#I mean he finds it an easy choice

[canisalbus]

To me, Machete kind of has the energy of a secondary villain/coldhearted side character in someone else's story that a lot of fans latch onto, moreso than the protagonist. Question is, would he be the villain in anyone's story?

Why, thank you! I'm actually glad to hear he gives off that vibe. I don't think he set out to become a villain but a lot of people certainly view him as one.

[betatrollsstims]

brett hand stimboard~ for anon that's SUPER anonymous and definitely not fairly obviously the person with a brett hand icon that just followed this blog

👔 🪪 👔 / 🪪 [🙂] 🪪 / 👔 🪪 👔

[erstwhilesparrow]

hey does it ever make you kind of crazy that post-reunion, c!owen introduces himself to us as owen agarci? agarci as in the name of the demon he shot in the chest during his trial? we know that's not c!owen's real last name -- he tells us so right then and there -- but i think it matters that of the last names he could have chosen for his lie, he took this one. his last name might have been the only thing he still carried with him of his family, of his past before the attack, and he refuses to use it or admit to it.

because it is an introduction, y'know? his narration, after the reunion, is a way of remaking himself in our eyes -- he is not the person we thought he was, so he needs to introduce himself again. and here, the thing he claims as his originating point, as the moment from his past he wants to carry around with him in something so fundamental as his name, is the moment he first killed a demon. this is the most important piece of his past. this, he is telling us, is where he comes from.

i think a lot about how we never actually see owen's parents. i don't even think we get their names? we get their voices in flashbacks over shots of empty fields and unpopulated streets. there is a kind of blankness to owen's past, or to what owen will reveal to us of his past, that forces us to take on faith that he is telling the truth when he talks about his own history. there is no one who could say otherwise; all the people who might have known him before he was a soldier and then a general are almost certainly dead.

it grants owen a fascinating degree of control over his own history. of course he can remake himself in this way, of course he can tell any story he wants of himself in this way; there's no one left to dispute his claims. in a way, he is his own origin -- as he tells us the story of his life, he is also creating that story. he came out of those woods with nothing but a bow on his back, no history, no one still living who could call to him by name. whatever life he lived before that point doesn't matter -- the thing that fundamentally made him the person who walked into town and demanded to join the army wasn't the life he lived with his parents, it was the violence he'd been exposed to and the violence he'd discovered himself willing and able to engage in. or so his story goes.

do you think when he woke up at the bottom of that elevator, memories wiped, nothing left to him of his past, there was some strange sense that he had done this before? do you think he rose up toward the light of the clearing above, empty-handed and alive, his entire life before this point a history waiting for him to tell it, and wondered why it felt familiar?

or maybe it's that he's refusing us. because following his turn during reunion, there's almost a sense that he has tighter control of the camera now. he addresses his 'voices' nearly antagonistically, wishing we/they would go away, responding and talking to us/them in a way that feels harsher than how he's addressed chat in the past. he's frustrated with us/them: why are you still here, i thought i was done with you. he accuses us/them of only pretending to care, of lingering not so much out of concern or any desire to do something as out of some morbid curiosity. there's a degree of access to him that we seem to have lost. it's as if he's finally certain that there is an audience, and what he's willing to show us shifts.

there's something really lovely and horrifying about a lot of the more scripted sections of owen's pov after the reunion. how it shows us things only he knows (the knife in his hotbar for much of his dinner conversation with guts, the beat where he grabs his backpack and reaches for a weapon when it seems like ayngel is about to recognize him, the interaction with puddy in the second clearing when he visits with krow), but we are nevertheless shut out of his interiority as he starts talking less to others, starts favouring third-person camera shots and narration where he gets to step out of the moment and talk to us directly. you can even think about the 'scripted by owengejuicetv' segments after each kill as signalling this: he has such visible direct control of the story we get to know now. he is the one who gets to tell this story, who gets to move the pieces on the board. here's what happened, he says to us. this is how it went. this is what i do and who i am and here are the parts that mattered. do you ever think about how rasbi's ending wasn't streamed from her pov? do you ever think about how the only witnesses to rasbi's death were rasbi herself, and owen?

[mewtwo24]

You know idk if it's just me being oblivious af but mxtx sure does enjoy putting her protags through the trolley problem when it comes to her works huh /j

[mhaccunoval]

i always think i'm normal. and then BOOM. mini series eddie

[isfjmel-phleg]

I hope you know while I don’t know Secret I love her so much because of you

Aww, thanks! I have a lot of fondness for this often-overlooked girl, and it's good to see her get some love :)

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ❞

❝ WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU FAKE DATE SATORU GOJO WITH REAL FEELINGS? ❞

✧ pairing: satoru gojo x sorcerer!reader

✧ summary: you can't help but say yes when your longtime crush asks you to be his fake girlfriend for a year to get the gojo clan to stop arranging marriage proposals for him. but little did you know, he would be doing both of you a favor.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, fluff, reader is the same age as gojo, set during s1 of jjk, fake dating hijinks, drunk! gojo, jealous! reader + gojo, implied satosugu (sorta, i see it more in a soulmate way, whether its platonic or romantic), switch! gojo, oral (f + m), deepthroating, handjob (m), fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), creampie, naoya makes an appearance, gojo clan elders suck, gojo's made up clan responsibilities,

✧ wc: 16,043

✧ for my 2k celebration event: item 6 has been sold to @chuluoyi and an anon!

“C’mon, you don’t know until you try, sweetheart,” 

You run at your temples, you didn’t need to feel burgeoning ache of a headache forming to know it was coming — but you knew it would whenever you met with this blue eyed idiot, “Satoru, the last time you said that, you nearly got me killed,” you didn’t care to re-live him sending you on a mission meant for him to take a grade 1 one curse, only to end up fighting two other grade 2 curses along with it. 

You were lucky you made it by the skin of your teeth — and lucky that Shoko woke up when you showed up at her door, half dead. 

“And this time, there’s no risk of death,” he grins, stirring his sugary drink that counts more as sugar than a drink, “that shows great personal growth, don’t ya think?” 

“I think this conversation shows that just because you’re the strongest doesn’t mean you have an ounce of common sense,” you mutter, as you sip at your drink of choice, “Gojo, I can’t marry you — for one, there would be a risk of death — yours,” 

“Eh you wouldn’t be able to kill me — you’re far too—“ and you raise an eyebrow, daring him to finish that sentence, “kind,” 

You rolled your eyes, “One of the traits you’re looking for in your future partner?” 

“The thing is, you wouldn’t have to marry me at all — it would be a big sham!” He said with a thumbs up, as if that made it any better at all, “just for a couple weeks so I can fool the Gojo Clan into complacency and to stop the search for my future spouse — you’d be sparing the hundreds, no thousands, of possible candidates from facing the burden of my rejection,” 

“And I suppose the fact that the clan would get off your back is just a fringe benefit?” You sigh, “Gojo, why don’t you just tell them you don’t want to get married?” 

“I’ve tried — but the stubborn old geezers won’t budge — I’m caught between a rock and a hard place — and you know me,” his lips curl, “I’m a lover, not a fighter,” 

Yup, you have a headache now. 

“What would we have to do to convince them we were together?” 

Why were you considering this? 

“Dates, a few public outings, meeting the geezers because they would insist, and you would need to show your face around the clan compound,” he lists off, sipping at his drink, “there may be other things, but we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” You may jump off a bridge by the time this is over and done with, “what do you say?” 

“I have two questions,” and he leaned back in his chair, back and forth, impatience personified, “how long would we have to do it?” You didn’t want to be stuck in this arrangement for an undisclosed amount of time, but the second question was far more important, “ And why me?” 

“Three months, maybe longer,” you gape at him, “I can pay you?” you raise an eyebrow, “I will pay you,” you sigh, “and choosing you was easy because—“ 

“If you make some sort of joke about me being single, I don’t care if you have infinity, I’ll find a way to murder you,” you grumble. 

“Because you’re a sorcerer, you’re from a minor clan — so you’re an acceptable choice, and I trust you — you’re one of my closest friends,” he adds, for once his words are deprived of any humor. 

And that answer was…almost worse than the joke. The word “friend” stuck in your side like a thorn you could never pull out, festering and growing until it had become a part of you — that ached only when you thought of it. 

Your feelings for him, they were still there? You thought you had discarded them years ago, thought it was safe for you to move back to Tokyo from Kyoto, thought you had finally left that childhood crush behind — dead and buried — but here it was, still stubbornly clinging to life. 

And now it would thrive with new roots, stems, leaves, and buds if you agreed to this. 

He said your name, “Well?” 

He remains as inscrutable as always, But you could never say no to him, could you? “Okay, fine,” it would also help you out in the form of another problem of Naoya Zenin who had been nothing but persistent since you came back…but you didn’t want to dwell on that. Your eyes find Gojo’s again — as they always did. 

It was why you had left for Kyoto in the first place. 

“Is this really necessary?” you grumbled, as the servants that served the Gojo clan fussed over your clothes — it was a traditional kimono in the colors of your clan — a deep indigo, embroidered with white koi fish that swam along the fabric, embroidered with waves. You supposed you were only grateful that Gojo didn’t leave you to get dressed yourself. 

Gojo watched as they adjusted the obi around your waist, and your eyes remained fixed ahead, but your gaze couldn’t help but wander to him. Satoru Gojo was always unfairly gorgeous — there was a reason people fawned over him even when he had just rolled out of bed without even a once over at his appearance — but those same people probably would have passed out if they saw him as he was now. 

His formal wear was a sky blue — the same as his eyes, a coat draped over his shoulders and loose trousers of snow white that was a nod to hair of the same color. His hair remained unkempt as it always was. 

“Gonna change into that but not comb your hair?” You remark, and he smirks, running a hand through his hair. 

“Well I think if I start being too well behaved, they’ll know it’s fake,” and the word sticks in your chest like a dagger between the ribs, as the servants finally finish with your clothes, and you sigh. 

You straighten yourself, looking at yourself in the mirror, “How is it only been a couple hours and I’m already exhausted?” 

“The suffocating grip of old geezers and their backwards traditions would do that to you,” but his eyes linger on you, “but lucky for you sweetheart, it seems to suit you,” 

“Do you have to call me that?” You murmur, cheeks warming, as you pretend to busy yourself with adjusting your clothes in the mirror. 

“You have to get used to it,” his footsteps draw closer, heart battering against your ribcage as he does — surely, it would break free of its bony cage by the end of this, as he slides a shiny pendant around your neck — a sliver infinity with a singular small blue gem glinting in the middle — “after all, you are mine now, aren’t you?” 

“Gojo, this is—“ 

“Satoru,” he reminds you, as his fingers brush against your neck as he clasps the necklace, “how will it look if someone overhears you calling me by my last name in private?” And your fingers brush against the necklace, toying with the pendant as you positioned it properly, “do you like it? I had it made especially,” 

Especially — the lack of ‘for you,’ stuck out to you, as you force a smile on your lips, “it’s perfect — it will definitely sell the act,” and your eyes can’t find his as he adjusts his sunglasses, “I’m surprised you’re not wearing your blindfold,” you turn to face him, “doesn’t it drain you not to wear it?” 

“I can wear sunglasses sometimes — usually I get strange looks if I wear a blindfold in normal society — and here,” he pulls off the glasses as his cerulean irises seem to pierce your very form, “it reminds these old men who holds the cards here,” it was already hard enough for you to meet Gojo’s gaze as it was, it always felt as if he could stare right through you — and now, it felt as it your entire soul was beholden to him, “and as a bonus,” he draws close again, as he holds out his hand for your own. You resist the urge to bite your lip, inside giving your hand as he wished, and he lifts to his lips, before tilting his head to press the back of his hand to your cheek, “now I can look at my beautiful girlfriend unobstructed by these pesky eye coverings,” 

You scoff, “You always have something to say, don’t you?” As you try and fail to move your hand away, “Gojo—“ 

“A good escort should never let their lady walk in without their hand being held, don’t you think?” And you sigh, as he leads you out of the frying pan and into the fire  — you only hoped you wouldn’t be burned — your eyes sliding to Gojo again, fingers toying with the fabric over your chest — in more than one way. 

“So you’ve gotten yourself a partner, eh, boy?” the elderly man sits with his eyes closed as he sips his tea, steam rolling off the surface in droves, but he seemed unbothered by the heat — perhaps because of the steam coming out of his ears, “I’m shocked,” you kept your gaze down, only had greeting him upon entering — stating your name and clan, before kneeling beside Satoru on a cushion. 

“Shocked that someone like me could ever find my match? I know I’m truly one of a kind,” lips curled in that smirk that seemed to annoy almost everyone Satoru Gojo knew — including you — but no one showed the level of irritation that this man showed. 

Gojo may be the head of the Gojo clan — but you supposed there were still people he had to answer too, if only due to age and tradition — the two very things Gojo hated the most. 

“Why bother respecting those for aging when they haven’t done anything for me to respect?” he had said flippantly to Yaga one day during a lesson, “I rather die young than live to the age of these old coots without accomplishing a damn thing,” and then Yaga firmly smacked Gojo on the head right after, for disrespecting Gakuganji during the sister school exchange event. 

And you had a feeling this meeting was about to go as well as that class did. 

“Is this serious? Have you proposed?” and you have to keep a straight face, but your cheeks burn. 

“Now, don’t embarrass me and my girlfriend,” his fingers intertwined with yours, “but this is serious — she’s the only woman I want to marry — and I’ll do anything to accomplish that,” he leans forward with a smile, squeezing your hand, “because I love her, and I only will ever love her,” 

His gaze slides from Gojo to you, eyes boring into your skull, “and do you feel the same?” 

You never have been one for lying — lying was an uncomfortable feeling that twisted and turned in your stomach like questionable leftovers that you took a gamble on eating, ones that wanted to come out the same way it went in. But you had learned with time because sometimes it was necessary for a sorcerer to lie, and when it was between telling a lie or dying, you’re forced to become quite adept at things you hate. 

And you had learned, as you meet his hardened look, the best lies had some truth ingrained in them. 

“I do, Satoru and I went to Jujutsu Tech together, and he’s the only man I ever loved,” perhaps it was too much truth, as you forced your voice to be steady, “he’s frustrating, irritating, full of himself—“ 

“You don’t have to be that honest—“ Satoru grumbled. 

“But he’s also selfless, unendingly kind, a great teacher, and a good person, maybe even the best person I know,” you can’t bear to look at Satoru, “and he’s the only man I want to call my husband,” 

The silence lingers in the room for a moment before the old man grunts, “I’ll believe it when I see it,” 

“What kind of answer was that?” You asked as Satoru walked you back to the room, his fingers still laced with yours. 

“It means we have to make him believe it — but he’ll at least stop arranging these meetings for me with prospectives,” 

You raise an eyebrow, “and what will make him believe it?” 

He smirks, as he tugs you a little closer, fingers under your chin, “I could kiss you right now, might sell the act,” 

“No one can see us,” 

“Someone’s always watching,” he murmurs, leaning far too close as your breath catches, eyes widening before they flutter shut and you wait. But instead his lips brush your forehead, followed by a flick, “gotcha,” 

Your eyes snap open in a glare, “Gojo!” And he’s cackling. 

“Satoru,” he corrects, as his hand leaves yours as he opens the sliding door to the room, “you coming?” 

You pout, rubbing your forehead, as you brush past him — this was going to be a long few weeks. 

“Why do I even have to go to this?” You were being led through a bustling mall, his arm around your waist, as if to prevent you from escaping (good idea). Your lips twisted in a grimace, you allowed him to drag you along, knowing him, he would carry you over his shoulder without a hint of shame (you don’t think he even contained the word shame in his own vernacular), “can’t you go and wear a ring and go by yourself?” 

“A ring is not as good as having you on my arm now is it?” he bumps you with his hip, “plus, we’re not engaged yet, unless this is a proposal,” he raises an eyebrow, and your cheeks burn. 

“Shut up, I’d never propose to you,” he laughs, but it’s almost strained.

“Never propose to me like that right? Because I deserve a better proposal than that,” he sighs, leading you into a store, “come on, we have to find you a nice outfit for the wedding,” 

You glance at the store, your jaw dropping, “Gojo, this store is so expensive, I can’t afford this—“ 

He lowers his sunglasses just to show you that he’s rolling his eyes, “Who said you’re paying, Princess?” You stare at him, slack jawed, while a salesperson comes up to the two of you — though she’s clearly only interested in one of you. 

“Hi, what can I help you with finding today?” her lips curled in a smile, as she twirled a strand of her around her fingers, “I’d be more than happy to assist you,” her gaze completely fixed on Gojo, without the slightest hint of acknowledgment for you to spare. 

You bite back a scowl, plastering on a fake smile, as you lean into Gojo, “My boyfriend is looking to buy me an outfit for a wedding we’re attending — baby, could you tell her what style you want me to wear?” 

Gojo glances at you, a flicker of surprise that is quickly covered up by a smirk, his arm tightening around your waist, “Yes, I have to make sure my sweetheart is looking her best — so can you please find these styles of dresses for me?” You can’t help the smile on your lips as the salesperson shuffles away, lips a thin line rather than the grin she once had. 

“Didn’t know you were the jealous type,” Gojo chuckles, and you roll your eyes, hoping your expression didn’t give your heart away, the feelings you had stuffed into a crevice of your chest that threatened to burst. 

So you choose to turn it on him instead, as you meet his gaze with a small smirk, “I don’t like people taking what’s mine,” 

But he only takes it in stride, only as Gojo can, “I’m yours, huh?” 

You shrug, choosing to hurt yourself rather than let him do it, “at least for the next two to three months,” and your gaze snaps away and looks to the saleswoman as she comes back with a selection, “if you get to choose my dress, I get to choose a suit for you, deal?” 

Gojo raises an eyebrow, but smiles, “Anything for you, princess.” 

“You just wanted to see me model for you, didn’t you?” Gojo emerges from the changing room in a black button down and white suit coat with a matching white tie — as he tilts his head, “I would say my best suit is my birthday suit,” and you grimace, “oh c’mon, it was a good joke, although—“ 

“Don’t say it’s true,” you lean back, phone in hand as you snap a picture as you did for the last three, “I love to see that self confidence of yours has grown into full blown arrogance,” 

“How can I not be arrogant when I see you snapping pictures of me?” He crosses his arms, the fabric taut and straining over his chest, the top button undone, showing off the adam’s apple that bobs in his throat, “it’s definitely a step up from when you ignored me,” 

You snap from your thoughts, “When did I ignore you?” 

“When we graduated Jujutsu Tech, you’d spend time with Nanami or spend a weekend with Shoko, but whenever I was around, you wouldn’t even reply to a text,” your eyes fall to the floor, chewing your lip, “it wasn’t always like that — I thought we were close,”

It was true — but it wasn’t because you hated him. It was the opposite. You had tried to be his friend, but the more you were his friend, the more it hurt — hurt to see him smile at you like everyone else, hurt to see him with his eyes on the one he wanted, and with his arm around Suguru. 

And you really didn’t hate Suguru —  it was the opposite really — you thought they were perfect, a person who grounded him, made him a better person, and with a much tighter grip on reality than Gojo did — perhaps too tight. Too tight that it shattered apart in his hands, the pieces too far gone to pick out — and too far gone to save him. 

You tried to be there for him — knock on his door when you knew he was home and force him to shower while you and Shoko cleaned up his room. You stayed even when Shoko had long left, holding his hand as he hid his tears from you with his back turned, and you didn’t admit you could hear his nearly silent tears. But eventually, it turned into movie nights, meals shared, and even grocery runs. 

And it became harder and harder to hide how you felt — each minute spent with him was another drop in a bucket that was already overflowing to begin with. At first it had been a crush — an unattainable crush that you were happy to leave at just that. But eventually, it became so much more — you had fallen in love with him, when you really shouldn’t have. Because he didn’t need a partner — he needed a friend. 

“Gojo, I didn’t ignore you—“ 

“I’ve called you sweetheart, did your number change and then magically change back when you came back to Tokyo?” 

But once he had pulled himself together, you were graduating and you requested to be put in Kyoto — your excuse being you were tired being in the city — but to Satoru, you gave no excuse, you quietly left without a word. Because you were really tired of having your heart broken — so you needed space, and you were willing to do anything to get it. 

“Gojo, I didn’t really talk much to Nanami or Shoko when I left either, I just needed space—“ 

“Space from what?” You sighed, parting your lips when his phone rings. He checks it before taking it, “another mission? Yeah, I can leave tonight,” you bit your lip, “send Ijichi to take me to the airport. Yeah, ok,” and he hangs up, “we’ll have to cut this short. I have to go overseas,” 

“How long will you be gone?” 

“Probably just a few days. I’ll be back soon,” you bite your lip, and he tilts his head, “you worried about me, Princess?” 

You flush, opening and closing your mouth, “I am,” and he blinks, seemingly surprised, “come back safe. Text me to let me know when you land,” 

His lips curl, as he ruffles your hair, “I will — and I’ll be back soon enough. Promise,” and he pauses, “you want a souvenir?” 

“You don’t have to—“ 

“I want to,” he cuts you off, and your cheeks warm. 

And just then, he gets a text, “Ijichi Is almost here. I’ll have him drop you back first,” and he turns to change out of his clothes.

“Satoru,” you catch him by the sleeve, and he pauses, “I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you after all of that. It had nothing to do with you, there was just a lot going on—“ he says your name, but you shake your head, “but it won’t happen again, I promise,”

“Good,” he steps back into the changing room, a grin on his lips, “I wouldn’t let you get away this time anyway, sweetheart.” 

“Gojo?” You say again, and he tilts his head, “get the indigo suit,” 

He grins, “and you have good taste, well, of course you do,” he holds the door open, “I am your boyfriend after all.” 

And the door of the fitting room swings shut, and you hope he’s not looking at you, as your cheeks burn, your heart squeezing in spite of every thought of your mind telling not to go there — not to go down that road, but you should have known, the moment you said yes to this plan—

You were already there. 

You had never known that the buzz of your phone could make you more happy — or anxious. 

But it had been over the course of the last few days. Because you’re probably an idiot, but that wasn’t the point. 

how bad of an idea would it be for me to try this Karanga and Chapati place that Yuta recommended? 

You snorted, Satoru, the last time you had curry — that wasn’t even that spicy, you couldn’t taste anything for a week.

Another buzz, But Yuta said it’s not so bad

You roll your eyes, imagining the pout he undoubtedly has on his lips — Yuta has never seen you cry over a bowl of curry — stick with your desserts, and you chuckle as you add: you may be the strongest but you have the weakest taste buds 

It takes some time for another response to come — and when it does, you realize a grave error on your part was made: never point out any flaw to this idiot because he will take it as a challenge. 

This is Yuta — Gojo-sensei tried it and he’s now in the bathroom. He told me to tell you he’d text you later. 

This was how the last few days flew by — texts with updates about his mission, his work, and his check-ins with Yuta. And the night before he was flying back, just as you were cooking dinner, he called you— 

“Gojo? Isn’t it 2:00 AM there right now?” 

“You learned the time difference for me?” you heard his words slur over the other line, “Sweethearttttt,” I went out with Yuta and Miguel, and I may have gotten a littttttle tipsy,” 

“Isn’t it like 2:00 AM there?” 

He clicks his tongue, “Miguel challenged me to a drinking contest,” and you groan, rubbing a hand down your face, “but they got me back into my hotel room, even though I’m not tired,” he mumbles, as you hear the crinkle of his bedsheets and the rustling of his comforter. 

“Have you drank water? How much alcohol did you have?” 

“Are you worried about me?” he giggles, before sighing, “I’m glad,” 

“Why are you glad?” You hold the phone between your cheek and shoulder as you stir the pan with your dinner currently in it. 

“Because it means you care about me,” he murmurs, “everyone who cares about me always leaves,” he gives a small bitter chuckle, “maybe it’s better for you not to care about me. It’s dangerous to care about someone like me — the type to die young or live far too long,” 

“Gojo—“ 

“Satoru,” he mutters, voice growing thick with sleep, “call me Satoru,” and his soft snores fill your ear as he falls into the sandman’s grasp — a small reprieve from his feelings — while you were left to dwell in them. 

All this time you had been thinking how you felt, what you were dealing with, what you wanted — and all these years and you hadn’t thought about how your actions made him felt. You thought he was beyond any hurt you could possibly inflict — his infinity meant that he was leagues above anywhere you could possibly reach — but it didn’t. 

He wasn’t. He was a person — and when had you stopped treating him as one? 

You texted Yuta: make sure your sensei is lying on his side and make him drink some water. And don’t let Miguel goad him into drinking ever again. 

Yuta: got it. sorry about that sensei — gojo wouldn’t listen

You scoffed, chuckling at how Yuta called you sensei but did not afford Gojo the same courtesy. 

You stayed on the phone with Gojo, hearing Yuta come in and persuading him to drink some water, before he fell back asleep, but even in his drunken state, he wouldn’t give up his phone — Yuta snapping a picture and sending it to you. You laughed when you saw it — loml with a dozen hearts and a picture of you in your obi, clearly taken when you weren’t looking, but it wasn’t those things that made you laugh — it was the way Gojo clung to his phone, fingers wrapped around it desperately, as he slept. 

You stayed on the phone with him all night, even when you went to bed — of course just to make sure he’s fine — the call waking you when it disconnected after reaching the max call time. Your eyes flutter open, glancing at the time — 5:00 AM. And almost like clockwork, your phone rings again, Gojo’s number flashing on your screen. 

You pick up, “Mm, hello?” you yawn, “finally awake sleeping beauty?” 

“Glad you finally decided to acknowledge my beauty,” his voice is gravelly, thick with sleep, and god, you can’t help but imagine waking to this voice every day — “ugh I have a headache,” he murmurs, the crumple you hear must be him burying his face in his pillow because the next question he asks is muffled, “why were we on the phone?” 

“You called me last night after drinking, and refused to hang up after Yuta helped you get settled,” you chuckle, as you hear his groan over the phone, “I got a new contact picture for you out of it, love of my life,” 

“Glad you’re finally on board,” he mutters, growing quiet, “why didn’t you hang up?” 

You pause, “what do you mean?” You ask slowly. 

“You could’ve hung up at any time, but you stayed on the phone, even when you fell asleep,” his voice was soft, “why?” 

“I just,” you bit your lip, you couldn’t lie to him, at least not completely, “I just wanted to make sure you were okay, and you didn’t want to hang up — so I didn’t,” 

He’s silent for a moment, and you almost wish you could sink into the Earth — but he only says, “okay, now what’s the plan for the day, Princess?” 

Your lips curl, “Well my day has not really began yet since it’s 5:00 AM here, so I’m probably going to sleep for several hours and wake up at an hour that is not bereft of god,” 

“You really couldn’t just say ‘ungodly?’” He snorts. 

“Well, 5:00 AM makes me wax poetic, what can I say?” Another yawn parts your lips, “I’m going to sleep,” 

But he doesn’t hang up, “I’ll be here, sweetheart.”  

You glanced at the time, he’s late. 

Well, he wouldn’t be Gojo if he didn’t make an entrance. You slumped on the couch — even if he was getting home from his mission, there was no guarantee he’d stop by your place to see you. He might want to just go home — or stop by Jujutsu Tech, or be anywhere else. You couldn’t have expectations — expectations were only a  way to be disappointed, a drop from soaring that would only be met with the impact of the cold, unforgiving ground. 

Especially expectations from a fake relationship. You lay on the couch, staring at the ceiling — why were being such an idiot about this? The TV drones on in the background, illuminating the dark of the living room, as you sit barely paying attention to a random rom com you had picked. 

Maybe it was because Satoru had spent the rest of today on the phone with you, even through a security check (warning the security officers not to hang up his call) and at the gate. And then every day after that, he had called and texted you like clockwork — stupid things— good morning and good night, random memes that made him think of you, pictures of his day (including ones of him messing with his students), questions of what sweet you wanted from the shop he had decided to frequent, calls about your day and his own, and hours long conversations about nothing at all. Maybe because you could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke to you — or maybe it was because you were just down bad. 

It was probably the latter. 

You take a throw pillow and pull it over your face. What were you thinking? Falling for your old crush and fake boyfriend a night before a wedding was a trope in a bad rom com that you spent your weekend night watching — it shouldn’t be how you feel. 

“That’s a nice look,” you jump, pulling the pillow away, to be met with Gojo’s gaze hidden behind another pair of sunglasses, “honey, I’m home,” 

You bite back your smile, “one, this isn’t your home, and two, how did you get inside?” 

“It’s pretty easy when you can teleport, you should try it sometime,” he sits beside you, more like collapses as he falls into the couch, his head resting against the top, “although if someone moved in with me, it’d be much easier,” and you laugh. 

“Shouldn’t you ask a girl out before you ask her to move in?” he shrugs, his arm resting across the top of the couch. 

“I’m anything but traditional,” he sighs, glancing at the TV, “what are we watching?” 

“A bad rom com,” 

He snorts, “watching it to mercilessly pick it apart?” And you raise an eyebrow, “what? I did stay awake for some of those movies— it was some of my favorite memories during that time and some of the only times I could actually sleep,” 

“Yeah, it was a nice way for both of us to turn our brains off for a bit,” you glanced at him, “thought it’d be nice for us too,” his gaze slides to you curiously, “I know there’s been a lot on your mind — with itadori and the special grades,” 

He sighs, running fingers through his hair,  “Yeah, old geezers seem to cause problems in all parts of my life,” you snort, “can’t believe they’d try to do away with Itadori while I was gone,” 

“They don’t see anyone as innocent — they see whether you’re an asset or a threat, unfortunately, they see Itadori not as the former,” you shake your head, as your eyes stare at the movie flashing on the screen, but you don’t really watch, “they’re too far gone to see the innocence of children,” 

“You sound like Kento,” and your eyes meet his, his cerulean gaze already on you, his sunglasses discarded on your coffee table. 

“Funny, thought I sounded like you,” he blinks a moment, “Satoru, you’re all about preserving the youth of children — that’s why you saved Megumi, Yuta, and Yuji — even when you had every reason not to,” 

“How could I not? Youth belongs to the young after all,” a wistful smile on his lips, “i don’t want the same to happen to them that happened to us,” 

“To us,” you repeat, a sharp pain sticks between your ribs at the flash of Haibara’s smile and the whisper of Suguru’s laugh, “more like to them,” 

“Yeah,” a silence falling over the two of you as the white noise of the TV filled the quiet, “but sometimes I think we went down along with them,” 

You shake your head, “I think a part of us did — a part of us will stay there—“ frozen in time and seeping like poison in our bones, “but we’re still here,” you risk to toe the line you’d never cross, your fingers brushing his, “and it’s not over for us,” 

And his eyes flicker to your fingers threaded with his, as his fingers squeeze yours slowly, the corner of his lips quirk upwards, as you stretch and sit up, fingers falling away from his, a yawn on your lips, “should we get some sleep?” 

“Come on, let’s finish the movie,” he murmurs, even though sleep seems to weigh heavily on his body, eyelids fluttering shut as he turns to you, cheek pressed against the couch, “hey,” he murmurs, “it wasn’t the movies that let me relax,” and you can hear the unspoken meaning in those words — but that was the problem. 

It was unspoken. 

Your fingers twitch, wanting nothing more than to brush your fingers against his cheek — but you can’t. 

You’d allowed yourself to toe the line you’d long drawn in the sand that you’d built into a wall — you had even allowed yourself to stir a few bricks from its place, but you couldn’t cross it. Not now. 

Your eyes are growing heavy. Maybe not ever. 

Your neck hurts. 

