He’s good at sensing the atmosphere, and you’re not in a way bothered by the topic. You were surprised to hear it from him, of course, but you don’t feel troubled at all. 

“Satoru and I had a talk once, just the two of us. I was expecting less from him due to how he treated you before.” He crossed his arms on his chest, eyes wandering as he recalled, “But he was so sure with his words, I was kind of taken aback.” He chuckled, and you wondered what his exact words were.

“No offense, but I feel like that was the only time I really looked at him as a man; a grown man.” He laughed, shaking his head in amusement. “I know 'cause I’ve been there.” He nodded, sounding softer and you just know who he’s thinking about. “The resolve; the determination in him even when he knows that it’s impossible.”

“He has to work on a lot of things. He’s got so much to reflect on.” You sighed, unsure of how to react, not because you rejected the information but because it got your heart drumming in your chest. “We gotta grow as individuals. And if we’re meant to be together, it’s…it’ll happen on its own.” You chuckled, swallowing dryly. 

You don’t know if that scares you or excites you for the future. But you know that it’s gonna be so much better than before.

—---------------------------------------

6 Months Later

“Mama why? Mama why?” You heard Satoru laugh loudly at your daughter's words. She’s been repeating the same words over and over since you started getting her ready. Her hair was up extra nice today and she’s staring at her gown hanging near the dresser.

“Mama whats go on? Huh, Mama?” She asked again, sending Satoru into another fit of laughter. “Baby, I’ve been saying. It’s Yui Day today. Your birthday.” You smiled at her kindly, securing the cute hair clips on her head. “I don’t think she’s fully taken any of this in.” Satoru sat on her bed, looking at the two of you.

Her grandfather volunteered to take care of the preparations at Satoru’s house. The helpers arrived early in the morning and Satoru left him there to pick the two of you up and to help get his little girl ready. You’re still in your house clothes and you’re not even a step closer to being ready. 

“Go take a shower, I got her.” Satoru arrived just as you were fixing Yui’s hair. “Okay, the shoes are over there. Put the headband on after the dress so it won’t mess up her hair.” You reminded him as you stood up. “Yes, Ma’am.” The little girl jumped towards him pointing at her dress. You stepped out and got ready as quickly as you can. 

You were supposed to wear the dress you bought the other week. It wasn’t much and you were worried that it might not look that good, especially with the guests that will come over. You didn’t want to look cheap but you wanted to save so you went for something that goes in the middle. 

To your surprise, when Satoru brought Yui’s gown and shoes, he got another set with him. You thought it was for some outfit change but he soon revealed, albeit shyly, that he thought the dress matched the theme of your daughter’s party so he got it for you. It was a designer dress and a pair of shoes. 

“I’d…I’ll pay for this, alright? I can’t just—” He cut you off with a close-lipped smile and a gentle sight. “Y/N, I know it’s hard to accept this but I already had lots of shortcomings with you and Yui. This doesn’t mean anything, don’t worry. I’m not trying to, you know, I just want you to feel your best during our daughter’s birthday.” He spoke, nervousness still clear in his voice.

“B-but you’re free to decline it if you don’t feel comfortable, sorry, I can take it back to the—” This time you cut him off with a laugh, “I’m sorry this is just so… expensive. I don’t know how to feel if I just openly accept it from you.” You placed the box on the table behind you, sitting down in hopes of changing the atmosphere. 

“Okay, then…just consider this as a gift since I, uh, failed to get you one on your last birthday.” He breathed out the last part as if it was a heavy feeling in his chest that he couldn’t push past his lips. It isn’t as heavy as it was to you though.

Your last birthday was painful to remember, probably the worst one you had ever since you were born even if you never had a big celebration your whole life aside from when you were with Satoru. Last year, your birthday was on the same day as Satoru’s co-parenting schedule. 

That time you were hoping that he and Yui would celebrate it with you. But that morning, he came in with Naomi. With hickeys peeking from his jacket, messy hair, and swollen lips, they picked Yui up. You remember your daughter babbling about “Mama day” in a much less understood baby talk that Naomi still caught.

“Oh, is it your birthday? She said ‘mama day’, right?” Her bright eyes shined at you, dimples showing as she smiled but it didn’t lessen the ache in your chest. “Oh, sorry. Happy birthday.” Satoru spoke, proceeding to take his daughter’s belongings. “We should’ve picked Yui up in the afternoon so, they could spend time together.” She suggested, laughing awkwardly.

“What time did you book the Children’s Museum trip?” Satoru halted, his back turned to you. You were about to interrupt, afraid that you were starting to look too pitiful for the lovebirds in front of you and your child. “It starts at 10:00.” She spoke, adjusting the toddler on her hip. “It’s 9:19.” Satoru read his watch, biting his lips with his eyebrows scrunched together.

“We can’t really leave her now, the Children’s Museum isn’t open every day. You can…uh—” He tried to think, turning to you but you can’t take it anymore. “N-no. It’s alright. You—Yui have fun, baby, alright? We’ll go out when you’re back home.” You waved at the child and her smile soothed you. Almost.

“Happy birthday, Y/N, sorry.” Naomi smiled, avoiding your eyes and you hated it. You hated that she felt sorry for you. You hated that they felt sorry for you. “Enjoy your day.” She added, turning around as she urged your daughter to wave again. “We’ll get going, sorry again. Happy birthday.” He spoke lowly, earning a fake smile and a nod from you.

You closed the door before you could even see him put his hand on her waist and guide them to his car. It was supposed to be. That should be the three of you. You wiped the stray tear that fell from your eyes with the back of your hand. That day, you stayed at home, slept until your mother came and brought food, and refused to tell her the story. 

That night you stayed awake, wondering how many falls a heart can take before it turns to dust, never to be recovered again.

“Done?” Satoru’s voice brought you back to reality. Your eyes flickered to the reflection of the door in the mirror. You were about to respond when the door burst open, and your child trudged in, almost falling as she squealed. “Mama! Pretty Mama!” She pulled at her skirt, turning. “Wow, lovely. You’re so beautiful, baby!” You cooed at her as she hugged your robe-covered waist.

“Dada put this. Dada! This!” You can tell how excited she is by how she shows off everything; from her headband to her anklets and shoes. She even shows it to her father even if he’s the one who dressed her up. You chuckled in amusement, all the pain numbed as your eyes focused on the present.

You looked over at Satoru who tries to look everywhere but you. Your hair’s still wet from the shower, and you’re still in your robe, all bare underneath and you can’t believe it took you this long to realize that. “You’re so pretty, how about we take pictures downstairs? Or with your toys?” He tried to convince her, wanting to give you time to dress up.

“Mama come!” She pulls at you, “Mama has to wear her pretty dress too, so you’ll be twins.” Satoru quickly picked her up, smiling at you as her daughter babbled excitedly, allowing him to distract her as he closed the door behind them. You turned to look at yourself in the mirror once more, drying your hair quietly.

Thinking back on what Toji said, you can’t just believe them after everything Satoru has done.

—---------------------------------------

You can feel Satoru’s light touch as the three of you pose for the final picture of the day before the party ends. It has been such a long day. Yui happily walked around, clapping at the guests when they sang her a birthday song; quite the opposite of what you thought would happen. You and Satoru received a lot of statements and questions as you were greeting the visitors too.

“Oh, you’re back together again, that’s great!” His aunt said to which he quickly answered with a chuckle, “I’d love that, but no.” You smiled at the old lady, thankful for the understanding face rather than pushing.

“I knew you’d be back to Y/N!” His cousin winked at you, raising a fist bump which you couldn’t really reject. Satoru nodded his head, glancing at you awkwardly at how loud the man was being  “When did you guys get back together?” He elbowed him like he was so sure of the information. 

“We’re not…really back together. We’re…This is co-parenting.” Satoru took Yui from you. “Say hi.” And that’s how he changed that topic. He met Yui once when she was a baby and to say that he was mesmerized by how much she looked like Satoru now is an understatement. “How did you manage to turn yourself into a little girl.” He and Satoru laughed and you excused yourself to greet some of your relatives who attended. 

“I would be mad but, oh well, anything that makes that little doll happy.” Your grandma sighed, smiling as she hugged you. “We’re not back together. I’ll bring her here in a bit.” You muttered, pulling at your dress. “That’s a nice dress you have, it looks expensive, honey.” Your mother complimented.

“Yeah, Satoru got it…f-for me. So, uh, we could match the theme. He organized this.” You smiled nervously, worried at how her eyebrows raised. “I’ll be back, Mom.” You added with a little wave before going back to Satoru and Yui who were now looking at you in distress as she got taken by Satoru’s friend.

“Don’t take him back.” was Shoko’s first words to you as you reached them, making the whole table and you laugh. “Stop it.” Satoru grunted, “Give me my kid back if you’re going to be like that.” He rolled his eyes playfully before meeting yours. “He’s still far from that.” You replied, making them laugh again. Satoru knows that you aren’t joking at all.

It’s funny how the people around you have different views regarding reconciliation with him. And you, you don’t want to think of it. Or more like you’re scared to think of it. 

Because you fear that deep in your heart, you still yearn for all of it.

“Yui!” A voice called and when you turned around it was Megumi in his cut little outfit that almost matched Yui’s dress. “Oh gosh, you’re so cute ‘Gumi!” You cooed, hugging the little boy. He would look down at his shirt and back at you as if to show it off. Your eyes wandered around for Toji and you found him speaking to your Mother. You smiled as he waved at you.

“I didn’t see you guys come in.” You spoke as you got close to them. “Sorry, we’re a bit late. He wanted to get another gift.” Toji laughed, nodding at Megumi’s direction who was now walking towards your table with Satoru and Yui. “Thanks for coming.” Satoru encouraged, a little awkwardly.

“Megumi wouldn’t miss his best friend’s birthday.” Toji reached over to fix his son's clothes. You stayed for a bit to talk with Toji and your mom, Satoru took the kids to the photo booth to play with the other kids at the party. 

And now you’re walking the last few of the helpers out the door, thanking them for the smooth flow of the event. Yui already fell asleep on Satoru’s shoulder, just like her little friend. Toji went home with a sleepy Megumi who refused to get carried by his dad and insisted on walking despite the constant stumbling.

Thanking Satoru’s Dad before he heads home, he gives the two of you a piece of advice: “I hope you two are not thinking too much of what to do with what you have.” You both didn’t know what to say. You don’t even get it at first but when he spoke again, it all made sense.

