#because they WILL yell at you for being bad at your job

[vampiricgf]

☆ FAVORITE GIRL

ᝰ you think he's just another frat boy with meaningless flirty words for the person he sits next to in a boring class (he's down horrendous)

frat boy satoru x f!reader, college au, somewhat established relationship you guys are classmates, sfw no smut, alcohol consumption, cigarette smoking, just lots of him being an idiot with a massive huge earth shattering crush <3

"And how's my favorite girl?"

"Worse, thought you'd skip this class again and we'd have some peace." You roll your eyes as you slide the straps of your backpack over the back of your chair.

Satoru Gojo, nuance Sig Ep and unfortunately glued to your side since the first day of statistics for reasons unknown to you. You'd made an effort to avoid members of greek life on campus, not wanting to get involved in party culture or whatever new dramatics were unfolding with its subgroups. That only seemed to encourage him though, casually throwing his arm around you through the duration of lectures and begging in that whining tone of his for you to come by the house.

You never did, you also pointedly ignored most of his text messages and actively regretted ever having to give him your phone number after the one assignment you'd been paired up for. Outside the occasional drunk text where he'd plead for you to show up, which did make you feel both bad for ignoring him and a little high off the attention. Not that you'd ever admit to clicking your phone lock and grinning to yourself in bed on those nights.

"C'mon, I'm the highlight of your day!" He shoots you that signature megawatt smile and you stick out your tongue at him, scooting your chair in the opposite direction and creating a wide gap as you sit down.

You see him frown and for a half second it looks genuine, making a pang of guilt reverberate through you so you scoot back to where you were and he resumes pestering you with some latest escapade in the Eps house as you both wait for the stream of students to peter off and the lecture to begin.

"Hey so, why you been ignoring my texts?" He pulls a pout and god you wish it wasn't actually cute.

"You send me weird combinations of emojis Gojo, what can I say to that?"

"It's Satoru," he quips almost immediately, barely allowing you to finish.

"Alright, Satoru, it's because you send me weirdo shit. Say hi every once in a while and maybe I'll say it back." You shrug, opening your laptop and preparing yourself to block out his incessant whispering for the next hour while you take down notes.

~

"You actually came!"

The sheer volume in the cramped, would-be living room of the house made you wince in tandem with his shout as Satoru threw an arm around you.

"I'm just humoring you so you stop bugging me!" You shout back, accepting a cup of god knows what from his hands and already formulating a plan of when it would be polite to bow out for the night without a barrage of where'd you go texts.

He doesn't answer you, too busy immediately yelling at some other guy over the volume of the music but you don't miss the way his hand slides down your back to settle at the lower curve, just above your ass. It makes you smile a little, despite your own misgivings about the scene you're in.

But quickly it becomes too much, being jostled by a permanently sweaty and horny crowd in such a cramped space, and you find yourself drifting outside to a patio sparsely populated with only a handful of smokers. The alcohol buzzing inside your brain makes you crave one, a thick, acrid stream of smoke spreading like thick flower petals blossoming inside your lungs.

One girl catches your eye and slowly you meander over to where she's perched, away from the rest on a railing that's seen one too many coats of poor paint jobs.

"Could I bum one off you?"

"You got a dollar?"

Lamely you pat your hips, absentmindedly searching for one until she lets out a soft laugh and extends the pack in her hand out to you. Marlboro lights, the gold top of it shimmers faintly in the dim light as you slide one out and accept the lighter she passes you.

"I tell myself lights mean I'm working on quitting. What a load of shit." She huffs out a laugh to herself as you flick the lighter and it gives a few sparky coughs before the flame catches, burning the tip of the cigarette into a solid ember cherry.

"I'm Ieiri," she says cordially as you hand back the deep purple lighter.

You give her your name before taking a deep drag of the cigarette, enjoying the feeling of it settling in your chest.

"They should invent a kind of cigarette that doesn't kill you." You say absentmindedly and she cracks a smile.

"Too bad the "healthy " cigarettes of ye old days had asbestos in them."

That makes you laugh, enjoying the way it flows into the air with the breeze that plays against your skin, like a lover running fingers over it and giving you gooseflesh.

"Wait, you're the girl Satorus got statistics with right? Tuesdays and Thursdays?" She asks between puffs, flicking ash off into the dark.

"Yeah, the very same. I figured I should finally take him up on the offer to come over, I've blown him off so many times." Saying out loud makes you feel a little like an ass, he may get on your nerves but he's never been anything but sweet to you.

"You know he's like, obsessed with you, right?" She says with another laugh and it makes you raise a brow.

"Oh yeah?"

She shakes her head, another drag before continuing. "Oh yeah. Gets too drunk every weekend and cries in the bathroom because you didn't show, has a crisis every day because he doesn't know what to say to you in texts. I've never seen him excited about a math course before this semester either, usually it's any excuse to cut class until a prof bitches at him."

With every word a strange sense of giddiness grows in tandem with the alcohol drenching your brain, and you can't help but think about those devastating blue eyes. The opposite of rose colored glasses but it fits, a shade of comfortable blue that tints the world because of him and suddenly you're gripped by the urgent need to go back inside and find him.

"Hey, thanks for the cigarette but I'm gonna go find him. See you inside?" You crush the butt out with the toe of your shoe, grinding it down and giving Ieiri a wave goodbye as the wall of thumping bass and neon light swallows you back up.