The first thought you have as you rouse into aching consciousness. Why was it so bright? Did you forget to draw your curtains? You draw an arm over your face, already dreading the waking hours, until you realize it’s your day off, and you sigh, relaxing into your bed. 

Or what you thought was your bed. 

Except your bed couldn’t move, nor could it pull you closer. But now something or someone was, an arm around your waist with movement behind you that made breath warm your ear. And you probably would have screamed, if you hadn’t heard the familiar voice whisper your name in your ear. 

Gojo. 

Gojo??? 

Your head slowly turned to be met with the strongest sorcerer very much passed out, half behind you, half on top of you — his blue eyes hidden under his eyelids for once instead of any covering that he used to protect himself. His snowy white locks brushed against your skin, the close proximity doing nothing to alleviate your feelings — you had only hoped you could see one flaw, one ick, and maybe you’d be done. But on Satoru Gojo? The man born to be perfect — the same one who sang karaoke for the first time as a teen only to be so incredible that it moved your server to tears? 

You really should have fucking known better. 

Your breath caught, and you wondered if it was possible to die from embarrassment—if no one had, you would surely be the first case. You were always a trail blazer. 

And you tried to shift again, if only to maneuver yourself out of this situation, but he moved along with you, seeking out the contact he was losing. And this only ended with him lying on top of you, his head buried in the crook of your neck, and his legs straddling one of your legs— and then you felt it — a very distinct bulge pressed against your thigh. 

Fuck. Your. Life. 

He mumbled in his sleep, nose brushing against the hollow of your neck, drawing another shiver from your body. You had a rare opportunity to touch him — didn’t you, no infinity between the two of you — just him and you. You were in a position probably many desired to be in — admirers and enemies alike (neither category being mutually exclusive). You supposed old habits die hard — and so did old crushes. 

Could you let yourself enjoy this for a moment? Enjoy the feeling, no matter how real it never would be? Maybe it was wrong, but — your eyes fluttered shut as your arm wrapped loosely around Gojo — you certainly didn’t want to be the one to wake up first. 

And you weren’t — your eyes flutter open to movement, and your eyes meet cerulean eyes, lips parted in surprise, “Morning,” he manages, a flush of pink coloring his cheeks, “did we fall asleep?” 

“I guess we did,” you bite your lip, “are you going to—” 

And he blinks, before scrambling off of you, “Sorry,” he mumbles, as he turns away to fidget with his phone. 

“Guess that was one very boring movie,” you murmur. 

“Or I was in a very comfortable bed,” he replies with a smirk that turns to a grimace. 

“What is it?” 

“Naoya Zenin is making an appearance at the wedding we’re attending tomorrow,” and you groan, as he raises an eyebrow, “how many proposals had he made you?” 

You scoff, “Proposals? More like propositions,” you shake your head, already aching from the sleep you had barely shaken off and now it had graduated to a shooting pain that made your eye twitch at the thought of that man, “he’s offered to do me the ‘honor’ of being the next heir’s husband half a dozen times. If he ever becomes the head of the Zenin clan, I may help Maki annihilate them myself,” 

Naoya Zenin — the most pretentious and egocentric man you had the displeasure of meeting. Even his pretty face could do nothing to fix his hideous personality ridden with misogyny, hatred, and spite. And you’d been offered his hand in marriage half a dozen times due to your lineage in a lesser known clan family with a unique cursed energy. It was a strategic move to try and secure his place — as was every move he made — he had no room for anyone he deemed useless to his plan. 

Unfortunately, you did not fall into that special category.

“That won’t happen,” Gojo replies, texting on his phone, “plus, he’s too weak to force that to happen — not to mention he’s a first class prick,” 

“You say that, but you basically propositioned me,” you teased, as his eyes flit up from his phone, as you rise from the couch, “quite the proposal you came to me with,” 

He pauses a moment, a small smile on his lips, “one, i don’t recall proposing, and trust me that’s something I’d remember,” and you roll your eyes, “and two, aren’t you just as bad, since you said yes, sweetheart?” 

“Can you blame a girl wanting a little extra money?” And he locks his phone, drawing close, your breath catching as he lets himself linger for a second too long. 

“Can you blame a man for wanting a beautiful and intelligent woman?” And he’s leaning close, but he leans back, only grabbing his coat from the couch, still slung over as it had been. He spares you a smirk at your bewildered expression, “close your mouth, you’ll catch flies, princess, and what a shame that would be,” you scowl, and he laughs as he heads to the door, slipping on his shoes, with a final glance and grin thrown over his shoulder as he opened your door, “I’ll see you tomorrow night.” 

Right. Tomorrow. The wedding. 

Fuck. You were so screwed. 

KNOCK. KNOCK. 

Fuck. You scrambled from your vanity as you finished putting the finishing touches on your look for tonight. You didn’t think Satoru Gojo of all people could ever be on time, but you supposed there was a first time for everything. 

You slipped the dress over your head, careful not to smear your makeup or mess up your hair. You were starting to regret not having the Gojo family’s attendants get you ready for this event, if only so you could have turned your mind off for this time. But you knew all too well that your mind could never give you a break — with all of that free time came free real estate for your anxiety to set up camp and put down roots for all the things that could possibly go wrong. So it was better this way, as you reach for the ties on the back of your dress — of course, maybe if you had let yourself be helped, you could actually have someone to tie your corset back on this dress. 

Another knock. 

“Sweetheart?” You hear Gojo’s muffled voice through the door, “you’re not planning on standing me up are you?” 

You stumble your way to the door, clutching the back of your dress, as you take a breath and throw it open, “Can you tie the back of my dress?” 

Fuck. He looked gorgeous. His hair was parted and combed off to the side, a deep blue suit coat and a crisp white collared shirt tucked into a matching suit pant. A pair of sunglasses were tucked into the chest pocket of his jacket in front of a white pocket square. 

“No hello, ‘can you tie my dress?’” Gojo tilts his head, his eyes graze over your appearance, as he steps inside and closes the door behind him, “turn around,” And you do, fingers still clutching at the fabric at the back of your dress, cheeks burning as you do, “gonna have to let go, and let me help you, sweetheart,” 

You slowly let go, but his warm fingers brush against the skin of your bare back as he holds the dress up from slipping, carefully lacing the corset, “I was right, blue is your color,” he murmurs, as he tugs lightly at the strings, “let me know when it’s tight enough,” 

“It’s good now,” you sigh — though the corset wasn’t as tight as your chest now, you face him now, trying to adjust your hair. 

“Let me,” one hand cups your chin gently, your breath catching and you can only hope he can’t feel your pulse through your skin. His fingers run through your soft tresses, your eyes unable to meet his — but you wonder if he can see right through you anyway — “you’ve never been good at asking for help,” 

“Look who’s talking,” you glare at him, as he chuckles, “well, I asked you didn’t I?” 

“Why did you ask me?” You raise an eyebrow, “I’m sure you could have asked anyone,” 

“Well, I didn’t want just anyone,” he murmurs, fingers tracing the blush you had lined your cheeks with, “I wanted you,” 

“Why?” And he parts his lips, a soft smile that pulls at his features — was it a hint of pink across his cheeks. 

“Because—“ and your phone goes off — a reminder with the time of the wedding. And the moment’s broken, as reality settles over you again, “We’ll be late,” 

“I don’t mind being late,” and a heat burns from his touch, from the tips of your fingers to the his fingers leave your cheek, warmth fading as quickly as it came, but he offers his hand, “but if it’s for you, I can be on time,” and your fingers find his, interlacing, before he tugs you close, his arm around your waist, “as long as you stay by my side.”

You never were one for weddings. At least not one like this. 

A stuffy event held in an extravagant manner — a large banquet hall for the reception, but now the guests roamed the gardens the hall opened out into — lush greenery serving as a perfect backdrop for this wedding — a distant branch of the Zenin family was marrying, which meant all of the main clans were invited to attend. Including several elders of the Gojo clan. 

And now you were being subjected to this as well — several dozen eyes on you — all due to the man whose arm you were on. His arm wrapped almost protectively around your waist, his lips nearly brushed against your ear when he whispered in it, letting you know just exactly who was coming over. 

“I didn’t think you were one to care for remembering these things,” you wave at the couple that just left the two of you, his fingers grazing the skin behind your ear as he tucked a stray strand behind it. 

“I usually don’t care, but I know it’d make you uncomfortable otherwise, especially among all these people,” he smirks, his fingers finding yours, and squeezing, “plus, we need to make a good impression, don’t we?” 

“I think we’re making an impression just by being together,” you murmur, and he raises an eyebrow, “everyone’s staring — didn’t you notice?” and he shrugs, a sly smile on his lips. 

“Didn’t notice,” he tilts his head, his eyes fixed on you, “I was too busy looking elsewhere, I guess,” 

Your cheeks burn, but as your lips part to respond, you see him walking over to the discreet corner you had parked yourselves in,  “Fuck,” you mutter under your breath, your fingers tightening around his. 

Naoya Zenin strides over in a black yukata kimono, his silver hair pushed back, his lips twisted in a slimy smile that made your skin crawl, your name leaving his lips, “it’s been far too long, you’re looking lovely,” his eyes raked over you like hot coals, “though the company you keep—” 

“Has improved markedly,” Satoru’s lips curl in a grin, “do you have business with my girlfriend?” 

Naoya raises an eyebrow, “Girlfriend?” 

Satoru’s arm tightens around your waist, “I didn’t realize you went hard of hearing — I know your hair had started to go, but your hearing too—” you hid your snort poorly, Naoya’s sharp gaze flickering between the two of you. 

“I’m younger than you are, and my hair is bleached,” he snaps, “or are those six eyes not sharp enough to see that as well? They certainly aren’t enough for you to have found Suguru Geto before he caused a war,” 

And Satoru’s hurt is imperceptible — a hint of hurt that only shows in the tightness of his jaw for a millisecond, before he’s only giving another laugh. 

“At least I am already the head of my clan, because even if I were without my six eyes,” he smirks, but a certain meanness pulls at his features, “I’m still not as weak as you are—”

Naoya’s expression sours, curdled into a foul scowl, “What did you—” 

“Alright,” you hold up your hands, “Let’s save the dick measuring contest for later, okay? This is a wedding, let’s not cause a scene, ok?” you glance between the two of them, and Satoru pouts — while Naoya seems all too pleased, a grin broken across his lips. 

“This is why you’re the perfect woman — you know how to mediate between men’s egos, and—” 

“Naoya, I said let’s not cause a scene, and you’re two steps away from me causing one right now,” you snap, “I wasn’t interested the first dozen times you asked me when I was single, so why would you think I’d be interested now, when I have a boyfriend?” 

His face flushes red, and you’re not sure whether it’s in anger or embarrassment, “I doubt you’re even really a couple,” he hisses, “I know all about the proposals that this idiot has been getting and the pressure to marry,” he runs his fingers through his hair, “I’m sure you’ll come running to me once he’s done using you—“ 

Satoru surges forward, but you press a hand against his chest, “We don’t need to justify our relationship to you, so think what you want — but even if Satoru and I break up, I rather die single than ever spend a minute with you,” and you look at Satoru, your gaze softening, “and I rather spend be single for the rest of my life than spend another minute without him,” and you slide your eyes back to Naoya, his fists clenched, as you lean in, “so fuck off.”

He opens his mouth to reply, but the staff begin to wave everyone into their seats, and the wedding begins. The two of you sit, a silence falling over as others take their seats beside you. A subtle tension as music filled the air and the wedding proceedings began—but you could have cared less— god what the fuck had you said to Naoya? How had Gojo taken it? Does he know how you feel? Does he think it’s an act? 

Then his fingers find yours, “Thank you,” he whispers softly, managing only those two words before the wedding begins. 

And it dawns on you — it wasn’t what you said, it was the fact you had defended him, your heart aches, it was the fact you had defended him when Naoya insulted Suguru. 

Your eyes stay fixed forward as the ceremony begins — it was never about you — as you pulled your fingers away from him. 

Like it always never was. 

The wedding ceremony goes by — as does the reception, without much to-do. The only silver lining is that there’s far too much small talk for the two of you to have a moment to talk alone, especially when the two of you spot the Gojo clan elders side-eyeing you from the table of old folks, not to mention Naoya hovering around that same table, the same scowl on his face. The only remark that Satoru whispered as the two of you floated by the table pointedly, a smirk on his lips as he waved and held you close to his side — “one quick hollow purple could solve my problems,” 

You gave a forced chuckle at that — unfortunately not yours. 

And finally, the two of you head home — in relative silence, the drive being short to Gojo’s apartment, where your car was parked. You sigh as he pulls in, “I’ll head out I guess—” 

“Why don’t you just stay the night?” and your gaze snaps to his, the first time all night, “it’s really late, and I have a guest room—” 

“My apartment isn’t—” 

“Your apartment isn’t far, but I thought we could…talk,” and your heart gallops to a start — talking was the last thing you wanted to do. 

“What is there to talk about?” And his fingers brush against your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. 

“Maybe about why you can’t meet my eyes?” You huff, looking away. 

“Can you blame me? Your blue eyes are freaky,” you grumble, and you can hear the judgment in the silence, a first for Gojo,  “Gojo, what do you want me to say?” 

He stays quiet for a moment, “You don’t have to say anything, just come inside,” So you do — following him inside, the silence hanging over you like a guillotine waiting to slice, “Thank you for what you said—“ 

The door clicks behind him, as you stop, “Gojo—“ 

“Satoru,” he corrects, and you’re shaking your head. 

“You don’t have to thank me, I was just—“ 

“But what you said—“ 

“I said what I had to—“ 

“You didn’t have to say all that, Princess,” his voice grows soft, “you know you didn’t,” and he’s drawing closer across his living room. 

“He was upsetting you,” you murmur, eyes unable to find his again, falling instead to his plush carpet laid against his hardwood, “I couldn’t stand by and let him — I know it hurt when he brought up Suguru—“ 

“Suguru?” he repeats, and your eyes find his, finally, and you find his brow furrowed, “is that what you think I was thanking you for?” 

“What else would you—“ and he’s stepping even closer, your breath stuck in your throat as his fingertips graze your cheek again, “Satoru—“ 

“Did I mention how beautiful you looked tonight?” he murmurs, a soft chuckle in his voice, “you always look beautiful, but tonight in particular, I couldn’t take my eyes off you,” 

“You don’t have to—“ 

“That’s just it, I don’t have to,” his palm slides against your cheek, “I want to — I want to when it’s you,” 

“But, i can’t do this, not like this,” tears burn at the corners of your eyes, water threatening to spill out of a too full glass that had been full for far too long, “not when it will give me—“ you cut yourself off before you cut your own heart out, but he’s only forcing the scalpel back into your hand. 

“Give you what?” 

And you can’t turn back now — you’d turned from this road far too many times, sprinted in the opposite direction only to end up here again — you needed to do this, even if it lead to a dead end cliff, “Give me the wrong idea,” and you’re turning away, but his hand catches you by the wrist, “stop, I—“ 

“It’s not the wrong idea,” and you stop. 

No, it was. It was, right? 

“Satoru—“ and his fingers find your own, as he steps closer, “please, don’t—“ 

“If you want me to really stop and forget about this, I will,” he murmurs, “I’ll turn around and open the door and let you go home right now, sweetheart. I won’t bring this up again,” but you don’t move away, you don’t say anything, so he continues, “but if you don’t want that, and you want the same thing I do—“ 

“And what is it that you want?” And you hear his soft chuckle, his cheek brushing against you, as his fingers tuck your hair behind your ear. 

“I thought that was obvious, but I guess I’ll have to spell it out for you,” he squeezes your hand, as he guides your face to look back at him, his lips curled in a small smile, “I want you,” 

Your breath is shaky, no, no — he doesn’t mean that, “No you don’t,” 

He tilts his head, “You don’t think I don’t know what I want?” 

“Satoru, I don’t want to be a substitute for others—“ 

And his hands are sliding around your middle, pulling you closer, “You think I could ever think of you as a second choice?” 

“But—“ and every doubt from when you were younger wells up, every fear of not being enough — but they are erased away, crumbled into dust, by the way he looks at you — entire multitudes of skies all made to look at you. 

“You keep finding reasons not to do this,” and his fingers skim your cheek, before resting under your chin, “but have you tried finding a reason why we should?” 

“Satoru—“ you can’t help but lean into his touch — god, he was a temptation personified — everything you ever wanted, even when you tried not to want it. These feelings were never fake — so why not give in? Just this once. Your fingers slide against his cheek, and you can feel his skin burn under your touch, “do you have any idea what you do to me?”

“No, sweetheart,” he leans in even closer, your breaths becoming one, “but I’d love to find out,” 

His lips brush yours — it’s chaste, hesitant, testing the waters — he tastes like sugar, and you almost laugh — he tastes like the frosting from the wedding cake that he had swiped a slice of on the way out that he finished before you two had reached his car. His eyes flutter open for half a second, before your lips are crashing to his this time — a new record for addiction? A second maybe and you were too far gone. 

His hands cup your cheeks, one sliding to the back of your neck, as the other slides down to your waist to pull you ever closer. 

“Did you find it out?” You murmur between kisses, lips meeting and parting if only to allow you both a breath. And his snowy eyelashes flutter, as his lips quirk upwards. 

“Think I need another,” and his lips swallow any coherent thoughts you have, his hands slipping down your sides, lips parting again, “another,” he murmurs, a kiss, “another,” 

“How many do you need?” you ask breathlessly, a chuckle caught in your throat, and his lips press desperate kisses along your jaw, a smirk against your skin. 

“Is infinity an answer?” And you laugh, “have to take responsibility — I’m addicted to you,” 

“And if I’m addicted?” His hands squeeze your hips, drawing a gasp from your lips. 

“I’d be more than happy to take responsibility for you, Princess — always have,” 

Your heart beats against the bars of its cage, threatening to burst out — but you couldn’t — not without knowing, “And if you break my heart?”

“I won’t ever break your heart,” he leans down to press butterfly kisses to your cheek, “but even if I do, I’ll put it back together,” 

“Promise?” You murmur, and his lips meet yours again, and again, as he’s leading you towards his bedroom, his fingers running through your hair.

And the door to his bedroom swings shut, “Promise.”  

“How long are you going to tease me?” you’re grumbling, cheeks hot and eyes averted, the back of your hand pressed against your lips, as Satoru presses needy kisses along your neckline of your dress. 

He looks up at you through his snowy lashes, and you don’t know if you want to slap the smile off his lips or kiss it off, “You’ve been teasing me for years, you can’t give me this time, sweetheart?” His teeth graze the juncture of your neck and shoulder, “plus, do y’know how fun it is to watch you squirm?” 

Slap. It’s definitely a slap. 

“You’re insufferable,” and he smirks when your breath catches when his lips ghost over the swell of your chest. 

“Yet you’re the one who's under me—“ and you try to get up only for him to pin you back down, a pout on his lips, “alright, alright, can’t blame me for wanting to see you squirm, Princess, how many chances will I get?” 

“Only this one if you keep this up,” and he’s finding your lips in a languid kiss, an apology with no words, a smile filled with affection that only made it hard for you to feign annoyance. 

“Then I better make this count,” he’s gently helping you up, turning you around to undo your corset strings — but you wonder if he’s undoing it or tangling it, “why did we choose a dress with such a complicated back?” It’s his turn to grumble and it only draws a giggle from you. 

“Surprised you haven’t hollow purple’d it by now,” 

“Trust me if you weren’t in it, I would have,” he sighs, as the fabric begins to loosen up, slipping off your shoulders. 

“And here I thought you were good at everything,” you chuckle as he helps you shimmy out of the dress, the fabric falling away from you in a small pool around your ankles. Pools of blue rake over your exposed body, raising goosebumps in its wake, as your arms reflexively try to cover yourself, but his hands find your own, easing them away. 