“It will happen if it’s meant to happen. Like before. When you were blessed with this angel.” He softly stroked Yui’s cheek, chuckling when her nose twitched. “Well, that’s all. You’re both doing just great. Satoru, stop worrying about the things with your mom. Leave that to me.” With that, he bid goodbye and left. 

You had to stop yourself from being too curious about what happened with Satoru and his mother. All that you know is that he broke up with Naomi and you thought that she probably tried to stop him, of course. What’s bugging you is the fact that his father had to comfort him about it. Would it be too much to ask?

“Let’s go inside.” He ushered, adjusting his daughter in his arms and patting her head as she wiggled a little before going back to sleep. “I’m glad we hired helpers. I don’t think I can handle cleaning after all of that.” He laughed, carefully sitting on the couch. “I don’t know how celebrities do meet and greets. I feel so drained.” You agreed sitting down on the loveseat.

“I can’t believe she’s three now. It’s like she was still so tiny a few months ago.” His whispers were low; gentle. You could hear all the love in his voice and the tired yet contented look on his face as he gazed lovingly at his child. She could be getting a sibling now, but you fucked around. You caught yourself thinking, biting your lip at the realization of how silly you’re being.

After a short conversation, Satoru decided to put her in her bed. You’re sure that she’ll be awake in an hour or two. You agreed to stay the night here since you considered that Yui might want to open her gifts by the end of the party. She already opened some earlier due to curiosity but got distracted multiple times and ended up forgetting about them. 

“Oh, shit.” You whispered, rummaging through the baby bag with her feet on your lap. You were trying to clean her a little but you ran out of wipes and you forgot to put the extra pack due to the rush this early morning. You carefully placed her feet down to get up and find Satoru. You saw him in his front yard, putting away some things that had been used earlier.

“Does she have wet wipes here? The one in her bag ran out.” You asked him, stepping out of the house. “Yeah, it’s in my bedside drawer, do you mind getting it?” He spoke, carrying a foldable table to the other end of the yard, “Okay.” You found his bedroom door ajar and let yourself in.

Did he specify which one? There are two bedside tables. You went to the closest one, opening the first drawer. You knew you were looking for the wipes and that’s why you came here, you mentally noted that anything in here does not concern you and thus, must not be meddled with. 

But right now you’re staring at the brown envelope with a hospital address and a name with the  “MD, OB-GYN” title plastered on it. You don’t have to have a degree to understand that. You can feel your heart slowly picking up a pace as you think of all the possible meanings of it.

Was Naomi pregnant and they decided to abort it? Did Satoru make her do it? What if he made her do it because of the fact that he still wants to be with you? You can’t really do anything if that’s why but it makes you feel…accountable. Is this why they broke up on bad terms that even his mother doesn’t want to see him anymore?

The envelope was staring back at you and you can’t help but feel like touching it; opening it. You can get your answer right now if you just read what’s inside this quickly. You won’t have to think about all of this anymore. The voice in your head silenced the approaching footsteps and the sound of Satoru’s voice calling your name.

A shadow was cast upon you and the paper. You looked up to see Satoru staring at the envelope with slightly wide eyes. He quickly closed the cabinet, swallowing as he avoided your eyes. “Sorry, I forgot to mention.” He moved away to get the wipes from the other drawer. “It-it’s here.” He walked quickly, urging you to get moving. “Let’s go before she wakes up—”

“What was that, Satoru?” You don’t care how this made you sound as you grabbed his arm preventing him from leaving the room. He wouldn’t have reacted that way; he wouldn’t have disregarded the matter if it wasn’t something to be hidden. Why did he look so alarmed that you saw it? Like you’re not supposed to know about it.

“It was an old test, I forgot to throw it away.” He rasped, staring at your lips; staring everywhere but your eyes. “I know how to read. The date it was delivered shouldn’t be far from the day the test was done, right?” You half blinked, breathing in as you told yourself to calm down. You don’t know how you’d feel if he told you that’s none of your business. 

“Was Naomi pregnant when you broke up with her?” Your voice was a bit more steady, “No.” He sounded small and you could tell that whatever was going on inside his head wasn’t easy to verbalize. “Then, what’s there to hide about it?” You don’t need him to tell you, you could tell that you weren’t supposed to see that.

“I fear that I might be getting a little too overconfident about your feelings for me but—” You lowered your eyes, embarrassed at how that sounded and a bit thankful for being cut off. “She was never pregnant. Sh-she tried…while I was intoxicated. I got her examined.” Satoru rambled, obviously triggered by your words. 

“She what?” You looked at him, brows furrowed and eyes wide, finding it hard to believe the assumption in your head. “I got drunk. She…she tried to…” He walked towards that drawer, pulling out the envelope and the paper inside. 

“Y/N, read it. I couldn't… I didn’t want to tell you. I didn’t want to vent about this to you because that’s all I’ve been doing, I just want to give you all the good now. I’ll try, Y/N, I promise.” At this point, you don’t even know what he’s trying to explain to you but the welling tears in his eyes and the coldness of his fingers against your skin was enough to pull you to him.

The papers were dropped to the floor as you held him to you. His head was bowed down as he cried on your shoulder as if this was the first day he was allowed to cry about this; as if this was the first time he could hold on to someone while the fear, anger, and shame tore him to pieces.

He held onto you as he sobbed his heart out after holding it all in for so long.

He doesn’t deserve this. No matter what he did or said, Satoru doesn’t deserve this. After everything, you can see how much he’s trying. Despite not being promised anything, he’s giving his all. It wouldn’t be easy to forget and it won’t be easy to trust. But the love you feel for this man comes too naturally to be contained.

“You didn’t deserve that…” You hushed him, hearing him blame himself was shattering. Does his mother know? Why did she disappear as well? What really happened? “Satoru, what happened with your Mom?” His breath hitches. The grown man in the room is now in the form of a child, looking for a hand to hold.

“She knew about it.” His cheeks were wet and his eyes bloodshot as he looked up, running his fingers through his hair. You thought there was something wrong that day. But you didn’t think it could be this bad. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t want to ruin this day, this is our baby girl’s day, I shouldn’t have-“

“Satoru, don’t talk like that. That’s beyond your control.” His breaths were shaky. You doubt that even his closest friends knew about this. “My dad and I placed a restraining order against them. I can’t look at those people the same way anymore.” His eyes were closed as he took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think about what you’d feel or think if you accidentally found out…like now. I should’ve explained earlier.” He was referring to your assumptions earlier. “I know it’s hard. I’m sorry, I jumped to conclusions.” You don’t know how long the two of you were staring into each other’s eyes but a voice took you out of the little world that you share. 

“Mama…” A cute, sleepy voice called out from outside of the bedroom. “I’ll get her. Calm your mind, Satoru. It’s over. We’re here.” You have no idea how big of an impact those words had on Satoru. He almost wanted to cry again, to pull you close and cry to you again. 

To see your back walking out of this bedroom door, but this time with the promise of being on the other side, waiting. 

He sat there for a few more minutes, releasing all the heaviness in his chest before getting up to wash his face. Leaning on the doorframe of his daughter’s room, he saw you putting on her little sweaters as you sat barefoot on the floor. “Gumi sing me.” The child spoke with enthusiasm. “He did? What did he sing?” You encouraged, fixing her clothes. 

“Can you sing me a song too?” He interrupted, walking in to sit down with you. It was all it took for Satoru to forget what happened earlier. Eating at home with the two of you always feels like an answered prayer. After that, you helped the child open her gifts until way past her sleeping hours.

Walking you to the guest room felt like the first time you lived together; awkward yet heartwarming. Of course, no boundaries were crossed. He wouldn’t try. And you won’t allow it. At least he got to wish you a good night and sweet dreams again.

—---------------------------------------

Days, weeks, and months went by fast. It’s already been 4 months since Yui’s birthday and now you’re walking with her and Satoru at a grocery store. “Yui, this is for the stuff we will buy, this is not a stroller.” You explained as she tried to get Satoru to put her in the pushcart. 

He wasn’t supposed to be with you here but it’s Yui’s pick-up day and you decided that you need to get some stuff. Satoru asked if he and Yui could join you since he doesn’t have anything planned except for an early movie night with his little girl. “You’re not a little baby anymore.” She hit Satoru’s chest as he pouted teasingly at her.

“Hey. We don’t hit.” You talked to her sternly, making her put her head on her father’s chest, whispering an almost inaudible apology. “Satoru, do not let her hit you, she’ll get used to doing that.” You reminded him, knowing that he can’t ever scold his baby girl.

“Yes, Ma’am.” He replied absentmindedly, bouncing the kid in his arms to get her to laugh. These days, you’ve been getting comfortable with things like this. You’ve been getting comfortable with compliments like “Oh you make cute babies” from old people who take a liking to your daughter.

You’ve been getting comfortable with Satoru pushing the cart for you as you look for what you need, reaching for the items on the top shelf, carrying your bags for you, and driving you home as you sit in the passenger seat.

Like right now.

“Her sleeping schedule got a lot better when she changed her vitamins, yeah?” You responded to Satoru with a hum as you chewed on your fries, handing a piece to your daughter as she kicked on her car seat. “Her doctor recommended that. I’m glad it works, she used to get up so early.” The car stopped in front of your apartment.

“Would you like to stay? I’ll be cooking.” You won’t deny that this isn’t the first time you asked, “I’d love to stay.” And this isn’t the first time he agreed. You don’t know why but you didn’t budge from the passenger seat, knowing that Satoru was rushing to open the door for you. You went to your baby and took her inside, not worrying about your things and the groceries you bought.

You can’t remember the last time it felt awkward with Satoru lying on your couch with your daughter. You also can’t remember how he had a pair of spare house slippers for him here. Walking past the fridge, you saw a photo of Yui and Megumi from their recent pool party. 

Satoru came to pick you and Yui up but you ended up staying for another hour. You can’t remember when Toji and Satoru shed a noticeable amount of awkwardness around them. At one point, you even heard them talking about business like they didn’t try to rip each other’s heads off when they first met. 

You can’t remember at what point everything started going right but you’re not complaining.

“Where’s her choccy-juice?” Satoru mimicked Yui’s words, laughing. “I told her we were about to eat in a few minutes but she won’t listen.” Taking the chocolate milk from the fridge, he stood beside you to fulfill his daughter’s request. “She’s not supposed to have a lot of that.” You sighed, “I’ll just let her have a taste so she’ll stop.” His voice sounded so much softer now.