It strikes you as incredible how a house can turn into a labyrinth when filled to the brim with bodies and only offering the occasional flash of strobe or neon lights to guide you in the dark. After when feels like hours and checking nearly every room you come across for Satoru, without luck, you find Ierie once again leaning against a closed door with a particularly bored expression.

"Satoru she wasn't saying she was leaving she said she was coming to find you, dummy. Open the door."

As you sidled up beside her she shot you a conspiratorial glance before pulling you closer so you could hear her over the din.

"Can you tell him you're right here? He's such a whiny drunk." She rolls her eyes but you can tell it's playful, although you get the feeling this has happened more than once.

Hesitantly you put your palm against the door, feeling the distant bass thrumming through the wood. "Hey Satoru? I didn't leave, I'm right out here with Ierie!"

There's silence on the other side, making you frown in concern until the door is suddenly wrenched open and you nearly fall right against him. Despite clearly being drunk his hands come to grasp your upper arms gently to steady you before yanking you inside the hazy dark of what you assume was his bedroom.

"You're welcome!" You hear Shoko yell through the door as he sits down in a huff, still holding onto you, against a well worn futon.

You can't help but giggle at the way he almost curls around you, as if determined to attach to your side like some sort of sucker fish. With a bit of wiggling you manage to pull back, sweeping a few stray strands of hair from those baby blues as you do.

It's in that moment, when your fingertips brush his skin, that everything seems to pause. The noise outside seemingly vanishes, and it's like only the two of you exist in a comfortable bubble of silence. You never really noticed how his eyes looked almost crystalline before, too pretty to exist.

"Who gave you eyes like that?" You murmur, more to yourself but nevertheless he beams down at you.

"So you do like me, huh?"

The way he says it, so boyish, so... happy. You can't help but smile back, a shy thing that barely tugs at the corners of your lips.

"Duh, of course I do."

That makes him frown a bit, brows knitting in thought and somehow it made him look even cuter. No fair.

"Then how come you never showed up before? And you don't text me back?" A little pout forms on his lips as he finishes and you're struck with the overwhelming urge to kiss him.

With a superhuman effort you keep yourself focused on answering him. "You're, well... All this," you gesture broadly with your hands as you pull away slightly. "And I'm just a girl you have stats with. I thought maybe you were just yanking me around, being flirty in class but that's it, you know? I didn't wanna look stupid getting my hopes up."

"A girl I have stats with? You're joking, right? You're everything." He says incredulously, eyes wide as if more shocked than insulted that you could've looked at the situation that way.

Heat rushes beneath your skin at that, you're everything, and you know it's not the alcohol making you lightheaded. In your silence he continues.

"Y'know I'm not just messing around with you, I think about you all the time. Sometimes you're all I think about all day-"

With a surge of confidence you grab him by the front of his shirt, pulling him down and cutting him off with your lips pressed against his. It grips you like a fever, a crushing need to taste him. It's all sloppy teeth and tongues and spit but it feels perfectly serendipitous at the same time, an otherworldly calm that takes hold of your mind as your lips move against one another.

As you open your eyes into his you can't help the grin that now stretches wide across your mouth, giggling as you press kiss after kiss against his lips, his cheeks, his forehead and soon enough he's dissolved into a puddle of giggles and faux pouts in your arms.

"Will you tell me I'm your favorite girl again?"

"I'll tell you that forever."

[roach-works]

As A Queer who’s made it in the trades, do you have any advice for other Queers, visible or not, to breaking into the sector?

i don't have any advice for women other than shoot your shot and be brave, because every workplace ive ever been in SAYS they want more women but oh gee women just don't APPLY, but if you look like a guy you just show up, don't pick fights, and let people assume whatever they assume.

if you've never had factory experience before you can either lie or make up a dad who taught you lots of home improvement projects or focus on the physical aspects of other jobs that left you with plenty of experience in packing, handling, basic tool use, forklift driving, truck loading, etc. if you want an actual trade skill you should look up college and trade school classes, or see if you can join a union and get classes from a union hall, or, again, lie your way in.

like. so many young men in the trades are so so bad at their jobs, it's expected that every now and then a dumbass on too many drugs is hired and he breaks important things and turns up late and falls asleep somewhere weird for awhile before getting fired again. ive watched at least eight of these men cycle through my factory in the last year. the last one ran over a welding machine with a truck before breaking his leg by dropping a beam on himself and then quitting because he wasn't getting paid enough (mood). so like if you show up and are a dumbass that arrives on time, works late, cleans up their area, and doesn't break anything too expensive, and doesn't mysteriously vanish after a month, you have a good shot at keeping your position forever. im genuinely not very good at my job and at least one guy everywhere i work hates me for being a mouthy little fag, but the state of the trades is that if you're not actively on drugs and fire and trying to punch your boss, you probably get to keep your job indefinitely.

my other advice is: if you're trans, and you work in manufacturing, do your best to pass and never admit you're trans. things get bad weird, very fast, and you're surrounded by big guys with power tools. you don't have to pass very well, because the trades are full of a wide variety of the weirdest men in the world and almost none of them have a functional gaydar, but you do have to at minimum not volunteer the information that you're trans.

like. you can if you want. the results will be educational. but no one will be learning anything they wanted to know from this event.