“I’m good at what counts, Princess,” he kisses your wrist, pulse jumping under his touch, nose brushing against it, he hovers over you, as he undoes his tie, fingers tugging at the knot, as he undoes the top button of his shirt, “and I’ll show you.” 

~~~~

Satoru had dreamed of this — of you and him. He knew when he realized it — although it was too late when he did. Maybe it was the night before you left — the night after graduation — before you left — you had fallen asleep watching the movie you had put on. Your lips parted and mouth ajar, your eyes fluttered shut, and you were out. He had leaned over to grab his phone to snap a picture to tease you with later, only for your fingers to grab onto him, your head on his shoulder, a quiet murmur of his name. 

“Satoru,” — not Gojo, as you had always called him. And he knew he wanted to hear you say it again and again. His fingers brushed a stray strand of hair away, his head leaning against yours.

Suguru was everything to him for a time — he had come to Satoru at a time where he thought no one else would ever be able to understand him. No one else would be able to reach him — because how does a person reach for a god? But here you were — and the way your head rested on his shoulder and your lips said his name made him want nothing more than you by his side. 

And when you left — you didn’t reply to his messages, you disappeared, just like everyone else did in his life. He was always left alone in the end — maybe it was his fate. 

But then you came back — came back almost right after Suguru left for good. And that part of his heart that was meant for you began to thrive again and again — as he spent more time with you. 

And god, when his clan started to pressure him to find someone to marry — he wrote them off as he always did. He thought he could ride out the ridiculous proposals and dates they had arranged for him — but as he thought more about who he wanted to spend his time with, who he wanted to see after a tiring mission, and who he couldn’t imagine being without —- 

And he realized it was you. 

“Satoru, don’t tease me,” you pouted, teeth bearing down on your bottom lip, legs spread for him, his eyes flirting between your all too cute expression and the growing wet patch on your panties, “fuck, please—“ 

“Gonna have to tell me what you want, sweetheart,” he presses a wet kiss to your inner thigh, his arm hooked under your knee, your foot pressed against his back, “where do you want me?” 

“You fuck-er—“ the last syllable is a gasp as he kisses your sensitive clit through your soaked underwear, “Toru—“ a whine leaves your throat. 

Fuck, you’re so cute, his fingers toy with the elastic of your panties — and all of this was worth it, worth it to see if these feelings were what he thought they were, worth it to make you smile, and worth to end up with you. 

“How can I refuse you when you say my name like that?” he’s tugging your underwear away, exposing your sipping cunt to a rush of air and his warm breath, “all this f’me, baby?” You mumble something he can’t quite make out, “what was that?” 

Your glassy eyes look up at him, blown wide with lust, “Only f’you, Satoru,” fuck, his dick twitches — he could bust just looking at you. 

“Fuck, baby,” he murmurs, “g’nna make me cum just with your words,” but he diverts his attention to your needy cunt, his long fingers graze over your pussy, collecting the precum on his fingertips, before he pinches your clit. 

“Toru,” you squirm, as he grins down at you, all too pleased. 

“Imagine if the elders could see you like this — spread out for me like a good little wife,” he’s leaning down to kiss your fluttering folds, leaning back for you to see the shiny pre that clings to his lips that his pink tongue darts out to clean off, “sweetest thing I’ve tasted,” 

“Please, Toru, fuck—“ and finally his finger is circling your hole, before sinking in knuckle deep — fuck, you were fucking tight — he could melt from your warmth, pulling him in like a siren to a drunken sailor, “oh my god,” 

“You don’t have to call me ‘god,’ princess,” and he earns a glare from you that fades into an open mouthed moan as he begins to pump his finger in and out, “so good for me,” and he’s adding another finger, the wet squelch of your cunt growing louder, as he reaches a hand down to graze against his erection if only for a little relief. 

He wishes he could memorize the way you looked right now — perfect little lips parted for him, his name and soft pants the only sounds you could manage to make, your back arching into his touch, and the way you moaned when his lips found their way around your clit. 

His tongue circles your clit at first before his lips suck at the hard pearl, fingers parting your dripping folds, finally finding that spot that had your walls giving that telltale spasm, “Toru, I’m close—g’nna cum—“ you whimper, his fingers pistoning in and out of your cunt as he sucks hard at your clit, and you cum, hard, around his fingers, drenching his face and finger alike, as he fucks you through your orgasm. 

You’re beautiful — lips parted and chest heaving, as you moan his name again, “good girl,” he’s murmuring, as your eyes flutter open, to watch him lick his lips and fingers clean, “might get addicted to how you taste, sweetheart,” 

And you’re boneless, but still you’re still reaching for him, pulling him into a languid kiss, his cock twitching as he shifts himself over you, hands pressed into the mattress, his clothed cock rubbing against your drenched folds. 

“Wanna make you feel good,” you mumble against his lips, and he’s pulling back an inch — but unknowingly, he’s given you a mile, as you flip him onto his back. 

You’re a vision — your perked up nipples visible through your bra, halfway slipping off your shoulders as it is, hair a lovely mess, and pretty lips kiss ruined. 

“My turn,” and your lips burn a trail down his jaw, along the curve of his neck and the cut of his collarbone. You take your time, if only to pay him back in full for all the teasing he did, “didn’t know you taste so sweet, Toru,” your tongue drags up his chest, “must be all the sugar you eat,” 

And your lips smile against his abs at the sharp gasp he fails to stifle, “I’ll have you know I’m very sweet—“ and your fingers graze over his clothed erection — his hips buck up into your touch, “I’m known for it,” he hisses, as a giggle escapes your lips. 

“Uh-huh, I’m sure almost everyone would care to disagree,” the tip of his cock strains against the fabric, the dark wet patch growing larger the more your thumb beared down on it, “but I wouldn’t be one of them,” and you’re dragging the fabric down his hips, freeing his cock, your eyes nearly hypnotized by the slight of it, thick beads of precum dripping from the slit, before your gaze finds his again, softening, “because I know how much you do for others — and how much you’ve lost because of it,” you kiss his inner thigh softly, nose brushing against the skin. 

“As long I don’t lose you,” he says softly, “I think I’ll be okay,” 

And your fingers find their way around the base of his cock, drawing a ragged gasp from his lips, before you lean down and flick your tongue against his leaking tip, “I’m not going anywhere, Toru.” 

Your tongue drags a thick stripe up his cock, before beginning to trace along one of his veins, your fingers slipping up to use his pre to rub up and down his length. Your thumb teases his slit, and a hiss leaves his lips, a smirk against his dick. 

“Fuck, sweetheart, you know exactly what you’re doing to me,” his cheeks burn, dusted with pink surely — as he watches you lick the precum that dripped down your fingers onto your wrist, “knew that mouth would be s’fucking good—“ 

“Turns out you don’t shut up even in bed,” and that earns you a cheeky grin that parts into an ‘o’ as his dick sinks into your mouth. He swears he was closer to death than he was when Toji nearly killed him — not that he’d like to remember that man in this moment — but you’d surely be the death of him, and you would be — if he had to spend another second without you in his life. 

Fuck, he looks down at you, eyes half shut, his white knuckled fingers gripping the sheets — you’re gorgeous as you swallow him whole — sucking and licking, nose brushing against his pubes as your eyes water, as you bob along his length from tip to base and back again. 

“S’good for me, so pretty, fuck—” he groans, when his tip brushes against your throat, his fingers finding your scalp to try and ease you off,  I’m s’close princess, g’nna cum—” But your hands only slide to his ass to hold yourself against him, as his dick twitches in your mouth, and your fingers drift to his sack while your tongue flicks along his slit and he’s done. He’s cumming down your throat, hot release painting your mouth.

He’s watching you with half lidded eyes pull away from him— a string of cum and spit strung between your lips and his dick, before beginning to drip from the corner of your mouth. And fuck, it’s enough to make him hard all over again. You lean over him, wiping the release from your lips, as you kiss up his body. 

“Now who’s good at everything?” and he huffs out a chuckle. 

“I stand corrected — actually, don’t think I’ll be standing for a while after that but—” and he’s finding your lips in a kiss, tasting himself you, his teeth grazing your bottom lip, as your fingers find his erection again, stroking it, before he’s flipped you onto your back. He runs a hand through his snowy locks, a smile on his lips, “don’t think you’ll be doing much standing after this either,” 

“So full of yourself,” you roll your eyes. 

“That’s what you’re going to be full of in a second—” 

“Oh my god—” and your laugh dies on your lips as he starts to tease your entrance with the head of his cock, “Toru,” you whine, as he watches your needy cunt flutter around nothing as he drags his length up and down your dripping hole, watching your releases mix, “please—” 

“So polite,” he hums, as he leans down to press a kiss to your lips, “now how can I refuse that?” and he begins to sink his length into your cunt, warm walls nearly pulling his cock in deeper, as he groans your name, “s’perfect, s’good for me, princess, made for me,” and inch by inch, until he’s finally bottoming out. 

“Toru, ngh, s’big—” you gasp, lips parted in a silent moan, as you pull him even closer, face buried in the crook of his neck, but his fingers tugging your hair to show your face. 

“Let me see you,” he murmurs, as his lips meet yours in a sloppy kiss as he continues to thrust into you — his hips meeting yours, the wet squelch and skin slapping echoing in his ears. A gasp parting your lips as you pull apart, your head thrown back in a moan as your walls flutter around him as his tip breaches that one spot inside you. 

“Haa, I’m close, Toru,” you groan, and he’s nodding, his fingers reaching between your bodies to find your clit. 

“Cum for me, pretty girl,” and you do — cumming hard, as he notches himself deep inside you, before spilling inside you, his hot release deep in your pussy. He’s moaning your name, as your bodies slow and his fingers cup your cheek gently, and his lips find yours. 

He slowly rolls off of you, your warmth leaving him for a moment, before he’s pulling you close again, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. 

“Is this a dream?” you mumble, eyes fluttering shut, and a small chuckle leaves his lips, legs entangled. 

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, “If it is, I hope I never wake up, Princess.” 

Your body aches — that’s your first thought as you stir into consciousness. Fuck, why does you feel so sore? Your eyes try to flutter open, but the sunlight blinds you — a soft groan leaves your lips. You shift, as you stretch, your back aching and muscles tight, but then someone moves behind you, an arm wrapping around your waist. 

Your eyes shoot open, as your head slowly turns to find looking at Satoru. A gasp is caught in your lips. 

Fuck, it was real.  

You slowly turn to face him, his soft breaths leaving his pink lips — god he’s so gorgeous. His pretty white eyelashes resting against his skin, lips parted ever so slightly, and his snowy hair askew and mussed. Your fingers ghost over his cheek lightly — how many people have seen him asleep like this? How many had seen him with his guard down? You knew he didn’t sleep nearly enough, you were surprised he was still asleep — but, your cheeks burned, you both did spend half the night awake. 

But there were more pressing things to think about — what did this mean? You chew on your bottom lip, he had said he wanted you — but what did he want? Just last night? Or something more. 

“I can’t sleep with your thoughts grinding so much,” he mumbles, heat rushing to your cheeks, he’s burying his face in the crook of your neck, “why are you awake so early?” His nose brushes against your neck, his lips pressing softly against your pulse. 

“I just woke up,” you murmur, a small shiver running up your spine, as you relax into his touch, your fingers running through his soft locks, “did all my thinking wake you?” 

“Yes, and you’ll have to compensate me,” and you snort. 

“You’re rich, like old money rich,” he’s pressing sweet kisses to your skin, heat climbing up your body. 

“Money isn’t what I want,” he nuzzles you, nose brushing against the skin of your neck, “wonder what other ways you can repay me,” 

You chuckle, humming at his touch — god even the simplest of touches has your logic up in ash, “I’m sure you can figure out some other methods of payment,” 

And his lips find yours again — it’s a lazy morning kiss, soft and slow, but not bereft of any of the passion from the night before. His fingers slide down your body, as he pulls you impossibly closer. 

“My preferred method of payment wouldn’t have us leaving this room until tomorrow morning,” his lips curl in a smirk, “but I’ll collect my charge tonight — how about I make us breakfast?” 

“You can make breakfast?” You raise an eyebrow. 

“I know how to scramble an egg,” he shrugs, and you snort only for him to pout, and you smile, your fingers brushing against his cheek, before your thumb runs down his lips. 

“How about we make breakfast together?” 

“Was that really your first time making tamagoyaki?” you raise an eyebrow, as you pick up a piece of the rolled omelet between your chopsticks.

“Promise,” and you bite it — it was perfect — the texture, the taste, the seasoning. And you stare at him, an eyebrow raised. 

“Either you’re lying or you really are good at everything,” you mutter, and he grins, as he takes a bite of his food — a sweeter tamagoyaki he had made for himself, far too smug for his own good. 

“I think I proved that last night, Princess,” and you nearly choke on your food. And you chew thoughtfully — you two hadn’t even breached what last night meant yet. You had simply been dancing around it, or at least you had. You didn’t want to be the one to bring it up — or rather, you picked up another piece of tamagoyaki up, you didn’t know how to, “what’s going on in that head of yours?” 

And your eyes snap up, “What do you mean?” 

He tilts his head, “You’re not hard to read — you keep thinking about something,” and his lips curl, “last night?” Your hesitation gives you away — and he only smiles wider, “should I refresh your memory?” And your cheeks are burning, and he chuckles, “come on, sweetheart, let’s just talk,” 

You bite your lip — you needed to do this, you couldn’t run away from how you felt, not again  — your fingers fidgeting with your chopsticks, before you place them down on your bowl, “What did last night mean?” 

And his lips curl, but this smile he has is softer, “What do you think sweetheart? Do you think I’m really the—“ And his phone rings, and he picks up his phone, eyes flickering to the caller, and you wave him off, “you can take the call,”

He sighs, “One second,” he gets up to speak, and he hangs up a few minutes later, “text me a location,” 

“Who was that?” And he’s shaking his head, a sigh on his lips, his hand on the back of his neck. 

“The ever breathing and ever irritating geezers want me to meet them to speak about something involving the clan,” he meets your gaze, a flicker of an emotion in his eyes — a drop of water that disappears into the sea as quickly as it formed, “and it’s a good opportunity for me to discuss something I have been wanting to speak with them about,” 

“Something?” and his lips quirk in a small smile. 

“I’ll be back soon enough to explain, sweetheart,” he walks over to you, “will you wait here for me? Think I’ll be able to come back faster if I know you’re here waiting for me,” 

And you can’t help the small flutter your treacherous heart gives, “The great Satoru Gojo will rush for me?” 

“Oh, he would rush day and night if it meant he could come home to you,” and his fingers find your cheek, drawn like a magnet — why was it you could never look away from him? Even in a crowd, your eyes always found his gaze. 

And you’d go to him — like a moth to a flame, “I think I’d prefer just Satoru,” you lean into his touch, your hand over his, “I do owe him after all,” 

“You do,” he leans forward to press a kiss to your forehead, before he’s pulling away, a smile on his lips, “consider that a deposit.” 

You didn’t know what to do with yourself. 

Alone in Satoru’s place — you didn’t know what to do with yourself. He had left right after breakfast, and he told you where the TV was, books, and told you could order anything or use anything you needed. But, this place was so him — each place you went, there was just another reminder of him that seemed trail after you, but at the same time, without him, it was like a shell of a place — no soul present. 

And you supposed the soul wasn’t present. 

You ended up back in the bedroom, crawling back under the covers. Fuck, they even smelled of him — you squeezed your eyes shut.

You really didn’t know what you were doing — did you? 

You laid on your back. What were you supposed to make of what happened last night and this morning for that matter? Was this real now? A real relationship with Satoru — you turned over on your stomach, pulling the covers over your head — you could barely imagine it. 

And your phone goes off, as you reach for it blindly on the nightstand. But it wasn’t the white haired sorcerer you hoped it was — your eyebrows knit together — at least you didn’t think it was. A text from a number you don’t recognize — and a picture to top it off from the preview. 

You nearly deleted it — only to spot a familiar mop of white in the picture. 

Your blood runs cold at the sight. Satoru? He was at a restaurant with — a woman? You didn’t recognize her, but his hand held hers, picture taken mid laugh. Your cheeks burn — no, no — there had to be an explanation. 

A text now — Want to see what your boyfriend does in his spare time? Is he done using you now? 

There’s only one person who’d text like that. 

Naoya, how fuck did you even get this picture? You stare at the photo — have you fallen so far in your clan that you have the time to stalk Satoru now? 

He replied, it’s not my fault that they are dining in a Zenin owned business. 

Another picture — Satoru and her were hugging, his arm around her waist, far too close to be friendly. 

You don’t think — you call him. It rings and rings, but no answer — the cut to voicemail makes your heart sink. 

Another text — even if you don’t believe me, do you think this will be the last of your problems? When you’re Satoru Gojo, anyone close to you will have a target on their back — if only to use your blood to paint one on his head. 

You knew you couldn’t trust this. You knew there was an explanation. You knew Satoru wouldn’t do this to you. 

But even still, you wished you could tell your heart that. 

“What is this?” Satoru was led to a table at the restaurant the old geezers had chosen — but there were no wrinkly old cranks in sight. Instead, there was a woman. 

“Are you Satoru Gojo?” And he raises an eyebrow, hands sliding into his pockets. 

“The one and only, now I don’t suppose the old fools of the Gojo clan turned into a woman — so who are you?” She swirls the glass in her hand, before downing the liquid in one go. 

“Figures they had to lie to get you here — seems like we’ve been set up,” she gestures to the chair in front of her, “I’m Airi,” and he takes a reluctant seat, “I was told this was a meeting for us to meet for a potential engagement,” and he scoffs, he should have figured it was something like this, “but judging by the look on your face, you didn’t know that,” 

“I was expecting to meet 

I suppose we’re on the same page,” 

He tilts his head, “Really?” 

“Gojo, you may be a catch, but to me, you’re nothing more than a potential knife to my neck,” she places her glass down, leaning back in her chair, “and plus, I have someone I’m interested in,” and her eyes slide down, “and judging by the bite mark on your neck, you do too,” 

He pays it no mind, a laugh leaving his lips at the thought of you waiting for him at his apartment, “I do,” and he sighs, pushing his chair out, before getting to his feet. “and I have to get back to her,” 

She follows suit pushing out her own chair, rising, a waiter walking by, and she trips. It’s a reflex, he catches her by the wrist and by the waist, steadying her. 

“Sorry,” she pulls away immediately, looking back for the waiter, before biting her tongue, “fucking waiter tripped me,” the two of them glance around, but see no one, “I’ll have to talk to my grandfather’s advisors about this. No one trips the granddaughter of Naobito Zenin,” she mutters, and Satoru’s eyes snap to her. 

“You’re a Zenin?” And it clicks, the wedding, “who arranged this meeting?” 

She tilts her head, “My father, but he heard about this from my cousin, Naoya—“ 

He checks his phone — and he sees a missed call from you. 

Fuck. It was a set-up — in both ways. 

“I have to go,” and he can only hope you wouldn’t do the same to him when he came back. 

Satoru calls you, but you don’t pick up. You can’t bring yourself to stare back at the photo he had set as his contact photo — the picture Yuta had taken of him clutching at his phone with your picture on his screen. 

You needed to talk to him in person. 

And it’s not long before he’s back home — practically teleporting at your feet. 

You swear, stumbling and he grabs you, tugging you close, “Got you,” he smiles, tugging off his blindfold for you to see his eyes — the startling blue that you still couldn’t navigate without drowning in its depths, “does that mean I can keep you?” and you want to pull away, you want to run, but you can’t help but melt into his touch, your fingers gently clutching at the front of his shirt. 

“That depends on whether I’m the only person you’ve said that to,” and you look up at him, his brow furrowed, “and held like this,” 

“The meeting today, it was supposed to be with the elders — I was going to discuss our relationship again but—“ you show him the pictures on your phone, and his brow knit together, “how did you—“ and he doesn’t finish his sentence before he realizes, “it was a set-up,” 

“I know,” and relief washes over features for a moment, but your eyes can’t meet his, your lips a thin line. 

And he glances at the photo again, seeing the one where he’s holding Airi, “She tripped, sweetheart, trust me—“ his hand cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing the length of your cheek, “I don’t want to hold anyone but you,” 

“I know Naoya and the Gojo clan probably set this up,” you whisper, leaning into his touch, “but—” you pull away from him, every step away from him a fissure in the foundation of this bridge built, “I don’t think I can do this anymore,” 

And he’s blinking, “Why?” 

“I’m not good enough,” you’re shaking your head, stepping back as he steps forward, “I hurt you by leaving, and I was this close to doing it again—” 

“But you didn’t—” 

“And your clan doesn’t want us together, and I don’t know, I feel even if we’re together,” the words that leave your lips break your heart and his, we’ll only hurt each other in the end,” 

“Why do you always push me away when we get close?” 

“No I don’t—” 

“You don’t think the sorcerer that’s an expert at pushing others away — wouldn’t know if he’s getting pushed away?” 

“This isn’t working out,” you cut him off, as the slice cuts through thin air — but it’s not your head that goes rolling — it’s his heart, “we should stop — I think your clan has been convinced,”

He’s silent for a moment, before he replies, “well, I haven’t been convinced,” 

You scoff, his hands by his side, as his quiet footsteps approach you, “convinced of what?” 

“Convinced that,” he stops in front of you, “you don’t feel the same way I do,” Your breath catches, as his fingers find your cheek, “all these years, sweetheart, and you didn’t know?” 

“But,” you can’t process this, it doesn’t make sense, “but Suguru—“ 

“Was important to me yes,” he murmurs, “but it’s been years, and it doesn’t mean I can’t have deep feelings for someone else — especially when I’ve had them for over a decade,” 

“You—“ was this real? As he stood before you, in his living room low lights, sunlight streaming in from his windows, “what?” 

He laughs, “Didn’t know it was possible to render you speechless, sweetheart — guess there’s a first time for everything,” he steps over your missteps with the same ease he does everything, “I really do have to spell everything out for you, don’t I?” The back of his fingers ghost over your cheek, “I’m in love with you—“ 

“No,” you’re shaking your head, and his face falls, “Satoru, we can’t—“ 

“But—“ 

“Your clan doesn’t approve of me, they won’t stop trying to break us up, and I could put you in danger,” you murmur, “they could use me against you — just like Suguru did,” you couldn’t bear the thought of that, “and is that worth it? Worth it for something that may not be real?” You ask the question you’re afraid of asking him — of asking yourself — “was it ever real?” 

And he’s still trying to reach for you, despite it all — he knows it’s dangerous to be around him, he knows anyone close to him is in danger — and that’s why he was okay when you left. If only you’d be safe — but he knew that if he always played it safe, he would never be happy, “It’s real to me,” 

“It’s not to me,” you turn towards the door, “I’m sorry.” 

And this time he doesn’t stop you. 

It’s for the best. 

That’s what you tell yourself. The same thing you say when you’re leaving his place. The same thing you say the next morning you wake up with only a pain in your chest and a dull ache in your head. The same thing when you accept a long mission overseas. 

It was for the best. 

Then why — then why did you think of him? Each and every day, every minute, every second. But it was for the best. He was safer without you, it was easier without you, it was better — better and yet each day seemed to drag when you couldn’t talk to him. And your notes were filled with unsent texts to him — and your mind was filled with nothing but memories. 

And you couldn’t touch memories nor could you talk to them. 

Several months later, you’re sitting in a plane, watching the animation of the plane fly back towards Tokyo. You had been checking in with Yaga several times a month, but you hadn’t heard a thing from Satoru. 

Or rather, Gojo. Not that you expected to — not after what you did. 

And soon enough, you’re arriving home — heading inside your home to find a bunch of your mail had fallen out of your mailbox, knocked out of the rickety box from the storm the night before. You pick up the drenched mail between two fingers that was stuck to the sides of your walls, as you fumble with your keys to open the door. Your suitcase and mail fall to the fall as you close the door behind you, sighing. 

Fuck. You were home. 

You dragged your suitcase inside, picking up the mail off the floor. You collapsed on your couch, tossing the wet envelopes onto the table — when a name catches your eye. 

Gojo? 

You pick up an envelope — the frilly envelope doing nothing to protect the contents inside — you barely can make out any of the text, except the faint inked kanji of his name. 

You gingerly open the envelope, peeling out the insides — and your heart drops. 

Is this an invitation? The faint text was blurred and smudged from the rain — the contents all but faded and you could only make out three things — ““marriage,” today’s date, and bits and pieces of what you thought was an address. 

Satoru was…getting married? 

It felt like logic had fled your mind and panic took its place — as you looked up the parts of the address that you were able to decipher. And you found it — it was a popular venue not far from here. 

You didn’t think — you grabbed your keys and drove. 

You couldn’t let him get married, no, no — you had made a mistake when you left. You thought he was better off, you thought it was for the best — but it wasn’t. It couldn’t be when your chest hurt like this — felt as if your heart was splitting in two with a sword stuck between your ribs. It couldn’t be because you pushed him away because you were scared — scared of getting hurt again, scared of hurting him, scared of being with the only person you ever had loved. 

Basically, you pulled up to the venue, you were an idiot. 

You hadn’t changed, you hadn’t showered off your who knows how long of a flight, and now you were on the steps of a wedding venue that Satoru was getting married at. You froze before the doors. 

You couldn’t do this. He didn’t deserve to have his day ruined by you — not when you had ruined enough. If he had found someone else to spend his life with — whether it was arranged or not, he deserved to be happy. 

Even if it wasn’t with you. 

So you step down — walking off a distance to watch when the couple emerged — which judging by how dark it was and how staff were already almost done setting up — would be any minute now. 

So you wait. 

And finally when the doors swing open, you steel yourself — knowing it would do nothing, nothing to shield you from the pain of seeing—and your eyes find the groom. 

That wasn’t Satoru. 

He certainly had the white hair, but he did not have his blue eyes — he had a lovely bride regardless, who looked at him the way you had always looked at Satoru. Was that the look you had hidden away for so many years? And why were you still hiding? 

And your eyes find Satoru almost instantly — as fast as his eyes find you seemingly, as your name escapes his lips — as he parts through the crowd to your side. He’s wearing the other suit he had tried on — the white suit that had been your second favorite — his white locks parted and combed to the side, but still impossibly unkempt as they always were. 

“You got my invitation?” you blink, tilting your head. 

“But you—what?” and his brow furrows. 

“Don’t tell me you lost your ability to read and speak while overseas, princess,” and a small chuckle escapes your lips as you shake your head, wringing your hands. 

“Satoru, the invitation was wet because of the rain, I thought—” your voice wavers, glancing away as your cheeks burn, “I thought you were getting married.” 

He raises an eyebrow, lips curling, “And you were about to burst in and object?” 

You roll your eyes, but even so you can’t meet his gaze,  “Satoru—” 

His smile only grows wider, “What were you going to say? A passionate speech about how you’re still—” And you’re tugging him close by the collar, and his breath catches, your name leaving his lips. 

“I’m in love with you, Satoru,” your voice is steady as you speak, your hand sliding to his cheek, “I always have been — I was just afraid to admit it, I didn’t want to hurt you — whether it was by my own hand or not,” and his brow furrows, but you continue, “but I’m not scared anymore — because it hurts more to be nothing than something with you—” 

And his lips find yours. It’s everything you want — because it's him, he’s everything you’d ever wanted, and everything you’d ever want. You want the way his arm slides around your waist to pull you closer, you want the way his hand cups your cheek, you want the way his lips smile against yours, and you’d want his past, present, and future. And you’d do anything to keep it. 

“Promise you’ll never leave like that again?” he murmurs, his arm tightening around your waist as he says the words, his forehead pressed against yours, “I already have abandonment issues,” and you chuckle, your fingers finding his cheek. 

“I promise,” you murmur, “I’m sorry I left — both times I left, and there won’t ever be a third,” 

And he smiles, “You proposing to me, sweetheart? I’m not one to rush into things, gotta take me out on a proper date first,” 

“How about tonight?” you find his lips again, the taste of sugar on his lips — undoubtedly from indulging in a slice or several of wedding cake. 

“So soon?” he hums,and his gaze softens, as he presses a kiss to your forehead, “someone’s eager,” and your fingers intertwine with his, squeezing his, as you would a million times more,

“Well, you don’t know until you try.” 

✧ a/n: ahhh another celebration fic done!! this one was lowkey a struggle towards the end so i hope this turned out okay. it's beyond me understanding if it did or not lmao. i hope you guys enjoy ahhh -- gotta probably put up a poll to decide the next celebration fic this weekend :) (it's only because i'm horribly indecisive).

✧ taglist: @yunjinabla, @weluvsza, @yamaguccitadashi, @gojobbg, @soulofoz, @hfdkhjghjkghfj, @forest-fruits-jam, @cerene-dipity, @sleazymac-n-cheesy, @reaperxdeath, @octopishisahybridanimal, @hanlay, @whereflowerswenttodie, @tsukimefuku, @numbing3scapism, @arcswonderland, @kirashuu, @fushitoru, @spider-fan72, @jayathelostdragon, @sunflowmaryam, @satorusmochis, @catsgomurp, @simply-a-s1mp, @kentocalls, @weluvsza, @lucy-xv0202, @mazzd4, @dontshuugo, @zz-snow-zz

[kooktrash]

UKIYO ✧ jeon Jungkook

summary: it’s the start of summer and there’s nothing better than dipping your toes in the sand and falling for a local boy who plays beach volleyball in his free time. he’s charming in a way you’ve never seen and you seem to understand each other better than one could imagine. both stuck in an awkward time of self discovery, you try to live in the moment and forget about your worries till they become too hard to ignore.

The Japanese word ukiyo (pronounced "u-key-yo") means "living in the moment" or "detached from the troubles of life".

✧ genre/au: summer romance, local beach boy!jk x city girl!y/n, [she/her, afab]

✧ 17.7k words

warnings: smut, fluff, ‘coming of age’ but they’re in their twenties, jk falls first. oral [f receiving]. unprotected bc they’re literally on a boat. hair pulling. jk is kinda rich boy. oc seems mean but she’s got mean vibes but just sassy and jk likes it. jk was previously engaged. law student jk. intimate missionary. jk is a volleyball player. think beach town vibes. his ex is kinda stuck up—all his friends are. jk is kinda lovesick puppy who needs aftercare lol

inspired by, Nicholas Sparks’ “The Last Song”

songs: tyrant — coldplay, mind over matter — young the giant, left hands free — alt-j, omg — suki waterhouse, sex drug etc — beach weather

✧

For a long time, summer was the only thing to look forward to in the year. The days were longer spent outside enjoying time with your friends and letting yourself sleep in until noon. As you grew older with more responsibilities that didn’t suddenly disappear when the temperature grew warmer, you began to lose feelings for the season. It made no difference in your life anymore and you longed for the days it would.

Maybe that’s why it was so easy for you to drop everything and leave your worries behind. A couple months in the sun, no stress, nothing holding you back.

”I still can’t believe I managed to convince you,” Your friend said for the third time in the last hour. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, again, “I still can’t believe it either, don’t make me regret it.”

Hoseok mocked you using a high pitched voice, turning the Jeep Wrangler into the driveway of a modern beach house, “How could you regret these next few weeks waking up to the waves crashing on the shore?”

”What magazine did you read that off of?” Your friend asked from the backseat, laughing to herself at his expense, “I hate when you talk corny.”

”Whatever, you guys are so ungrateful,” Hoseok jokes, pulling the car in ‘park’ and powering the engine off, “Next time I’ll invite someone else to come with—someone who I won't have to beg!”

”Boohoo,” You pretended to whine, getting out of the car and racing to get to your luggage first, “You love begging for me.”

”You wish,” He says with a scoff, “Hurry up and find your rooms, I want to get down to the beach as soon as possible.”

The beach was at its peak time of day where the sun sat the highest and almost every foot of sand was covered with people’s belongings. Not far from shore were rows of volleyball courts and crowds of people watching and as much as you wanted to avoid that busy side, it was the way to the boardwalk. You had no choice but to follow your friends in that direction. They were steps before you, already arguing about which store to go into first or what food stand you’ll go to but you were distracted by the large Ferris wheel in the back.

Maybe your focus should have been on the matches happening all around you but by the time you realized that it was too late. The white ball barely grazed your side when a tall figure headed straight into you with a loud thud.

A low grunt left your lips as you hit the sand with such a force that it physically ached for a moment. Your hands and face were practically covered in sand it was hard to acknowledge whatever gibberish your assailant spat out.

He didn’t have time to get a good look at you as he rushed to his feet, taking your arm and pulling you up abruptly, “Shit, I’m so sorry, I—“

“It’s fine,” your tone came out harsher than expected and it probably had something to do with the guy who loomed over you, and how embarrassed you felt. Up ahead your two friends were barely realizing you weren’t behind them and turning to find you, laughing once they did.

The stranger let his gaze trace over you with sudden curiosity, not at all intimidated by your attempt at a scowl. Now that he was looking at you up close, he had to admit he liked what he saw. He couldn’t help but grin nervously, “I’m sorry.”

His smile made you glare as you dusted sand off your jeans, “Really? I can’t tell.”

“I… it’s just, usually when there’s a ball flying people tend to dodge it,” he was walking backwards now as you tried leaving, he wanted to face you when he talked and it made his cocky smile all the more unbearable. You’ve just met the guy and he hadn’t given the best impression yet. Honestly, you’re just tired from the trip and you’re hungry so you blame that on your mood but you just want to escape this embarrassment of falling.

A scoff left your lips, “Are you saying that this is my fault? Maybe if you all played the game on the court, you wouldn’t have run after it.”

You were giving him attitude and yet he didn’t back down from returning it with a sweet smile.

“Jungkook!” Someone called from behind but the guy didn’t bother to even look back at the paused game. Instead he kept up with you, “You’re right, it’s partially my fault too so how can I make this up to you?”

You stopped walking, looking at him. You didn’t know him and he didn’t know you so there was no need to hold him up from his game any longer, “Don’t worry about it.”

“But I can’t go on like this,” The stranger, Jungkook, said, “Not until I know you’re not mad anymore.”

The way you rolled your eyes excited him in a good way. He wasn’t amusing enough for you and it was rare for him not to be.

“Jungkook! Come on man, the game!”

“Y/n!” Hoseok said loudly, “Hurry up, I’m starving.”

Just like that, the two of you walked away from each other and you had to tell yourself not to look back at him. You didn’t want to catch him doing the same before he went back to playing.

“Are you okay?” Hyeri asked, still laughing lightly, helping you shake off sand, “I was going to help you but then I saw you talking to that hot guy and I didn’t want to intervene.”