“Dada!” She came running to the kitchen, holding onto Satoru’s leg as she tried to have a peek at what you were cooking. “Wanna see? Here’s your choccy.” He lifted her, letting her hold the sippy cup as they watched you cook. “Hmm…” Both you and Satoru can’t help but laugh at her reaction. 

You don’t know if it’s because a lot of things happened but they all feel like distant memories; some of which you can’t even clearly see in the back of your mind. Satoru felt like a new man and along with this, the pain of your past continuously fades away each time you see his face. 

You don’t want to name the feeling yet but, you know that all that’s meant to happen will happen. 

Like it did when you had Yui. Like it did when you got sundered. Like it did when you tried with different people. Like it does now, as you slowly, steadily fall back together.

PREV | ALT. Ending

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[reobsessed]

Unfamiliar Waters

Pairing: Tav X Astarion, Reader X Astarion. Gender neutral. Content: Bathing, kissing, hair washing, fluff, comfort, slight conflict that gets resolved immediately, no sex, minor mention of torture. 1500 Words. Summary: You were in dire need of a bath after a harrowing fight outside the inn you were staying at. Unfortunately you find the tub already occupied by Astarion. In an attempt to bond with and get him out of there, you offer to wash his hair. Another short Astarion fic I started a while ago. Wanted to do something fluffy and intimate without any sex. Thanks again to Suri for edits and help with lines and the title!

You flung open the wooden doors, uncaring as wood chipped against lavender painted walls. Just as you were halfway through discarding your shirt, an indignant cry caught you off guard.

“What in the sweet hells, do you mind?!” The towel and toiletries fell from your hands. You’d never been very perceptive and today was no exception. Already fully submerged in the tub was Astarion; chest bare slumped over the side, a dripping copy of the Baldur’s Mouth Gazette in hand.

“Astarion?! I haven’t seen you in hours, is this where you’ve been?” You spluttered. “We really could have used your help. There was a fight right outside the inn. There’s absolutely no way you didn’t hear the commotion.”

“Some of us take pride in our appearances and besides, I needed time away from that festering group of ingrates.” As if to emphasise his point he shuddered. “You know, you could all learn a lot from me, starting with regular bathing.”

“And how exactly are any of us meant to bathe when you’re in the bathroom four hours every day?”

“Oh I don’t know, Baldur’s Gate has plenty of scenic rivers and lakes. I’m sure the bear has no problem leading each of you to nature’s finest bathhouse.”

You rubbed your temples with a freehand. As much as you loved this man, he could really start to grate on your nerves after a while. You scooped up your belongings and made your way over to him, arranging your towel neatly on the floor beside you.

He looked up from the paper disinterestedly. “As much as I love your company, dear, I hope you’re not planning on joining me. I hardly think this,” he gestured disapprovingly at the tub, “can fit us both.”

“Astarion, if there’s anything I can do to cut this exceedingly long bath short, I would be more than happy to assist.”

His eyes widened momentarily. How stupid of you, you hadn’t considered the implications of what you’d said. 

“No, no, that's quite alright. I’ve still got my hair to wash and that’ll take at least another half an hour.”

Perching yourself on the edge of the tub beside him, you began rolling up your sleeves.

“Then allow me.” You smirked.

He flung the sodden paper to the floor and stared at you dumbfounded. “You mean you- wash my hair. I’m sitting here naked, dripping and gorgeous and all you want to do is ‘wash my hair’?”

“Couples do things for each other. Things outside of sex and combat, I might add,” you sniped back. Using your fingers, you began combing through his dampened locks.

“Without the sex, I suppose that leaves only the one thing we do together then.”

“That’s true.” His body tensed. “No, no wait- '' Flustered, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and pressed your forehead against the back of his head. A feeble gesture, intended to soothe him and buy you enough time to explain.

“Just kidding,” you could hear the smirk in his voice, but you knew it wasn’t genuine.

“I like doing other things with you,” you mumbled into his curls. “I don’t care about the sex.” You relaxed your hold, allowing him to turn around to face you. Delicately, you reached out and wiped a stray piece of hair from his forehead. As you did so, his unnaturally pale cheeks took on a darker hue, perhaps from the heat or from your touch, you weren’t sure.

He cleared his throat and turned away again. “I see then. Well, this is as good a time as any to try something new.” 

“Really?!” your head perked up. “I’m so excited, haven’t washed anyone else's hair since I left home.” You began swirling a hand in the tepid water, carefully choosing a spot faraway from where Astarion sat. “Did you and your siblings ever do this for each other? Like my family did,” you asked without thinking.

He shot you an incredulous glare, which soon contorted into sarcastic glee. “Oh, of course we did! And then in between our torture sessions we’d paint each others’ nails! What good fun it was.” His smile dropped and he fell backwards into the bath, splashing you in the process.

You scratched the back of your head. “Sorry I-”

He waved his hand dismissively. “Leave it, my love. No use dwelling on all that now.” You nodded your head in agreement, not that he could see you. “Come now, we don’t have all day.” 

You hummed in agreement, looking over the various bottles that sat on a shelf beside the bath. Astarion was a very particular man and you didn’t wish to upset him by, god’s forbid, using the wrong fragrance. You gestured towards the selection of shampoo. “What’s your poison?”

“Hmm, I think today I‘m in the mood for jasmine- no wait- night orchid and ginseng- actually, that honey shampoo sounds positively delicious.”

“Might net you some unwanted attention from our camp bear,” you joked, hands sifting through the knots in his hair.

“Fair point. Alright then, I think I’d like to try that raspberry one, the one you got from that dear little market stall.” 

The same one you liked to use.

With a gentle firmness you cupped the sides of his head. You hoped it was enough to stop him from turning around and seeing the pure glee etched onto your face.

“Alright, I need to get it wet, lean back,” you instructed, as you scooped up a handful of water.

He did as he was told and reclined backwards, eyes closed and squinted, anticipating the stream of water. Doing this for your brothers and sisters had been easy. Hells, you could get away with lobbing them in the river and they’d be just fine. Astarion, on the other hand, required a more delicate touch (even if he’d never admit to it) and you were more than happy to cater towards him.

With slow precision you poured the cooling water over his scalp, immediately pushing back any stray drops that threatened to drip down into his eyes. 

Gods, how was it possible for such a man to be so beautiful and how was it that such a man had chosen you as his partner? Your hands stopped and your gaze lingered, as you took in his picturesque features.

An eyelash heavy with steam peeled open, giving you an inquisitive look.

“Enjoying the show, darling?” A thick, humid heat bloomed across your cheeks. “By all means, keep admiring me.”

“Shut up and close your eyes!” You grabbed the bottle from the side and began lathering it in your hands. The familiar fragrance filled your nostrils and despite having grown accustomed to having it as your own scent, you were looking forward to how it smelt on him.

You rubbed the foam through your fingers, fully enveloping his hair in a thick mousse. As your nails dragged across his scalp you heard him moan. 

“That feels positively wonderful.”

“Oh yeah, like this?” you asked, repeating the same motions as before. He mmm-ed softly, sinking further into your hold. You paused for a second, this might be the most satisfied sound you’d ever heard coming from his lips, not a bad thing of course, given his past experiences. 

His eyes were open again, staring up at you, face awash with bliss. 

“Itching for a taste are we?” he goaded lightly.

There was no use dignifying that with a response. You brought your lips down upon his, his head still clasped in your hands. It was brief and sweet, reminiscent of those first kisses you’d once shared with young lovers. Unthinkable that such innocent yearning could be reclaimed so late in life. 

Reluctantly you broke the kiss and pulled away.

“I do rather like that, you know…”

“I know and so do I.” You beamed. “Okay now can you please hurry up so I can have a bath,” you pleaded, peppering his mouth with more kisses.

“Always so demanding,” came his curt reply (the audacity). Nonetheless, he complied and finished up. 

A deep sigh of relief escaped your lips after finally lowering yourself into freshly ran water. About halfway through wetting your hair, a freezing pair of hands on your shoulders caught you off guard.

“Astarion!” you shrieked. The little rogue had snuck up behind you.

“Oh, do be quiet, and don’t splash me. Wouldn’t do to get me wet again.” You watched as he rifled through the shampoo bottles disapprovingly. “We must go to the market together again soon, darling, just the two of us. I know just the product that’s perfect for your hair type, might do something about that helmet musk too.”

You opted to ignore that last dig, instead choosing to relish in the satisfaction of a warm bath and your lover threading his fingers through your hair. “I’d like that,” you hummed happily. 

A contented silence descended over the room. You felt at peace and when you saw him hovering above you with that serene grin on his face, you knew he felt the same.

#astarion #astarion ancunin #tav x astarion #astarion x tav #reader x astarion #astarion x reader #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate #my fic #bg3 fic #fanfic #vampire

[luveline]

also didn’t realise that amanda was their little baby but here’s an idea if ur up for it. amanda inherits like spencer’s smartness i guess and so when she starts spewing facts about the random-est stuff spencer’s overjoyed and then bombshells just staring at them with adoration in her eyes?? idk something really fluffy

“Shoes?” Amanda asks. 

“Yeah, babe.” 

“No thanks.” 

You hold Amanda’s socked feet in your hands. “You need shoes to keep your feet warm.” 

“I’ll have socks.” 

You look past her tiny face to her father for some assistance. Spencer scratches his neck, looking absolutely exhausted, though he’s dressed sharply. You’d spent a few minutes finger curling his hair this morning before it dried, and he’s brushed them out gently, giving him a windblown look. You pretend to take a photo of him. He rolls his eyes. 

“Amy,” he says lovingly, baby-voice in play as he leans over the back of the couch, “you know why you have to wear shoes?” 

“Why?” 

“Because growing up, your feet are very small, and very fragile. They need time to grow in proper structures, and they can’t do that if you don’t wear shoes when you’re walking a lot.” He gives her shoulder a rub. “Don’t you wanna match me and mommy?” 

“You wear shoes… different. Mom has heels,” she insists. 

“What if I wear flats?” you ask, eager to leave the house before afternoon. 

She shakes her head, crossing her arms over her chest with a Spencer style pout. 

Spencer sits down next to her with a sigh. You’re both aware of how smart she is for her age, and while it can be interesting, it’s also made some stuff so, so hard. Like explaining shoes. “I’m not want to wear them. It’s good for my skin to breathe.” All her r’s sound soft, like w’s.

You rub your eyes. Spencer sucks in an excited breath. “Yes! Skin can’t really breathe, but it’s good to have it uncovered sometimes to help your circulation and your pores.” 