EDIT: start working out though. you NEED to be able to safely lift 30-40lb to start out with and 50-100+ is ideal. if you can't carry around 50 lb for at least a short ways (on and off trucks, on and off tables, on and off dollys) you're risking throwing your back out which is a lifelong bigtime problem. make sure you can lift, bro!

[robocops-a-christ-allegory]

I dont think telling disabled people who use AI to make 2D digital art to Go Do Some Other Kind Of Art is helpful or even like halfway decent behavior. I think its really shitty to be like “I understand youre doing this because you physically cannot draw and never will be able to, but have you considered doing something else instead because major corporations are probably going to latch onto this technology to steal jobs from other artists, so clearly the solution is to just stop developing technology instead of Something Else”

[just-rogi]

.

[boowritess]

very mild 18+ simon riley x reader

lmaoo i can't breathe Simon Riley is just a man.

atleast to you.

when he's home, all he is to you is dry humor, a couple beers every night, sat in front of the tv on his spot on the couch, the game is playing - some soccor or rugby match. he doesn't wear his mask, his clothes are a simple t-shirt and some pair of shorts he just threw on.

he uses your shampoo and conditioner, as much as it pisses you off because it's expensive and for some reason he uses half the fucking bottle everytime he's home, but when he does the groceries he still comes home with '2 in 1 shampoo and conditioner' he would’ve got the '3 in 1' but the last time he did that he got no head for 3 weeks.

he'll go to the pub, take you out, pushes the trolley, holds your bag, let's you dress how you want it, belly gets a little soft because he eats food like he's never ate before, buy you anything you want even after the 'do you really need it though?' talk.

he's bit lazy on workouts only goes on the occasional run, but will fuck you whenever you want; always vanilla and only gets rough when you ask.

he will say he'll fix whatever appliance needs tending too but won't do it right away, starts the occasional handyman job at odd times.

it's just - he's so mundane and normal that you'd never know just how dangerous he is ???? like he so carefully hides that side from you. seriously. when he's home, he throws his gear in the bottom of his closet in a box, locking Ghost away and just existing as Simon.

even when the rest of the task force come around on the occasion. they're so normal and are just... men. yelling at the tv during a sport match. teasing each other. stealing snacks and helping with cleaning. they never speak about work and when you ask them, it's always a smile and shrug, "just another day really." "little boring and slow." "oh not too bad." their answers are so half-assed, that you don't even ask anymore; which is what they want.

but you really aren't missing anything. not when you don't even know what you're missing out on.

it's crazy, because he even keeps Ghost hidden when you're being harassed by men. whether that be when you're shopping or just going for a walk.

he'll loop an arm around your waist or over your shoulder, look at the guy with a grin - that's more of a sneer, "can i help you, mate?" he'll drawl. his stature and stare is enough to make the man who had been harassing you back off.

"what a freak..." you mutter with a roll of your eyes, letting Simon guide you away as he presses a kiss to your temple, a deep chuckle leaving him.

around midnight you wake up to Simon in the laundry room washing his hands. he doesn't blink or hesitate when you wonder in and wrap your arms around his waist. "what're you doing?" you mumble, sleepy eyss dropping to the sink.

Simon's hands are red, and you would be alarmed, should be alarmed. but how could you when Simon hums softly, a sound that rumbles deep from his throat, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of your head. he's so warm and casual that you don't even do a touble take seeing the blood.

"caught a rat. right pest they are. the trap i set snapped it clean in half." Simon's mutters, he raises a bloodied hand to you, sniggering when you crinkle your nose up in disgust and step away from him.

"ew, i'm going back to bed." you huff, yawning and leaving him to what he was doing.

Simon laughs softly as you head off. "just be a sec, love." he says as you go. all he receives is a yawn and a tired 'mhm'.

he cleans his hands and then his phone chimes. he pulls it out and it's a private message.

'getting rid of your pest now, LT.'

image attached

Simon opens the picture and sure enough there's the man from earlier in the boot of a car. all bloodied like Ghost left him.

Simon heads back upstairs to your shared room, you quietly snoozing away. you don't steer or wake as the closet door opens and Simon's putting his mask back in with his gear. No. Ghost is too quiet to let you wake from such a warm and sweet sleep.

he turns from the closet after putting everything away and changing clothes. he crawls into his side of the bed and wraps his arms around you. letting your body nestle back into his side. limbs tangling together.

just you and your simon.

a/n: inspired by a tik tok video on how he is just a man lmaooo

[remember-the-fanfics]

Gen-Z!Overlord!Reader

• Died at 18, been in hell for a few years.

• Came in after Alastor disappeared, just before Vaggie showed up.

• You were never one to follow what everyone else did. Killing, drugs, theft, or porn.

• Kept to yourself for a few months, getting use to being dead and in hell.

• Accidentally became an Overlord after you killed one in self defense.

"In my defense, she was like super creepy and an asshole. A big one."

• The souls were free but you kept your new territory nice so they didn't leave.

• You made jobs and kept the housing in better shape, only made deals to help souls.

• Gave them a job, house, and protection. You give them a limit of a few years of the deal and if they don't mind it, they can renew it.

"Well I don't want to force them to do something, its rude."