“So considerate,” you mumbled sarcastically, trying to hide your smile as you walked the steps up to the pier and forgot about whatever was happening on the sand.

The stranger really was attractive, and if he hadn’t toppled you over like it was nothing you might have stayed a little longer. When you spotted him below you couldn’t help but look him over. He wore a pair of blue and white striped swimming trunks and no shirt which gave you a good look at his muscular back and sleeve of tattoos. Compared to the players around him, he looked noticeably different from the rest and you kind of liked that.

“What are we eating?” You asked your friends who shrugged, still indecisive.

Hours after the sunset and Jungkook’s adrenaline from winning began to slowly settle down, he walked along the boardwalk with his partner. The two of them are trying to waste time for a while before their night plans come along.

“I know Yeaun is around here somewhere and if she’s here then that means Chae-hi isn’t far,” Jimin said looking around the crowded boardwalk while Jungkook followed behind lazily, “Which means a fun night for us so let’s find them.”

He could hear what Jimin was saying but he wasn’t truly listening. His attention had drifted away from the conversation the second he looked to the side and found a familiar silhouette in the distance. Well, not too familiar but he recognized it from when he crashed into you earlier.

You were with your friends at some jewelry stand looking over all the handmade bracelets and necklaces, such a short distance from him. He could easily make it over to you in no time.

“I don’t really want to see Yeaun,” Jungkook said, eyes trained on you. Jimin groaned in response, whipping back to his friend and shaking his head. He followed his line of sight and jumped in front of him.

“No, look over here, we’ve got plans,” Jimin said hoping to pull Jungkook’s attention away from some stranger, “We told Chae-hi and Yeaun we’d met them tonight.”

“No, you have plans, I never agreed to anything,” Jungkook said with a laugh, clearly amused. He tried to see if you were still there but when he looked back you were already walking away.

“Don’t be that way, think about me. Your best friend, who has been trying to get with Chae-hi for weeks now,” Jimin begged, making Jungkook sigh with defeat. He didn’t say anything as he motioned for Jimin to lead the way and went on with his life.

✧

There’s a story about how you found yourself moving into a beach house with your best friends for the summer. The opportunity sort of fell at your feet when Hoseok’s sister had to leave abroad for a couple months because of her job. She lived in a nice house on the beach that would need to be looked after and that’s when she decided to tell her younger brother about it.

Not long after, he came to you and Hyeri and asked if you wanted to join. It took a long time for him to convince you but when you realized how shitty life currently was back home, there was nothing holding you back.

Your first week has been fun getting to enjoy the warm water and sand between your toes. You’ve gotten into a bit of a routine in the area and you’ve begun to familiarize yourself with the roads and places. That’s probably why you were doing Hoseok a favor by helping him out today.

He’s busy taking care of some errands for his sister and asked if you could bring his car into the shop for some maintenance, considering Hyeri liked sleeping past noon, you had no choice but to agree to it all on your own.

“What can we do for you?” A guy in a dark gray button up and oil streaks across his hands asked you once you made it to the auto shop.

“Just an oil change.”

Jungkook had nearly forgotten about his encounter on the beach. There wasn’t much for him to remember anyway and he’s never been the type to hold onto something so meaningless. He carried on with his usual routine and busied himself away at work.

The shop he worked at was busy all of the time and it was a great distraction from whatever else happened in his life so he truly loved it. He loved getting to work with cars and getting his hands dirty. He worked with people he was friends with and sometimes, if he’s really lucky, someone who catches his attention will stagger in.

When he found you standing in the office with his boss signing papers he was visibly taken back. He had been too busy helping Namjoon take a wheel off a black Sedan, to notice when you came in but he was too late now. You were already finishing up whatever you were doing with Jin and leaving.

“I’ll be back,” Jungkook told Namjoon, tossing him the wrench he had been using and heading straight to the front.

You went across the street to the small diner and he had to think about this. Part of him didn’t feel the need to see you again, mostly because he was embarrassed by toppling you over and probably how he sounded. Part of him wanted to ask for your name, apologize and try and see if you’ll talk to him.

“I’m taking an early lunch,” Jungkook told him without much of a car as he hurried to clock out and leave for the diner.

You sat alone in a booth with your laptop open and scrolling through a website filled with job offers. It was partially out of boredom and a reminder that you needed to find somewhere for when you get back home. You could look for something in the field you used to study in but how far could you get with it?

“Excuse me,” he stood in front of you now, “I don’t know if you remember me from a few days ago but—“

“I remember,” you said blandly, looking up at Jungkook with a mixture of boredom and a small hint of possible curiosity. He looked very different with a shirt on, his abs weren’t as distracting but he still had an intimidating build. That’s why his pretty face surprised you under all that sweat and car grease. He was clearly one of the mechanics and has somehow made his way to you.

“Right, uh,” he swooped in to sit across from you, “I wanted to apologize. I didn’t mean to knock you down and sometimes when I’m playing, I kinda get a little too excited so I’m sure I was just talking and talking.”

You’re assuming he meant how he followed after you and smiled so arrogantly when you looked visibly annoyed with him. What you don’t get is why he’s apologizing again, you weren’t still upset over that.

“It’s fine,” you reminded him with a confused look, trying to read what he was really here for, “You work across the street?”

“Yeah, I’m Jungkook,” He finally introduced himself, “I saw you earlier and it was time for lunch so I came to talk to you.”

You didn’t say anything for a while and the silence wasn’t broken until the waitress came and asked what Jungkook would like. He brushed her off with a ‘Whatever she’s having’ and looked at you curiously.

“Okay,” You’re definitely not from around here because he would’ve recognized you so just who are you? He cleared his throat awkwardly, “Um, yknow, usually when someone gives you their name you say yours back.”

“Y/n,” You said distantly, “Can I ask you something?”

“Yes, anything,” Jungkook sat straighter, almost reaching up to fix his hair but stopping himself. He wasn’t nervous or anything but you’re not speaking to him with the same flirtatious tone and it’s confusing him.

“What are some fun things you can do around here other than the usual tourist stuff?” You asked him suddenly, “You are a local, I assume.”

“You assume right,” Jungkook nodded as he bit his lip in thought, “I could always show you better than I can tell you.”

“You’re a funny guy, y’know?” You smiled, “But seriously, what is there to do?”

He’s pretty sure that was just a rejection so it took him a moment to bounce back from it and tried to catch himself from doing it again.

By the time the car was ready, you were paying for your meal and hurrying to leave while Jungkook ate and enjoyed the last of his break. For the rest of the day he found himself thinking about you.

He’s lived a very repetitive and predictable life. Since early childhood he’s had the same classmates and friends, and gone to the same places and events. He’s known the same girls and has hung out with the same people for years. The only time he got any sense of independence is when he was gone for law school but now that he’s done and has returned home for the sake of his family and friends, he’s reminded once again of the repetitiveness.

Maybe that’s why he’s a little excited to meet someone new. He just had a strong feeling that you were more interesting than you let on and he wanted to know more.

He didn’t know that you felt the same and had to ignore these thoughts so you wouldn’t start anything with him. Jungkook was attractive and you’ve moved on from the fall aside from the slight bruising, and you were just trying to enjoy your time. Did you really need to meet someone?

In all honesty, he didn’t seem as arrogant covered in sweat, he looked good and he seemed nice.

But did that mean you wanted to waste your time with him?

✧

It was a crush, nothing but a small, schoolboy crush that occupied his mind from time to time. In all honesty, it was easy to ignore when he got carried away in his day to day life, it’s only when he sees you or you cross his mind for the shortest of seconds, that he finds himself getting lost. He doesn’t care for the girls his best friend likes to hang around, nor does he feel the need to upturn himself out there. Lately, all he’s wanted is to be with someone who makes him forget about himself and maybe he wasn’t looking in the right places if he thought you could help.

It was wishful thinking for him to hold so much thought over a stranger who couldn’t care less to know his name, but that’s what he liked. He wondered when he would run into you again, what he might say in hopes of getting a response and what would happen after that. He even wondered if you’d be at the beach tonight while everyone told ghost stories and drank bottles of Soju one after the other.

What does he say when he finally sees you looking at him?

You spotted him first, hating how much you wanted for him to look up and see you too. He was with his friends and you had no intentions to approach him but… well, he was cute. You can’t act like he isn’t and he’s oddly charming which makes him memorable but it was a bad idea. This trip was meant to be fun with your friends and that’s it—you weren’t going to make time for strangers.

“For once we don’t have to worry about an Uber and can walk our asses home,” Hoseok said standing over a keg, “So I don’t know about you guys, but I’m blacking out tonight.”

”When has anything ever stopped you from accomplishing that?” You asked him, turning your back to the familiar stranger, “You’re never the one ordering it anyway.”

”No, he’s usually the one we’re pushing into the backseat,” Hyeri joined in on the teasing.

“Shh, why do I always feel judged by you two? Is this what friends are for?” Hoseok pretended to be hurt as he filled your cup with beer.

“She’s not from around here, is she?” Jungkook asked as he looked across at you. You haven’t noticed him—he doesn’t think—but he’s noticed you and for some reason that excited him. Well, for one specific reason and it was simply the fact that he likes you. Does he know enough about you to pinpoint this statement? No, but he knows that he feels strange when you’re around. That has to mean something. The longest relationship he’s ever been in was with Yeaun and he doesn’t remember feeling this excited to meet someone.

“How would I know?” Jimin asked when a scoff, barely bothering to look over at you. He couldn’t help but roll his eyes, “You rather think about her than Yeaun? You’re insane.”

“Are you sure it’s Chae-hi you like and not Yeaun? You sure do bring her up around me a lot,” Jungkook rolled his eyes.

“Isn’t it obvious? I want you to get back together with Yeaun so that Chae-hi will think about me instead of her ‘heartbroken’ friend,” Jimin handed him a cup of beer, “Take one for the team.”

“No, I don’t think so,” He chuckled, “We broke up for a reason so don’t push it.”

“Not a good reason,” Jimin mumbled under his breath but Jungkook chose to ignore it.

“There you are,” the devil herself said as she found him, “We were wondering where you two ran off, right?”

“Right,” Chae-hi agreed, “Hi Jimin.”

“So, it’s kind of boring here isn’t it?” Yeaun asked looking at Jungkook for assurance, “Plus all the low lives are starting to come in and I really don’t want to be around any of them. We were wondering if you guys wanted to come back to mine.”

“To do what?” Jimin asked while Jungkook stood back disinterested and distracted. He couldn’t even pretend to be interested when he was focused on someone else entirely.

By pure luck, he looked back to see if you were still standing where you were before and this time you locked eyes with him. Without much care for the conversation he was supposed to be in right now, he walked off while they discussed plans involving a hot tub.

“I’m starting to think you’re following me,” Jungkook first said as you nearly bumped into him in an attempt to get closer to the bonfire. He walked alongside you with ease, “First, on the court, then at my job and now here?”

That made you snort in disbelief, shaking your head and trying not to smile, “Someone seems flattered but I think you have it the wrong way.”

“As in I’m the one doing the most to run into you? No, never,” Jungkook spoke dramatically, “This is all by chance. There’s no way I could’ve seen you from over there and decided to come and talk to you instead. That would make me seem desperate, wouldn’t it?”

“It would,” you agreed, slightly amused now as you broke into a small smile, “I didn’t take you as the type.”

“Well that’s because you haven’t tried to get to know me, I’m honestly a catch,” Jungkook joked lightly, following you where you walked off to, “Or are you scared?”

“Scared? Of what?” You asked, stopping abruptly and turning to face him with furrowed brows. He couldn’t help but smirk, “Oh I don’t know… getting to know someone new. You give me the vibe that you don’t like meeting new people.”

“I love meeting new people,” You exaggerated childishly, “When they don’t fall on top of me.”

“I caught myself, so let’s not lie now,” Jungkook snorted, “Besides, who’s the one who walked into the middle of a game?”

As he said that, the two of you seemed to have drifted far enough from where the fire had been going, that you found yourself not too far from one of the volleyball nets on the shore. Jungkook looked down at you with clear amusement as you looked up at the net and he walked up to the abandoned volleyball that sat in the sand.

“Do you eat, sleep, and breathe volleyball?” You jokingly asked, finally giving Jungkook some response that implied you were interested in him even slightly.

“Only on the weekends, sometimes around noon or after work if I’m free,” Jungkook told you, picking up the ball, “Do you play?”

“No,” you told him as he began to bounce the ball back and forth between his hands. You looked back at your friends who seemed preoccupied with whatever new friends they made for the night.

“It’s easy,” Jungkook said, “There’s really only one basic rule, don’t let the ball touch the ground.”

“Are you giving me a lesson now?” You asked with slight amusement as he moved to the other side of the net, “I’m warning you, I won’t be any good at it.”

“I’ll take it easy on you,” Jungkook tossed the ball your way and although you reached out to hit it, you missed and it landed a few feet behind you. He couldn’t help but laugh, “Okay, maybe you try and throw it.”

“But how do I throw it?” You looked up the tall net wondering how you would make it over. You held it up and tried doing a practice hit while he tried teaching you.

“Just try a simple serve, you can hit it from under or thro—“

“Oh my god,” you broke out into a nervous laugh as Jungkook covered his face with his hand. The ball sat at his feet, completely oblivious to the fact it had just pummeled straight into his face. You covered your mouth in an attempt to stop laughing but you were embarrassed and couldn’t do anything but try and laugh it off, “I’m so sorry.”

“Really? I can’t tell?” Jungkook said sarcastically, sounding eerily similar to you when you first met but still playful. In all honesty, the pain wasn’t too bad but it was humiliating and the only thing he could think about is how you’re trying not to laugh, “You think it’s funny?”

“No! No, I don’t, I just um,” you tried to stop, “I just…”

“You just what?” Jungkook looked at you, slowly making his way to your side and you inadvertently began to step back, worried he might actually be upset, “You like laughing at causing other people pain?”

“Did it actually hurt?” You asked with surprise, still stepping back the closer he got.

“My ego, yeah,” he joked, “And I feel like we need to get even.”

“We did, think about it as me getting back at you for the other day!” You tried to say, feeling the edge of the ride begin to touch your feet the farther you walked from him.

“Really? So this was all part of revenge?” Jungkook asked, “I don’t think so, I suggest you run.”

“What?” You stopped to think, “Jungk—“

And it began. He kicked water at you once the tide was close again and without thinking, you jumped back. You weren’t wearing a bathing suit or anything appropriate for the water so he can’t. You’re in a simple top and flowy, long skirt, not something you wanted wet, “Don’t you dare.”

“Why? Scared of a little water?” He tried to kick water again but this time you moved back in time and he smirked, “It’s better than getting hit in the face. Will you take care of me if I get a concussion?”

You scoffed, laughing, “Don’t you wis—Jungkook!”

He ran after you as you took off in a jog and before he knew it, you were splashing water back at him, not caring about how wet you got. The night was young and you were having a good time, there wasn’t much to worry about other than making sure you got Jungkook before he could get you.

Not far from where the two of you played in the ocean with the moon reflecting against the waves, a few pairs of eyes watched you unimpressed. Jimin didn’t have much to think about the matter, he just couldn’t understand it. Why would Jungkook waste his time on someone he didn’t even know?

Yeaun was right here desperate to have him back and instead he’s wandered off with some stranger acting childish. It doesn’t make sense, and neither does the big grin on Jungkook’s face once he caught you and tackled you into the low tide, both getting drenched in water.

“Jungkook!” He ignored the call of his name as he watched you shake sand out of your hair with curiosity. You looked annoyed even if you smiled and he knows you probably are considering he pushed you into the water but you’re not cussing him out yet. You’re not screaming at him for getting you into the water so maybe it was a good sign.

“Are we even now?” You asked breathlessly as you looked forward to where your friends were and turned away from Jungkook.

“I guess, for now at least,” He teased, walking toward Jimin, “It depends on if I bruise or not.”

“I didn’t hit you that hard,” you scoffed, smiling and shaking your head in disbelief. At some point in your ascend back up the shore, Jungkook got you to finally give him your number. You didn’t question when his friend approached him, going on about something you didn’t bother listening to and turned in search for someone you knew.

“You look like you need a towel,” someone said from your right. It took you a second to realize she was talking to you, much less holding out a clean towel for you.

“Thanks,” you said, trying to wipe off some of the sand with the beach towel the stranger handed to you. Hyeri was off talking with some guy and you had no clue where Hoseok was so as of now, you were on your own here. The girl was pretty and she seemed nice enough so you didn’t mind responding to her approach.

“I’m getting sand all over it,” you tried to make some sort of conversation, “Sorry, I’m Y/n.”

“Don’t even worry about it, I’m Yeaun,” She said with a smile, “You’re not from around here, are you?”

“Is it that obvious?” You asked, laughing lightly. Yeaun just shrugged as she got closer to you, “Not really, but, well… there’s just some people you should always avoid.”

Your brows began to furrow with confusion, “Like?”

“No, I don’t want to start anything,” she shook her head no, “We don’t know each other and you’ll probably think I’m meddling but… okay, Jeon Jungkook.”

You didn’t say anything to that as you tried to get a good look at the girl. Yeaun was pretty with sun-kissed skin and golden hair that shone under the moonlight. She seemed soft and glowed with a brightness that felt contagious but you didn’t know her. You don’t know why she brought up Jungkook or why she even approached you so you had nothing to say back to her.

“I just mean… you’re not from around here and you seem smart,” Yeaun said sympathetically, “Jungkook’s kind of a known player and I don’t want you to fall for his tricks, trust me, he’s not worth it.”

“Trust me, it’s not like that,” you said, suddenly disinterested in conversation with her and more focused on finding your friends, “Thanks for looking out for me though.”

Yeaun watched you walk away and not bother to turn back and she had to leave like it didn’t bother her to be brushed to the side. She can’t tell if you took what she said into consideration or if you couldn’t care less and she didn’t like that. She didn’t like that she didn’t know you and she didn’t know about your relationship with Jungkook or how you know him.

✧

His life was utterly perfect to anyone who thought about it. He had the bestest of friends, the closest family, the most money and a promising future. Everything he had ever wanted was handed right to him and in a sense, it made him arrogant. It was a given that he would end up that way and maybe that’s why he’s always surrounded himself with people of the like. He didn’t despise any of his friends, just sometimes, when he listened to the conversations they would have, he wanted to disagree.

“Yeaun said you’ve been avoiding her,” Jin said as he pulled a golf club out of his bag.

”Great, now you’re talking about her too?” Jungkook asked, lining his club up with a shiny white golf ball, “I already get enough of it from my parents and Jimin.”

“Well yeah, when you suddenly call off a year long engagement with someone you’ve known all your life, people question it,” Jin said, watching Jungkook swing the club back and shoot the ball into the air, “We’re worried about you.”

“Don’t be,” Jungkook mumbled, “Besides, there’s someone else, I don’t know if you know her, her name’s Y/n.”

“Doesn’t ring a bell,” Jin shrugged, moving his visor down to block more of the summer sun out of his eyes. He wore white golfing gloves and a pair of Raybans, making him look straight out of a country club catalog.

Jungkook sighed, growing more restless by the minute. He’s only seen you on few occasions and he’s yet to leave a good impression on you where he can ask for your number or something, “She was hanging out with this guy, I know you know him but I can’t think of his name—you dated his sister.”

“Hoseok?” Jin asked, “I remember hearing about how he was in town. How do you know this isn’t his girlfriend you’re hitting on?”

“It’s not,” Jungkook said, “I don’t think. I don’t know.”

“But what about her?” Jin asked, hopping in the passenger’s side of the golf cart, “You don’t know a thing about the girl but you like her and you’re willing to throw away your future because of it.”

“I’m not throwing anything away,” Jungkook said with a scoff, “But whatever, you don’t get it.”

He spent the evening golfing on a private course not far from the beach where you wandered around with a book in hand.

You enjoyed passing time with your friends but sometimes, you just needed time to yourself and you would find yourself wandering off on your own without much care for anything else. Your friends didn’t mind when you went off and you always made sure to tell them where you would go so there was never any problem. Ever since you got here, you’ve been doing things on your own.

“I knew I would find you around here.”

You didn’t respond at first, still debating if the person was talking to you, but one look up told you he was. Although you wanted to resist the urge to smile, you couldn’t help it.

“Stalker,” You said with a small sigh, closing your book. He didn’t say anything as he took a seat down in the sand next to you. “You’re on my turf, remember? What are you reading by the way?”

You glanced at the cover of your book, “Nothing exciting—how’d you know I was here?”

“I looked for a dark, brooding figure and assumed it was you,” Jungkook joked, “And just an fyi, my face still hurts.”

“I’m sure you've been hit worse,” You said sarcastically, sitting up and watching him get comfortable. He was dressed in a light color linen button up and shorts, the first buttons were undone and a cliche shell necklace sat perfectly against his collarbone. He was attractive and you’ve thought so since the beginning but something was holding you back.

Did you really want to waste your time on a stranger you won’t know in a few months?

“What are you doing tonight?” He asks suddenly.

“Sleeping, hopefully,” you told him, a small smile when you noticed him roll his eyes.

“It’s the summer, the sun’s out, you live on the beach—don’t look at me like that, it’s a small town. Word gets around when a new person shows up,” Jungkook said with a shrug, knowing it’s him who had been asking about you.

“You’re just solidifying my stalker allegations, should I report you?” You asked, laughing slightly.

“I’ll have you know, a lot of people would love to be stalked by me, you should feel flattered,” He nudged your knee with his.

“What? Like it’s hard? Word gets around,” You said to him, “I’ve already been warned about getting too close to you.”

Jungkook let his brows furrow as he took in what you said but it didn’t take long for it to dawn on him. As much as he wanted to act like there was no way his ex girlfriend would approach you, he knew her too well. Who else would talk down on him? Who else would feel threatened when he ignores them? What does she think she gains from telling you to stay away from him? Isn’t it his decision who he approaches and does she think you’re just going to fall in line like everyone else does?

This is the sort of thing that pisses him off. He’s not a bad guy at all, he doesn’t sleep around, he focuses on his goals, he has fun with his friends… so why?

“But if it makes you feel any better, I’m not very good at listening to what I’m told,” You finally said, standing up with your book in hand and pulling the sand-covered towel, “And I’m starving, so where’s a good place to eat around here?”

As much as he wanted to act like the cool guy and seem indifferent, he couldn’t help but break out into a grin. Without wasting another second, he got up and motioned to carry your things, “There’s a good food shack on the boardwalk. I guess I could show you around.”

“If it isn’t too much of a hassle,” You said playfully, handing him your things.

“So, I want to know, what’s a big city girl like yourself doing all the way over here?” He asked on the way up, “Or do you still want to play at being mysterious?”

You rolled your eyes, “I don't usually play games like that, I think you’ve got me confused with someone else. I just don’t talk if I have nothing to say.”

“Interesting take, I personally never know when to shut up,” Jungkook smiled, pointing up to the restaurant and walking in behind you, “But seriously, usually the tourists come to pollute our water and get away.”

“Are you always so observant? You give me the vibe that you like to watch other people,” You told him, sitting down at a high round table across from him.

“And you give me the vibe that you hate talking about yourself. Why else would you avoid every question I ask?” He asked, raising a brow making you scoff but you couldn’t deny it. When the server brought out your menus, she made sure to greet Jungkook like old friends.

“Do you really care to know?” You asked quietly.

“Why else would I ask? I’m not pretending to be interested, if that’s what you think,” Jungkook said honestly.

You didn’t say anything for a moment, looking down at the menu contemplating what to order and what to say, “Things were getting a little too complicated back home and my friend asked if I wanted to pack up my things and follow him down for the summer and I said yes.”

“How broad,” Jungkook said with a small smile, lifting a brow and waiting to see if you would add to it.

“It’s the truth,” you shrugged.

“What was complicated?” Jungkook asked.

He looked amused when you narrowed your eyes in response to his probing. “Adulting.”

“You’ll figure it out,” Jungkook shrugged, waiting for the server to come back to take your orders. He let you order first, watching the server give you a look as she listened and followed after with his own.

“How wise of you to say. What about you?” You asked him, handing the menus back and sliding your drink closer to you.

Jungkook distracted himself playing with the wrapper of his straw and shrugged, “What about me? We’ll get to me when you give me the juicy details.”

You couldn’t help but scoff, looking out the window to the view of the waves crashing against the shore, “What? I told you everything.”

He chuckled, “Barely.”

Rolling your eyes, “Rude.”

“Really?” He asked, biting back a smile.

“No. You’re actually pretty nice,” once again, you sighed, as if admitting that was hard for you.

“Nice? That’s what you tell a guy when you’re going to reject him. I just want to know more about you but there’s not much I can go with. How long are you staying?” Jungkook finally asked you.

“A couple months, are you already dreading it when I leave?” You asked, sounding sarcastic and amused.

“Maybe, you’ve left an impression despite what you might think. Crushing you under my incredible physique was destiny.” He could tell you wanted to laugh but were refusing to do so.

“Corny.”

“Funny.” He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back in his chair and making it known that he was going to wait for you however long it took.

“I had this bad roommate situation I couldn’t take anymore and my lease doesn’t end for another two months so when Hobi asked me to come with I jumped at the chance. I left my job because it’s draining me and I felt useless so I figured it’d be easier to run away to the beach and deal with it all later. Happy? I was honest.” You rushed the words, half-assed the pace.

It was his turn to narrow his eyes suspiciously but gave in, “Content. You’ll figure it out, you don’t seem like the type to wait around for things to fix themselves.”

“Really? Because that feels like what I’m doing right now. I’m all the way over here where I haven’t done anything but run into this strange guy at the beach who I think might be stalking me,” You said, joking at the end.

“No, right now you’re trying to live in the moment, nothing wrong with that,” he chuckled, ignoring your joke.

You don’t remember much of what you said to him but for some reason Jungkook was very easy to talk to. Maybe it’s because you don’t really know him or expect anything from him at all but he got you too open up to him like you’ve known him for years. In reality you didn’t know anything about him or anyone here for that matter.

“Okay, okay, enough about me. It’s your turn,” you had finally said between mouthfuls of whatever the two of you ordered and Jungkook couldn’t avoid it any longer.

“Alright, I’m… also trying to figure things out on my own. I’m used to being with certain people and doing certain things and I don’t know, at one point I kind of got fed up with everything being so predictable. I want to meet people on my own and not because they know who I am or something,” He rushed his words, “If I could, I’d move far away from here but right now I don’t think that’s an option so I settle for next best and stick it out. In all honesty, everything’s kind of been a bore until I met you, you’re different.”

You raised a brow, mirroring his earlier stance and crossing your arms over your chest, unamused, “How?”

He smirked, “I don’t know yet, I can just tell.”

You never believe a guy when he goes on about how different you are from other girls because usually they’re just full of shit. You’re not good at picking the right person so it makes you wary to believe anything he says despite how good he looks saying it.

By the time the bill came, the server made sure to sit it without checking if that’s what either of you wanted but you didn’t hesitate to reach for yours. Jungkook snatched the small slip out of your hand and hurried the server back so he could pay for it in full, giving her a tight smile, “Just one check, thanks.”

“Sure thing,” she said with a light scoff that had you looking after her with furrowed brows. Something about the way she acted left you feeling confused.

“What a good first date.” Jungkook said at the end, walking outside with you.

“This wasn’t a date,” you teased, thanking him for the meal nevertheless, “But I should probably call it a night, y’know.”

“Oh yeah, me too,” Jungkook shrugged “But if you’re not doing anything tomorrow night, we should see each other again.”

“Hm, I’ll think about it,” You said playfully, “If I’m not busy.”

“You won’t be,” He smirked, bumping your shoulder with his as the walk turned bumpy and more trail-like as he walked you home, “But why don’t you give me your number and we can talk about it more on the phone.”

“Hah, smooth guy, aren’t you?” You asked, taking his phone and typing your number in. When you got to the soft trail of greenery and sand that led up to the backyard of the beach house.

“How about we watch the last few minutes of the sun set together,” he reached for your head and stopped you before you could head up the wooden steps.

“How about you don’t kidnap my friend for the whole evening!” Hoseok shouted suddenly, tripping over his own feet as he ran out the sliding glass door that led to the pool deck, “I’ve been worried sick about Y/n.”

“Not true, he’s been sleeping!” Hyeri yelled after him, “But you’re the guy who tackled my best friend on our first day here.”

“My reputation precedes me,” Jungkook held his hands up in surrender, “I’m Jungkook. I was just asking if you guys wanted to join us and watch the sun set.”

“How aesthetic, let me grab some bottles of Soju.”

Your attempt to end your time with Jungkook failed and he seemed pleased with himself for that. He was also polite enough to try and get to know your friends too.

✧

He was having a crisis, he thinks. A real life identity crisis because for the first time in his life he thinks he likes someone—in a way he’s never liked anyone before. It’s pathetic and makes him feel so stupid because he barely knows anything about you but it’s the truth. If anything that’s what makes him like you so much. He likes that he can’t tell what you’ll say or how you’ll react to him, it’s exciting.

He just wants to know if he’s on your mind too.

“We’re still on for this weekend right?”

“What are we doing again?” The road ahead was a scenic path between mountain and sea that led all the way to this private property of his childhood home.

“Chae-hi’s birthday trip.” Jimin spoke from the passenger’s seat of the black pick-up truck his best friend paraded in when he wasn’t on his dirtbike.

“Oh, yeah I’m not going. I was thinking of taking Y/n sailing,” Jungkook said with a small smile, looking sideways, unable to miss the way Jimin stiffened and went silent. He looked back to the road, hand tightening around the steering wheel slightly, “What?”

“Nothing,” Jimin scoffed, looking out the window annoyed now. The drive was silent for a while, nothing but the low sound of music and wind blowing through the topless truck.

“What’s up with you lately?” He finally asked, “You barely know the girl and she’s all you talk about. We’ve had plans to go with everyone.”

By everyone he meant their mutual friends—not just his ex and her friend—which made things worse. He’s known them all for years and it’s hard to see them when he wants to move on and do his own thing. Jungkook tried not to let Jimin’s tone ruin his mood and sighed, “Sorry, man, but I’m not going. Are we playing later or what?”

“You sure you’re not busy with your new friends?” Jimin asked, remembering about the night Jungkook had dinner with you. He tried calling him that night to see if he wanted to go out for drinks just to be rejected because Jungkook was too busy with you and your friends.

Jungkook chuckled, “Don’t be jealous, you’ll always be first in my heart.”

“Oh fuck off,” Jimin rolled his eyes, trying to not sound bitter as he asked, “What’s your girl doing anyway?”

“Y/n’s not my girl—yet, I don’t know. She hasn’t texted back,” Jungkook said worriedly, making Jimin stare at him strangely.

It’s not that he had anything against you personally, he just doesn’t get it. You’re a complete stranger who won’t stick around so why has his best friend chosen to hang out with you so much recently. What did you have over the people he’s known all his life? What do you bring to the table?

What did you gain from being around Jungkook?

You couldn’t explain it either. All you really knew was that a cute guy who sort of annoyed you in the beginning was starting to rub off on you. You’ve come to enjoy running into him and forcing yourself to open up because he’ll listen. It made you feel weird in a good way. You wanted to think about how fun it was to be around him and ignore all the worries you’ve had recently.

Even with your close friends, you’ve long since stopped talking about the people you were interested in. It wasn’t because you didn’t trust them or want their advice but sometimes you didn’t feel the need to say anything—especially if it was harmless fun. That’s why when Hyeri approached you about Jungkook, you weren’t sure what to say.

“It’s no fair,” Hyeri picked through a crate of strawberries, dropping them into a basket, “I wanted to find a little beach boyfriend, why’d you get lucky instead.”

“What are you talking about?” You asked dumbly, following her down the aisle of produce at the farmer’s market.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Hyeri said accusingly, “Jungkook.”

“We’re just hanging out,” You said with a shrug that made her laugh, pushing her sunglasses into her hairline. You knocked against one end of a green watermelon, hoisting it in your hands and continuing past her.

“Right, is that what you called your date the other night? Just a nice early dinner with a hot guy who asked to watch the sunset with you?” She said playfully, “You like him, don’t you.”

“I don’t know him,” You insisted. Yes, you’ve talked a lot with Jungkook recently and you’ve begun to talk about real things in your lives but did that really mean anything? “Besides, in a month and a half I’ll be in my new place settling back into the old routine. It’s just fun hanging out with him, nothing more, it’d be too complicated.”

“Whatever you say,” Hyeri sighed.

You’re lying, obviously you’re lying because you do sort of like him but you didn’t want to think about it. You didn’t want to think about what you could become, you only want to think about now and how things progress. Whatever happens, happens. That’s it. Could you pretend like you have no worries aside from who you’ll run into on the beach instead?

When your phone rang, you knew immediately who it could’ve been and although Hyeri walked ahead, acting like she couldn’t hear it, she was clearly listening. When you answered Jungkook’s call, he was quick to ask about your plans for the upcoming weekend.

✧

“You want to take me sailing?”

Despite the early hours where the sun has yet to shine through, you still couldn’t wrap your mind around it. Even walking along the dock following after Jungkook who led the way through the darkness of the starry sky. “Or are you plotting my murder?”

“Which would you prefer I do?” He asked teasingly, looking back at you with a grin, “But seriously, it’ll be fun.”

Fun wasn’t waking up before the sun did, nor was it following a man you barely know out to the sea. If it weren’t for Hyeri begging you to take up his offer, you wouldn’t be here right now.