“‘Xactly,” Amy says. 

“And, you know, shoes that don’t fit right force your feet into narrow positions, which can cause a whole bunch of problems.” 

“No shoes,” Amy says. 

“But…” Spencer backtracks, thumbing under her eyelashes gently. “If you don’t wear your shoes, we can’t go out to the store for groceries and we can’t go to the bakery on the way home. Which means you won’t get your sugar donuts, mommy won’t get her slice of cake, and that’s gonna make me so sad.” 

“Why?” 

“Because I love when your mom is happy. It makes me happy when she’s happy. She doesn’t look very happy now, does she?” 

In all honesty, you’re much too pretty to be sitting on the floor, tights to the carpeting and your cute black dress bunching up your thighs. You refuse to close yourself into the ‘mom’ box some may expect of you, dressing as you had before you became a mom, but you’ve allowed Amanda the opportunity to choose your necklace; a gold pendant ring with green and pink sapphires. It’s gorgeous, colourful, and doesn’t even slightly go with your outfit. Spencer reaches for it now, tugging it straight carefully against your neck. 

You frown deeply, pulling your widest, softest doe eyes. “Please, lovely girl, put your shoes on. Or I’m gonna have to be strict, and I hate being strict.” 

“Don’t fw-own, mommy,” she says, listing into Spencer’s side, “you’ll get wrinkles. Worse wrinkles, ‘cos your muscles remember.” 

And again, all her r’s are w’s, her pronunciation lispy and sweet despite her amazing expertise. Spencer laughs and takes her face into two hands, kissing “Wow, smarty pants,” into her crown. “You’re so smart! I can’t believe it!” 

You feel your annoyance softening. Fine, she’s a smarty pants, and you secretly love it so so much. You’ll just have to carry her to the car. Or her genius dad can carry her. Actually, that could be great, Spencer’s never looked so handsome as he does carrying around your little baby, especially now he’s started working out every now and then. 

“Better role your sleeves up, Spence,” you say, standing up off of your knees. “I’m keeping my heels on. Daddy’s gonna carry you, and you’re gonna get wonky feet.” 

“That’s fine,” Spencer says to her in a whisper, “I’ll carry you forever if you want me to, even if you do get all wonky, bubby.”  

Amy preens as she wraps her arms around him and he picks her up. He takes her shoes from your hand without her seeing. 

“Isn’t she amazing?” he mouths, and he means it, his eyes wide with it. 

“She’s gonna protest socks, next, Spencer Reid, and then what are you gonna do?” you ask. You aren’t half as concerned as you’re pretending to be. Amy’s a baby. She’ll learn how important shoes are soon enough. 

“I’m gonna hold her in my coat, like this,” he says, pulling his coat over her legs. 

“Like that,” you say to yourself, grinning. “Okay, you two do what you want. Can we go now? We really need to get some groceries.” 

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

[steddiealltheway]

When Eddie gets excited, he gets a bit overwhelmed. At least, that’s what Steve has noticed, with the way Eddie has to take a quick running lap, bounce up and down, etc. whenever he gets too happy.

Steve secretly thinks it’s adorable and tries his best to induce these little happy zoomies.

It doesn’t take much. Sometimes it’s just a small compliment such as, “That shirt looks nice on you,” that has Eddie bouncing on his heels and fidgeting with his rings with a smile on his face. Sometimes, Steve tries to notice something new like when Eddie trims his bangs or paints his nails, that makes Eddie flush red and mumble, “Yeah, I did,” before taking a quick walk around Family Video before making his way back to him.

This time, Steve isn’t really trying to get a reaction out of Eddie who is angrily storming around the break room of Family Video after Steve had seen his face upon entering the store and ushered him to the back.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Eddie mutters out, running a hand over his face. Steve sits back quietly, letting Eddie go on a little rant. “He said, we were allowed to have the basement for our campaign. All of it. Then, Ted Wheeler in all his glory suddenly says that we’re too loud, and we can’t do the campaign at their house anymore. I mean… it’s one more session! He could’ve sat in that damn recliner and shut him mouth for one more session! Fuck.”

Eddie groans dramatically and sits on the ground, head in his hands. “I don’t know what to do. It’s summer so we don’t have access to the school. And I can’t risk breaking in and having them take away my well earned diploma. Plus, my trailer is too small, and no one else has the privacy of Mike’s basement. We’re done for!”

Steve shrugs, seeing a clear answer to the problem. “You can do it at my house. My parents are never home, and I can stay in my room for as long as you need.”

Eddie’s head snaps up. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, not really sure why he’s so shocked.

Eddie stands up quickly. “You’re positive you can deal with all the Hellfire members in your house?”

Steve nods. “I’ll even buy you guys pizza if you want.”

“Buy us pizza…” Eddie mumbles under his breath in disbelief. “Steve Harrington, are you granting me permission to use your house for Hellfire Club meaning hours of us yelling maybe even late into the night while we play our nerdy game?”

Steve nods and shrugs again. “Yeah. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Not that big of a deal?” Eddie repeats, once again in disbelief. He slightly smiles. “We’re going to be able to complete the campaign.” He bounces on his heels excitedly. “We’re going to complete the campaign!” He runs up to Steve and hugs him tightly, jumping up and down, successfully jostling a laughing Steve in his arms. “We have a place to complete the campaign!!”

Eddie puts him down and pulls back with a big smiles. “Thank you! Seriously thank you. This means so much I could just-”

Before Steve can react, Eddie is leaning forward and pressing his mouth against his in an enthusiastic kiss.

Eddie pulls back quickly and puts his hands over his mouth in horror. “Oh my gosh. I’m so- fuck. I’m so fucking sorry. I just got uh…”

Steve waves him off as Eddie backs as far away from him as possible. “You just got excited. It’s okay.”

It’s okay as it can be considering that Steve really wants to kiss Eddie again although he’s not sure what that really means. But suddenly the urge to make Eddie happy makes a whole lot of sense.

Shit. Okay. He can work with this.

He glances up at Eddie who looks petrified in fear. “I just got excited…” he whispers out.

Steve slowly makes his way to him and puts his hands on his shoulders. “It’s okay, Eddie. Really. I uh, enjoyed it.”

“You enjoyed it?” Eddie echoes uncertainly.

“Yes. But if it was just an excitement thing, I understand.”

Eddie breathes out, “And what if it was more than an excitement thing?”

Steve takes a step further into Eddie’s space and tilts his head. “Then I’d ask if I could kiss you.”

Eddie swallows harshly and leans forward. “It was definitely more than an excitement thing.”

Steve smiles softly and asks, “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes,” Eddie says, slipping his hands into Steve’s hair as he moves forward again.

This time, Steve knows to respond, moving his lips against Eddie’s gently before tracing his tongue against the seam of his lips, exploring the inside of his mouth when Eddie lets him in.

When Steve reluctantly pulls away from the kiss to check on Eddie, he gets a quick nip to the lip.

Eddie flushes red. “So, I sometimes bite when I’m happy.”

Steve leans in again and whispers against his lips, “Thank god I’m into that.”

And he’s going to make sure to learn all the ways to elicit these responses from Eddie, but first, he’s going to learn all the ways Eddie likes to be kissed.

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie ficlet #I’m in a writing mood although I need to be productive #ignore that I’ve posted twice in the past hour

[azuremist]

A message to Twitter users coming to tumblr: a message from your local duel-hellsite citizen

So, I’ve seen a ton of Twitter users talking about making and sharing their new tumblr blogs, to escape Elon Musk’s “anti censorship” bullshittery. First of all: welcome! I know it’s looking bleak over there; especially for trans people. But, now that you’re here, I’m here to tell you all about tumblr etiquette, how this website works, and how it’s different from Twitter. Because you can’t come onto here acting like it’s Twitter, lest The Beast get to you.

First, here are a small handful of tips and tumblr facts!

Your likes and who you are following are automatically set to public. You can make them private in your settings!

You can block tags from the settings, too.

There are lots of bots on here. If you’re not careful, you could be mistaken for one! The main way you can avoid this is changing your icon and header from the defaults. Adding a bio helps too!

You can queue and schedule posts so that your account posts throughout the day.

Like Twitter, tumblr has a radical feminist and TERF problem. However, they’re pretty easy to spot. There are lots of guides out there to help you learn how to spot tumblr TERFs!

Tumblr, for the most part, does not have any celebrity or brand accounts.

Your tumblr follower count is private.

You can have multiple accounts with the same email, and they’re very easy to switch between! These are called “sideblogs”.

Your main page is not a “timeline”. It is a “dashboard”!

You can have a custom desktop theme using HTML! Think like ye olde MySpace days. There are tons of pre-made tumblr themes available, if you’re not already proficient in HTML; including free ones!

Now, let’s talk tumblr etiquette and how it’s different from Twitter. You’re a tumblr user now! It’s time to start acting like it!

Don’t just like posts. They don’t increase visibility whatsoever. The way that you can help posts that you like is reblogging them to your blog. Especially for art!

We don’t say “oomfs” or “oomfies”. Just “mutuals” is fine, thanks!

Adding onto a post with pointless comments is frowned upon. If all you have to say is “this is so true,” or something else to that effect, you should put that in the tags of your reblog.

Most people don’t have carrds or rentries on here. Some of us do, but it’s not an obligation like it is for Twitter.

Similarly, we don’t censor words like “die” and “death”. Posts about wanting to brutally murder people in power go viral all the time, and it’s completely allowed. I’m serious! Enjoy your newfound freedom!

Blocking isn’t a big deal here. Get rid of any weird notion you have that morality is linked to blocking certain people.

But lastly, and most importantly:

Drop your discourse at the door.

If you try to post about most of the things that Twitter users discourse about, you will be laughed off the site. Especially Twitter LGBT+ discourse. Posts actively mocking topics of Twitter discourse go viral on here regularly.

Tumblr has mostly healed since its discourse-ridden days, and it’s now much more chill. Of course, discourse still happens, but it is so easy to avoid now. For a lot of us, tumblr is the last pleasant social media site left, so don’t ruin it.

Here is a list of discourse-related things that tumblr users don’t do:

Most of us don’t do callout posts, unless it’s something actually serious (like that one blog that had a human slave).

Everything that you heard on Twitter was “exclusive” to certain LGBT+ groups is used by just about everyone on here. Bi women use the double venus symbol on here. You’ll just have to learn to live with that.

In particular, I want to emphasize how much we don’t do flag discourse. To the point that somebody caring about flag discourse of any kind is how we tend to identify an ex-Twitter user.