• In return, they keep your territory nice, clean, and less violent than most. Work the jobs you made and protect your little town.

• There's been occasions were you trade souls to other overlords, either the soul did something against them or just an asshole.

• The time on the contract would restart

• To every other overlord, you are a child with a knife and to much power.

• You demolished another overlord because they thought you were weak and tried to destroy you territory.

"You ass eatting bitch-"

• You let others fight for new open territory because you're fine with what you have.

• Panicked when you got invited to an Overlord meeting.

• Apparently you had enough power to be one, then you realized you actually were one.

• It was awkward to meet the most of the overlords. Not knowing who you were to begin with.

"This is for overlords only."

"Oh, I'm (Y/n). I got invited."

• Chatted with Rosie before and after it.

• Camilla likes how you run your territory but you seem so young.

• Did apologized afterwards, introducing you to her daughters, apparently you were around the same age.

• Zestial wanted to know how you took over you territory, interested on how you did it.

• You've only meet Velvette because you need some clothes. She recognized you as the up and coming overlord.

• Throwing the clothes you had in your hands away, saying you need to be in the best lastest trend of clothes.

• You were now stuck having a fashion show as she decided what look good on you.

• While not enjoying all the clothes she had you try on, you kept being nice having conversation when she wasn't yelling at everyone else.

• Velvette learned that you were around the same age so she decided that you were acquainted enough to have her number.

• Apparently it wasn't optional for you.

• You brought back way to much clothes for one person, atleast now you have style.

• Chaotic neutral energy

• Charlie meet you after she heard that you improved a part of hell, wasn't expecting someone so young looking.

"Dying just after I turned 18 just means I look young forever."

• Laughing at your own dark humor.

"Ha...ha.

• Charlie did not find it as funny.

• Told you about the hotel idea and you were right on board.

• Thought it was a good way to stick it to the man and help people.

• Vaggie was surprised when Charlie brought back a child.

• More surprised that you're the Overlord that Charlie wanted to meet with.

• Definitely said Vaggie's name wrong for the first time reading it.

• Meeting Angel Dust after he decided to crash at the hotel.

• Not knowing what he was known for but definitely heard his name from someone.

"You're a kind of actor?"

"Of the sorts."

• After you heard what he was famous for.

"Well, he'll do him and I'll do me but never do each other."

• There was an awkward silence of confusion from everyone.

• Having to explain every reference you make.

• Vaggie made jar for everytime you make a dark joke.

• Charlie has asked you why you were in hell. You shrugged, never living a truly bad life but probably just too chaotic for heaven to handle.

• You leave every few days to check back in your little town to make sure everything was running smoothly.

• You know when something happens, feeling the souls you own in a panic.

• Having to let everyone remember why you were in charge a couple of times.

• Either with your words or actions.

• Luckily Rosie just adores your mannerisms and how you don't completely turn away from her with what or who she eats.

"You could say the food was to die for!"

• She finds your dark humor funny.

• So she keeps an eye out for you, sending letters to you every few days.

• You vist her every other week to just chat, she tells you about easy territories that you could get. You say you would rather show up some punks than have more responsibility with more souls.

• Offers food everytime, you say no thanks everytime.

• Rosie would tell you all the tea about the other overlords or her own town.

• Yay! You have an allie with an another overlord by being friends.

• Also with offering truly worse souls sometimes. On a rare occasion.

• Rosie knowing when you offer a soul to her, she would take her time with it. Enjoying every bite.

• Anyway- Sinners would come up to asking for deal when they are completely down on their luck.

• But whats following a couple of rules for free house and job.

• You give them enough warning before you would shake hands then saying you would know if they even thought of fucking your shit up.

• Putting an add for Charlie's hotel in your territory.

• Charlie almost hugged you to death after seeing it.

• When Alastor showed up, the two of you would have a intense staring contest.

• He wasn't expecting another overlord here, oh wait, you're new.

• Alastor not actually taking the hotel serious, pissed you off but he was more powerful.

• Charlie having to keep you and Vaggie from trying to fight him.

"I didn't know there was a new overlord! Charmed to meet you. Whose territory was up for grab?"

"She was a bitch-."

"I know who exactly you speak of, that's good. She never had any manners."

• Watching him summon Husk and Niffty and was shocked.

• Tried it and summoned one of your workers.

• Excited that it worked! Apologetic for interrupting their day.

"Ah ha! It worked! Oh shit it worked! Sorry!"

• You and Niffty vibe on a similar level. Charmingly violent.

• Vaggie has to make sure either of you give the other one a bad idea to do.

• Husk question your age when you went to the bar. Making you do the math.

"Well I died at 18, it's been a few years so old enough."

• Gave you a hard drink which you spit out after tasting.

• You decide hard alcohol wasn't for you.

• Knowing how technology was when you died making you the most technical advance Sinners in the hotel.

-

That's enough for now, just a thought I had when working.

[nkogneatho]

toji likes the nastiest head, yeah? look, you can paint him as good guy that had bad stuff happened to him or even argue that he was always the bad guy, but it still won't change the fact that this man likes his dick to be devoured. he would always have you on your knees on a cold tile floor because he likes the way you complain about your legs hurting. because that way, you get even more desperate to make him cum so he would free you and finally take you to the soft matress on the bed. initially, he'd let you try to take him whole (although you always fail), but then he feels you're playing too safe. what? you scared his dick is gonna make you gag? he rolls your hair in his wrist and pushes your head forward. this man won't let go that push for atleast a good 15 seconds even if your nails are digging in his thighs.