The sailing yacht was bigger than you expected with a small cabin area below deck to sleep and wash up in. You’ve never been on a sailboat before but you didn’t think they would look this nice and clean.

“This is yours?” You asked, watching him put in the arm work to undo the rope that tied the boat to the dock.

“Um, yeah,” Jungkook answered blandly, “Kinda?”

“Kinda?”

“Yeah, it’s mine,” he cleared his throat, helping you carry your bag down to the room before bringing you back up to the galley, “I used to be on a sailing team when I was in school and after I graduated I got this for my friends and I.”

“Nice,” You looked around, still in shock at the size of the sails. It was a Beneteau Oceanis 48 with such a sleek, clean look you were scared to sit on any part of it. You wanted to ask how much it was but resisted the urge to, scared you’d sound rude.

Still half asleep, you watched Jungkook set sail behind the wheel, his jacket already off and the sleeves of his linen shirt.

“Sleep a little, we’ve got time,” he said lastly.

It went easy between you two, you felt comfortable and for some reason safe with him enough to letyourself relax around him. You can't remember falling asleep but at some point you had and when you were woken up it was with him dropping anchor in the middle of the open sea.

The waves were calm, breathtaking deep blue and you could see the line of gold separating the ocean from the sky. It was beginning to warm up but you still shivered in your thin sweater, looking up feeling awestruck by the view.

"Look who's finally awake," Jungkook said softly as he secured the wheel and came over to where you sat. He grabbed his jacket — that he had grown too hot for — and placed it over your front. You took in the light scent of his cologne that lingered on the Northface and thanked him, "You said I could sleep."

"I know," he sat across from you, looking at you with a gentle look on his eyes, "I did wake you up pretty early, but look at the view. Do you like it?"

"Yeah, it's nice," You leaned against the edge of the seat, staring down at the dark navy blue water, almost catching your reflection in it. The line of gold was beginning to widen and a circle of light was bouncing off the ocean beautifully. "If you plan on pushing me over the edge, now's the time."

"You're dumb," he laughed, kicking your foot with his playfully. You smiled, trying not to laugh as you looked at him, "Aren't you cold?"

"No, it's hard work getting a sail boat out and I was starting to sweat," Jungkook lifted an arm, flexing it, "But these guns never fail me."

"That's too bad, I was hoping you'd want to keep me warm but I don't want you to overheat," You teased, looking at him invitingly and his eyes shifted to the open space next to you. To set it off, you even winked.

"You know what, now that you mention it, being surrounded by this sea breeze is making me a little chilly," Jungkook pretended to shiver as he got up.

"The sun's rising, I'm sure you'll warm up again really soon," You said as he sat next to you, touching your leg and making you put it on his lap.

"Who knows, I'm suddenly freezing, come closer," he rested his arm on the back of your seat, pulling you onto his lap, "I heard body heat is good to warm up."

"You can always just put your jacket on," You pretended to argue making him roll your eyes, almost sassily.

"But you look so much better in it," He brushed hair out of your face that the wind blew over, finger softly tracing the side of your face.

"I hate to admit this but... you're too good to be true," You said honestly, shifting your gaze away, "Like, too perfect."

"But I'm not," Jungkook argued quietly, "I'm just... I don't know, I'm not acting like myself—or maybe I am and haven't realized it but I think it's you. I want to impress you."

You didn't know how to respond but he didn't mind. He was more focused on the soft glimmer in your eye as you watched the sky turn a powder blue with orange, hearing the seagulls and light whooshing sound of the sails.

It's bad how affected you're leaving him and you don't even know it.

"Y/n," Jungkook tried getting your attention again, leaned his head against your shoulder. You didn't have to say anything to know what he was asking. The first soft brush of his lips against your jaw had you succumbing to his effect. He tilted your chin with the tip of his fingers, catching your lips with his, finally.

How do you describe it?

How do you explain how soft and tender his lips felt? How his fingers grazing your skin sent a shiver down your spine and how he was surprisingly very loving with his affection?

This man who you barely knew and trusted too much was making you melt in his arms, kissing you and making it feel like you've never been kissed before.

"This is bad," he mumbled against your lips, pulling back to catch his breath, eyes still closed, "I really like you."

You gave him one quick peck of a kiss, sitting up, "Tell me all about it then."

Jungkook couldn't he'll but crack a grin, licking the taste of you off his lips. He wouldn't be able to shut up if he did.

You're beautiful, stunning, truly.

Even with your face in sand or your hair a mess, a scowl or pout, just beautiful to him. It was so stupid for him to be swayed by that but it's obviously what pulled him in first.

You were so mean—he thought, at least—but it never stopped him from approaching you. It's like he knew it wasn't your intention to come off so cold and when you'd joke back with him, he could see the hint of mischief in your eyes. It made him want to push your buttons or say something he knew would get a reaction from you.

You're different and he wishes it didn't sound so stupid like he knew you would think if he ever told you but you are. You're like no one he's met—really met, beyond surface level interests or habits. You responded differently, looked at him differently, treated him different.

"I won't shut up if I do," he said honestly, "Can't I just show you, instead?"

"How suggestive," you giggled, letting him kiss you again. There was more force to it this time, like he really meant it. The first one was firm and teasing, really testing the waters when his hand disappeared into your hair to keep you from pulling away.

You were spending the golden hour of the late sunrise with Jungkook sailing on a boat in the ocean. The view was amazing and his lips were so soft.

His lip ring is surprisingly warm when it brushes your lips, and his tongue feels slick against yours. He held you closely making you feel secure and safe [?], and at one point you made it onto his lap, practically straddling him.

You pressed closer to him eagerly and the movement makes his hands travel toward your hips for support, his jacket long forgotten on the floor. The seat was hard underneath him but if he mentioned it you might pull away and that's the last thing he wanted in the moment. Jungkook liked kissing you, he liked feeling your lips trail down his jaw and toward his neck where you didn't shy away from leaving open mouth kissed against his Adam's apple or under his ear.

"Y/n—" his hands circled around you tighter, "Have you gotten a good look at the cabin?"

Your brows furrowed momentarily, looking down the short steps to the cabin door where a big bed was seen through the window, "No, want to show me?"

You began to get up from Jungkook's lap, making his hands slide off down your hip, leading you to the cabin.

Jungkook wasn’t as subtle as he hoped to be when he pressed you into his chest, peppering your shoulder with light and teasing kisses taking you further into the room. A small smile played on your lips when you turned to face him, circling your arms around his neck.

He didn’t question it when you walked him toward the bed instead, making him sit down as you kissed and straddling him once more. You were a good kissed and Jungkook could attest to that by the way your tongue slid between his lips to seek his out. It was a surprise for you to be so forward with him but he wasn’t complaining at all. If anything it made him want to take it further. He wasn’t shy with his touches anymore and you could feel his hands circle down to your butt, pressing you firmly into his lap.

It was hard to ignore his arousal from your simple make-out. It was evident in his shorts and it made you want to keep going. You began to rock your hips against him lightly, feeling his growing bulge apply pressure between your legs.

“Can we get this off?” Jungkook asked about your jacket first, feeling you miles away and when you unzipped it, you pulled off your shirt too leaving him breathless, “You’re bolder than I thought.”

“Is that a bad thing?” You asked, watching his fingers trace down your bare sides, looking at your bra and chest. His finger hooked into the hem of your jeans as if to teasingly ask if they can come off next and you gave him the go ahead, starting to unbutton his shirt for him.

“Never,” he sighed, eyes closing when your hands touched his muscular chest. His hands snuck under her jeans playing with your underwear and grinding your hips against his worn more purpose drawing out a small groan in the process.

When your hips began to move on their own, teasing his aching member, he leaned forward to kiss along your neck, finding your pulse points with ease and reaching behind you for the clasp of your bra to get it off next.

Your arms circled his neck, hugging his head close to feel his lips on your skin and moved your hips with more determined rhythm. You’d be lying if you said his kisses weren’t turning you on and sending shivers down your spine. Jungkook slid your bra off letting it hit the floor while you wrestled his opened shirt off his shoulders and hugged him in a kiss.

“You’re so sexy,” Jungkook whispered, kissing the soft mound of your breasts, “Even when I had you in the ground covered in sand that’s all I could think about.”

“And here I thought it was my personality that drew you in,” You teased, letting him finally turn you on your back beneath him. He pulled your jeans off leaving you in your small slither of panty.

“Trust me, it did,” Jungkook said, kissing along your thighs, “Hurt my feelings that the pretty girl from the beach couldn’t care less about me.”

“A real shot to your ego,” you raised your knees

Jungkook leaned forward to catch your lips in a kiss, hovering over your body, “It really was.”

A small gasp left your lips as you felt his hand trace down the curve of your sides, slipping into your underwear and feeling the soft slope of your nether region. Your thighs parted more, letting his finger tease your clit.

“I wasn’t too impressed in the beginning,” You joked, lifting your hips when you felt his finger begin to feel around your folds, surely finding where the slick began to puddle. He used the wetness to coat your clit, raising a light sigh from your lips there he swallowed in a kiss.

“I’m well aware,” Jungkook whispered against your lips. You rose your hips to meet his hand, finding some stimulation that made your body respond with raise bumps in pleasure, “What about now?”

As he asked, his coated middle finger finally pressed into your wet cunt, with his palm against your clit and grinding into it as he pushed his finger into the hilt. You dug your nails into his tatted forearm to ground yourself against the sudden feeling and holding back the loud moan that almost slipped. He smiled, clearly amused by your reaction. He maneuvered his hand around so his thumb could find your clit and with it covered in your arousal it made the slide so much easier.

Jungkook’s long finger slide into your pussy with slight restriction, curling when he pushed all the way in and finding that sweet spot that had your breath hitching and probing at it. You were at a loss for words and he loved it, it made him want to kiss you as he brought you pleasure with just his hand. He wasn’t even asking for a response anymore, he was just trying to tell you how he’s felt while he makes you feel good on an expensive sail boat in the sea.

The sunrise had long been forgotten and replaced by the thought of how good he made you feel and he was happy about that.

"Oh, fuck." You gasped, gripping his armas he hooks his finger at just the right angle. You didn’t even have to tell him that was the spot that made your toes curl, it’s like he just knew it.

"Like it?" He asked, repeating his previous action, kissing along your neck for added stimulation.

He could feel you on edge of orgasm by the way you pinched his arm but he didn’t care about the slight sting. He cared more for the glazed look in your eyes, walls tightening around his finger.

It’s like he knew exactly when the last push would be, and his pace grew more rough, ready to get you there and finally your body gave way to pleasure.

“Pretty,” Jungkook said softly, feeling your release around his hand, letting you ride out your high and pulling his hand back when you were ready. Your breathing was shallow and the sight of your breasts falling and rising with each breath was hypnotizing. When he pulled back, he couldn’t stand the constriction of his shorts anymore. Without thinking, he licked your release off his hand before yanking his shorts down along with his usual Calvin Kleins.

Jungkook didn’t say he was ready to go further, but you could tell just by the way his cock sprung free from its confines. It was pretty and long, not too think nor skinny and fit his physique perfectly. He stroked himself here and there for some friction but didn’t hurry you along. Instead, he let you catch your breath as he watched in awe at the fact that he had you in bed with him.

“Come here,” you motioned for him to come closer with your index finger and sat up, fully naked before him and getting him in the bed with you. Jungkook followed in a trance, kissing you thoughtlessly and nearly biting your lip in surprise when your fingers touched the tip of his dick, feeling the pre-cum that leaked from the slit.

You barely had your hand wrapped around his pretty cock, giving him a small jerk up his length when his fingers circled around your waist to stop you, “Not tonight.”

You tried to read the expression in his eyes but he just kissed you lovingly, “I want to feel you, all of you.”

“What a giver,” You said playfully, kissing the tip of his nose and laying back with him following after you. He held your legs apart, lining his cock at your entrance, “Can I? I’ll pull out.”

You gave a nod of your head, looking down as his cock pressed forward, aching to feel the tightness of your wet walls hugging him.

You’re not sure what came over you then, but the feel of his dick pushing past your entrance made you feel bold. Your leg hooked around his waist, pulling him forward and watching how his jaw went slack. Jungkook looked down at how eagerly you took him and his arms nearly gave out, eyes rolling as he processed the sudden pleasure.

You still needed a moment to adjust to his size and he practically fused himself to your body, trapping you beneath his muscular figure, “Fuck.”

His movements were slow at first, thrusting gently to find what felt good and what didn’t, running gentle hands over your breasts so he could feel the fullness of them. When he thrusted his hard length in, his thumbs were circled your nipples, pulling his cock out and pinching at them. Something about the leg you had around him drove him wild, feeling your territoriality over him even if there was a chance it meant nothing.

“Jungkook,” you moaned softly at a particularly harsh thrust, scratching at his back unintentionally, “Feels good.”

Something was happening inside of him that he couldn’t explain. He wanted to say things he shouldn’t, things that were too soon to admit and he had to bite his tongue to stop himself. The only other way he could stop himself from sounding like a fool was with his mouth on you and the closest thing to him were your perky nipples.

Jungkook never slowed the steady pace he set fucking you but with the added pleasure to your chest, his tongue circling around your nipple and sucking lightly, had you seeing stars. You’d nearly forgotten where you were till you looked out the windows, seeing the clear sky and the pretty water making this all feel more surreal.

Jungkook hugged you close, hand gripping your thigh and inching it higher around himself as he fucked you rougher, taking pleasure in bringing you close again and this time around he couldn’t bother being as gentle. He wanted to, he swears, but he’s so turned on by you that he couldn’t be patient at all. You didn’t even seem to mind when his hips slammed into yours, turning you to lay on your side, fucking yourself on his cock with more vigor knowing he needed release too, and let him manhandle you however he wanted. His free hand snuck into your hair, pulling slightly when he dragged you into another kiss and groaned against your lips.

Neither of you had to say anything to know you were both close, and it made you impatient. You moaned at the roughness, letting yourself get lost in the feeling unripe you couldn’t take it anymore, once again cumming with little control of yourself. He held you so roughly to his body, not letting you go as you struggled to catch your breath and you knew it was taking everything in him to not let go inside you. That’s the only thing that had you pushing away from him, trying to sneak a hand down to touch him but the second you did, his cock spilled thick cum into your hand, creamy and white. You wanted a taste badly.

Jungkook moaned your name quietly, feeling pathetic to cum so easily by your hand but he couldn’t hold back anymore. It took him longer to bounce back than you, and when he opened his eyes he caught you pressing a finger to your tongue, taking a small taste that left him shuddering.

“Don’t do that,” his voice said, raspy and tired tone.

“You did it to me,” You said, licking your finger clean, “And you made a mess.”

“Sorry,” he couldn’t help but pout, looking surprisingly cute to you even with his hair a sweaty mess and the afterglow of sex on his naked body, “Kiss?”

A grin spreads over his face when you lean in to kiss him, happily kissing you back more gently now.

“Would I sound wimpy if I said I needed a nap?” It pained him to even ask but he was suddenly so tired and relaxed in your arms. It made him feel unmanly to even think to ask but he couldn’t help it, he could lay in bed all day with you if it was an option, “We can worry about breakfast later—perhaps when it’s consider lunch or an afternoon snack.”

You laughed softly, snuggling into him further, “Let me at least clean up a little and then we can sleep for as long as you want.”

Jungkook smiled happily, letting you leave to the bathroom as he hurriedly tugged the bedding off. He wasn’t too worried about the boat, knowing he properly set anchor and the water was calm today. If anything the light rocking of the boat could lull him to sleep if you were in his arms.

“Are you sick of me yet?” Jungkook asked, watching you drift in and out of sleep as he drove away from the shipping dock. It was the evening and the hours spent in the open sun was exhausting, even with how sweet it felt. At least he thinks you might feel that way.

If he were being honest, he could still be with you longer. There hadn’t been enough hours in the day for him, “Or do you think we could still get dinner?”

“We can, but I need a shower, I’m sticky and sweaty,” You said absentmindedly, catching the way he bit his lip with a smirk that had you smacking his arm, “Don’t be gross.”

“I didn’t say anything,” He laughed, grinning as he thought about the way you said his name when you were naked in his arms, “But, I want to take you to my family home. My parents are gone for the weekend and it’s closer than my apartment.”

“Are you hiding your apartment from me?” You asked jokingly.

“No, but I live with Jimin and I want to be selfish and have you to myself longer so your place is out of the question too,” Jungkook admitted.

“And what am I supposed to wear? I didn’t really pack clothes,” You looked down at his linen shirt you currently wore, only panties underneath thinking you’d be going home after the eventful day.

“Something mine, you look good in what’s mine,” Jungkook said with a wink, “I’ll make us something nice—maybe get something ordered…”

“Oh I guess.”

You didn’t question the drive away from the houses lining the beach in his pick up truck. You stared out the window and watched the view turn more scenic would hillsides and small rocky edges, more nature-esque.

Songs played quietly that Jungkook would sometimes hum along too with a perfect pitch that had looking over at him from time to time. When he would catch you looking, he’d stop immediately and tighten his hands over the steering wheel.

He was nervous.

His family home was empty and he could go to it whenever he pleased but did he really want to bring you along? Open up another side of himself just for a few more moments alone? Did you mean this much to him?

Swallowing his nerves, he turned down a private road with tall trees and white gravel. It stretched on for a mile before ending at private gates. You sat up, slightly more aware of what was going on when he lowered his window to type in some code, hearing someone speak through an intercom, ‘Welcome home, sir.’

He could feel your eyes on him and he just smiled, “Wash up first?”

“Please,” You said, looking away, staring straight ahead at the colonial house that appeared in view. It was obscenely large with endless windows and greenery surrounding it making it all the more intimidating.

This is his family home, yours couldn’t compare.

Still, you tried not to question it.

Jungkook didn’t bother driving back to the private garage, he pulled up to the circular driveway by the fountain of a water nymph and got out of his truck, opening the door for you. It should’ve dawned on him that something was going to happen. The lights were on when no one should be home.

Still, he’s already brought you this far.

“Jungkook?”

His hand stopped at the handle of your door, just barely pulling it open but with little room for you to step out. You stopped moving instantly, watching the way he visibly stiffened, face hardening as he looked off to the distance.

“You’re here, what a surprise.”

“Mom,” he turned around immediately, “I thought you guys weren’t home.”

“Well, if you would answer the phone, when I call, you would know your father’s trip was canceled,” a women in a tweed Chanel suit and a tight smile stepped down from the entrance, “You’ve brought company?”

As if being summoned, Jungkook looked at you, motioning for you to step out and although you didn’t want you, you did—undressed and exhausted. The woman was stunning and classy like you’d never seen, somewhat taken back that she was the mother of the beach boy you’ve met.

Not to mention, it was too early to meet anyone’s parents. It made you sick to your stomach even as you smiled politely, “Hello.”

“This is Y/n,” Jungkook reached for your hand, “We were just stopping by.”

“When you thought no one was home?” She asked, making you look at him. He was grown, clearly, but still scolded and questioned like a child.

Jungkook didn’t say anything but you could feel him squeeze your hand when her eyes traveled over your barely dressed figure. He at least had on a t-shirt that was in his truck and his shorts.

“Why don’t the two of you clean up, we’re having dinner on the terrace,” She said looking unimpressed, “I’ll have a maid find you something more appropriate.”

“Oh, we don’t want to bo—“

“We have guests so don’t make a scene, I already had to make an excuse for why you wouldn’t be here, you can’t leave now. Even if you do have sudden company.”

That shut Jungkook up quicker than you’d ever seen. It wasn’t that you couldn’t catch on to what was happening, but more so you could wrap your mind around the reality of it. You moved almost as robotically as he did, sneaking into the house unsure what was going on aside from doing as told. He took you into his bedroom, pulling you in the bathroom with him and washing up. His entire demeanor changed and you didn’t know what to do.

“Should I go? I could probably get Hoseok to get me,” You told him honestly. You weren’t upset — not yet. As far as you knew, Jungkook might have a complicated relationship with his parents meeting the person he’s sleeping with, especially considering how recent things are with you. Neither of you are ready to meet the family, it’s just fun summer things. You’d say the biggest shock was that Jungkook seemed to be wealthy and likes to keep that private but does that make you worried?

“No, I want you here with me,” Jungkook said, swallowing hard and opening the door to his room, finding something folded on the edge of his bed. He handed it to you without much thought as he got dressed.

It was nothing crazy, just a light colored sundress and you had to dry off quickly so you could join him downstairs. Part of you wanted to call your friends but what would it mean if you did?

“What a surprise, brother, and I see you’ve finally brought someone new along,” an arrogant voice spoke up from the large dinner table on the terrace. It was a candle lit dinner with six guests aside from the two of you and you immediately reconciled a familiar face.

“Hello, sorry for keeping everyone waiting,” Jungkook said stiffly, “This is Y/n.”

“We’ve met,” Yeaun said when the others looked at you confused. Their greetings were bland and uncaring but you tried not to think too hard on it, “On the beach, right?”

“Yes, I remember,” You tried to smile, looking at Jungkook just as confused as everyone.

“Yeaun is a family friend,” Jungkook explained to you.

“An ex-fiancée,” His mother said coldly, making him freeze.

Why was she saying this?

“Darling,” an older version of Jungkook with salt and pepper hair said to his wife in warning.

“We’re on good terms though,” Yeaun smiled tightly, “Things have been changing recently, haven’t they?”

She asked you like you would know—like you were the reason for it but you were too stuck on what she was to care.

Ex-what?

“So, are you still going with the firm?” A woman sitting next to his brother said to him. That made his brother laugh, “He’s still playing around Jin’s auto shop.”

“Is everyone already eating? What about us?” Jungkook looked at you suddenly, “Should we get served?”

The firm? What firm? What fiancée? What was going on?

“Y/n, what about you? Are you new in town? Who are your parents?” The dad asked, making all heads turn toward you, a member of who you assumed was house staff, began to serve you and Jungkook dinner.

“Dad,” Jungkook tried to say but he didn’t get very far.

“I’m just here for the summer, I’m from the city,” You told him with a smile.

“How’d you meet?” Jungkook’s mother asked.

“On the beach,” You told her plainly. She didn’t say anything in response but you could feel the way her eyes narrowed at you like she was trying to read you. You weren’t lying or anything but it felt like she didn’t believe you. Under the table, Jungkook’s hand touched your thigh but in all honesty you didn’t even want him to touch you. It’s not anything serious, you were just confused and uncomfortable in this situation. He should’ve just taken you home or let you call Hoseok.

“A city girl, huh? You must have a big job, right? What do you do?” His brother asked.

“I’m in between work right now,” You said honestly, just as you had told Jungkook who seemed to be open to that idea and understood why. Sometimes, doing the same routine in a career you didn’t have passion anymore left you drained and you needed a change of pace. You explained this to him and he made it all feel okay so why were you being looked at strangely?

“So wasting your time over here is what you want to be doing?” His mom asked.

Jungkook took a deep breath, wanting to speak up but unsure how to do so. He obviously hasn’t told you anything but his relationship with his family is complicated. The added guests made it all the worse. Has he always been such a coward?

“That’s what it seems like,” You said bitterly, looking over at Jungkook with a cold expression.

You don’t remember much of the rest of dinner, only that you hated every second of it and how you just wanted to go home. You checked out of all conversations after a while and watched the tension between them with little interest. What you’ve learned is that Jungkook is good at keeping things from others even when he begs to know more himself.

The irony, it was annoying. By the end of dinner, you didn’t care to know what any of them had to say, much less Yeaun who everyone continued to remind you was his ex that they all loved dearly. They were saying it for a reason, like if you wanted to take her place and be with Jungkook who belonged to a group of people who won’t let outsiders in.

“Well at least she’s pretty,” you remember being told.

“I’m sorry,” was the first thing Jungkook said after dinner but you didn’t bother to acknowledge him. Instead, you led the way to his truck so he could take you home.

The car ride was so eerily silent that it felt deafening. He tried and tried to talk to you but you just ignored him, not caring at all for whatever might come out of his mouth and he can’t really blame you.

“You lied to me,” You said finally, staring holes into his dashboard.

“I didn’t mean to,” Jungkook admitted, “Everything I’ve said to you is true.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes and looking out the dark window, “Just take me home.”

“Y/n,” Jungkook reached across the middle console for your hand but you crossed your arms over your chest and shifted away from him even more, “I’m sorry, we should’ve just gone somewhere el—“

“Look, it was never going to work out anyway so just take me home and we can both go on with our lives because clearly we’re nothing alike at all,” You said bitterly, “I was just dumb enough to believe we are. It’s been a long day.”

He wanted to argue but for the first time since he’s met you, he’s left silent. He’s a coward, he’s aware of that now and it felt sickening to realize it finally. He’s always been the type to do what he’s told, follow the plan his parents have set out for him and this is the first time he’s realizing how much he hates it.

When the truck pulled up to the front of your house, he began to unbuckle his belt, quietly saying, “I’ll walk you to the d—“

The car door slammed shut in the middle of his words and although he knew it was better for him to give you space, he just couldn’t. He couldn’t let you walk off on him without trying to really hear him out—just let him get his thoughts together. As pathetic as it sounds, Jungkook feels like a kid again. He feels anxious to be ignored or scolded.

Without a care for gentleness, he swung his side door open to the large truck and got down to follow after you, “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t realize they would be home and if I did I wouldn’t have invited you over. I just wanted to spend more time with you.”

“That’s not the problem, Jungkook,” you said back to him, “The problem is that you’re so secretive about everything and fine, whatever, you don’t have to tell me but don’t act like you want to know anything about me then if I can’t expect the same.”

You released a sigh at his silence, turning away, “Go home.”

Your front door slammed in his face shutting him out and he could see people staring through the window; probably overhearing everything and he wanted to disappear. When had things gotten so complicated for him?

He missed the days when he didn’t have anything to worry about but now that he’s starting to see the people around him more clearly, he’s realizing he doesn’t like it at all.

✧

It took you days to think about Jungkook again, mostly because you wanted to ignore him and he was making it easy for you. He has only messaged and called a couple times before he got the hint that you don’t want to talk to him and gave up.

You can’t tell if you preferred that or wished he kept trying but you had to move on. The two of you weren’t dating, you hooked up on a boat before realizing his family are pretentious assholes and wanted nothing to do with him now.

You know he’s not his family but at the same time these are people he surrounds himself with and if he was attracted to someone like Yeaun, there was no way he was into you too. You barely know her but you know enough to see that you’re nothing alike.

“What are you looking at?” Hoseok asked, looming over your shoulder.

“Apartments, I still can’t find anything good, I think I need to go home for a few days and do some in-person tours,” You told him with a sigh, scrolling through listings, sitting alone in the beach themed living room that looked fresh out of a cape cod magazine.

“It’s not a quick commute,” He said, “Besides, I already said you can stay with me till we find you a place, there’s no rush.”

“I know, but there’s nothing better to do,” You said with a shrug.

“It’s called avoiding,” Hyeri said, sitting on the edge of the couch, “So Y/n’s probably not gonna come back if she leaves now. You’re mad at Jungkook.”

“No, I’m not,” you rolled your eyes, “That’s over and I haven’t done anything but laze around all day. I need to get my shit together.”

You just want to go home.

“What’s up with you? You’ve looked mad all day,” Jimin pointed out as he mindlessly dug his feet into the sand. He’s dragged Jungkook out after days of not seeing him but his friend couldn’t care less about the beach or hanging out with him. He actually didn't want to hang out with anyone.

“Is it the thing from the other night?” Jimin asked like it was so simple, “Yeaun was talking about it, so you’ve introduced your new girl to the family and it didn’t go so well?”

“Jimin.”

“Yeah?”

“Are you really my friend?” Jungkook asked, sitting at the bottom of one of the net posts, squinting up at the sun.

“Are you kidding? I’ve been around since you were in diapers, you’re like a brother to me,” Jimin said with a laugh, “I just don’t agree with some of the decisions you make.”

“Like?” He pressed for more.

“I don’t know, I just think you have a lot going for you and lately you’ve been acting like you don’t,” Jimin said, shrugging, “You passed the Bar Exam a while ago and instead of going to your dad’s firm you’re wasting time at Jin’s. You don’t answer the phone when your family calls and you ignore your friends for…”

“Say it.”

“For some chick you don’t know,” Jimin scoffed, “I don’t get it. It’s always been you and I, Chaehi and Yeaun. Always. Since we were kids and suddenly you break it off with one of the only girls who’s been here for you and find someone new to entertain yourself with. It’s weird.”

“Asshole,” Jungkook rolled his eyes, kicking off the ground and leaving his friend behind. He wasn’t sure where he was going but he just wanted to be alone.

Were you really just some girl? Is that what everyone thought? Yes, things had been incredibly easy with you but did that mean you weren’t anything more than a fling? As dramatic as it sounds, every interaction with you has been probably the best he’s ever had.

You’re funny, pretty, smart, and so much more than he ever imagined. You pulled him in and pushed him away in the best way possible. Of course it’s been strange getting rejected but you do it in a way that tells him to keep going. You were always there to listen to his obnoxious flirting and when he did decide to tell you anything about himself, you didn’t judge.

He’s so stupid for not doing the same. He wanted you to open up to him because he wanted to get closer to you but he didn’t allow himself to do it too. It was unfair so he understands why you’re mad but he can’t stand it.

He wants to call you but would you want to listen?

Jungkook found himself walking toward the boardwalk hoping the bustling energy from midday was enough to distract him. He thinks you remind him of something different, being somewhere different where he didn’t have to worry so much about what he did or who he was with. Jimin’s right that lately Jungkook hasn’t been doing anything to be apart of his family’s plans for him. He’s kind of been trying to live in the moment and clearly that wasn’t so bad. That’s how he met you and besides, it’s not like he hasn’t been thinking about his future. He just doesn’t see it here in this small town where everyone knows his name. He sees himself somewhere far in the city where he could just blend in with everyone else and do what he wants to do, be with who he wants to. It’s you, it’s seriously you.

You’ve opened up his eyes a little and he hates that his lack of honesty has pushed you away. He can’t even blame it on the uncomfortable dinner because if he wasn’t such a coward, he would’ve done more. He can’t deny that there’s something up with him and he has no doubt in his mind that you have something to do with it. Barely knowing you has done so much more for him than the people he’s known all his life.

Your best friends wanted you to forget about your plans on leaving, knowing you too well to believe you would come back. You’re not the type to do so. If you set your mind on leaving, even for a short time, you wouldn’t come back especially knowing you could run into Jungkook whenever. Maybe you were a coward too because all you ever wanted to do was run away when things get complicated and the last thing you had wanted was for this trip to get that way too.

They dragged you out of the house for a late lunch that you weren’t even hungry for and as a way to distract you but it did the complete opposite of that. Instead, you were brought to that restaurant you came to with Jungkook and the same server who you’ve seen now talk with a girl Yeaun was always around. They were friends and it should’ve been the first sign that you would never get him. You were never part of the plan around here, you were a step back to everyone involved with him and it made you bitter.

How’d you catch the attention of someone so unavailable?

“Come on, I haven’t bought a single thing here, I’ve been too busy working on my tan,” Hyeri said, pulling you along behind her to a clothing stand of sundresses, “We’ve got a few more weeks here, I think it’s time I fit the vibe, right?”

“Yeah,” You told her, looking through the rack of dresses absentmindedly. You wandered away just a little, to a table filled with jewelry and ran your fingers over certain metals and gems. You weren’t thinking much on what was going on around you, too distracted choosing between gold and silver to notice the person standing yards away looking stunned.

For the first time in over a week, Jungkook has found you again, on the beach, looking as breathtaking as usual. After all you’ve been avoiding him, he can’t help but hesitate. Does he approach you or not?

“Y/n?”

You looked up, brows furrowed slightly at who stood in front of you, “Yeaun.”

“Hey! How good to see you,” She smiled her usual tight smile that never quite reached her eyes. Up close you could see just how perfect she must seem to everyone from her height to her figure and tone of voice. She usually wore gold accessories and bikini tops or dresses. She was your perfect ‘Girl Next Door’ but if you paid enough attention to some of the things she said, you’d see how backhanded it all seemed.

“It was such a surprise to see you the other night. I guess none of us knew you were with Jungkook,” Yeaun said it so casually even if you could tell she was prying, “Where is he by the way?”

“Why don’t you ask his mother? The two of you seem close,” You tried not to sound bitter but you’re sure your body language gave away that you were. You searched for Hyeri who was looking at dresses on herself in the mirror and Hoseok left to get snow cones so once again, you were alone in her presence.

“Yeah, sorry about that, our parents go way back,” Yeaun said with a wave of her hand, “It’s a small town, y’know. Everyone knew we were high school sweethearts and when we got engaged everyone was so excited. You can imagine their surprise when we broke it off—sorry, you probably don’t want to hear about this again. I’m sure Jungkook has said enough.”