On here, you will never have to see another slur discourse post again, unless you actively seek it out.

You’re free.

You’re welcome. And enjoy your time on here! If you have the time, please consider watching StrangeÆons’ Tumblr Etiquette Manual on YouTube, as well.

#elon musk #twitter #tumblr culture #tumblr #azure does a thing

[greatunironic]

eddie wakes up in a strange room. this was not particularly unusual for him, historically: he’d spent most of his twenties waking up in new and interesting places (including a handful of jail cells). but after eddie, the label, and the los angeles superior court system decided it would be best if he stopped drinking and doing blow, it stopped being such a regular occurrence.

so it’s almost alarming to him, now, to be blinking up at an unfamiliar cement ceiling with the raging bitch of all headaches and generally feeling like he got hit by a truck, got whiplash in a crash with the way his neck aches. he’d think he was hungover like all those times before except for how sharp the pain is, bright.

he worries, briefly, he’s relapsed, or someone’s slipped him something. but he remembers what him and the boys had been up to, before this, and he thinks it’d’ve been a strange night indeed if someone roofied a c-list (b-list if he’s feeling charitable) musician at a fucking frozen four game.

because yeah, eddie remembers: they’d been third row, watching the wisconsin ladies clean up and cheering for jeff’s kid sister like she was about to get olympic gold. (she probably would, someday. her and that mayfield girl who played defense were looking down the barrel at a 2026 run apparently.

eddie’s been to a handful of games over the years, when touring and recording allows them to go. he’s resolutely never been a sports guy but he’ll admit, when pressed, that live hockey is pretty dope. to say nothing, of course, of how jeff would probably murder them all in their sleep if they didn’t rep the red and white for lottie.

(and also — and this is between eddie and his god alright — but lottie’s coach? standing back there in his suit, hair styled and dialed, snapping his gum, yelling at the refs? kind of doing it for him, okay. worth the price of admission, even if the tickets weren’t free.)

when he thinks harder — which hurts too — the last thing he clearly remembers was someone from the beavers scoring, bringing their lead to 5-1, and a slapshot from the other team getting out over the boards and nearly taking out some lady’s popcorn. someone behind them in the seats said, “jesus they’re getting desperate, eh?”

then shit goes dark on him, not even a fade to black, but a full on smash cut, roll credits black, and the post-credits scene is where ever the fuck eddie is at the moment. it smells like human and cold and icy hot, so obviously, he thinks, he died and went to hell like all the church ladies said he would back in hawkins, or probably just a locker room. what the fuck?

he blinks at the ceiling, at an interesting water stain on the cement texturing. he’s in the middle of wondering where the rest of his band has gone if he’s here alone, fucking abandoners, when a sweaty redhead with the bitchiest expression he’s maybe ever seen enters his field of vision.

“you’re alive,” she says.

eddie blinks again. “why do you sound so disappointed?”

“yo coach!” she shouts, already on the move away from him. “he’s alive!”

he tries to sit up, but that makes the pain in his head worse, and also draws attention to the fact that his back also hurts. he squeezes his eyes shut and makes a truly embarrassing noise of pain — if pressed, he’d call it a whimper — and a pair of big hands land on his shoulders.

“out, out ladies i got this! hey!, hey, man, don’t move just yet,” says big hands.

“yeah, no problem, i don’t want to anymore,” eddie says. he stirs up the will to open his eyes again and very nearly slams them back shut. because of course the person staring down at him is fucking coach hottie snackycakes himself. he’s even better looking in person, too, big droopy eyes, lips as pink as his bubblegum, and shiny, jesus christ. he’s still got eddie by the shoulders, hands warm through the thin cotton of his flannel and tee — because eddie’s always been more fashion than sense, wayne always said, and it’s even worse now that the paps are on him—

“oh, fuck this is gonna be all over tiktok later, isn’t it?” he moans.

“maybe not.”

“don’t lie.”

“listen, eddie — it is eddie, right?” asks coach hottie. “i’m steve. coach harrington. faughnsie — lottie, i mean — she said you’re eddie. her brother’s guitarist? what do you remember?”

“more like he’s my singer,” he says, “but sure. and not much.”

“well, you’re gonna be okay,” says coach hottie — steve. “it really wasn’t that bad, and it was probably too fast for anyone to get it, unless they already had a camera on you. you took a puck to the head when one popped up. i’d apologize but it wasn’t one of my girls who did it, so. anyway — you weren’t out for long, which robbie says is good — she’ll get a look at you in a second — but you got your bell rung pretty good. and you’re gonna have quite the shiner, trust me.”

“speaking from experience?”

“oh, yeah. closer and faster too.” he gently raps his head with his knuckles. “too many concussions too early ended my nhl days, in fact.”

“oh. oh shit, sorry, i—“

“don’t worry about it, man, it happens,” he says. “and if it hadn’t, i wouldn’t be here.”

“at the frozen four.”

“yeah, sure, that too.”

“what?”

“what?” steve waves him off. “anyway, i’m just glad to see you up, ish, and talking. looked pretty scary, from the bench.”

“i really don’t remember,” says eddie. “but i’m sure i’ll see it on tiktok later, like i said — at least, my unconscious, bleeding form.”

“i got up there pretty fast, so i doubt it,” says steve.

eddie blinks, twice. “you—?”

“you were behind my bench, and you. well,” he says with a shrug, but he’s clearly a little embarrassed, finally putting those hands away — weapons of eddie destruction, he thinks — and shoving them into his pockets of his tight slacks. “i should be getting back out there.”

“do you? you’re murdering them pretty good, unless i black out and missed them getting four more goals,” eddie says.

the corners of steve’s eyes crinkle when he smiles. eddie thinks he might just pass out again. “no, we’re still gonna cinch it, i think. looks bad, though — first time coach missing the final period so’s he can hit on the cute musician who got his clock cleaned by the biscuit.”

“oh,” he says. swallows. “uh.”

steve’s crinkly, smiley eyes go wide. “unless—“

“no less!” eddie shouts and then immediately winces. at a better, less damaging to his more than slightly concussed noggin, volume, he says, “more, actually. because pretty sure i shouldn’t be left unsupervised, and i’ve clearly been abandoned by the band, so—“

“so,” says steve.

“coach, two minutes!” someone calls.

“so, i was hoping maybe i could keep hitting on the hot hockey coach back at his?”

“i’m at the ramada inn,” he says, “and i got tape to watch for the finals.”

“i live for room service,” eddie tells him seriously. “and i’m suddenly very into wisconsin sports teams.”

“coach! go time!”

“yeah?” he asks.

“yeah.”

“COACH!”

he jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “i gotta — but, uh, later?”

“pick me up in twenty?”

“probably more like half an hour, with stoppage,” he says.

someone bangs on the door. “COACH!! let’s boogie!!”

with one last look, wide eyed and smiling, steve leaves. eddie watches him go. he’d heard hockey players were caked up but lord — eddie is about to convert to a new religion, or maybe found one, over the stretch of those slacks.

“damn,” he says quietly.

“gross,” a woman says. eddie startles and looks to the side, where a lanky brunette with a bob and an undercut is staring at him, unimpressed. she’s in some get up that screams athletic trainer, and there’s a white board in her hand.

“how long have you been there?” he asks.

she raises an eyebrow. “long enough, and honestly, i don’t know if that counts as a you rule for him, or a you suck for you,” she says and does not elaborate when he asks. “also don’t look at him like that. it’s steve. he’s basically my sister.”

“yeah? any tips then?” asks eddie. “i promise i’ll only use them for good. well. mostly.”

“god,” she says with an expansive eye roll. “you’re gonna be a nightmare, aren’t you?”

a cheer goes up outside the room as the teams, presumably, take the ice again. eddie, head throbbing, concussed, embarrassed, grins. “sure hope so,” he says.

#stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #rockstar au #hockey au #two great tastes that taste great together tbh #cross posted on twitter #might clean this up later + pop it on ao3

[adelheidvonschicksal]

Nsfw scenarios/hcs for the LADS boys with their MC in ABO!AU (Idl if I wrote this right 😅) please? Like how they marked their mates, how they treated their mates during the rut and heat, etc.

+ Omegaverse, sexual content, alpha boys/omega reader, female reader

General

9/10 possessiveness level

Xavier is the most possessive of the main boys and gets jealous the easiest. He may seem calm about other alphas standing a little too close or talking a little too long to his mate, but the tension in the air is thick and unpleasant. There's a specific eery calmness to his face and falsely polite tone to his voice when he happens to cut into the conversation. He always wants to know the topic of conversation when you talk to anyone who has his suspicion. Xavier suddenly gets a little needier than usual, always trying to figure out a way to draw your attention back to himself. Or, purposely sliding an arm around your waist and holding you close in a silent hint that whoever is talking to you should back off, or he will drop his head against your shoulder, saying he’s tired, and asking you to hurry up so you can go home together,  he emphasizes. His last resort isn't pretty. 

While calm, he has a little of a competitive streak with others, whether that means scoring higher in your hunter team battles or building the largest snowman together. He is competitive for your attention against those he thinks are interested in you; and when he has you alone, he insists on scenting you or mating you. You better be prepared to hide large bite marks or hickeys by the time he’s done claiming you.

Protective Level: 6/10

Xavier has no problem with you running about your daily life. He has confidence that you’re strong and don’t necessarily need much protection. He only insists on coming with for two things: (one) if he’s jealous of the person you’re meeting or (two) if you’re going somewhere to fight on your own.

As long as he’s around, he’s confident that things will work out fine. However, he gets extremely protective when you’re hurt, asking for you to stay behind him, rushing ahead to be the vanguard, and trying to take on the brunt of everything himself. And if you get hurt being rash, prepare for him to be upset with you and insist that you allow him to protect you more.

Scenting

Scent: Fresh Linen

Xavier smells good, but there isn’t something to pinpoint about his scent that is unique to him. Simply put, he smells clean, like freshly dried laundry with a touch of lavender.

Xavier loves covering you in his scent, cuddling and sleeping with you until you’re no longer entirely sure what your scent smells like not mixed with his. He scents your things, like your plushies, before you even need to ask. 

He likes to tease you, asking if you want him to scent his hoodies even more since you take them so much, and he’s always happy to oblige. His first instinct to calm you down consists of three options: scenting, cuddles, and food, in that order.

Mating

Xavier already likes to mate with his partner a lot, like a constant rut minus the attitude that comes with it; always wrapping his arms around you, nudging the back of your neck, and lightly coercing the situation to where he wants it to end up whenever the opportunity shows itself.