"shhh. don't panic. i know my good girl can take it." he finally lets go and you repel away so fast, head so dizzy that it takes a few second for it to come back to the scene. the drool on your lips is connected with his dark brown tip. when you finally took a few normal breaths, toji is yet again having you in the same position but this time he starts thrusting.

"that's right, baby. relax it for me, 'ight? gonna give that slutty little mouth what she deserves." his pace is so inhumane, you feel like you're running out of oxygen. not even a milisecond to let you breathe before he his plunging in your mouth again. you try to say something but it just comes out as a blabber. all he could hear was "gawkgawkgeffrmmhmgawkgawk"

"shit. can't even speak, hmm?" he mocks you. "fuck, gonna make me cum sweetheart. that sweet little mouth of yours is doing such a good job." you cry looking up at him. you are suck a cocksleeve when it comes to him.

"gunna take it lik—angh! fhhuuck!" he yells and conjoins his cock with your throat, your nose pressing against his pubes. "takeit takeit takeit." he looks at you as you roll your eyes back. shit his dick is twitching so much. so much load being emptied in your mouth. he pulls out halfway through his orgasm and shoots the remaining load on your face. the spurts cover your cheeks, lips, your eyelashes. he holds his dick by the base and runs the tip on your face, spreading his cum all over. you are too facefucked to even argue or comprehend what he is doing at this point. your mushed up brain compels you to just moan mindlessly and take whatever he gives. that's the power this man (and his cock) holds on you.

[yandere-daydreams]

file #3: the foot fic.

part of the FREAK SHIT MARCH evidence packet.

pairing: yandere!nanami kento x reader (jjk)

length: 2.1k.

warning: non/con, fem!reader, oral sex (f. receiving), foot jobs, unhealthy relationships, unhealthy coping mechanisms, mentions of kidnapping, unbalanced power dynamics, and cannot mention it enough: feet.

You weren’t entirely sure how you’d ended up here.

Which was to say, you weren’t entirely sure how you’d ended up in this position, not this physical location – the small kitchen of Nanami’s up-until-recently neglected apartment, back pressed against the rounded edge of a pristine marble countertop and hands clasped so tightly in front of you that your knuckles were beginning to turn white. That, you could explain in fifteen words or less: Psychotic Ex-Boyfriend Kidnaps Overly Trusting Partner To Roleplay Repressed Domestic Fantasies, with further elaboration possible if you ever got the chance to talk to anyone who wasn’t currently holding you hostage. That, as much as you hated it, was normal. You knew why you were here.

It was much less normal to have Nanami on one knee in front of you, head bowed and one of your feet sitting in the palm of his hand. You hadn’t decided whether it was good abnormal or bad abnormal, yet, but still – not normal.

It must’ve been a rough day. He always looked tired when he got home, but tonight, he seemed exhausted – blond hair in a state of styled disarray, tie gone and shirt already partially unbuttoned, the circles under his eyes just a shade darker than they had been that morning. There was a cut on his cheek, too, and a tear along the wrist of his sleeve. Usually, he would’ve tried to get you to fuss over the damage, to trade privileges like a few minutes of T.V. and the latest news about your friends and family and not being handcuffed to his bed whenever he couldn’t watch you himself for sex and domestic labor and the faux-reciprocation of his obsession, but you hadn’t been able to say anything, let alone do anything before he’d fallen into his current position at your feet, his cheek resting gingerly against the inside of your thigh and his pale face slightly pink. He hadn’t said anything, either. You were starting to think he never would.

Unable to find an explanation written on the back of his head, you turned your attention to yourself. You’d been thinking about what you were going to make for dinner when he got home, because cooking meant he had to trust you with something more dangerous than a plastic spoon and you couldn’t go back to not being able to hold your own toothbrush, even if that meant having to trip over yourself to play housewife with your captor. You were dressed for housework, but that didn’t mean much. Nanami picked out all of your clothes, and he liked you in soft, pastel silk gowns and cutesy, garish vintage dresses. Your current dress was far from overly provocative – the neckline above your collarbones, the skirt falling to your knees. He’d seen you in it before, too, and never had this reaction.

The only new factor was your socks, but that would’ve been ridiculous. It was a new pair – a far cry from the thigh-highs and nylon stockings he usually bought for you. The material was thick and white and cottony, only ankle-high with ribbed hems and a lace trip. He was cupping the arch of your foot, his hand slotted in the tender space between the heel and the upper sole, and the plush fabric rubbed uncomfortably against your skin as he shifted his hold ever so slightly downward. More out of reflex than anything, you jerked back, your toes curling downward as you tried to weakly pull yourself out of his hold, and as if pulled out a trance, Nanami snapped up at you, tired eyes weary and lips slightly parted. Your eyes met his, and for a second, it was all you could do to stay still, to stay quiet, to not yell or scream or thrash until finally, Nanami’s weary expression broke into a slight grin, an airy laugh trickling past his lips as his stare fell back to your foot. “They’re… cute,” he started, slowly, nuzzling his cheek gingerly against your thigh. “I knew they would be, but—” A pause, a kiss to the tender patch just above your knee. “—you always manage to surprise me.”