“It might sound strange but he doesn’t bring you up at all,” You told her, failing to say how you haven’t talked to him, “I guess he got over it a long time before anyone else did.”

“I guess so,” her stupid smile once again, “I like you, you’re good for him and I’m sorry if his family seemed closed off. They’re kind of exclusive with who they bring around. They don’t want just anyone around their sons. I’m sure you can see why, Jungkook is perfect, right? A lawyer in the making, athletic, kind…”

“Silver or gold?” You asked, holding up two different sets of earrings. She blinked in surprise, choosing one and trying to carry on, “What I mean is, he’s the whole package so everyone wants him but he also has a lot of responsibilities. If someone isn’t able to stand behind them all and support him… maybe they’re not the right fit—especially if they won’t stick around.”

You didn’t say anything for a moment, setting the earrings back down and smiling, amused by her audacity, “Who broke it off with who?”

“It was mutual.”

“Doesn’t sound like it was,” You said with a smile, beginning to walk away from her, “But don’t worry, I don’t usually like competing for someone’s attention. I guess I didn’t realize you did, so good luck.”

“Meaning?” Her eyes narrowed.

“Meaning, you’re wasting your breath talking to me because I don’t care what you have to say,” You said sweetly, “But it was so nice seeing you again, hopefully next time we’ll have something new to talk about.”

With that, you left her behind, nearly walking past Hyeri on the way, “Where you going?”

“My phone’s dying, I’m going the house,” you told her quickly, continuing to leave before anyone else could run into you.

“What’d you say to Y/n?” Jungkook asked, pushing his way through the crowds of people, getting to the stand too late and watching you walk away.

“Nothing,” Yeaun raised her hands in feigned surrender, “I was just catching up. Why so worried?”

“Where’s she going?” Jungkook asked Hyeri, ignoring Yeaun who called for him.

“To the house?” Hyeri said, confused by whatever she missed but she couldn’t even ask when Jungkook practically ran after you.

You cut through the beach instead of taking the long route down the street. You walked farther and farther away from him but he never stopped.

“Y/n! Can we talk?” He asks, catching you by surprise but you didn’t even act like it. You merely threw him a glance before walking faster.

“I’m kind of in a hurry,” You lied, stepping over the grassy parts in the white sand where you could see more residential properties.

“Look, I’m sorry. I really am, I should’ve been more up front from the beginning but I swear I didn’t keep things from you to hurt you,” Jungkook said, not stopping his pace even when he can see your house in the distance.

“It’s fine, I’m over it,” You told him, not turning back again as you looked up at the back deck of your house. You still walked closer to down the shore than the trail but you would get there soon.

“But I’m not, I… can’t stand the thought of you being done with me,” Jungkook said honestly, “Since I’ve met you all I can do is think about you and I’m kicking myself over letting you find things out in a hard way. I don’t like the way you were talked to and I should’ve said more but I didn’t and I regret it so much.”

“Jungkook, I don’t care,” you groaned, whipping around to face him, “I don’t care that you kept things from me. I don’t care that there’s something seriously wrong with your family or your ex fiancée. I don’t care if everyone thinks I’m not good enough for you and do you want to know why? Because it’s the summer and I’m not from here and it was fun to fool around in the moment but it’s too complicated now. I don't want anything to do with it. Are you getting it now? I want to go home and forget all about this.”

“You want to leave?” He asked, getting closer and closer, “And what happens then? We just never see each other again because I didn’t mean anything to you?”

“I guess if that’s how you’re seeing it—“

“Bullshit,” He scoffed, “I don’t care how long we’ve known each other or not, you want me just as much as I want you but you’re letting everything else get in the way. I’m sorry, I don’t know what else I can say or do to express that.”

“I’m leaving,” You argued, stepping away, “I’m going back to my normal life and you can go back to yours. Stop making this a bigger deal than it was.”

“What if I don’t want to? What if I think you’re the best thing to happen to me in a while and the thought of you just leaving doesn’t sit right with me? What if I say I don’t want this to just be a summer thing and I will follow you wherever you go if it means I get to talk to you more?” Jungkook kept going.

“Oh my god, Jungkook. Open your eyes! Join the real world, please!” You groaned, too frustrated to bother getting away, “We still don’t know much about each other, clearly. You live in this perfect little bubble with people who care about you and have plans for you. Why can’t you see that? Why are you wanting to throw that away for someone you barely know?”

“I’m not mad, I promise,” You tried to say, “Our lives are just too different and I’m ready to go back to mine—“

Your words were cut off by the rough pull into his arms. Jungkook’s touch was tender yet forceful, dragging your face toward his until your lips clashed messily and you kissed him back. Like a fool, you kissed him too despite everything you were saying.

It made your heart race, practically feeling his want for you and unable to help yourself from succumbing to it.

He can’t remember how long the kiss was, but long enough for his chest to grow heavy with a need to breathe that he had to pull away. His forehead rested against yours, “If you still want to leave… okay. I can’t make you stay but I really want you to, Y/n.”

You didn’t say anything, knowing you did want to leave. At this point it was more for yourself. No matter how harsh they were, they were right. You needed to get your act together and stop avoiding the problems in your life and that meant you needed to go home.

“And I promise that I’m going to see you again whether it be here or somewhere else,” Jungkook said.

FOUR WEEKS LATER

Jungkook was enamored by city life, he’s grown to learn about himself. Something about the tall skyscrapers and bustling traffic excited him like no other while other people hated them. Of course he missed the beach, surfing, volleyball, his friends… but this was for himself. He needed to do something on his own even if it meant doing something unimaginable but it was for the better.

He misses working with cars but he knows better. He put all that work into law school just so he could avoid it and do something else and he needed that to stop. Even if he didn’t work in his father’s firm, that didn’t mean he couldn’t get his foot in the door somewhere else.

After you left and all his distractions were gone, he was able to focus more on what he wanted to do. He got on his laptop to look at internships at other law firms and one day, in his endless searching, he found a small office to work in. It was in the city and it didn’t take him long to pack up his things and go to it. It started problems—of course— but it didn’t stop him, especially knowing you were somewhere here too.

You’ve barely talked since you moved back but he still misses you. He missed you and him on the beach or sailing in the sea. He misses making you laugh or roll your eyes and he wonders how you’re doing. He kept in touch with Hoseok and Hyeri after you left and when they followed suit at the end of vacation, he wanted to ask them about you but he knew better. He knows you weren’t just a fling but maybe one day you’ll come back and give it another shot.

“Iced Americano?”

“I didn’t order one,” Jungkook said as he sat alone at a table in a nice cafe. He didn’t look up until the cup was set down in front of him and when he was ready to tell the barista it wasn’t for him, he froze.

“I know, you don’t really give me ‘Coffee Drinker’ vibes but I figured it was worth a shot,” You sat down across from him.

“Are you stalking me?” He asked, dumbfounded and confused but more excited than anything. He couldn’t believe you were here, at the same place as him by chance.

“Well, I was going to ask the same, this is my usual stop before work and I’ve never seen you here before,” You said, continuing the conversation with him like it never ended.

Jungkook couldn’t help but smile, “Well, you see, I’m new to town and trying new places since this is on my way to work.”

“Is it?” You asked, “You must live around here.”

“As it turns out I do,” Jungkook cleared his throat, “It’s a recent move but one I don’t regret.”

“How are you?” You asked with a shy smile and flushed cheeks, the autumn air beginning to take over.

“Better now—after this coffee I mean,” he teased, taking a sip and scrunching his face in disgust.

You bit your lip in thought, “Actually um, it’s good I’ve run into you. I think there’s some things we should talk about but I have to get to work soon.”

“Well I still have your number, and we can always catch up over dinner?”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” You smiled nervously, standing up, “Tonight?”

That made his heart race, “It’s a date.”

::.

holy shit that took forever for me to update

idk how I feel about this but also after a while I think too hard on my work and can’t look at it anymore so please lmk when you think

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[sweet-as-an-angel]

MW2 Reaction to You Being A Virgin

Warnings: 18+, Implications of Smut, Corruption Kink, Purity Kink, Innocence Kink, Ownership Kink, Age Gap, Implied Slight Yandere Graves Inexperience, Objectification, Dominant MW2, Soft MW2, Gaz is anxious :-( but trying his best, MW2 Trying To Be Smooth, Profanity, No Pronouns Used For Reader Except ‘You’.

Ghost

The fact that you, innocent, are his to love and corrupt sends white-hot anticipation between his legs.

He’s imagined what you’d be like in bed: how you’d take him, the sounds you’d make. Of course he has – practically everyone on Base has.

But now, his fantasies are tinged with something feral. A primal need to show you that he is the best choice for you (even if he doesn’t believe it himself) – the only one strong enough and skilled enough to be yours and to make you his.

He’s fantasised about you looking up at him with doe eyes while he pins your wrists to the mattress, voice meek as you tell him, as if it’s a secret, that you’ve “Never done this before…”

He can’t live without it. The fact that he can – will – be your first time. Satisfy you in ways nobody else will ever be able to compete with.

He’d never admit it, but a dark part of him has plagued him with ideas of ravaging and corrupting you, about making your first time so pleasurable and carnal that nobody will ever be able to satisfy you as he can.

“Don’t worry, Sweetheart,” he tells you, taking your chin between his fingers. He lowers his lips to your ear. You don’t see the dark gleam in his eye. Don’t see the deliciously dark idea cross his mind – the impulse to fuck you so hard that you won’t be able to feel anything, nevermind pain. And he makes a promise to you anyway.

“I’ll take care of you.”

König

“Thought as much.” König’s words are blunt yet sharp.

“Seeing as you have everyone wrapped around your finger, it’s clear you have no regard for the way you conduct yourself.”

You may construe König’s words as mean. Derogatory, even. He means it as a compliment. Even if you don’t know it yet.

“You think I don’t see the way you flaunt yourself in front of the soldiers – thinking that you’ll be able to get away with it without consequence.”

König’s frame towers over you. His gaze is ice, and any trace of the socially anxious soldier you knew is gone.

“I wonder how you like it.” he muses aloud. His voice is tinged with something unreadable. Venomous.

“How you’ll take it. Rough, gentle…” His eyes narrow.

“Mean.”

He’s boxed you in with his stature alone.

“Makes no difference to me,” he tells you. Deceptively calm. And then, an offer. One you can’t refuse.

“I’ll fuck you every which way until I find what makes you scream the loudest.”

Soap

“Oh, really?” he says, eyebrow quirked and a hidden smile teasing his lips.

Johnny really couldn’t care less that you’ve never had sex before. But, the fact that you shared this information with him – albeit after he steered the conversation towards more…intimate topics – gave him hope that you were hinting towards something.

Something that Johnny’s wanted since he realised he was massively, whorishly down bad for you.

From his position opposite you, against the kitchen counter, he takes a step forward.

“I suppose you’re not very experienced then, are you?”

He advances until he’s in front of you. A wolf and a lamb. Close enough that you can smell his cologne.

His eyes are piercing, but there is a softness behind them. Something that writhes and wants and needs.

His hands come to rest upon the counter behind you. Nowhere for you to run. The heat from his body is scorching.

“Though, I’d be more than happy to…” His voice husks. “Beef up your résumé.”

Valeria

Corruption kink to the MAX

Valeria is a territorial, dominant woman – that much is easy to see.

And the fact that you haven’t had anyone else before her just does something to her.

Alters her brain chemistry permanently.

There’s not one soldier, police officer or government official she doesn’t own in Las Almas.

So why shouldn’t she own you, too?

Now she’s thinking of every conceivable way she’s going to take ownership of you.

She thinks about it so often that she struggles to complete her paperwork without having to disperse the issue before she can continue.

But be warned: there will come a day when satisfying herself just won’t cut it. When she’s going to seek you out and ruin you.

“It might hurt at first, mi Amor,” she tells you, hand stroking your cheek, coming down to your jaw. “But trust me when I say that–”

Her hand grips your jaw. Tight. A viper’s strike. A fire burns in her eyes and the corners of her lips curl up in a cruel smile.

“I’ll make it hurt a whole lot more if you don’t do as I say.”

Price

Given his age, Price has had his fair share of experiences.

But that doesn’t harden him to the simple fact that you haven’t.

In his eyes, there’s something endearing about how you’ve yet to give yourself to another person.

Another person that, he hopes, will someday be him.

The idea makes something in him stir. The fact that the difference between your age and his makes him that much more confident in his ability to please you in ways no mere boy can makes him anxious to act.

“Oh. Is that right, Love?” He says, eyes light and his smile dangerous.

“S’ppose you’re waiting for the right person.” His posture is inviting. Tempting. Belies the rush he’s feeling — the desire to have you at his mercy in the most carnal sense.

“Pretty little thing like you, you could have your fill of men.”

He’s angling for something. His face says it all.

He steps towards you. Again. Again. He’s in front of you.

His chest is almost to yours. His smile is shallow now. Strained. Like his pants.

“Probably looking for someone with experience.”

He thrives on the way your chest flutters. His does, too, but it’s masked beneath a  heavy stare.

“And trust me, Love,” his voice is low. A message for you and you alone as he brings his lips to your ear, breath hot against your skin.

“I’ve got plenty to spare.”

Horangi

You don’t hear it for his mask, but Horangi lets out a shuttered breath.

“That’s why you’re always so quiet when sex talk comes up.”

He says it as a fact, but you take it as a question. You nod.

Horangi’s arms unfurl from his chest, come to rest at his sides. He’s looking at you.

Even through the layers of his mask, his gaze is heavy. Leaden.

He steps towards you. His frame, broad, fills your vision.

You can hear how heavy his breathing has become. How thick the air is.

How much he’s trying to restrain himself.

“How about a deal,” he proposes. Commands.

“You give me something to have a nice, long, hard think about,” his hips are to yours. You feel him pressing against you.

“And I’ll give you something to talk about.”

Alejandro

“You surprise me, mi amor,” he says, natural as anything. As if he already knew.

“I’d have thought someone would have swooped in and claimed you by now.”

Truth be told, Alejandro wanted to be that somebody so badly that it made him ache in places he’d rather not think about. Especially when you’re already making containing himself incredibly difficult with that pouting, wide-eyed, innocent look.

God, you had no idea what you were doing to him.

“Or…are you saving yourself for someone specific?”

Before you, his frame is broad and imposing even without all his military gear on.

He takes your chin between his fingers. Tilts your head so your gaze can’t escape his. A shiver runs up his spine at the sound of your breath stuttering.

His words aren’t rhetorical. He’s pulled the answer from you – seen it in your eyes.

“Or are you just waiting for a man who knows how to take care of you?”

Rodolfo

“O-oh!” Rudy chokes out. His cheeks are already giving way to a telltale pink. He tries to cover it.

“But– you’re so pretty and smart and kind – I thought you’d have a boyfriend by now!”

In some ways, Rudy’s a bit of a traditionalist: his mind still jumps to the idea that you’d typically only be intimate with someone you’re already in a relationship with.

Not that he’d judge you if this were not the case for you.

But he sees his chance. And he takes it.

“Well, if you’re not with anyone, then…would you like to go out sometime? With me?”

His eyes are wide and filled with hope – something you’d never have expected from a  man in such a brutal line of work.

Sex is the last thing on his mind right now: truly, he’s so taken in with the idea that you’re single and available that your sexual status means very little to him.

Though, that isn’t to say he hasn’t thought about you like that before, or that he hasn’t spent many a night with his face smothered with pillows as your name escapes from between his lips, panting, moaning.

That’s a little secret for you to uncover later in your relationship…

Graves

“So you’re tellin’ me that no one’s had the privilege of fuckin’ that pretty little ass of yours?”

Graves sure has a way with words.

For all his slimy business practices, this is the one time he’s genuinely surprised. Unable to be slick.

He puts his game face on. Gives you a half-lidded stare and lowers his voice. His heart hammers: he conceals it behind a cool tone.

“Well, colour me impressed, Angel,” he says. A hand comes to the hem of your shirt, takes it between slow, intentional fingers. He has to resist the urge to look at your chest when he pulls the fabric taut.

“And here I was thinkin’ I already knew everything about you.”

He’s moving in before you can analyse his statement. Before you can begin to understand how badly this man has lusted after you – how deeply entrenched in your life he’s become. And all without you knowing.

He places a hand on the wall behind you. Presses himself closer to you.

“How much to let me be the first,” he drawls. Your eyes widen. His thin smile grows.

“And last.”

Gaz

Bless his little cotton socks, he doesn’t know what to do with both this information and himself.

See, despite being incredibly intelligent, Gaz is still the youngest of the 141, so he’s not entirely accustomed to situations like this.

He can’t tell if you’re hinting, flirting, or just telling him something about yourself.

He remembers what Soap taught him, though.

Should a situation arise where someone is flirting with you, just use your intuition and don’t fuck it up.

Gaz leans against the doorframe, almost misses, scrambles to resume his ideal posture.

“Oh, so we’re more similar than you’d think, then.”

He can feel Soap banging his head against a wall. Jesus, Gaz – at least try to impress (Y/N) !

At your raised eyebrow and your playful “Oh?” Gaz coughs. His voice lowers.

“But…” he steps closer. “Maybe we can un-virgin each other.”

Long story short, Gaz has no idea what he’s talking about. But, somehow, his nervous disposition and pretty boy charm have enamoured you. And you may have told him you’d take him up on his offer 👀.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

Yandere Masterlist Juicy Original Content <3

[bro-atz]

fifteen inch club

in which: you're doing such an amazing job as maid of honor that you definitely need to be rewarded...

pair: stripper!seonghwa/stripper!yeosang/stripper!san/maid-of-honor!afab!reader

word count: 3.5k

content: smut, nicknames (doll, darling, baby), filthy?, face riding, throat fucking, fingering, double penetration, slight pussy slapping?, oral sex, anal sex, bukkake, unprotected sex (PLS REMEMBER TO WRAP UP IRL!), completely consensual!

rated: R | nsfw — minors do not interact

author's note: i blame @yunhoszn for sending me the pic that started it all and thank @bunny4yungi for helping me come up with this amazing plot <3

When your best friend asked you to be her maid of honor, you thought it was going to be the most fun experience of your life. You were sorely mistaken. Turns out that you weren’t her first choice— you were her third. You would’ve been more offended had she not been the most unbearable bride in existence (and if her first choices weren’t her family members).

For her bachelorette party, she had so many insane demands, one of them being that there must be strippers. Not only must there be strippers, but they must be hot according to her standards. You weren’t complaining about her standards since she did have very good taste, but you were complaining about the fact that her standards were quite impossible to find. You considered asking the groom if he and his friends would be willing to pose as strippers, but knowing your friend, she would be upset with you for doing such a thing.

Luckily, you managed to find a place. You had to pay a really pretty fucking penny to hire them, but you found one.

“So, when will the strippers get here?” your friend asked excitedly as you and several other of your friends waited in the private room of the hotel restaurant.

“Uh, soon,” you told her while glancing at your watch.

“What place did you use, Y/N?” another friend asked.

“They, uh… They’re called “Fifteen Inch Club”? I know the name sounds a little weird, but they’re supposed to be really good…”

"Fifteen Inch Club? Why are they called that? Is it because they have massive dicks?"

Everyone, except for you, giggled when the comment was made. Before you could explain the meaning behind the name, there was a knock on the door. Someone told them to enter, and three gorgeous men with insanely thin waists entered the room dressed in the skimpiest clothing— so skimpy, in fact, that you wondered what on Earth they would be stripping in the first place because you could quite literally see so much of their skin already.

As your friends cheered and whistled, you were simply staring with your jaw dropped to the ground. Your eyes were darting between the three men rapidly, and you felt your entire body tense up as the one with the broadest shoulders eyed you up and down and bit his lower lip.

“Now, where’s the special girl? Our bride-to-be?” the tallest one asked as soon as the screams and whistles died down.

All of the attention immediately turned to the bride, who waved her hand and fanned herself.

As the men danced and stripped their clothes off, you couldn’t help but feel the pool in your panties only get worse. The shortest one of the three men stopped by you first, and he rolled his waist towards you, making your entire body flush with heat. Your body temperature continued to rise when he held the back of your chair and closed the distance between you, his chest nearly grazing yours. You held your breath and did your best to keep your shit together when he turned around, his barely clothed ass shaking right in your face. You felt your friends shove a bunch of bills into your hands, and with trembling fingers, you managed to tuck one into the waistband of his underpants.

After he left, you truly thought you were going to be able to breathe easy, only for the other two men to approach you. They both gave you a personal lap dance at the exact same time, and whatever sanity was left in your brain flew out the window at the speed of light. You could barely remember to stuff bills into their waistbands— especially when they trapped you in between their thin waists. They kept rolling their waists on either side of your head, and as they kept doing so, you couldn’t help but wonder what they were packing in their underwear.

Your mind was swimming in the horniest of hormones as they continued to dance and turn you and your friends on with all of their grinding, and you completely spaced out until they were finished with their routine. Actually, you were spaced out until they fully redressed and left the room. After all of the squeals, screams, and laughter calmed down, the party finally ended, and you were left with the bride in the room. You started cleaning up as the bride leaned towards you, her lips by your ear.

“You’re going to pay for everything, right?” the bride asked you in a hushed voice.

“Yes, of course,” you responded to gritted teeth as your heart sank at the thought of your money flying out of your wallet. “I am your maid of honor, after all…”

“Thank you so, so much!”

With a pat on your shoulder, your friend scurried out of the restaurant, leaving you to clean up the room and pick up the tab. As you did so, one of the men returned to the room.

“Need any help?” he asked with a surprisingly soft voice.

You looked up to see the man with the broad shoulders. You shook your head and said, “No, that’s okay! Thank you for the offer, though.”

As you got back to cleaning everything up, the man decided to help you despite you rejecting his offer.

“So,” he said slowly in an attempt to start a conversation. “You’re the maid of honor then?”

“Unfortunately,” you couldn’t help but respond under your breath.

“Unfortunately? That doesn’t sound great.”

You sighed deeply. You could go on a rant about the bride for years, but instead of indulging him, you smiled and shook your head. Before he could ask more questions, you averted your gaze and finished collecting the remaining decorations.

“Here’s the rest of these,” he spoke up again as he handed you the decorations he had collected.

“Thank you,” you took them and shoved them into the box. The two of you were silent for a moment before you asked, “Is there a reason you came back, or…?”

"Oh, yeah," he cleared his throat. He looked around while scratching the back of his head as he muttered, "I can't find my phone."

And so, the two of you searched for his phone, and like a scene out of a movie, the two of you spotted his phone at the exact same time and reached for it. Your hand brushed against his, and rather than grab his phone, he grabbed your hand. You felt your face get hot when his fingers rubbed your palm. The two of you locked eyes, and you could've sworn that there was something darker behind his eyes, but before you could think about it, he let go of your hand, and you returned to reality. He picked up his phone and moved away from you slightly. Even though he had his phone, he lingered— he had something he wanted to say.

"You look a little sad— It seems like you're the one getting married with that look on your face."

"I'm not getting married," you couldn't help but laugh. "I just can't wait for this wedding to be over."

"So what I'm hearing is that you're single...?"

You looked at the man with slight confusion. His words felt genuine, but there was something in his tone that made you wonder if he left his phone behind accidentally or purposefully.

"So if I did this..." he whispered while closing the gap between the two of you. "Then it wouldn't be a problem, right?"

His arm went around your waist, pulling you sharply into his chest. The dark look in his eyes returned, and you realized that he definitely left his phone behind purposefully. You had heard stories about strippers hooking up with the best man, but you never thought that you, the maid-of-honor, would be hooking up with a stripper; and while all your logic told you that you should keep things professional, the tension rising in between your legs overruled your mind.

Before his lips met yours, the door to the room suddenly opened, and in walked the other two strippers. The two of you quickly separated, but the tension in the room did not go unnoticed by the other men.

"You lost your phone my ass," the tallest one commented with a sly smirk. "You could've just told us the truth, San."

"Shut up, Seonghwa," San mumbled as he retreated. "I really did lose my phone."

"On purpose for sure. I would ask if we should leave the two of you alone, but I don't think I want to let you do that."

"Seonghwa— What?"

"I'm just saying you're not the only one interested," Seonghwa responded nonchalantly before winking subtly at you.

As San and Seonghwa bickered, the other man approached you. He took one of the boxes from the table and asked you with a sweet smile, "Would you like help bringing these boxes to your car?"

"Actually, I got a room here," you shook your head. "But thank you."

"So let us help you bring these up to your room," he countered. "I'm Yeosang, by the way."

He held his hand out for you to shake, and the second you touched his soft hand, electricity ran up your arm. There was something about his low voice that made everything in you desperate for him to do something, anything to you. 

You weren't the only one who was desperate, apparently. Seonghwa and San, who were no longer immersed in their own conversation, watched as Yeosang got closer to you. It seemed like he wasn't really one to speak much, but when he did, he made you feel like you were fighting for your life.

“You’re so beautiful…” Yeosang whispered, his fingers tilting your head up.

He inhaled briefly before pressing his lips against yours, his lips encompassing your lower lip. You sighed softly when you felt his hands grip your waist and pull you closer to him.

“You were saying earlier that you’re staying in this hotel, right?” he asked breathlessly.

“Yes…”

“Let’s go back to your room, then...”

The second you got into your room, Seonghwa pulled you into his arms and made out with you roughly, and the other two men quickly worked on removing all of your clothes so that you were standing in nothing but your underwear.

"God, you're so beautiful," Yeosang murmured, his hands roaming over your chest before squeezing your breast tightly.

Seonghwa moved aside, allowing Yeosang to take your breast into his mouth and suck on your tit harshly. You moaned and whimpered, your hand moving to his hair. You ran your fingers through his soft locks, egging the man on further. His hand found your other breast as Seonghwa tilted your head to the side, his tongue immediately shoving its way into your mouth.

San, meanwhile, was on his knees. He lifted one of your legs so that it rested on his shoulder, and he left the lightest kiss on your throbbing clit. While you held onto Seonghwa's shoulder for stability, you subtly rolled your hips into his face, your clit yearning for his lips. However, you brushed your clit against his nose instead, which seemed to have more of an effect on you.

All three men working their simple magic on you was enough to bring you to your first climax of the night. You moved your hand to San's head to push him away before you could squirt, but he was an impossible force to move. He kept his face planted in your sweet cunt and slurped up all of your arousal as you came. You would've been more mortified had Yeosang not bit down lightly on your tit, completely melting your brain.

Before your legs could give out on you, San stood up. Yeosang and Seonghwa moved so that San could pick you up and toss you onto the hotel room bed. You landed onto the soft duvet and managed to push yourself up to see the three of them standing at the foot of the bed, the haze in your mind slowly beginning to clear up.

After they had finished work, all three men were dressed in casual wear ranging from simple t-shirts and jeans to sweatpants and hoodies; yet, their underwear was the same as before. So, when they slowly stripped themselves down— giving you a quick, private show of your own— you nearly giggled at the sparkly underwear. That giggle subsided quickly the second they revealed their stiff, throbbing cocks.

"Sit up properly for us, doll," Seonghwa instructed as he got onto the bed.

Obeying, you knelt so that you were upright for the most part. Once he got on the bed, Seonghwa immediately laid down and moved your leg so that you were straddling him, his face right below your cunt. He pulled you down, his tongue meeting your cunt immediately. You let out a loud moan, your eyes rolling to the back of your head, and your entire body shaking at his touch.

"F-Fuck," you whimpered and gasped the more Seonghwa's tongue ravished you from below.

"Darling, we haven't even started yet, and you already look so far gone," San chuckled, his low voice making your heart flutter. His hand reached for your neck, and his fingers pressed into your neck as he brought your face closer to his.

San's pressure on your neck, along with his words, made your mind swirl. Your mind got even more scrambled when he kissed you sensually, his lips enveloping your lower lip before sucking hard on it. You were going to bring your hands to his shoulders to hold onto him, but before you could, Yeosang took one of your hands and guided it to his cock, while San moved the other to his cock.

You had absolutely no functioning brain cells left, which made you grateful that both Yeosang and San were guiding your hands on their cocks. Seonghwa gripped your hips, but he didn't have to guide you as you were already lowering yourself onto him so you could glide your wet cunt along his slender face.

"Fuck, baby, just like that," you heard Yeosang gasp when you squeezed his cock lightly.

The man buried his face in the crook of your neck and sighed sensually, the air leaving a trail of goosebumps on your skin. San loosened his grip on your neck, and the second he did, Yeosang grabbed your cheeks and turned your face so that you were kissing him. His tongue dove deep into your mouth as he held your face tightly. You were so fixated on kissing Yeosang that you didn't realize San's hand had moved around your waist, his fingers nearing your asshole. Your entire body jerked when you felt his finger slip inside, and you felt your sanity melt away.

"Darling, you're okay with this, right?" he whispered with a sultry voice into your ear.

Yeosang let go of your cheeks, allowing you to gasp and agree with San. You watched San smirk before he slid another finger into your tight hole, his fingers starting to spread you wider.

"I just need to make sure you're prepared to take me, darling," he murmured before leaving a bite on your shoulder.

Before your brain had time to process everything, the three men had moved you so that you were lying on top of Seonghwa, your face right above his. He rubbed his cock along your folds before slowly slipping it inside you, a cry and a whimper leaving your lips.

"Doing alright, doll?" Seonghwa asked, his breathing hitching. "You're really fucking tight... You feel so good..."

You bit your lower lip and nodded at him, making him smile. He moved his head up and kissed you over and over again slightly, distracting you. San, meanwhile, had got on the bed, and he snapped your attention back to the position you were in when you felt his hands clench your ass cheeks tightly, his hands pulling them apart to get a good luck at your ass hole. You nearly bit down on Seonghwa's lower lip when you felt the tip of his cock prod into your ass.

"Oh God!" you cried loudly when San rammed the entirety of his thick length into you. "You're— Fuck!"

You moaned and cried loudly when the two men inside you bottomed out, your entire body throbbing with pleasure and pain. Yeosang grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled your head back so that you looked up at him, his throbbing cock hovering near your lips.

He didn't even have to tell you what to do— you did it so automatically. You opened your mouth and moved your head closer to him, the tip of his cock brushing past your lips. Yeosang inhaled slowly before humming, the depth of his hum ringing in your ears warming up your already insanely hot body.

You did as he expected, but it wasn't enough for him. As Seonghwa and San slowly began to roll their hips, their cocks moving inside you, Yeosang tightened his grip on your hair and moved your head forcefully along his length. You looked right at him when he started praising you, and you watched his eyes flutter as he tilted his head back to sigh with pleasure.

Suddenly, they all acted at once. Seonghwa rammed his waist upwards, San smacked and grabbed your ass, and Yeosang forced your head so far down his cock that you choked. Not a single man refused to let you breathe for a mere second, the three of them picking up their pace.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" you cried as you turned your head away from Yeosang's cock. "S-so good— So c-close!"

You were so close, yet, they stopped. Those words were the catalyst for the three of them to manhandle you. San's cock was still buried deep in your ass as you sat on his lap, and Seonghwa and Yeosang knelt near you, their hands rubbing their lengths quickly.

As they jerked themselves off, Seonghwa cupped your face and kissed you sloppily, allowing Yeosang to bring his fingers between your legs and slip them into your cunt. He fingered you roughly, and between his fingers ruining your cunt and San's cock ruining your ass, you lost your mind. You held onto Yeosang's wrist and tried to get him to let up, but there was no way in hell he was stopping.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, the pleasure building inside you rapidly. You came hard when Yeosang's fingers and San's cock rubbed inside you so perfectly, your arousal squirting all over his fingers and onto the bed. Yeosang withdrew his fingers, and you thought you were finally going to be able to breathe, but Seonghwa's hand rapidly replaced Yeosang's. He slapped your pussy several times quickly, sharply, the stings from his slaps stimulating your still-trembling cunt. Then, he rapidly moved his fingers against your folds, his nails repeatedly grazing your sore clit until you squeezed your eyes shut and bit back a moan as you came one more time.

"Doll, if you liked it, then you should moan out loud," Seonghwa whispered in your ear. "Did you like that?"

You moaned softly and nodded, your lips parted slightly as you turned your head to look at him with bleary eyes. A brief look of shock crossed his face before he inhaled sharply and directed his attention to his cock, his hand pumping rapidly, your eyes following. Climbing off San's cock, you faced Seonghwa fully and knelt on all fours, your face right near his cock as you looked up at him with wider eyes, an open mouth, and your tongue out as you waited in anticipation for his load.

Seeing you waiting so patiently for Seonghwa brought the other two men to kneel before you, their cocks right above your face. You locked eyes with all of them as they stroked themselves faster. You felt their cum land on your face and tongue, the three men groaning loudly as they covered you with white ropes.

After they all finished completely, you collected some of the cum from your cheeks onto your fingers and sucked your fingers while looking up at them with wide eyes. You couldn't help but let out a small giggle when you saw their cocks twitch and their faces turn a light shade of pink.

"Now why would you go do that, darling?" San murmured, his fingers trailing along your legs before his large hand gripped your thigh.

"Do what?" you asked innocently while fully knowing what San was talking about.

"Doll," Seonghwa sighed while he pushed your hair back with his fingers. "Just say the word..."