In a rut, he’s twice as easy to rile up and much more direct about wanting to be alone with you, wanting to hold you and shove his head into the divot of your neck, and audibly inhaling your scent. You can already feel him against you in more ways than one.

He doesn’t waste his time trying to play games with you during this time, choosing to show you exactly how much he wants you before taking charge. You’re burnt out by his energy when you’re used to him napping right after a round or two. This time he isn’t letting up, but he promises that he’ll treat you so well, promises that he’ll get you there twice in exchange for letting him have one more time, as if you're aren't already overstimulated with jellied legs.

He asks if you're already tired. He'll let you sleep but can he at least squeeze and kiss you while he uses his hand. He promises to clean his mess if it gets on you. He'll be good, he swears, and he's so puppy eyed that you let him.

When he finally is tired, he’ll fall asleep while inside you. His knot stopped swelling a long time ago, but he enjoys your warmth around him as he nuzzles the back of your head.

Xavier does his best to tend to his mate when they’re in heat. He’ll get warm compresses and try his best to cook for you (most likely failing) and offer to nap with you when you’re in pain. He’ll let you use him how you want as long as it makes you feel better, whether that’s using his hands, mouth, or knotting you.

There’s a small bit of worry from him, with the way he asks,

“Where do you need it?” “Like this?” “Are you sure you only want my fingers? It’s okay to ask for more.” “Open your legs wider. You don’t have to be embarrassed. It's only me." "Next time, I'll let you take care of me, deal?

You’re so cute like this, needing and wanting him, but he hates how it causes you pain.

General

3/10 possessiveness level

Rafayel tends to have confidence that he can have you before anyone else, trusting your judgment to take care of yourself. He also has pretty high esteem of himself when it comes to the social world. A few properly chosen words is usually enough to get any seducer to back off. Rafayel can’t believe someone else could possibly think they’d have a chance with you when you have him.

As repentance, he wants you to do things for him after little incidents like that. It’s so exhausting chasing lesser alphas off, after all. Whether he’s serious or not when he says he could use some affection after his omega so cruelly ignored him for another alpha remains to be determined.

If there ever is a time where he feels insecure or jealous, he isn’t above trying to cut off someone’s relationship with you. If it comes to threats so be it, but it will end. It doesn’t matter if it’s from your side or the pursuer. It’s an ultimatum, either him or the other person, but not both.

He has a bigger concern about you not needing or growing bored of him than falling in love with someone else. Otherwise, he tends to have faith in you.

Protectiveness Level: 8/10

Rafayel knows you’re strong. Trust him—a twisted arm and playfights abound—he knows. But you are also bulledheaded and naïve. He worries you might end up getting yourself injured; or worse, killed.

So, he’s observant as always, watching for any suspicious activities with the people you’re around, whether warranted or not. He wouldn’t just do that for anyone, only for his precious mate and also for his precious peace of mind. He tends to operate from the background to not be too overbearing, but he doesn’t mind being the one to step in—to get hurt—if it means keeping you safe.

Scenting

Scent: Beach Sand with a Hint of Citrus

Rafayel smells of white beach sand and tropical fruit. He smells like the first hint of salt air and the ocean breeze and mineral. It reminds you of family vacations and old memories. He insists most Lemurians have scents like these, but his is special! It's the only one that mixes so lovely with yours.

He does scent you when you ask, but he requests that you do the same. It’d be much better for you to scent each other. He loves to tease you when you ask him to scent things for you.

“If you like it so much maybe I should make it into a perfume.” But he’d hate it if you actually agree. “Wait, let’s not be too hasty. A perfume really can’t compete with the natural source.”

Mating

Rafayel dislikes his mating cycle only because he dislikes losing his sense of control over himself. But when you’re there, with your scent clouding his mind, it’s all bets off. He’s so needy and HAS to have you. He feels like he’ll die if he isn’t burying himself in your scent, your presence, in you. He needs to feel your hands on him and isn’t below demeaning himself or being more forceful than usual to get it.

He’ll constantly seek you out, calling you late at night. He has nothing to say. He just needed to hear your voice, just keep breathing for him, he’s almost there. He needs you to come over to his place right now. It’s all your fault he’s burning like this. You need to get there immediately and take responsibility before he goes insane. He's already dizzy and his hand isn’t cutting it anymore.

In person, he grabs your hand, and the look in his eyes is begging in place of his mouth that’s too heavy with pants to talk straight as he savors your touch, desperate and gluttonous. 

“Right there...don't make me beg…just a little bit longer.” “I need to feel you. There. You feel incredible.” “If you want my knot, you can have it. Say you want it for me, and I’ll give it to you. Say it.”

When it’s your turn to go manic, he’s going to have his revenge for all the bullying and petting you did while he was rutting. He’s going to coo and fawn over how much you need him, and make you ask him nicely for his touch, but he’ll always give in to his little mate. He knows what’ll make you feel good, and he’s going to give it to you in due time. He thinks you look so pretty when you’re about to cum, covered in sweat, body tensing, the shallow, quick breaths.

“I wish I could paint you like this, but I don’t want to look away.” “Do you really want me to breed you that bad? Don’t say you didn’t ask for it.”

Rafayel is going to make sure you have an easy time, clearing out your schedule for you and letting you stay in the studio with him. Thomas' calls are going to go unanswered for a while.

General

6/10 possessiveness level

Zayne is able to get jealous; however, he isn’t one to distrust you. It’s other people he doesn’t trust. He’ll drop hints he doesn’t like something you’re doing, a sarcastic jab here, a polite warning there, and even a “you should be careful of the company you keep.”. He always introduces himself as your mate to ensure there are no misconceptions about your relationship with him.

Zayne occasionally has to remind you that he’s your partner especially when you insist on teasing him and being a brat, poking at that jealous side of his to rile him up. It doesn’t take long for you to get the idea after having him between your legs. It’s really more of a funny thing, seeing him possessive, because he becomes a lot more short-tempered but absolutely refuses to admit he’s being possessive.

However, he calms relatively easy with some reassurance, and he doesn’t care as much if someone likes you after he knows you have zero interest in them. It’s more of an annoyance than something for him to fear.

Protectiveness Level: 10/10

Zayne is always so worried about you. He always has to tell you to be careful, to watch where you’re stepping so you don’t trip, to not drink too much without him there to take you home, and to watch for injuries. It might be a bit of his doctor attitude coming out, but it’s so much worse when it comes to you. You know no one else who adds the weather of the city you’re in to confirm you’re okay.

He’s also protective of your mental wellbeing; he tends to be the rock you rely on. If someone is bothering you, you can tell him, and he’ll be sure to handle the issue immediately.

Scenting

Scent: Bamboo Forest

Zayne smells like bamboo forests, a mix of floral and earthy. It kind of reminds you of him, calm and quiet but strong and solid like the earth. Fresh, green, and slightly woody. It smells like nature.

He scents you when you ask, and he quietly scents you when he wants, always overthinking if it’s something you want him to do or appropriate at a given point in time. It doesn’t take long for him to become better at knowing when you want it, when to leave something with his scent for you when you’re upset, and when to simply cradle you against him. His mood improves exponentially whenever you shove your face into his chest and mumble about how good he smells.

Zayne loves the way you smell. It’s a familiar and comforting thing to have your scent greeting him after a hard day at work. It lets him know you’re doing okay, and he gets worried whenever your scent is off. He can usually tell the slightest changes of your mood, and it makes him agitated whenever you try to pretend you’re fine when he can clearly tell different from smell alone.

Mating

Zayne tries his best to control himself and avoid you during his ruts. The last thing he wants to do is hurt you, which leads him to being too restrained whenever he’s with you to the point where you can tell he’s not handling himself well.

It’s going to take a few times to convince him that you can handle it, that he can let go and give you everything before he finally allows himself to dive into his hormones, throw you against the bed, and kiss you hard. It's almost like a completely different side of him. Sure, he could always be dominant in the bedroom but there was always a control to it. Instead, he's instinctive, running off the rush of endorphins to reach the peak he desperately wants to tumble over, harsh and tunnel visioned as he chases the sensation of you clamping down around his knot.

“Hold it there, we’re almost there. You can handle it.” “Let me have you a few more times. Then, you can rest.” “Good girl. You’re doing so well. So good to me.”

During your time, he is meticulous. Zayne knows you almost as well as you know yourself, knows what sweets you like to eat, what positions make you the most comfortable, and tips on how to keep yourself together.

That only works so long, however, and soon he takes a more hands on approach in helping you through your heat cycle. His fingers curled up inside you, pushing that sweet springy spot inside you that has your juices pouring over his palm. He shushes you as you beg for him to give you more and more, to please stop this edging and fuck you already.

He promises he’ll make it good, but he has to slowly work you up first, so you won’t get overstimulated. Then, he’ll give you what you want until you pass out.

“Hold still, or do you want me to stop?” “Does it feel that good? I’ll be sure to remember that for next time.” “See what happens when you follow directions?” “You’ll have your reward soon. Which do you prefer to have—my fingers or my knot?”

Zayne also takes special care of you no matter the situation, making sure to wipe you off and hold a warm rag to your swollen and puffy cunt as he makes out with you. He scents you heavily afterward and lets you fall asleep against him until it all starts over again.

#rafayel x reader #xavier x reader #zayne x reader #lads x reader #love and deepspace x reader #lnd x reader #xavier smut #rafayel smut #zayne smut #adelssmut #notsfw #omegaverse #abo #tw: omegaverse #female reader

[pucksandpower]

Sleepyhead

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: sometimes race weekends can be so tiring that words escape you, but that has never been a problem for your doting boyfriend

Based on this request

You walk down the paddock path, utterly exhausted after a long day at the track. Your eyelids feel like lead weights and you can barely put one foot in front of the other. Charles has his arm wrapped tightly around your waist, practically carrying your limp body as you lean into him for support.

“Tired, mon petit chou?” Charles asks softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You just let out a little grunt in response, too drained to even form words.

As you round the corner, Logan Sargeant spots the two of you and rushes over with a big grin. “Hey guys! How’s it going?”

Charles gives him a polite smile. “Hello, mate. We’re doing well, just a bit tired after such a busy day.”

Logan turns to look at you, his eyebrows furrowed. “Y/N? Are you okay? You look kind of … mad or something.”

You blink slowly at him, your brain taking its time to process his words. Mad? Why would you be mad? You just shake your head minutely, rubbing your cheek against Charles’ shoulder.