You managed to smile shakily. “Sorry, Kento, I didn’t mean to distract you. Why don’t you sit somewhere a little more comfortable? I can start on—”

“In a minute.” Another hand was brought up and wrapped around your ankle, just above the lace trim of your sock. His forehead settled against your thigh as he lifted your foot gently and with an almost painful sort of delicacy, pressed the sole of your foot into the bulging tent in his pants that you’d been trying so hard to ignore. You felt his lazy grin press into your skin, and something cracked open in your chest.

This time, you couldn’t stifle your immediate reaction; lurching back, your hands finding the edge of the counter as you tried to pull away from him. It took nothing for him to keep you in place, though, and even worse – the ball of your heel pressed into his shaft as you tried to get away, rolling against his cock with a little too much force and drawing a low grunt from the base of Nanami’s throat. Instantly, you regretted moving at all. “I—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

 “Again.”

You fell silent. His head lulled forward, pressing into your thigh, and somehow, you managed to spit something out. “…I’m sorry, Kento?”

“Again, angel, please,” he muttered, his eyes falling shut. You didn’t move, but he didn’t need you to – his hips jutting forward, grinding stiltedly against the sole of your foot. Any vague illusion of wholesomeness was forgotten entirely as he fell onto his knees, unabashedly rutting against your leg with all the shame and all the pride of a stray animal, desperate for its twisted idea of affection. You made a half-hearted attempt to distract yourself, to focus on the white tiles of his kitchen (not quite dirty, but not as clean as they could be, either – you’d have to do the floors tomorrow), then the far wall (there was a layer of dust along the edge of the light switch fame – you could take care of that later on tonight), but it would’ve been impossible not to think about the wet, hot breath fanning over your thigh, the stiff cock throbbing against your foot. You thought would’ve gotten used to his—uh, his unwanted attention by now, gone numb to the feeling of his mouth on your neck and his fingers on your clit, but this was a type of fresh humiliation you weren’t familiar with, the kind of unthinkable debasement that made your face heat-up and your thought spiral down, down, down. When your paralysis persisted, Nanami grit his teeth, rocked your foot against the length of his cock without ever letting his hips stop moving – like he was trying to fuck a hole through your heel. It was a rough, jagged motion; almost clumsy, despite the fact that you’d never seen him so much as trip. It might’ve left you off-balance, if you hadn’t been holding onto the counter so tightly. You might’ve fallen, if you thought that you would be enough to make him stop.

You shut your eyes, forcing yourself to suck in a shuddering breath, but that was a mistake – showing any kind of weakness was a mistake. You felt one of his groping hands on your upper thigh, then your ass, finally finding the thin, flimsy material of your panties and pulling. There was no elegant way to strip you down, so he didn’t try to be elegant. There was a harsh tearing sound, the feeling of blunt nails scraping against unprotected skin, and then, scraps of ruined material were scattered on the floor at your feet, the skirt of your dress pushed up to your waist as he forced his face between your legs, mouth already open and tongue already lapping over your cunt.

It was a bad position; the distance too far, the angle too sharp, everything about strained and awkward and unnecessary, but Nanami didn’t seem to notice, didn’t seem to care. His tongue ran over the length of your slit before he latched onto your clit and sucked. Instantly, it was too much – a strangled cry tearing past your lips as you buckled into yourself, your knees nearly giving out as another reverberating moan sent pangs of something sharp and electric stabbing into your core. Against your better judgement, your hands shot from the counter to his hair, your fingers soon knotted in a mess of blonde in a futile attempt to pry him away from you. He only melted into your hostile touch, one of his hands remaining on your ankle while the other found your hip, keeping you still and pliable as his attention dipped lower, the flat of his tongue pushing broad patterns into your entrance as the bridge of his nose ground lazily against your clit. “Love you,” he mumbled, his voice little more than a throaty, ragged murmur – almost too deep to be audible and constantly interrupted by the sound of your slick on his lips, on his tongue. You wished he wouldn’t talk. You wished he wouldn’t pretend to love you. You wished he wouldn’t force you to do the same. “You’re so—so pretty, and so perfect, and—”

A guttural moan cut him off, and his attention shifted, his head lulling back just far enough to stare up at you with eyes so soft and so tender, you could almost forget he was humping your leg like a bitch in heat. You were suddenly aware of your own distraught expression – all grit teeth and misty eyes, misery and pleasure flooding through your veins in tandem. You wanted to ask him not to look at you. You needed to ask him to stop, but—

You felt a frigid ache in your left wrist – the wrist he’d kept shackled to the bedpost for the first three weeks of your kidnapping. You tried to open your mouth, but your tongue was deathly dry, your throat stuffed with cotton, the feeling not entirely unsimilar to the residue left behind by the velvet gags he used to shove in your mouth when you didn’t want to lay there and let him break you. You couldn’t say anything, couldn’t do anything as he let out a final, primal groan – as you felt something thick and hot soak through the fabric of his dress pants and into your ridiculous, childish socks. He whined into your cunt, fingers burrowing into your waist as he dragged you that much closer to his mouth. His tongue fucked shallowly into your cunt, and a whine caught in your throat as your vision burnt white, as you came unwillingly on his tongue.