You looked at him with that same fake-innocence plastered to your face, only for your façade to break the second Yeosang wiped some of the cum from your face off with his thumb and stuck his thumb in your mouth for you to suck.

"Tell us you want us, baby," Yeosang's low drawl sent shivers down your spine. "We'll make you feel like the special one."

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[hellotailor]

armand’s costumes are such an interesting data point re: his nebulous sense of identity.

when analyzing any costume, there are always many factors to consider: the setting, the character’s personal taste and economic constraints, storytelling concerns like tone and genre, etc. with armand, we also need to remember that he’s 500 years old and violently disconnected from his human origins. everything he wears has an element of disguise, selected to blend into a new environment.

armand was enslaved as a child in 16th century delhi, and barely remembers his mortal life. unlike louis - who can return to new orleans after 80 years and reconnect with his past - armand has no home to return to. his whole backstory, even his name, is rife with traumatic subtext, leaving him with an obsessive need for structure and control. this adds an extra layer of meaning to costuming choices that initially seem like straightforward menswear. 

armand’s 1940s wardrobe is very put-together - primarily three-piece suits and coats that make him look wealthier and more formal than louis, who is purposefully dressing down. most of these outfits are tailored to bulk up armand's frame, leaning into the "maitre" persona. and like his business-casual dubai wardrobe, he always leaves his collar open. when i interviewed costume designer carol cutshall, she described this as a symbolic power move, signalling that he's an apex predator who doesn't need to protect his throat.

my personal interpretation is that while armand clearly likes to look good, he has a complicated relationship with attractiveness. he doesn't always want to draw attention. his color palette is shadowy (black, grey, brown, olive green), and he’s much less flashy than the other Théâtre vamps. however when he’s feeling confident and flirty, he becomes more of a power-dresser - for instance his hunting outfit with the big coat and sunglasses, or his habit of wearing kohl.

interestingly, most of armand's 1940s costumes set him apart from the coven. the Théâtre vampires dress like cabaret performers, embracing a lot of period-specific styles. by contrast armand is more timeless and neutral. in fact, due to the relatively minor changes in men's suits over the past 100 years, there's a lot of overlap between his wardrobe in the 1940s, '70s and 2020s:

the rest of the Théâtre squad share an unofficial uniform of boldly clashing monochrome patterns with pops of bright color. meanwhile armand has a very plain wardrobe, emphasizing the image of him as a businesslike authority figure surrounded by zany artistes. he only wears subtle stripes on a few occasions in the '40s, reflecting the recurring prison motif we see in lestat's trial suit and (most famously) the dubai penthouse bedroom:

if we ask the question, "what does this person like to wear?" there are easy answers for lestat, louis and claudia. we understand their tastes, and the motives behind them. but armand is more enigmatic. we can recognize through-lines in his wardrobe, but his "taste" is dominated by whatever role he's currently decided to embody, whether that's a parisian theater director or a real estate mogul in dubai.

the times when he appears to have the most fun with clothing are when he steals a pair of sunglasses from his human dinner (!) and when he's pretending to be rashid. in other words, when he's explicitly performing for an audience. "real armand" is still a mystery.

(i may write more about armand's dubai wardrobe later, but for now, you can find all of my iwtv costumes posts on this tag!)

[ponderingmoonlight]

Sanemi finding out you pretended to be a boy in order to get trained properly and him falling head over heels for you after

Pairing: Sanemi x fem!reader

Word Count: 4,2k

Synopsis: If there's one thing you always hated, it was being underestimated. Because you're nothing but a petite girl in the eyes of every other demon slayer you stumbled upon with even the sound hashira going easy on you. They left you no choice but to pretend that you're a boy in order to finally get the training you deserve. Little did you know it will be the wind hashira himself who uncovers your dirty secret...

Warnings: it's Sanemi so language, the bonus scene is for those of you who are in desperate need of some spice (no direct smut), last part not proofread because this needs to be published and I'm tired lol

Thank you sooo much for that super cool request, @xxx-oneofthegirls-xxx, I hope you like what I came up with (also, you made me listen to one of the girls nonstop while writing this hehe)

You stare at your foreign reflection in the mirror, cheeks still burning. This looks ridiculous and you know it, your plan so plain and stupid that you regret your decision more and more with each passing second.

But you have to do this.

“Don’t overwork yourself, (y/n). You’ll rest here while the others run a few extra miles.”

“But Tengen-sama, I-“

“Here, let’s get you something to eat!”, Suma cried out.

“You’re overworking that poor woman, Tengen-sama”, Mako commented dryly.

“I already told her to take a break!”

Because without pretending that you’re a boy, they’ll never take you seriously. Not when you’re a petite girl, not when everyone treats you like porcelain because of your small frame and gender. You came her because you’re ready to fight, because being a demon slayer is your true destiny. You want to get trained hard, you urge to surpass yourself each and every day.

You stare at your eyes filled with determination in the mirror. Therefore, you need to make sure they see nothing but a normal boy in you. 

It’s hard to breathe properly with countless bandages tied around your chest in order to hide your feminine curves to their eyes. Carefully, you tie a ribbon around the ends of your hair and pull them up. Good, now your hair is about shoulder-length. A plain hairband that is convincing enough as a sweat band turns your usual longer hair into a temporary short cut.

Is this enough? Will the mist hashira actually believe you?

Confidently, you change into the uniform you stole from a boy nearby earlier and grab your katana. There is no other way than finding out.

“Where’s that little girl? Didn’t Tengen-sama allow her to continue?”

“Huh, you mean the little wallflower? I bet she gave up when she saw what hashira training really means. She wasn’t even strong enough to hold a sword.”

Your heart drops to the floor while your eyes automatically look down in panic and distress. Everyone underestimates you over the sheer fact that you’re a girl. But why? Why would you give up? Why is everyone thinking you aren’t strong enough when women like Shinobu Kocho show them how it’s done? You didn’t train since you were 4 to get reduced to your gender and height.

No, you’ll show them soon enough how good you really are and that you’re no one to be messed with.

“Look at him!”

“Who is that guy?”

“He fights as good as Tanjiro!”

“I’ve never seen him around. Do you know him?”

And you did. Training after training, hashira after hashira. Somehow, you surpassed them all. Despite your small frame, your disadvantage towards the boys with their ability to move freely in the scorching hot sun, you made it.

“It seems like you’re decent handling your sword. I have no use for you here anymore”, Obanai proclaims dryly.

You…you did it? You’ve been here for 3 days, spent the first day tied to a wall while getting smacked by some useless comrades. But you really convinced him, the serpent hashira, the man a lot of the others were so afraid of.

Your heart jumps up and down in excitement. You convinced him.

“Thank you”, you mumble in reply with deepened voice.

“Let’s see how you’ll keep up with Shinazugawa. Now get lost.”

Shinazugawa? You’ve heard that name before. Is this…the wind hashira? Your eyes widen as you sprint down the forest in the merciless sun. If Iguro Obanai is considered rough, Sanemi Shinazugawa has to be a menace. You heard from countless slayers that went back home as soon as they arrived at his estate, some beaten up so badly that they needed treatment.

For days.

You swallow hard. If this man finds out that you’re not who you pretend to be, you’ll be dead. But you have no other choice. After everything you’ve been through, you won’t give up because of the wind hashira’s bad reputation.

“How’s training going?”, Sanemi mumbles while staring into the distance.

“All of them are trash. There’s only one that is decent, though”, Obanai replies dryly.

“Don’t tell me it’s that Kamado brat-“

“No, I’ve never seen that boy before. No one seems to know who he is. He’s pretty small for his age and acts even weirder than the others but I can’t deny that he’s skilled. Even Kanroji…praised him”, Obanai presses out.

He’ll definitely never forget you for taking up the space of a full hand-written site in her note to him.

“You all went too easy on him, then. I’ll mop the floor with his ass when he gets to me.”

“We’ll see about that.”

Your breath gets stuck in your throat. There it is, the estate of the wind hashira. Only him and the stone hashira are left. Only these two until you’re able to drop your false identity and use your newest skills in a real fight. When you’re done here, you’ll finally be able to protect your village properly. No demon will ever hurt your friends and family again.

You just have to get through a few more days of training. A few more days with the wind hashira…

-two days later-

“Get lost, brats”, Sanemi barks out in sheer frustration.

Are these losers really supposed to be useful in a fight against Kibutsuji? They aren’t even good enough to hold their wooden sword correctly, let alone find the right stance to fight. God, this is such a waste of time, so fucking annoying that he smashes his own wooden sword into the ground roughly.

“Fucking useless rabble”, he hisses through gritted teeth.

When his blurry sight catches yours, he’s even more infuriated. He really thought the other pillars were too gentle with you. You, with your thin and small frame, with your innocent eyes that almost make you look like a girl. And while you look like the biggest loser of this whole corps, you manage to fight better than all the others.

“Enough of this bullshit, we’re using real swords now”, Sanemi barked at you while already grabbing his sharp katana.

“Fine.”

You didn’t storm towards him, didn’t act out of confidence or rage. You stayed so calm that Sanemi didn’t know how to act for the split of a second.

The split of a second. This minor moment was enough for you to lift your blade and scratch his cheek ever so slightly.

“Did he…Just hit the wind hashira?”

“This can’t be true. A strange guy like him, hitting one of the most powerful demon slayers?”

“You…You have some fucking nerve, little brat! I’ll make you pay for this!”

Oh, how often he tormented you. Made you stand up in the middle of the night for a fight, forced you to stand up against all your comrades. He pushed you over your limit over and over, made you suffer in a way he never did before.

But you still stand your ground. Still, you grab your wooden sword and follow the others inside at dawn as if nothing happened.

And it simply drives him insane.

“You, little brat!”

“Yes, Shinazugawa-sama?”

Your guts turn in an instant. In contrast to the other hashira training, this feels like a trip to hell and back. It almost seems as if the wind hashira made it his mission to let you suffer more than anyone else. What have you done to deserve his anger? Did you act out of line, aloof? It has to be the fact that you injured his cheek during your fight…

“Never mind. Get out of my sight.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice. Instantly, you turn on your heels and make your way to dinner. Maybe you’ll finally have to chance to wash yourself tonight. With all those unexpected training sessions and the wind hashira torturing you until far past midnight, you didn’t even find the time to take a bath. Urgh, you can’t wait to finally take those bandages off and to wash your itchy scalp. All that sweating without the relief of a jump in the cool lake nearby is definitely hard to endure.

But tonight. Tonight you’ll finally get the chance to escape the merciless gaze of Sanemi Shinazugawa.

He doesn’t know what keeps him up tonight. Is it the full moon that lights his room, his still enraged heart? It’s still hard to believe that you’re acting up like this, that you manage to hit him. Out of all the jerks he trained, why does it have to be the smallest and therefore weakest one?

Maybe all he needs is letting his anger out on you. Sanemi storms into the dormitory wearing nothing but a casual yukata. He might hunt you around the lake for a few rounds or lets you practice your sword bows until you turn blue-

But his eyes don’t get greeted by your hair sticking out underneath you’re blanket.

“Where the hell are you, brat?”, he hisses to himself.

“This feels like heaven”, you moan to yourself while you dip your head into the cool water.

You never cared about getting covered in mud or dried blood sticking to your skin. But oh, the feeling of cleaning yourself up again after a rough day is just unmatched. Gently, your fingers brush through your wet hair, free yourself from all the dirt of those last days.

When will you be able to return? After that, only the stone hashira is left. How did you manage to land all the way over here? Hiding behind the identity of a boy no one know in order to get treated equally. Your efforts were definitely worth it. With those countless new techniques you’ve learned, you’ll finally be able to stand up against the demons that haunt down your village on a regular basis. Finally, you’ve got the education you deserved.

“You have to be fucking kidding me.”

All color drains from your face in an instant. You don’t have to look past his knees to know who stays right in front of you. Why didn’t you hear him coming? How did he manage to show up in front of you without you noticing?

“S-Shinazuwaga-sama”, you breathe out.

It doesn’t matter how he found you. With your hair open and your upper body barely covered by the water, he already saw through your well-hidden secret. Or better said, your lie.

“You’re so dead.”

You can’t escape. In the matter of seconds, he is with you in the water and grabs your wrists roughly.

“You lied into our faces this whole time?”, he hisses through gritted teeth.

“I had to-“

“You’re nothing but a little girl!”

“You left me-“

“What else do you have to hide? Are you even a demon slayer? I’m totally in the mood to kill you right on the spot-“

“YOU LEFT ME NO CHOICE”, you finally blurt out.

“No choice? Are you out of your goddamn mind?”

“Tengen-sama treated me like porcelain because I’m a woman, but I didn’t want that! I wanted to train like the boys do, I wanted to suffer like everyone else! How am I supposed to become a decent swordswoman when everyone goes easy on me because of my gender!?”

“You…You lied to us.”

“I did.”

“You aren’t a guy.”

“I’m not.”

Thick silence hangs between both of you, only interrupted by sharp and heavy breaths. What now? Will he send you away in dishonor or even worse, exclude you from the corps completely? You’ve worked so hard to even get accepted, poured your heart and soul into those past days. All of this, vanishing in thin air?

“Please don’t send me away”, you finally press out.

“Are you dumb? Ain’t no way I’m letting you stay-“

“I can’t return home in dishonor. I did all of this to be able to protect my family and village. If I return home like this…”

You can’t finish your sentence, your throat suddenly feeling so tight that you even fail to breathe.

“Get out of my sight.”

“But I-“

“I said get out of my sight!”, he screams on top of his lungs.

You flinch backwards and almost trip into the water. Talking doesn’t do much. If you’re not leaving the next few seconds, he might drown you.

With a heavy heart you leave the water, carefully hiding behind a tree until you’re fully dressed again.

“What’s your real name?”, he shouts towards you harshly.

“My name is (y/n)”, you mutter, not daring to look into his cold eyes.

And then you stumble back. Back into the dormitory you know so well by now. Back into what might be the last night at the demon slayer corps for you.

“Remember that skilled guy you told me about?”, Sanemi mumbles while staring at the ground.

“Yeah. What about him?”

“It’s not him. She’s a fucking girl that pretended to be a guy.”

It still feels like a feverish dream. Why did nobody realize sooner? Not even himself…God, he’s such an idiot for not throwing you out instantly. You lied straight into his face, you lied to the whole demon slayer corps all this time. You deserve to leave, you deserve all that hatred and disgust.

“That’s actually quite impressive. How did you find out?”, Obanai comments dryly.

“I caught her bathing. Said she didn’t want to get differently because she’s a girl.”

Just the thought of seeing you there lit by nothing but moonlight, your long hair draped like a veil around you and your female curves he didn’t even know existed…

“That are some unexpected news. Do the others know?”

“I won’t tell ‘em. I’ll kick her out the corps when I return.”

“Why kicking her out? No matter if boy or girl, you can’t deny she’s the most promising one until now. Why not keeping her?”

“Keeping her?”, Sanemi repeats in sheer disbelief.

“Ain’t no way I’ll ever speak to a filthy little liar like her again.”

“Her plan worked, though. And I hate to admit it, but she did pretty good.”

Sanemi’s furious eyes dart towards Obanai in nothing but frustration. You fooled every single hashira until now. You hold so much potential that eventually…Would you survive as his tsugoko?

“I’ll leave”, he finally speaks out before turning his back on Obanai and storming away.

What the hell is he supposed to do?

How utterly dumb you feel sitting on that porch with your wet hair still open in the cool breeze far past midnight. You have no idea where he went, if he’s out to inform the head of the corpse about your behavior or even worse, your own family. Is it too early to pack your few belongings, to leave before he comes back? You definitely can’t stand another round of getting yelled at by the wind hashira.

“What are you doing here outside, brat?”

Fuck. He steps out of the darkness like an unpromising shadow with his face as hard as stone.

“I can’t sleep anyway”, you murmur.

“I’m so fucking mad at you for shitting me like this. Pretending you’re a guy while you’re just a girl.”

“I’m not just a girl”, you clarify sharply.

“Shut the fuck up. You’re a lying little brat but-“

He takes a deep breath in while sitting down next to you.

“But you’ve got what it takes. I’ve been looking for a decent tsugoko for quite some time now and-“

You can’t believe your ears. This man can’t possibly be the wind hashira you know by now, the man who looked like he’ll drown you any minute just a few hours ago. He can’t suggest to take you in as his tsugoko, right? There’s absolutely no way this man wants to train you on a regular basis-

“And maybe you’re that decent fit.”

Oh.

“Me, as your tsugoko”, you repeat his words in order to make them sound real.

“I’ll still kick your ass for lying into my face like that, though”, he adds aggressively.

Never in your life would you ever dreamed of being the apprentice of a hashira. You always worked hard, always made sure to develop your skills with everything you do, but being considered a tsugoko? Of the wind hashira, who never takes in a student? Who seems so rough and cruel but allowed you to handle your katana even better?

“I’d love that”, you finally breathe out.

“I’m beyond thankful you’re e-“

“Shut up immediately. A yes is enough. You’ll stay here with me, then.”

“Y-yes, Shinazugawa-sama!”

“No go to sleep, I can’t beat your ass when you’re tired”, he mumbles before getting up and leaving while your feelings are still over the place.

You, the tsugoko of Sanemi Shinazugawa?

-a few months later-

“Gimme your best shot now, brat!”, he barks at you.

Sweat runs down your forehead like a waterfall, your heavy panting tasting like blood. Just one more hit, one more strike and you’ll get him.

“Thunder breathing, fourth form-“

“Too slow”, he comments next to your ear.

Within the split of a second, you find yourself just inches away from the dirty ground with Sanemi’s arms keeping you from falling.

“Still not fast enough. Do it again.”

Mindlessly, he still drops you into the dirt with his sword casually draped over his shoulder.

You lift yourself off the ground with trembling limbs. There you are again, deep within your trip to hell and back. What you expected when agreeing on being the tsugoko of Sanemi Shinazugawa?

You grab the handle of your sword even tighter and storm towards just like you did hundreds of times before with the smallest of smiles creeping up your features.

Well, exactly that.

-steaming hot bonus: meeting in the lake at night-

You allow the cool water to caress your countless wounds gently. How good it feels to finally bathe every single day instead of once every few days. When the truth came out and everyone started to realize that you aren’t a boy, you regained a part of your freedom along with the merciless training of the wind hashira. Each and every day, he tortured you and others with his cruel training methods before you slide into the lake before the sun sets and go straight back to sleep.

Not today, though. It has to be almost midnight by now, the stars in the sky glimmering so magnificent that you can’t look away. Sanemi allowed you to visit your family and friends today. As you have learned, demon attacks have subsided since the sister of Tanjiro Kamado mastered the sun. And even though that means your loved ones will be safe, you can’t deny the slight turn of your guts. This means a war is around the corner, that Muzan Kibutsuji himself might come for all of you.

But this is nothing you should think about now. Not when you just returned and desperately longed for a bath. You dip your head into the cold water, moan to yourself as the water surrounds you fully-

“What the hell are you doing here, brat?”

Sanemi.

Out of instinct you cry out while burying everything except for your head inside the dark water. You’re butt-naked. How long has he been here already? And…has he seen you? Suddenly your whole body feels hot against the cool water around, cheeks turning dark red.

“Calm down, idiot-“

“How long have you been here already!?”

“What? I’m always taking a bath around this time. You’re the one who shouldn’t be here”, he clarifies dryly.

There he stands. Droplets of water run down his bare chest and almost make him shimmer in the moonlight. His wet hair stick to his face so delicately that you can’t force yourself to look away. He looks…hot.

Hot?

“I-uh…I just returned from…home”, you stutter.

“Hope your family is fine”, he mumbles along with slicking his hair back.

Within these past months, you’ve caught a glimpse of Sanemi you’ve never witnessed before. This man isn’t as cruel as everybody makes him look, his words aren’t always meant as harsh as they sound. Sanemi has a very tender side. Especially when his eyes soften for the blink of a moment, you couldn’t help but feel lost.

“They are. Apparently, the incidents with demons involved lessened when I departed”, you press out.

God, you’re acting ridiculous and you know it. Sanemi is your teacher, your training partner. Even though you’re living under the same roof (he even gave you an own room), there aren’t any romantical feelings between both of you.

“Good to hear. I’ll let you rest a little tomorrow morning. You have to be dead tired.”

“I’m fine”, you lie in an instant.

Truth is, you’re so drained out that the water is the only thing that’s able to keep your knees for failing you at the moment. Not only from your journey, but all those countless harsh training sessions, dueling yourself over and over with Sanemi and the others. But you’d never admit it, would never say it out loud.

“You’re probably the baddest liar out there. Your cheeks are red as hell, (y/n)”, Sanemi comments dryly.

You don’t dare to move when he stretches out his hand. Enough to gently caress your cheek, enough to cause an explosion in your stomach.

Did Sanemi just touch you? Tenderly?

“I…N-no…I…”

You can’t find the words. In fact, you are too distracted to care about something like words. Slowly but surely, he draws closer with his perfectly formed chest exposed to your hungry eyes.

“(y/n), I…There’s actually something I wanted…Well…Fuck!”

Is that really Sanemi Shinazugawa, stumbling over his own words? And why is it him who’s blushing at the moment?

These past few months made it really easy for you to actually respect the wind hashira. Not only his frightful skills when handling the sword, but just him. Him, when he’s brushing the fur of the cat that visits his estate from time to time. Him, when he tucks you into your blanket when assuming you’re already asleep. Him, when checking on you in his own unique way.

How ridiculous to even think about him like that, to even allow your heart to jump up and down in joy. But you can’t help yourself. Despite the way you despised him when the two of you first met, you really started to love this man with all your heart.

“(y/n), you’re a pretty decent women”, he begins again while drawing closer.

“Well, I…Thank you?”

A decent woman? Is that what he thinks about you?

“I still can’t believe you lied to me about being a girl, though”, he barks at you.

Oh.

You hate the way your heart drops. Were you really dumb enough so think he might have something to say, that he might tell you he has feelings for you as well? How ridiculous, how absolutely dumb.

“I think I should get going. It’s been a long day”, you mumble.

It’s probably the best to get away from here as soon as possible. But just when you start moving towards the shore, his hand grabs your arm tightly and twirls you around.

Right against his bare chest.

“Don’t you dare leaving now, brat”, he hisses through gritted teeth.

“I…there’s something I wanna tell you…”

“Why are you acting like a child?”, you finally spit at him yourself.

Oh, you’re having enough of all those ups and downs. Especially today, when you’re totally drained out already. You really don’t have the nerve for him to pick on you again, not when his last statement lies like a heavy stone in your stomach-

“Acting like a child?”, he challenges you.

Just before his lips crash into yours.

Longingly, Sanemi wraps his strong arms around you, devours you against his body while all you’re able to do is holding onto his broad shoulders for dear life.

This…is really happening, right? This is really Sanemi, pressing his lips against yours over and over again while your naked skin brushes against his?

“You’re fucking driving me insane, brat”, he mumbles against your lips before grabbing you even tighter.

“Since the moment I realized you aren’t a boy.”

He grabs you by your waist firmly, your naked skin rubbing against his sixpack almost making you lose everything that’s left of your self-control.

“I can’t get you out of my head.”

Your hands wander around his biceps, feel the deep valleys of his muscular back. God, this feels so good – almost too good to be true. But even if this is nothing but a dream, you’ll enjoy every minor movement, every sweet moment until you open your eyes again.

But when you do, you don’t find yourself in the comforting darkness of your room. No, his eyes glimmer like molten iron when staring down at you in the moonlight, his hot breath brushing against your wet face so seductive that you threaten to lose your balance.

“Still saying I’m acting like a child, brat?”

[sluttysnowangel666]

His Second Wife - cregan stark x reader (request)

summary: two years following the death of cregan’s first wife, he accepts an undesired marriage proposal to rhaenyra targaryen’s daughter. rhaenyra’s daughter, who had loved cregan the moment she first met him as a young girl, immediately loves and accepts cregan’s first child as her own. yet it is still not enough for cregan to find his own love for his new wife.

cw: mean cregan😓, widow!cregan, targ!reader, loss of virginity(reader), rhaenyra’s daughter, angst to fluff, unrequited love, sex, happy ending

do yall notice i always post a long ass story usually around midnight or later ( i’m unwell)also this is long af soz it was a detailed request and I wanted it to be to a T. this is SOO long. i prolly should have done two parts… oh well @lillithsalvatore hope you enjoy it love ❤️

“How do you feel, my love?” Your mother asked, placing a warm and comforting hand on yours.

You sighed. “Nervous.”

She gave you that warm and sweet smile of hers. “I know. I hope you know this choice was not easy for me to make, as I know this was a hard task for me to place upon you.”

“I know, mother.” You say with forgiveness, giving her hand a squeeze.

“Had it been any other lord I would have surely declined but… Starks are the most honorable among men. I know your union will be blessed by the gods.”

You give her a smile, blindly trusting her words. You had met him once, and you knew he was kind. In fact, he had left a paw shaped imprint on your heart. You thought to yourself no union could be more suitable. You knew he had married once before out of a prior marital alliance, but the marriage had been short lived, lasting only a year before his first wife died in her birthing chambers.

It took more than four moons before you arrived at Winterfell, as if every power in the world was set on preventing it. You were not a superstitious person, so you simply thought all the bad things that happened prior to your marriage was coincidence.

Each time you went to leave, something prevented you. Your mother miscarried your baby sister, Lucerys was killed by Aemond, Daemon went silent at Harrenhall, Rhaena ran away and was lost in the eyrie before revealing she claimed Sheep-stealer.

You arrived in the dead of winter, and the journey had not been kind to you. You got a chill on the way up, causing you to stop at an inn for a few nights, you had came across raiders who killed one of the many men escorting you, and your clothes were ill suited for the weather.

You did eventually arrive at Winterfell thankfully, all in one piece.

You stepped out of the carriage cautiously, eyeing the snowy landscape surrounding you. It went as far as the eye could see. You held your hand out, letting the thick snowflakes fall and melt in your hand.

“My princess.” You turn to see Cregan, walking towards you. He bows, forcing a politeness. “Winterfell is yours.”

You bow in return, “No need for such formalities, Lord Stark. This is your home, and I am honored to have you welcome me here.”

He nods, choosing to say nothing else to you.

“Please show the princess to her chambers.” He says to one of the servants, then immediately turning on his heels to leave. Your jaw falls slightly, surprised at his curt demeanor.

You compose yourself, trying to hide the slight hurt in your features before making your way to your private chambers.

You bathed immediately, welcoming the hot water against your skin. No water could be hot enough for your dragon blood, but what they had drawn up for you would do nicely.

Your wedding was a week after your arrival, the lord having given you time to settle in. You had not seen him much during that week so you chose not to bother him, assuming he was busy with duties.

When you walked down that snowy path to the red weirwood, Cregan stole a glance at you. You looked beautiful, and he felt horribly guilty for thinking it. He felt like what he was doing was betraying her.

You said your vows, swearing your love before the old gods. You smiled at Cregan and he gave you a forced one in return. Guilt wracked his whole body. He felt guilty for you, knowing he wouldn’t be able to give you a union where you were loved, he felt guilty for liking your smile, he felt guilty for forgetting hers.

There was a feast following the ceremony, nothing large due to the pains of winter, but it didn’t bother you. The small gathering felt intimate, compared to southern weddings where lords and ladies travelled from all over the realm to witness it.

It was here you met Cregan’s son, Rickon.

“Hi, little one.” You said. He was only two, a fat little babe who looked just like Cregan.

“Rickon, this is my new wife.” Cregan said. The way he worded it made you twitch, it had sounded so strained. He didn’t even use your name. You told the boy the name he could call you, but he said nothing as he hid behind his father’s leg.

“I apologize.” Cregan said, his voice showing no sign that he actually was sorry.

“It is alright, my lord. He is just a babe. He and I will have time to get to know each other.” You said. Cregan tensed up, suddenly remembering again this union was forever.

“Excuse me, princess.” He said, turning and walking away with Rickon. Your heart sunk a bit. You could start to sense it now, Cregan was not in the slightest invested in your union together. You felt lost, out of place suddenly.

You sat back down at the high table, overwhelmed with nervousness. You bit at your nails and the skin around them, biting until they bled. You missed your mother dearly. Being here, in this room among strangers who didn’t care much for southerners to begin with, made you feel small.

You had sat there for an hour or two, not moving or eating once, save for your cuticles.

Cregan came to you, not noticing your nervous state. If he had noticed, he chose to ignore it. “I’ve put Rickon down… Would you please accompany me to my chambers?”

You looked at him, the nail bed of your thumb resting between your teeth. You nodded, standing and staring at the hall one last time. You locked eyes with a man, who noticed you both about to take your leave.

“Is it time for the bedding ceremony, Lord Stark?” The man asked, erupting a few cheers from the men mostly.

“No!” Cregan nearly barked the order. “There will be no bedding ceremony.”

The men in the crowd shuffled awkwardly at his outburst but accepted.

“Princess.” Cregan said, walking away and not waiting to see if you were following.

You did anyway, struggling to keep up with his quick pace. You had the sense he wanted this to be over with quickly.

He held the door as you both entered his chambers. You took in your surroundings. It was a clean and large kept room with a lit hearth and a large bed. A thought passed your mind, even though you tried to push it down.

Did he share these chambers with her?

Cregan began to take off his armor and furs, again not watching to see if you did the same, only assuming you were. If you weren’t, he didn’t care.

“Um, could you help, my lord?” You asked, referring to the laces of your white wedding dress.

He sighed, walking over to you as you turned your back to him. Your eyes welled with tears, but you tried to hide it.

His hands were gentle with the laces, not tugging at them as you expected him to. He obviously had experience doing this before.

He grew emotional as he undid your dress, but he hid it well. It was a weird sense of deja vu. Your hair looked like hers from the back and he felt like he was back at his first wedding.

You pushed the dress off, revealing the sheer linen soft dress underneath. He hadn’t moved from behind you, trying to maintain his composure. You walked away from him, lying on the bed and biting your nails again.

He finished disrobing besides his briefs, and you stole a glance at his back. It was huge, muscular and scarred.

He walked over to the bed, getting between your legs and pushing up your shift.

“Is this alright with you, princess?” He asks. “We need not consummate this if you are not ready.”

For the first time it seemed like he kinda cared about how you felt. His hand still had a hold of your shift, which was resting on your pelvic bone.

You nodded, “Is it alright with you, Lord Stark?”

He nodded, pushing your shift up the rest of the way to reveal your chest. He wanted to fall on his sword for the way he kept stealing glances at your breasts.

He pushed his briefs down, and you choked on your breath at the reveal of his length.

“Oh, gods.” You mumbled under your breath.

He rubbed himself against your slit, and your heart stilled for a minute. The feeling was foreign and intense.

He gently grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand away from your mouth. You hadn’t even realized you were still doing it, it was starting to become like breathing. A natural, unintentional habit.

Your hands fell to his biceps to steady yourself. You looked at him, but he did not meet your gaze. He instead bowed his head, watching himself enter inside you.

You dug your nails into his arm, gasping in shock. He gently shushed you, telling you it was okay.

“Please, please.” You said, not knowing what you were even pleading for.

“What?” He asked gently, his voice low and almost mimicking of your whining. It sent a shiver up your spine.

He was slow and gentle with you, not in it for any pleasure himself.

You touched his chest and his hair and his arms, and while he didn’t stop you he made no effort to touch you himself. His hands rested beside your head, holding up his weight.

Your hands found his arms again and you moaned softly, feeling your peak building in your stomach. You closed your eyes and pressed your forehead to his head, moaning as you spilled onto him. He closed his eyes as he felt it, and guilt wracked him again.

He gently pulled out of you and stood up, immediately dressing himself into his nightwear. You pushed your shift back down and pulled the linen covers over you, immediately going back to biting your nails at his reaction.

He laid beside you, not facing you and not saying anything.

You said nothing, but it hadn’t gone unnoticed how he intentionally avoided spilling himself into you.

———

It had been 3 months since your arrival to Winterfell, and you had adjusted as well as you could given the circumstances.

You did not often see your lord husband, but you were used to it. He spent a lot of his free time in the crypt where she was. It hurt, but you gave him his peace and he appreciated that you didn’t hover.

“Mummy!”

“Sh, sh, love.” You say as Rickon runs into your chambers.

Cregan did not like when Rickon called you his mother. He’d gotten upset with you a few times over it, and you assured him you would correct Rickon when it happened.

“Mummy.” He repeated. You giggled. pulling him into your lap. You shook your head and tapped his nose, saying, “Nooo. Not mummy.”

“Mummy.” He laughed, and you ran your fingers through his thick brown curls.

“What ever will we do with this mop on your head, my son?”

“He is not your son.” You turned to see Cregan standing in the door way. “And his hair is fine.”

“Apologies, my lord.” You said, curtly. He ignored your attitude.

“Come, Rickon.” He said, beckoning his son.

“No, mummy.” Rickon whined, holding you.

“Go see papa.” You told him, and with your blessing Rickon ran to Cregan.

Cregan gave you a cold stare as he left, and you returned the favor.

You were growing ever so agitated with your husband. He had welcomed you into Winterfell, but not his heart. The only time you both had shared a bed was the night of your wedding, to which Cregan had made sure not to give you an heir.

You had no one. Rickon had you, Cregan had you even if he did not want you, yet you were alone here in Winterfell.

You decided to write to your mother on Dragonstone, requesting for Jacaerys to pick you up on dragon back so you could visit your family and hopefully receive advice. You had left your dragon, Silverwing, at home. You did not want to disrespect the already hesitant northern people, and you did not want Silverwing to be cold or hungry.

That night when you were brushing your hair before bed, there was a knock on your door.