“Oh no, she’s not angry,” Charles explains with a little chuckle. “This is just how she gets when she’s really tired. She goes all quiet and doesn’t speak. Her body language is the only way to read her moods then.”

“Yeah, and right now she’s giving off major sleepy kitten vibes,” Oscar’s voice chimes in as he joins the little group with Lando beside him. “Lando gets the exact same way when he’s exhausted. He turns into a limp noodle that I have to carry around.”

Lando huffs indignantly. “Hey! I do not!”

“Yes you do,” Oscar laughs. “Remember that time in Monza last year? You were falling asleep on your feet after the race.”

Lando rolls his eyes but a fond smile tugs at his lips. “Okay fine, maybe I do. But only sometimes!”

You let their playful banter wash over you, your heavy eyelids sliding shut as you nestle further into Charles’ embrace. You feel so safe and comforted in his arms, his solid warmth enveloping you.

“Alright, I think it’s time we got you back to the hotel for some rest,” Charles murmurs, pressing another kiss to your hair. “Say goodnight to the boys.”

You manage a tiny wave at Logan, Oscar, and Lando before allowing Charles to steer you down the paddock towards the exit. His hand runs up and down your back soothingly.

“Goodnight you two! Get some sleep!” Oscar calls after you.

Once you reach the car, Charles helps you into the passenger seat, buckling you in gently before jogging around to the driver’s side. You’re asleep before he even starts the engine, finally giving in to the exhaustion weighing you down.

The sound of a car door opening rouses you from your slumber sometime later. You slowly blink your eyes open, taking in your surroundings. Charles’ hand is tenderly stroking your cheek.

“Mon amour, we’re at the hotel. Let’s get you up to our room, hmm?”

You nod drowsily, allowing him to unbuckle you and help you out of the car. He pulls you into his side, one arm securely around your waist as you walk unsteadily towards the hotel entrance. Grateful doesn’t even begin to cover what you feel for this man by your side.

Once in the elevator, Charles shifts to face you fully, those warm green eyes shining with nothing but pure adoration. He tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“You did so well today. I’m so proud of you for working so hard. Let’s get you nice and warm in bed now.”

You give him a tired little smile, nuzzling your face against his chest. He chuckles softly, squeezing you tighter.

Eventually you make it to the hotel room, Charles guiding you straight to the plush king bed. He helps you out of your clothes until you’re down to your underwear, then pulls back the covers for you to slip between the soft sheets. A happy sigh slips from your lips when your head hits the pillow. Charles presses a lingering kiss to your forehead.

“Sleep well, mon cœur. I’ll be right here when you wake up,” he whispers, laying down beside you.

You immediately curl into his side, draping an arm over his stomach as you burrow your face into the crook of his neck. His arms wrap around you, making you feel so small yet so incredibly cherished. With Charles holding you snugly against his chest, you drift off into a deep, peaceful slumber.

When consciousness returns, the first thing that registers is the solid warmth of Charles’ body pressed against yours. His leg is hooked over yours, his chest rising and falling steadily beneath your cheek. There’s a pleasant ache to your limbs, the satisfying kind that comes from a good rest after a long day. You shift slightly, causing Charles to stir awake.

“Bonjour, ma belle,” he murmurs, his sexy morning voice making butterflies flutter in your stomach. You tilt your head up to meet his sleepy but adoring gaze, suddenly drowning in those green pools. God, he’s so beautiful.

“Good morning,” you whisper back, rubbing your nose against his.

Charles breaks into a dazzling grin, capturing your lips in a soft, slow kiss that steals your breath away. When he pulls back, he cups your cheek tenderly.

“Did you sleep well? Feeling more rested now?”

“Mmhmm,” you hum, smiling lazily. “Sleeping in your arms is the best.”

He laughs, his eyes crinkling. “I couldn’t agree more. I love holding you close like this.”

Your heart swells three sizes as he gazes at you with such naked affection. This man loves you so fiercely, so completely. You can see it in his every look, his every touch. He treasures you in a way you never thought possible. Feeling brave, you let the words sitting heavily on your tongue finally slip out.

“Je t’aime, Charles … mon amour.”

His smile turns blinding, happier than you’ve ever seen it. “I love you too, with all my heart,” he breathes, pulling you in for another lingering kiss.

You melt into the embrace, pouring every ounce of love and gratitude you feel for this incredible man into the kiss. Nothing has ever felt so right, so perfect than being here in his arms. As Charles strokes your cheek and deepens the kiss, you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that you’ll always feel safe, cherished, and deeply loved by this extraordinary man.

#f1 imagine #f1 #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 x reader #f1 x you #charles leclerc #cl16 #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc blurb #f1 fluff #f1 blurb #f1 one shot #f1 x y/n #f1 drabble #f1 fandom #f1blr #f1 x female reader #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x y/n #scuderia ferrari #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc drabble

[cupid-styles]

a helping hand*

in which y/n can't orgasm and harry is a helpful ex-friend with benefits.

word count: 3.3k

content warnings: mentions of depression/mental health and anti-depressants, discussions of reduced libido, smut (phone sex, mentions of sex toys, dirty talk, description of group sex and mmf threesomes)

this one goes out to all the besties on anti-depressants

masterlist | talk to me

. . .

“No.”

“But—”

“No.”

Harry sighs in frustration before crossing his arms over his chest. If he pursed his raspberry lips into a pout, he’d look more like a petulant child than the young adult Y/N’s known for the past few years. With a roll of her eyes, she lifts her glass to her mouth and takes a healthy swig of her coke and rum. She allows herself to scan the interior of the bar — it’s just barely 6 pm on a Wednesday so she’s not surprised that it’s primarily filled with locals and teams of corporate offices decompressing after a long day. 

“I could always make you come when we hooked up and I bet you I could still do it.”

“Christ, Harry, give it a rest,” Y/N replies, narrowing her eyes at the curly haired brunette. “It’s not just with partners, it’s me, too.”

He quirks an eyebrow and settles his elbows on the sticky table. She huffs when she realizes she’s only piqued his attention even more now that she’s revealed another inkling of her… problem. 

“Can you just tell me what’s going on, then? You know, when I texted you for our semiannual catch up, I didn’t think we’d be getting into your sudden inability to orgasm, but—”

“Can you lower your voice?” Y/N hisses with wide eyes. “I didn’t think we would talk about this either but you’re the one who asked if I’m seeing anyone—”

“Yeah, seeing anyone, not coming for anyone—”

“Just shut up!” she mutters, nearly knocking over her almost-finished drink. “If I tell you, you have to drop it.”

“I can’t promise that.”

“Harry…”

“As your ex-friend with benefits, I have no duty to keep secrets that aren’t about our bedroom-related rendezvouses.” 

“There hasn’t been a ‘rendezvous’ in five years.”

“There could be.”

She sighs and presses her fingertips to her temples. This is why she and Harry never worked out. They’re total opposites — he has the energy of a rowdy golden retriever and she exudes a calm, monotone nature. (She thinks she’s borderline boring if you ask her, but that’s something she’s been saving for therapy.) 

At parties in college, he was always the one working the room, chatting with everyone while she stood in the corner and clutched her solo cup for dear life. 

He had a million contacts in his phone and people remembered him, even if they knew each other from something as small as working together on a project in a class three semesters ago. 

Meanwhile, Y/N could spend two years straight working in the same office and someone would still ask her when she started working there because she looked “new”.

(Seriously. It happened last month, and she had to rush to the bathroom to cry.)

Despite their opposing personalities, they did work for a while, but only as friends with benefits. To begin with, Y/N never wanted anything more — when they started hooking up, they were nearing their senior year of college, and she didn’t want to be tied down to anyone or anything when making decisions about her future. But secretly, she knew feelings for Harry would inevitably pop up. How could they not? Although he was an annoying ball of energy sometimes, bouncing off the walls of her apartment before they even made it to her bedroom, he was kind. He had a good heart — he still does after all these years, otherwise Y/N would never bother meeting up with him without the intention of hooking up — and he was funny, and he made Y/N feel all warm and gooey inside. He was a good fuck, too, and as much as she wanted to widdle his presence down to being purely physical, she wasn’t strong enough for that. 

She was grateful, albeit heartbroken, when six months after their arrangement began, Harry very sweetly told her he had a crush on a girl in his advanced sculpture class and wanted to go for it. As she swallowed a lump in her throat, she told him that was perfectly fine, that she was glad he told her, and that she hoped things worked out between him and Emily.

(They did. For two and a half years. Y/N had never been so thankful when graduation arrived and she could run as far away as possible from the couple.)

Harry tried his best to keep in touch, even after graduating while he was dating Emily — always commenting on her Instagram posts and responding to her stories, even occasionally texting her to wish her well on her birthday or major holidays. Y/N kept him at an arm’s length for as long as she could. That is, until he moved to her city last year.

The only reason why Y/N had a heads up is because of an Instagram story he posted. In his typical overly excited way, he posted a picture of his dog in his new apartment with one of those tacky, premade location tags. (She’s allowed to think they’re ugly — she’s a graphic designer.) So, it didn’t come as a surprise when a week or two later, a text popped up from an unknown number: Hey Y/N! Not sure if this is still your number or if you still have mine, but it’s Harry :) I just moved to your city and was wondering if we could get together! It would be great to see you.

Thus began the tradition of Harry and Y/N’s semiannual meetups. 

It was an unsaid routine they followed — every six months or so, one of them would text the other for drinks or coffee or lunch. They only ever met up in public and they didn’t talk much outside of their scheduled hangouts, though Harry was much more prone to messaging her stupid memes and, on occasion, a picture of his dog, a husky named Fish. 

Much to Y/N’s dismay, the chemistry between her and Harry was still very much there. It had been apparent from their first meetup last February. It was difficult not to flirt, especially when he brought up their past (she would happily pretend none of it ever happened if it meant Harry Styles never made her blush ever again). The thing is, though, is it was fine as long as nothing ever came of it. 

Until now. 

Because as Y/N sits across from Harry in the worn booth of a dive bar a block away from her apartment, she can’t believe she’s seriously considering letting him back in her bed.

“Can you just tell me what you think the problem is?” Harry asks. He slides his elbow onto the table and presses his knuckles up against his cheek, like they’re best friends giggling over some silly gossip. It makes Y/N want to elbow him in the ribs.

“It’s a biological issue,” she mutters, “Like I said, nothing you could fix. Even if I wanted you to.”