You couldn’t do it, anymore. With his hand still on your hip, his cum still searing into the sole of your foot, you collapsed. Nanami caught you before you hit the ground, and you hated him for it. You wished he’d let you crumble to the tile floor, wished he’d just watch and laugh as you curled into a ball and stayed there for the rest of the night, the rest of the week. You wished he’d—

Oh, god, you’d made yourself cry. Nanami let out a breathy chuckle as you sniffled and tried not to wail, kissing your tear-stained cheeks with a gentleness you couldn’t seem to link to the man who’d just cum to a pair of socks. “It’s alright, angel. You can let it out.” Another kiss, this one to your forehead. “Too much?”

You nodded, burying your face in his shoulder. You felt his arms wrap around you, keeping your body pressed into his chest as he pushed himself to his feet. There were a few seconds of quiet, unthinking solace before he lowered you onto your shared bed – a pair of shackles still hanging, unlocked and waiting, from the headboard. Immediately, you scrambled for the nearest pillow, burying your face in the plush material and sobbing openly. Nanami’s comfort came in the form of a wry grin, a pair of hands on your hips, turning you onto your stomach and starting on the buttons of your dress.

As he settled between your legs, his calloused fingertips skirting over your bare skin, you couldn’t help but wonder if the shackles had really been so bad.

[sickeninglyshoujo]

a/n: i saw the renders (you know the ones) and became feral with need for dad!ghost, other cod dads coming soon, sorry to my friends for being forced to read me word vomit this in chat over four hours. ao3 link coming soon warnings: pregnancy talk word count: 1.8k

Simon doesn’t like when the baby wears the skulls but you do because it reminds you of him

When he grew up he equated the skull mask to terror, the baby only has positive thoughts about it and gets excited seeing it yelling out “daddy!” if she sees the motif in public, mortifying Simon and delighting you. Onlookers growing even more concerned when you coo back, “Yes, that is daddy!” pointing to the Halloween display of a grim reaper statue.

I can tell you that Simon is a master at baby rearing

Simon would absolutely carry the baby under his arm like a football once her neck is strong enough even if you don’t like it because it’s more comfortable like that

It’s second nature to him somehow

Even when you’re stressed about the baby and can’t get her to stop crying somehow Simon just comes over and says the one thing you haven’t tried because he can differentiate between her cries

You were afraid about introducing the baby to Riley, but Simon wasn’t. “They live in the same flipping house, he has t’ get used to her!”

“But not when she’s newborn! Let her get a little bigger first!”

“No better time than now! She’ll never be afraid of him then and he’ll protect her!”

“They call them malingators for a reason!”

“Riley is a well-trained retired soldier. He’s not going to hurt the baby.”

The first meeting had Simon holding the baby in his arms and stooping down to Riley’s level, Riley nosing at the baby’s sock-covered feet hanging from Simon’s arms, sniffing excitedly. You stood above Simon, wringing your hands together, ready to jump in between the two at a moment's notice.

“This is your baby sister, Riley,” Simon instructed the dog whose ears moved, listening to his master’s voice, “She’s your new assignment, boy.”

“Bloodthirsty, isn’ he?” Simon asked you with a grin as the dog yawned and stayed calmly seated, beginning to lick at the baby's booties.

“Shut it, Si.”

Riley is the baby’s shadow. If she so much as sniffles he’s darting across the house trying to find out what’s wrong. It’s like Simon’s watching over her even when on missions 

Simon hates that the dog is named Riley because he thinks it’s stupid and is constantly begging to rename the dog. You refuse because you like the constant reminder of your husband. It doesn't matter that he shares the family name.

When you first bring the baby home from the hospital Simon is in constant awe at how tiny she is. Like a little doll he keeps telling you to the point he sounds like a broken record

Simon constantly worried about baby being cold 2k24 and always has a blankie in the diaper bag or draped over the baby carrier.

After missions he would look for you first when he came home before stripping off the dirt and grime of missions and now it’s the baby. He used to think you were his reason to keep trying to save the world and now it’s her. It only stings a little but that is soothed when you see the awe in his face when she coos at him from her crib

It isn’t long before Simon is trying to get you to agree to try for another “Jus’ one more love,” he'll mutter into your neck after the baby is put down for the night and you two have retired to your bedroom only to be batted away weakly

“Oh no, Si! No more babies and no more sex! Not if you’re going to talk like that!”

“But yer such a good mum. We should have a houseful.”

Simon would petition you to quit your job because it’s bad enough the baby has to deal with him being gone on missions they shouldn’t have their mum gone too

“I make more ‘an enough for you to stay home with her!”

“The money isn’t the point, Si,” You coo at the baby on your lap, “I don’t need to be a housewife and I like working!”

You giggle whenever the other 141 men are over because they will carry the diaper bag slung over their shoulder and completely at odds with their uniforms.

It heats your cheeks to watch your burley husband in full military uniform when you greet him on base, bouncing your baby on his hips, playfully pulling her hands away when she gets too close to a switch or something she shouldn't touch, particularly when other women notice him too

It would swell your chest with pride when you and Si were out with the baby and he’d get longing looks from women when he was doing dadly things like pushing the stroller or rifling through the diaper bag for her bottle or burp cloth. 

“You have to have seen the way women look at you when you’re carrying the baby.”