“Come in.” You looked in the mirror and saw Cregan’s half sister, Sara, enter.

“Hi, Sara.” You said. She came up behind you, taking the brush from your hand and slowly combing it through your hair. You two had formed a unique bond, given you were both considered outcasts in Winterfell. You were a southerner, she was a bastard. They were two sides of the same coin here in Winterfell.

“I heard what happened today.” She said, and you hummed mindlessly. “My brother can be a bastard.”

You smiled at her in the mirror. “Is that so?”

She nods. “I wish I knew what to do, Sara.”

“We northerners love hard, princess. We are unwaveringly loyal. The wound of losing Aly is still fresh in my brother’s heart. Give him time. He knows you love Rickon, and that scares him. I don’t know why.”

“Was Aly pretty?” You ask.

“You have a southern beauty we do not see often in the North. Aly was not a beautiful woman, but she was a fierce fighter. That is how history will remember her. She was born fighting, and she died fighting. I know you are a fierce fighter as well, princess. You are the blood of the dragon. Do not let the grief my brother holds make you feel small.” She kisses the back of your head. “Throw a fucking book at his head if he acts like that again.”

You laugh, her joke comforting you. She turns and leaves you alone, your head clouded with thoughts of Aly.

You heard back from Jacaerys within a few days that he would arrive shortly to bring you home. You had not yet told Cregan, as you knew he wouldn’t care anyway.

A few days following the letter from the raven, it was Sara’s name day. Cregan had decided to celebrate with a feast, one bigger than your wedding.

You all sat at the high table, your husband and sister in law drinking heavily. Although Cregan was a big man, the amount of ale he consumed that night seemed enough to kill a horse.

“My princess.” A servant rested her hand on your shoulder. You and Cregan both turned to look at her, and she grew nervous, not expecting Cregan to pay any attention or perhaps she would not have asked the princess the request. “Rickon has had a nightmare and wants no comfort of the maids. He is requesting you by name specifically, princess.”

You turn to look at Cregan for his approval. He gives a quick nod, which you hadn’t expected. Perhaps he only obliged since Rickon had requested you by your name, rather than requesting his “mother.”

You walked with the maid to his chambers, opening the door.

“Mummy.” He said through sniffles. You turned to face the maid.

“I thought he requested me by my name.” You said.

“That is your name, princess… to him.” The maid closed the door.

You turn to face Rickon with a gentle sigh. “You know papa doesn’t like that word.”

“Mummy.” He just says again. You walk to his bed, fitting yourself in to lay with him. He cuddles into your chest, and you play with his hair to help him sleep.

“Say it okay.” He says.

“Hm? What do you mean, child?” You ask.

“She say it okay to call you mummy.”

“Who?”

“Mummy did.”

“No, you have to call me my name, sweet boy.”

“Not you, mummy. My other mummy said it okay.”

“You confuse me, Rickon.”

“Mummy says ignore papa.” You chuckle softly.

“Sleep now, my love.” You say, and he slowly falls asleep while you hum him a soft song.

You rise, tucking him in and giving his head a kiss.

You open his door to return to the feast, and Cregan is there waiting.

You gasp, covering your mouth quickly to not wake Rickon.

“Gods, you scared me!” You whisper/yell at him. He says nothing, his eyes in a glossy and drunken haze.

You close the door, nearly standing chest to chest with him.

“I heard you sing to him.” He says softly. “Where did you learn that song?”

“He taught me it.” You say, as you go to step past him when he stops you.

“Cregan?” You say confused, turning to look up at him.

He takes your cheeks in your hands and slams his lips on yours. You freeze for a second in shock, before immediately returning the kiss. He presses you against the door, and you moan into him as you quickly grow wet with Cregan’s sudden change of behavior.

He moves to press gentle kisses on your neck, biting softly here and there. His fingers dig into your hips, grinding himself into you. You moan softly, trying not to cause too much noise against the door.

“Not here.” You moan. He avoids your eyes, taking your hand and pulling you further down the hall to his chambers. It was only your second time in his room. He lifted you into his strong arms, wrapping your legs around his waist and pressing you against the wall.

You both hadn’t even undressed, but you loved the thrill. Your husband finally wanted you after three long grueling months. He pushed your dress up to your waist as you unlaced his breeches.

He took you there against the wall of his chambers, fucking you so sweetly, fucking you in a way that would surely produce an heir.

Your moans filled the halls, and the servants began to spread word that the lord had finally moved on from his first wife.

He carried you to the bed, placing you along the edge as he stood, fucking you with sloppy and drunken thrusts.

You moaned his name, both of you drawing so close to your peak as your hands rested against his stomach. He leaned closed to you as hand moved beside your head to hold his weight, and the other moved under your lower back to lift you slightly off the bed and pull you more into him. The angle sent you over the edge, crying and moaning his name.

Your moans pushed him over, but his next words made you sick.

“Fuck, Alysanne.” He groaned, burying his head in your neck and spilling his seed into you.

You gasped, not even sure you heard him right.

He kissed your neck a few times and then rolled off you, not noticing the look on your face.

You laid there unmoving, still in your dress which was now damp with sweat, and your thighs now sticky with Cregan.

He fell asleep the second his head hit his pillow, still in his clothes.

You choked back a sob, moving your hand to your mouth so he wouldn’t waken. In reality, you could’ve started screaming and he wouldn’t have woke, or even shuffled.

You exited his chambers, trying not to be sick on the way to yours.

“My sister!” Sara drunkenly yelled as she seen you in the hallway. She took notice of your disheveled dress and hair. “Oh my gods, did you and Cregan just…?”

You ignored her, but she noticed the tears on your face. “Wait, sister what is wrong? What happened?”

You slammed the door in her face, throwing yourself into your pillow and screaming.

—

“Mother would be furious if she knew you were sleeping this well past sunrise.”

You groaned, lifting your head from the pillow to find the voice in the room.

“Jacaerys?” You said, when your eyes landed on him.

“I take it the feast for Sara Snow was a success.” He says, making fun of you. Your hair was sticking to your face, wet with a mixture of tears and drool.

“I guess you could say that.” You said, wiping your hair to the side.

“You’re disgusting.” He says.

“Gods, five minutes you’ve been here and you already frustrate me! Get out!” You say, both of you immediately teasing and arguing like you had never left home.

You push him out of your room.

“Don’t touch me, wench!” He whines, smacking your arms.

“Piss off! Go harass the bloody Lord of Winterfell.”

“I’d rather harass the Lady.” You push him out of your doors, turning and pressing your back to slide down the wall.

You hear him knock again and you rise to your feet, angry. “Jace, I said-“

You don’t finish your sentence, since as you open the door it’s Sara.

“I wanna talk about last night.”

“I don’t.” You say, going to close the door on her before she pushes it back open.

“What happened?” She asks, angry. She closes the door behind her and follows you to the bed. You sit on the edge and rest your elbows on your thighs, burying your face in your hands.

“Did my brother hurt you?” She asks, worried.

“No, no.”

She rests on her knees in front of you, placing her hands on your knees. “Tell me what happened.”

You sigh, trying to hold back your tears, but you cannot. “We had sex.”

“Isn’t that good? What went wrong?”

“He called me Alysanne.” You sob out.

“Oh, no.” She says, moving to sit beside you and wrap her arms around you.

“I cannot stay here no longer, Sara. I am being haunted by Alysanne. I find letters she wrote to Cregan, her clothes, her weapons. Rickon thinks I am her and Cregan wishes I was.”

“I am sorry, princess.” She says, sadly. “I thought I knew my brother better than that… Perhaps, if you talk to him about these past few months things can be different. Just give it a try, yes? You have your brother here now. You can leave if things do not work and the marriage can be annulled.”

You did not even wish to think of that possibility. It would be so shameful for both of your houses. You would do everything in your power to make it work.

You cleaned yourself up and went to Cregan’s chambers, knowing he would be hungover.

And you were right.

You entered his room without knocking, finding him in a bath with a warm rag over his eyes. Three times now you’ve been in his chambers.

“You can set it on the table.” He says, not moving the rag.

“What?”

“Oh.” He says, his voice changing in tone. “I thought you were the maid.”

You say nothing, unsure of where to even begin.

“Can whatever you’ve barged into my chambers for wait until I am done.” He asks, only the question is more of a statement.

“No.” You say, angry. You walk over to him and pull the rag off his eyes. He squints at the brightness, then gagging on the air as if he might be sick. “We’re going to talk, Cregan. We’ve been married for months and I don’t think we’ve ever truly had a conversation once. It is all I am asking. You could at least give me that. You’ve given me the cold shoulder for three months, and I’m tired of it. I’ve helped raise your son, I’ve loved you and I’ve cared for you even when you didn’t want it. You owe this to me.”

He sighs, defeated. “You are right in that, my princess. I apologize. We can talk later, alright?”

“No, Cregan. We will talk now.”

“You wouldn’t rather talk when I am of a clear headspace?”

“No. Now.” You say. He sighs again.

“Say your piece.”

The words left your mind the second he said that. You had this conversation in your head many times before, but now it was here and you could not handle the heat of the moment.

He raised his eyebrow at you, as if you were dumb.

“Oh, do not do that. I thought you Starks were supposed to be the most honorable among men. This whole marriage I have been treated with everything but. You are a disrespectful man, Stark. I am truly sorry about Alysanne-“

“Do not speak to me about my wife, ever!” He yells, pointing at you.

“I am your wife!” You cry out. “You chose me, whether you were ready for another marriage or not! I left my home, my family, my dragon to be with you! If I cannot have your love, is it too much to ask for your fucking respect?!”

He goes quiet for a few moments, “You have always had my respect, princess… and I know I have erred in the way I’ve treated you these past moons. But this marriage is just a duty. Nothing more, nothing less. This marriage is not out of love… so do not expect me to love you back.”

You laugh, dryly. “You called me Alysanne last night… Do you remember that? No… I suppose you were too drunk. You never would have touched or cared for me like that sober.”

He says nothing, but his hands grip the side of the tub and his face is contorted with anger. You rise, hiding any sort of emotion on your face.

“The dead don’t need lovers. Only the living.” You said. He threw his rag at the door as you walked out, not even granting him a second glance.

The memories of last night flooded back to him, and he rested his face in his hands, crying at his behavior. He had let down Aly, his son, and you.

He did care about you, he did love you in his own way. He just didn’t know how to show it. He didn’t want to show it. If he had shown it, he only would have betrayed Aly even more.

You went down to the crypt, somewhere you had never gone before. You had no reason originally, no people to mourn.

You stood in front of her plot, staring at the statue of her. She had been a skinny girl, with long dark hair and ‘plain’ features. You thought she was a beauty in her own way. You saw why Cregan loved her.

You cried. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help him.”

Your hand touched her statue, then you stood and left the crypt.

You said goodbye to Rickon, Sara, and then you left with your brother on dragon back, ready to be home with your true family.

———

“You’re a fucking fool, brother.”

“You think I don’t know that? Gods.” Cregan rested his head in his hands. He had sent every raven in Winterfell to Dragonstone, yet not one had responded in the weeks since you’d left.

“We’ll be lucky if the bloody queen doesn’t declare war on us for you scorning her daughter.”

“I am trying here, Sara! I’ve sent my ravens, I’ve sent men to retrieve her. There is nothing more I can do!”

Sara slammed her hands on the table. “Go and get her your bloody self, Cregan. The trip to Dragonstone will give you plenty of time for reflection.”

Sara turned to leave, and Cregan knew it was his only option of getting you back here. He would go and get you and make things right. He had to.

You had your own time for reflection, riding home with Jacaerys made you realize how much you missed being on dragon back.

Your mother of course welcomed you with open arms, but was wracked with guilt that you and Cregan’s union was not working. You paid it no mind however, spending your days patrolling Dragonstone on Silverwing.

Cregan had taken his horse and a few men to retrieve you from Dragonstone. The trip by horse was long, more than several weeks.

The entire time he rode in silence he thought of you. He thought of your last conversation and the final words you had said to him. The dead don’t need lovers. And you were right. Alysanne would not have wished to see him treat you how he had, she would not have wanted Cregan to spend his time sulking or being angry. He only wished he had realized it before he left.

He loved you. If only it hadn’t taken you leaving for him to realize. You were kind, gentle, beautiful. Traits Alysanne didn’t have but it was what seperated you from her. It had been how he was able to find his own kind of love for you, even when he didn’t consciously realize it yet. His own bitterness from losing Aly had made forget his honor.

Cregan arrived about two moons after you had left. He was aching, frustrated, and desperate by the time he reached Dragonstone.

It was dark, pouring rain, and you were playing with your brothers Viserys and Aegon when he arrived.

“Your Grace!” A knight came into the room shouting. Your mother looked up from her book. “Cregan Stark of Winterfell has arrived and requests an immediate audience with you and the princess.”

Your mother looked at you, and you looked like you’d seen a ghost. Your heart sank and your face went pale, but you nodded.

You met him inside the council chambers with your mother and his men. He was soaked, shivering. You could hear your heart beating in your ears, that was how nervous you were.

“Cregan.” You said, walking towards him and pushing him by his arms to the hearth to warm him up. It was another thing he loved about you, your protective nature, so he said it.

“I love you.”

“Cregan…”

“Love her?” You both looked at your mother, whose face was angry. “You love my daughter?”

“Your Grace.” Cregan said, removing his sword and bending his knee. “I’ve come to beg your forgiveness.”

She walked towards you both. “It is not mine you need to beg for… I sent my only daughter to you, and you spurn her for your dead wife?!”

“Mother!”

“You will not interrupt the Queen when she is speaking.” She commands you. “What do you have to say for yourself, Lord Stark?”

He stands. “I have nothing to say, Your Grace. You are right. My behavior was unacceptable. The princess deserved none of it.”

“Why are you here?” Your mother asks him.

“I’ve come to ask the princess to return home.” Your mother scoffs at him.

She looks at you, then back to him. “You are lucky it is not my decision to make.”

She turns and exits, leaving and commanding his men to wait outside the doors so you both could be alone.

You were even more nervous with just the two of you in there. It is silent for a few moments before you speak.

“Why the sudden change of heart?” You ask Cregan.

“It took you leaving for me to realize I love you.” He says, taking your hands in his. You roll your eyes, taking your hands back and stepping away.

“I can’t believe you.” You say, starting to sob.

“I know, I know.” He steps closer to you again, taking you in his arms as you cry into his chest. “I’m so sorry.”

“I loved you, Cregan.” You say, crying. “Since I was a girl I loved you. I thought you were different from other men. But, you’re just like the rest.”

Cregan cries into your hair. “I’m so sorry, my princess. I’m so, so sorry.”

You both stand there, holding each other and crying.

“Please come home.” He says. “Let me take you home.”

“Rickon misses his mother, Sara misses her sister… I miss you, you my wife.”

You pull away to look at him, trying to read his normally stoic features. You can see he means it.

“Okay.”

———

You returned to Winterfell on Silverwing, no longer having the strength to remain apart from your dragon.

Cregan had to endure another long and grueling trip back to Winterfell, which you enjoyed knowing he was suffering while you road through the skies.

Rickon had cried tears of joy when you returned, and a week later when Cregan arrived Rickon cried again.

You and Cregan had remained in seperated chambers while you still navigated your marriage, but Cregan made a point to spend every moment of his free time with you.

But you had been keeping a secret from him.

After you returned home to Dragonstone originally, your blood never arrived. The maester determined you were with a babe, which would arrive several moons away in the dead of winter.

Your thick furs and dresses made it easier to hide from Cregan, as you were not ready to tell him.

The babe had complicated things. If you had not been pregnant, you might not have returned to Winterfell when Cregan came for you. But you knew you had a duty, and you believed if Cregan could love you then you could fix your union.

Cregan had indeed put the work in the second he arrived home. He attended to you, conversed with you, ate with you, laughed with you, but gave you the space you needed and gave you the option to be intimate with him when you were ready.

It was strangely like falling in love all over again. You blushed around each other, got nervous and flushed, made each other’s hearts race, shared a first kiss when you were both ready.

Cregan had undoubtedly fallen madly in love with you, and he regretted not taking the time to do it sooner. He couldn’t make up the time he lost being afraid. All he could do now was love you without guilt, love you without fear, love you without shame.

Normally Cregan always knocked on your chamber doors before entering, but for some reason this time he hadn’t. He didn’t know why he didn’t knock, he didn’t know if it happened unconsciously or if he was too busy wrapped up with his thoughts.

Either way, he entered without knocking and by that point the cat was out of the bag.

He said your name, greeting you with a smile, only for it to fall off his face as if it had never been there.

You were in the bath, relaxing in the burning water, but that wasn’t the problem. He’d seen you naked, although it hadn’t been for a few months by this point, but him accidentally invading your privacy wasn’t the problem either.

It was the bump in your belly that was a problem.

Your head turned sharply, covering your chest quickly. “Cregan!”

“Sorry.” He said quickly, turning around to avoid disrespecting you.

“It’s fine.” You said, dropping your arm from your chest. “You just gave me a fright.”

He said nothing for a moment, only continuing to face the wall.

“What is that?” He finally asked. You sighed, stepping out of the tub and into your robe.

You walked up behind him, resting a hand on his shoulder. He turned around to face you now, and his eyes fell down to your other hand resting on the small bump in your stomach.

“Perhaps it’s time we talk.”

“You think?” He spits at you, immediately apologizing after. “I’m sorry, princess. I didn’t mean to be cross with you.”

You said nothing, walking over to the seats by the hearth hoping he would follow.

He did, and he sat next to you, his eyes never leaving your belly.

“Can I?” He asked, gesturing to your stomach. You nodded, untying your robe so that you were bare. You grabbed his hand, bringing it to the small bump.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I could have accommodated for you, made sure you were comfortable.”

“Truth be told it’s been hard for me to accept I’m truly with a child.” You say, “The reality had not set in until… well until you just now found out... I am sorry, Cregan. I should not have kept it from you.”

He chokes back a sob. “Feels like just yesterday Alysanne had Rickon.”

“He will be overjoyed to know he will have a little brother or sister.” You tell him. He looks at you, his face full of emotion.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks and before you can even finish nodding your head, you’re already leaning in to kiss him.

“I love you. I love you so much, my wife.” He says in between kisses.

His hand did not move once from your stomach the whole night.

[cregansdingdong]

imagine cregan and y/n breaking the bed one night just because of his sheer strength and muscle whilst pounding her, ik the conversation with the winterfell wood crafter would be awks as hell afterwards whilst asking for it to be repaired 😇😇

IM HAVING A PROPHETIC VISION, ANON.

At this point, Cregan and his boo thang are just going to have to become familiar with the man. There is no other option, because your choices are either to have this embarrassing conversation a multitude of times with multiple woodcrafters or just one. Because if y'all think this is a one-time thing, you are terribly mistaken.

Cregan is a very passionate person in bed, regardless if he's on top or not. He wants to make sure the two of you are satiated—that does mean the bed will snap like a twig under a boot i dont make the rules i just work here. Personally, I find the actual deliverance of the bedframe to be the most mortifying. Firstly, that big ass broken bed has to be dismantled and removed, if it's not fixable, which takes manpower, and then the new one brought into the Great Keep and put together. Otherwise, the woodcrafter is going to have to make a house call and show up with his tools and planks, walking toward your marital chambers which is embarrassing too :)

ɴᴏᴛ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ. (thoughts ver.)

NSFW stuff under the cut. 18+ only. I'm not responsible for the content you choose to consume. ty.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

That familiar groan under his weight should've been the first warning sign, but Cregan was too distracted to notice. He was lapping at her pretty cunt, tongue delving as deep as he could go and as thorough as he could be without the motions being too unsteady. Alright maybe he did notice initially, but the thought was very quickly shoved to the back of his mind—especially when his pretty wife was trying to rock herself onto his nose, letting out the most quiet of whimpers muffled by their sheets. His ears were focused on her and her only.

With her pearl rubbing against his bridge and his cock feeling so strained in his trousers, no one could really blame him for forgetting about the delicate state of the bed in an instant. Last time they’d gotten particularly frantic in their lovemaking, there had been a low snap somewhere beneath the mattress, a taunt that he was probably too hefty to be moving so much. But winter was coming, a man’s gotta eat…in more ways than one.

By the time he’d recalled they should begin to take it easy on the bed, he was already balls deep behind her, hands gripping the flesh of her ass like a lifeline. He was suffocating in the best way, cock nestled inside, fogging his brain with nothing but instinct. And then she started begging. By then, well, he decided they needed a new bed anyway—six moons wasn’t too bad. Lasted longer than the previous replacement. Three harsh, unrelenting spanks bloom red on her backside as she squeezes around him, sending his blood pumping to the beat of an imaginary war drum. It would be a miracle from the Gods if she wasn’t pregnant by mid-summer. Cregan just couldn’t help himself.

Rutting against her like a man starved, the right side of the bed almost completely collapses, caving in and nearly throwing him off balance. His wife gasped, pleasure momentarily halted as she looked back at him. “Again? Seriously? I told you to write to him last time, did you?” The answer was no, no he did not. “It might have…slipped…my mind.” He murmured, trying to ignore the throbbing in his full balls. They had a silent conversation of glares and a sheepish grin. Then she concedes. “...We might as well finish then. I doubt it can get any worse.”

It could, actually. And it did. He came hard some twenty minutes later, pounding their hips together with a steady desperation. The dip of the broken side was a little annoying, but manageable. Without the support, the right beams of the canopy end up falling right down. No one was harmed, of course. It was only drapes. Cregan found it almost comical but his wife did not. It was going to be a long letter.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

[adanfore]

Something about virgin Choso fucks me up in the head oh my god.

He acts tough. Every time he’s around you, talking to Yuuji, his brothers, he puts on a show as though nothing in the world matters, he’s always calm, layed back. Talking to him, you always got so nervous when he stared you down every time without a care in the world it seems, to you it looked like talking to anyone for him was easy as a breeze of wind, you kind of wished you were like that, like Choso. That also was half of why you were attracted to the man. The other half, well, self explanatory: he was great with his brothers, he was attractive in his own damn way which made your knees weak every time you saw him.

You hadn’t expected him to be a virgin, and a whiney one at that. When you had walked past the bathroom to the kitchen, you heard him in

the bathroom, he was masturbating.. Were you eavesdropping? Yes, but you couldn’t hold yourself from listening in to his beautiful cries of pleasure, whimpering, pleading for some reason, those pretty moans and whines turned you on more than you imagined. Well, the worst part came when you had not realized he was done already, you only realized when he opened the door and stood there, shocked, embarrassement flood over you and you just ran back to the guest bedroom.

If it only wasn’t for you getting carried away, this wouldn’t be happening right now, you and Choso sitting on the sofa, akwardly waiting for Yuuji to come back from the kitchen so the atmosphere turns nice again. You can feel Choso sneaking glances at you, fidgeting with the black silver rings on his fingers. Not wanting to have this continue for any longer, you decided you’d speak up.

“Listen, I’m sorry for yesterday, I just.. uh..”

You couldnt find a explanation for yourself.

“N-No, It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have.. Uhm, I shouldn’t have done it in the bathroom.”

“But I was eavesdropping on you, I need to apologize for that. I just couldn’t help but get carried away from… Shock!”

And as Choso was about to answer, Yuuji suddenly came into the room, having only heard muffles of your conversation.

“Yo, what’re you guys talking about?”

With a panic, you blurt whatever comes to mind.

“ Oh! I was just telling Choso that I’ll be helping him later.”

“Helping him with what?”

“Just washing the dishes, just to repay him for yesterday, I hit him after he scared me in the dark at night!

Yuuji seems content with that answer, and sits between you two. You couldn’t help but notice how Choso looked at you after you said you’ll help him later, eyes a little wide, a deep red spreading on his cheeks. He didn’t know whether to take it seriously or not, well, you were just making an excuse, but still, a gesture like that would blow his mind completely.

After the movie marathon, you both HAD to go wash the dishes, to play some truth into your silly excuse you gave to Yuuji, it was akward, very akward washing dishes with him. But you got to see Choso, the real him, how he was all fidgety, getting clumsy and blushing as hard as a cherry.

“Was it true..? What you said earlier?”

“What are you talking about, Choso?”

“H-How you said you’d help me later..”

“I am helping you thoug- Oh, you mean that?”

You said as the realization hit you, he was hard, and it was all because of your choice of words.

“I-I’m sorry, I am just gonna go, real sorry for thi-“

“N-No, Choso! I- I can help you, if you want me to?”

The sigh Choso gave out was huge.

“Please…”

That was all you needed to hear, proceeding to drag him up to his room at the back of the hall, the location of his room, being secluded and far away from any other room made you so grateful.

You sat him on the edge of his bed, leaning down to massage his thighs.

“How do you want me to help you, Choso?”

Hearing his name come out of your pretty lips always made him want to hold back smashing his face into yours, but now, he was just confused, he didn’t know what would be the most ‘appropriate’ thing to ask. All he wanted now, was to ruin you, to make you his, kiss you, feel and touch you everywhere he had ever dreamed of.

“I.. I don’t know, just- just touch me, do whatever, please..”

When you heard that, you immediately knew that he was a virgin, to your shock infact. Not wanting to torture this poor man any longer, you stopped massaging his thighs for a moment and told him to slide his sweatpants down, all the while looking at the wet spot of precum left on them.

You looked at his length for a second, before actually bringing your hand up to it, to rub and feel it to all of its size, he was huge, possibly the biggest you’ve ever had in a partner. It blew your mind and you wondered how it would feel inside you, how it would fill all of your insides, but, right now it was all about Choso’s pleasure which needed to be fixed.

The pool of precum doubled in size as you continued rubbing it, deciding to finally free it from his boxers, Choso moaned when it sprang up and hit his stomach. That made you look up at him, needing to hear more of his sounds, he looked back at you with a pleading look on his face which just said “please, touch me already”

You grabbed his length with your hand and started stroking it, slowly at first, picking up speed with some time. The moans, whines and whimpers this man put out were sent straight to your core.

“Please, Please, please, go faster, please, I’m gonna cum, Y/N, please!”

That motivated you to pick up speed, also to tighten your grip on his length to up the pleasure for him. His moans were getting out of control until you looked up at him with a strict look, telling him to be quiet. With that sense of dominance, he came all over, all over your hand, his stomach and thighs. His chest heaving, some small moans still coming out as he came down from his high.

You brought your hand up to your mouth, licking your hand and tasting Him before you began to walk out of his room, off to finish yourself off.

“W-Wait, can’t I make you feel good now?”

“I did this as an apology, Choso. Some other time, maybe.”

And with a wink and a smirk to him, you walked off to your room with an almost unbarable heat between your legs, it also had to be fixed.

NOT PROOFREAD ITS FUCKING 5 AM I WANNA GO SLEEP, ILL DO IT SOME OTHER TIME

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。FAMILY SECRETS — GOJO SATORU.

contents. fem! + mom! reader, reader is referred to as “mommy” and “wife,” girl dad toru <3, family shenanigans in the grocery store that are unfortunately inescapable when your husband is gojo satoru

“ok,” you nod, looking over your grocery list. “i think that’s everything—”

“mommy, can we please get this,” your daughter looks up at you pleadingly, tugging at your sleeve as she holds a bag of candy—she has satoru’s eyes, wide and blue and so easy to give into. you look at her for a moment before pursing your lips.

“no, satoru. we can’t get this bag of candy.” you turn to the devil himself, glaring at him as he whistles innocently.

“what’re you lookin’ at me for, sweetheart? our little peanut here wants—”

“satoru.”

“fine,” he deflates. you pinch your nose as you sigh.

satoru, in his thirty plus years of life, has surprisingly never had a cavity for how much sugar he consumes. he’s good at taking care of himself, he argues, there’s no chance he’d ever get a cavity. that is, until recently. he visits the dentist and has not one, but two cavities—you think this is a rather alarming sign that he needs to cut back on the sweets, so you take matters into your own hands.

and, well….he’s not handling it very brightly.

“you thought i’d cave just because you tricked our daughter into asking?” you raise a brow, making him huff as he pouts.

“what kind of heartless soul could say no to those eyes?” he asks in disbelief, waving a hand at the small carbon copy of your husband as she blinks up at you, “i mean look at her! she doesn’t deserve the word no.”

“she definitely needs the word no so she doesn’t end up spoiled like you. and i’ve had plenty of practice,” you shoot blandly, “i’ve said no to your eyes all these years haven’t i?”

“even crazier,” he mutters, “i have the most adorable eyes, how could you say no?”

“it’s pretty easy if you ask me,” you shrug.

most people tend to call satoru arrogant—humble is not usually used in the same sentence as gojo satoru. evidently, they’ve never watched him interact with you before—you always find a way to humble him. he’s starting to think he’s the butt of every joke in his own marriage.

“please, baby?” he pouts deeper, “i’ve been good! i floss!”

“no.”

“what if i fold the laundry for a month?” he bats his lashes.

that’s tempting, you have to admit. folding laundry is a very boring job, you’re more than happy to hand it over to satoru for a bag of candy that barely dents your wallet. but then you find your resolve again, crossing your arms as you stare at him unimpressed.

“no, satoru.”

“two months?”

“nope.”

“did you only marry me for my looks?” he asks in disbelief, “because there’s not one ounce of love in that heart of yours.”

“this is for your own good, satoru,” you say firmly, “you had two cavities. how much sugar have you been consuming lately? and don’t think i don’t notice you skipping meals when you’re busy—a chocolate bar does not replace lunch.”

you’re glaring at him, drilling him for his health choices that are not his fault—he’s a busy guy, and he can’t help that a chocolate bar on his way to a mission is all he can squeeze in sometimes. maybe a protein bar would be a better option, but they’re not as tasty, and satoru thinks he deserves to be happy. and then, from the end of the aisle, you hear a few snickers coming from passerby’s. he pouts deeper at the thought of being laughed at as he gets scolded by his wife in the middle of the breakfast aisle.

“what’s the point of living if you’re gonna be miserable?” he groans, “we might as well just start going to bed at nine pm too, while we’re at it. and—”

“that’s actually a lovely idea,” you hum thoughtfully, “you certainly could use the sleep, couldn’t you?”

he glares at you petulantly, sulking as you grab the bag from your daughter’s and put it on the shelf—it’s not the right place, but taking a trip to the candy aisle to place it where it belongs is only venturing deeper into the lion’s den. you’re not letting satoru have more options to choose from.

“you seein’ this, angel?” he turns to your daughter, “you see how mean mommy is? she’s not letting us have candy. make sure you remember that when i ask you who’s your favorite again.”

you roll your eyes, snorting. satoru asks her playfully one night who the favorite parent is—it’s a meaningless question, meant to be a joke and nothing else. you’re sure he expects her to say both—but he gets his feelings severely hurt when she giggles and points to you, staring in disbelief as you grin in victory and kiss her cheeks. you even rub salt on the wound when you mumble she’s your favorite baby too.

he’s starting to really think he’s a victim in his own household.

“but mommy gives me candy,” she tilts her head in confusion.

oh no. she’s not supposed to say that—she promised not to say that. why can’t children ever keep a filter on their words? and why can’t they keep their promises?

almost like in slow motion, both of your eyes widen. satoru pauses. you start to sweat. he turns to face you slowly, in abject disbelief.

“what?” you laugh nervously, “no i don’t! we don’t have any candy at home—”

“she keeps it in her drawer!” your daughter adds, as if she wants to see your downfall.

you love your daughter, you really do—but sometimes you think motherhood is a punishment for whatever sin it is that you’ve committed in your previous life. satoru crosses his arms and taps his foot.

“what happened to we’ll all give up sweets together so you’re not alone, toru,” he mocks your voice, squinting at you accusingly. “so we’re a family of liars now?”

“toru, listen—”

“i trusted you.”

“baby—”

“what happened to our wedding vows? what happened to in sickness and in death? a little cavity is enough to change all that? i’m scared to think what you’d do if i lost an arm.”

“well, you’re not the strongest for nothing,” you point out, chuckling nervously, “so we have nothing to worry about there.”

“i can’t believe you,” he spits, turning away from you with crossed arms and a quiet hmph.

“toru, you can’t expect us all to give up sugar just because you can’t stop making poor health choices,” you argue exasperatedly.

so what if you secretly enjoy a kitkat here and there? you deserve it for dealing with not one, but two children at home every single day—sometimes three if shoko comes over, her lifestyle choices aren’t any better. satoru should let you enjoy a piece of candy or two until he fixes his terrible habits that could very well set a terrible example for your very young and impressionable daughter.

“well, i have adult money of my own,” satoru huffs, “and as an adult, i’ll be purchasing my own candy to hide in my own drawer that i won’t share with you since we’re now apparently a family that doesn’t think sharing is caring.”

“i don’t know if i’m raising one child or two,” you sigh tiredly, rubbing a hand over your face.

satoru grabs the bag of candy off the shelf, promptly placing it in the cart before walking off ahead of you as he pushes it. your daughter grabs your hand and smiles, tugging you along.

“c’mon mommy,” she says brightly, “you said we can go to the park!”

—————— BONUS ——————

“are you serious, satoru?” you ask incredulously, watching as he comes back to sit on the other end of the bench, ice cream cone in hand.

he didn’t even bring you one—what an asshole.

“oh sorry,” he shrugs, “i figured you and our daughter were planning on getting ice cream on your own without me. since, you know, apparently you guys love to have lots of things without me.”

“you’re being so dramatic—”

“i want ice cream too!” you hear a small voice call from the distance, making you turn to your daughter as she sprints over to you from the playground, eyeing the cone in satoru’s hand.

“you heard her,” he drawls, licking at his strawberry ice cream mockingly, “why don’t you go buy her a secret cone. i won’t look.”

being a single mom of two is a full time job, you think, you didn’t sign up for this.

guess who has two cavities ?? a certain brother of mine. guess who’s entire household has to give up sweets now for their brother’s inability to have proper dental hygiene ?? if you guessed me, you might just be psychic :O