“Just spit it out, blossom.”

She narrows her eyes, though she finds it difficult to ignore the way her stomach flips at the familiar nickname. “You’re not allowed to call me that anymore.”

“Tell me what the issue is and I won’t call you that,” he replies easily. “C’mon, it’s me. Remember all the times I helped you pee when you were too drunk to sit up straight? We’ve definitely seen each other in more embarrassing situations before.”

Y/N sighs loudly. He has a point — there was a time where Harry knew her better than anyone else in the world. And frankly, she hasn’t talked to anyone about her problem. 

Scooching her body forward, she attempts to close most of the gap between them. Harry leans closer and she rolls her eyes. To an outsider's perspective, they probably looked like they were performing some kind of sketchy drug deal or like little girls swapping secrets at a slumber party.

“Remember how I struggled with, um… getting pretty sad?”

Harry’s eyebrows draw together and he nods. 

“Right, so it got… worse when I moved here. And I needed to find help, so I started seeing a psychiatrist who put me on antidepressants. They’ve helped a ton — I feel better, and the depression that I do feel is a lot less intense.”

“That’s great, Y/N,” he says, and she can tell he means it by the genuine tone to his voice. “What does that have to do with you not orgasming, though?”

She swallows tightly. “Well, my doctor increased my medication over the winter, and one of the side effects is…y’know. Decreased libido and whatnot.”

His eyes widen. “Oh, shit.”

“Yeah,” she snorts, leaning back against the cracked leather of the seat. “Oh, shit.”

“And you’ve tried vibrators and stuff?”

“Of course I have, I’m not an idiot.”

“So how long has it been?”

She nibbles on her bottom lip as she thinks. Even with flings that she’s had over the past few months, they all gave up at a certain point. The sex was still fun, but she was just the only one who wasn’t coming.

“Well, I can give them to myself if I… work at it,” she mumbles, folding her hands in her lap. “But with a partner? Probably… six months.”

“Six months?!”

The look on Harry’s face is dramatic and theatrical, as if she just told him she was moving halfway across the world and participating in some kind of 90 Day Fiance situation. 

“Shut. Up.” she says through grit teeth, sending him a harsh look. “I don’t need a reminder of how shitty it is.”

“Who the hell are you letting in your bed?” he demands sharply. 

“It can take me an hour, Harry, I don’t expect every person I sleep with to be that patient.”

“They should be, Y/N.”

With a shake of her head, she glances down at her phone on the table. Everything has always seemed so simple for Harry — he’s one of those people where things just come easily for him, no pun intended. A part of her wishes they never delved into the subject matter. Vulnerability somehow always bit her in the ass and this instance was no exception. 

“I’m gonna get going,” she says, pushing her empty glass to the center of the table. “Thank you for the drink, H. It was good to see you.”

His eyes soften as she begins to scooch her way out of the booth. Quickly, he throws a few bills down on the table and gets up to follow her. 

“Can I walk you out, please?” he asks, swallowing as his stomach brims with nerves. She nods, though he’s unsure if it’s a reluctant response. Silently, they leave the bar together, and he nibbles on his bottom lip as she pushes the front door open. The spring air is a welcomed breeze from the sticky interior of the establishment, and she shifts on her feet as she turns around to face him. She parts her lips as if she’s readying herself to bid him a final goodbye, but he beats her to it. 

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” he says as he stuffs his hands in the pockets of his trousers. “I just meant— like, you deserve better, is all. Someone who will be patient and care to learn your body.”

Y/N nods slowly. “Right. And you’re that person.”

Her tone teeters on mocking and it sends a harsh hit straight to Harry’s chest. He shrugs.

“If you wanted me to be.”

She doesn’t reply to that, but she doesn’t make a move to leave, either. 

“I’ll think about it,” she finally says, and Harry’s eyebrows shoot up in shock. “My hand cramps up when I’ve been at it for too long. Maybe it’ll be nice to have someone else try.”

He huffs out a breathy laugh. “Just let me know and I’m there.”

. . .

A few days later, when Harry is at a friend’s house, he receives a text from Y/N: Are you free right now?

In all honesty, he’s surprised that she’s — assumingly — taking him up on his offer. Y/N remains to be one of the most stubborn people he’s ever known (one time she spent an entire week trying to put together a desk she’d purchased before asking anyone for help. The only reason why Harry was able to do it for her is because she’d called him over for a “destress fuck” and he finished it while she slept). 

He swipes down on her message, his other hand occupied by some shitty IPA Lizzy’s new boyfriend had bought. He keeps asking Harry if he likes it and he has to lie about tasting the hints of citrus, even though it tastes like every other crappy beer he’s consumed. 

At a friend’s house, he quickly types back, Why? Is your hand cramping?

He can basically feel her rolling her eyes as he bites back a smile, watching as the three dots appear to signal her impending response. 

Yes. I was wondering if you wanted to come over.

He’s unsurprised by the casual invitation on a Friday night at 9:40 p.m. (it seems that, as far as hookups go, Y/N hasn’t changed much since college). Nibbling on his bottom lip, he uses his free hand to type a response. 

I’m sorry, I would if I could. I’m trapped at this “apartment-warming” party for my friend. Apparently people host housewarmings even if they’re just renting a new place.

Y/N immediately types back: As much as I’d love to debate that with you, I’m really just looking for an orgasm. So if you’re busy, I’ll go back to buzzing at my numb clit.

Harry snorts at that before placing his beer on a coaster and excusing himself to the bathroom. Once he’s locked the door, he’s quick to pull up Y/N’s contact and press the pad of his thumb to her number. 

“Hello?”

She sounds confused and frustrated when she answers and Harry smirks at that.

“Hey,” he greets, leaning back against the white porcelain sink. “I’m calling about your orgasm.”

“You’re seriously not trying to have phone sex with me right now.” 

Her tone is as deadpan as it gets, and the monotone nature is enough to make a small bit of insecurity crawl into Harry’s stomach. 

“Well, I was planning on talking you through it. ‘S not really phone sex if only one person’s getting off, I think.”

She lets out a noisy sigh and there’s some rustling on the other side. He waits for her response and is surprised when she agrees. 

“Fine,” she huffs, and he can envision the way her eyebrow raises just slightly when she’s decided to give into something, “Let’s give it a try. Porn is getting boring anyway.”

“What were you watching?”

“Well, when you’ve been trying to come for 40 minutes, you end up in some… odd places,” she says. “I started out with lesbian porn, then found my way into threesomes, and somehow I ended up at double penetration.”

“Ah,” Harry nods, “Sounds like you’re having some sort of craving for group sex, then?” 

A pause. And then: “I guess. I’ve never tried it, I just think it’s hot.”

“What’s hot about it for you?”

He thinks he hears her swallow, but he can’t be completely sure. 

“I just like the idea of pleasing more than one person. I think that’s how I got to double penetration stuff.”

“Oh, I see. You want to be used.”

It’s blunt and it’s to the point, but he’s not wrong — he knows he’s not, because he slept with her for six months straight.

“I guess,” she replies non-committedly, “I guess it’s like… a fantasy of getting two people off and them feeling that way because of me. Through oral or… being inside of me, or whatever.”

“So what’s your threesome fantasy, then?” Harry pushes, though his tone teeters are near carelessness at this point, “Girl/boy? Boy/boy? Maybe it doesn’t matter. Who do you want to be between?”

Y/N exhales shakily, “I’ve never thought about it.” 

“Well, now you are.”

She doesn’t immediately reply, but he knows she responds well to the calloused persona he suddenly obtains. She’s always been this way — submissive and good, always looking to please him intimately. It’s too easy for him to put the pieces together and solve the puzzle.

“I guess I like the idea of being with two guys, but it doesn’t matter much to me.” she eventually decides.

“Okay. And in your deepest fantasies, what are these two men doing to you?”

Another pause, though he thinks he hears a shuttered sigh on the line. He doesn’t mention it — not yet at least.

“Maybe… maybe one’s inside of me and the other one’s in my mouth.”

“And how is he fucking you? Is he on top of you, missionary style, or are you on your hands and knees while he fucks you from behind?”

A breathy whimper departs Y/N’s lips and this time it’s loud enough for both of them to hear. He smirks at the sound of it. 

“I like the idea of him behind me. A-and the other one fucking my mouth.”

Harry hums, almost as if he’s praising her. “Close your eyes and envision it, then. Think about how you’re letting two men take advantage of you and use your body, just so they can get off. One’s fucking into you from behind, spanking your ass and grabbing your hips like you’re just some kind of toy to him. And the other one is thrusting deep into your mouth, making you choke, getting you all drooly for him. You’re nothing but a set of holes for them, honey. Isn’t that sweet?”

On the other line, all Harry hears is a series of shattered moans and low curses. Even though it’s been years, he can imagine the way her muscles are all tensed up, her pussy clenching around a dildo or her fingers. He wishes he would’ve asked so he could envision it, too.

“I-I think I’m gonna cum,” she whimpers out, and Harry palms himself through his trousers at the sound of her high-pitched mewls. 

“There you go, blossom. Atta girl, just let go. ‘S easy, let it go for me,” his voice is a near coo and it makes Y/N’s eyes roll back into her skull. It’s like he knows how easy it is for her brain to ping pong to other far less sexier thoughts — like the dirty plates in the dishwasher or the unfolded laundry in the corner of her bedroom — so he continues crooning through the receiver, his low, soft voice guiding her through every bump and ridge of her impending orgasm. 

When she comes, she comes hard, considering it’s been a solid two weeks since she’s been able to give herself an orgasm. It shoots through her entire body and, even with her eyes shut tight, the fantasy she created still plays through her brain — except now, it’s not two mystery men. Now, it’s just Harry fucking into her, all tan muscles and sweat pearling at his hairline. 

She’s boneless and exhausted when she finishes, her throat dry from the involuntary moans she let go. She only remembers she’s still on the phone with Harry when she hears him clear his throat, followed by a call of her name. 

“Hey, sorry,” she mumbles as her cheeks flush a deep red hue, “T-that was good. Thank you.”

“Yeah? You finished?”

If she had more energy, she would roll her eyes. Of course she finished. The entire neighborhood knows she finished.

“Yeah.” she mutters shortly. “Have a good time at your apartment-warming party.”

Harry huffs a laugh, “Yeah, ‘cos that’s what I’ll be thinking about for the rest of the night.”

She doesn’t have a chance to ask him what he means before he’s bidding her goodbye: “Let me know when you wanna do this again. I’m around this weekend.”

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