“Whaddya mean?”

“You’re practically tormenting them, Si! And me too! You’re all big and tough! You’re in uniform or in a compression shirt and then you’re holding onto her in just your arm while she can’t even wrap a hand around one of your fingers!”

Simon doesn’t understand your point, “I’m tormenting you?”

Heat flushes your cheeks, “I like watching you be a dad to our daughter.”

The baby has essentially four dads as all of 141 takes care of the baby when they come to visit on leave

You worry about them spoiling her, “She’ll get too used to being held Si!”

“Then damn well let ‘er!”

“What about when they leave!”

“You think they’re leaving?! Soaps brought a bloody duffel!”

Because when you have the baby Captain Price, Soap, and Gaz are all going to visit. Moving into your cramped guest room for easily the first month after the baby’s born, Gaz and Soap fighting over who gets the futon and who has to share the bed with the Captain.

They need to see the baby!

They never thought Si would settle down but that was before you and your endless patience with the grumpy military man set in his ways.

You didn’t miss when Price clapped him on the shoulder after Simon showed off the baby for the first time, “You did well, Son.”

“Thank god she got the missus’ looks!” Soap crowed, “I was worried she’d get L.t.’s ugly mug!”

“I was hoping she would Johnny,” you peer down at the baby in Simon’s arms and trace a finger down her cheek, “She did get his eyes though. You know those were the first thing I noticed when we started talking, Si? How sad your eyes were.”

“Don’ have “sad eyes”.”

“I thought you did. And you were wearing that silly skull balaclava too, so I couldn’t very well fall in love with your chiseled jaw or the cute scar on your lip,” Soap and Gaz howled in laughter, missing the dirty looks from Ghost (You did too, eyes entirely on your daughter swaddled in a soft terry blanket in her father’s arms)

“Hey L.t. let me give you a few more scars for the missus to kiss!” Gaz ribbed

You never minded patching Simon up after missions. It gave you an excuse to ogle your husband in detail. Even before you were married, he’d tried to wave you off when you’d dab at the blood encrusted cuts and then flush when after taking care of the ones on his arms, much less when he stretched and took off his shirt for you to do the ones on his chest too. Thankfully he didn’t notice your brain shorting as you forgot how to breathe when you saw how heavily muscled and tattooed he was, culminating in an audible gasp as your eyes took in his happy trail and Adonis belt. 

“You ok?”

“Y-yeah just banged my foot on the tub.”

He’d later recount this to Soap who nearly banged his head on the wall at how dense Ghost was being

“An’ you wen’ home after that!”

“Yes Johnny, I had PT the next morning and had to ship out that night.”

He let out a string of curses, “The lass likes you and probably was hoping you’d stay the night wi’ her!”

“MacTavish,” Simon warned.

“She let you take off your clothes in her bathroom and then cleaned you up! Lasses don’t do that for cheeky cunts they don’ like!”

You miss him when he’s on missions of course, but it’s easier once you have Riley and then the baby. It’s like you have piece’s of him with you

Si is a beige mom but instead of beige it’s gray. You try and explain the importance of the bright colors in developing the baby’s eyesight but Si just mutters something about no baby of his is going to look like a muppet

Riley used to sleep at the foot of your bed but now he sleeps by the crib. You don’t know when he learned how to work door knobs but it happened somewhere between the third trimester and birth. Now you have to coax him into your room if you miss Si and want to cuddle Riley

You’ve given up on trying to keep Riley out of the nursery and instead just tut when you find dog hairs on the baby. 

Riley is the ever-patient soldier with the baby, letting her pull on his tail and ears, tugging on (and sometimes removing) his fur, all while happily wagging his tail at being used as a jungle gym

When the baby starts toddling and skins her knees, Si can’t help but scoop her up before the first tear leaves her eye “Si you’re spoiling her!” “She hurt herself, I can’ just let her cry” “She hadn't even cried yet!” “She was abou’ to”

Simon is an over attentive dad because he doesn’t want his baby to suffer the same way he did 

Si rolls his eyes whenever you  tell him not to throw the baby in the air because he’ll drop her but he knows his reflexes are superhuman and he’d catch her

SI doesn’t baby talk and will discuss the finer parts of gun mechanics and maintenance with your infant as she gums on a teether.

When she’s older, Si buys her a pellet gun for Christmas and hides it from you until unwrapped on Christmas morning

By the time it’s in her hands you know you’ve lost

He ignores your dirty glance that says “We’ll talk about this later”

As she grows up she starts talking about joining the SAS like her daddy and you’re filled with fear while Si encourages it. Starts taking her training with him much to your horror, first on short jogs around the neighborhood, then to the gym proper to teach her how to throw a punch. She quickly becomes the star of the base, with all the men calling her “Recruit”

“Nothing dangerous yet Si I mean it!”

“She asks for it!”

“She is a child and you are her father! You’re supposed to be the voice of reason!”

“The voice of reason says she might as well be trained right if she wants it!”

a/n: likes/reblogs/comments appreciated please talk to me about dad!ghost i cant contain myself

[catherinnn]

This kinda inspired by one of your enemies to lovers stories where eddie says “you wouldn’t be able to handle me” but reader instead says “oh yeah i couldn’t handle the two-centimeter-pussy-defeater bc id because i would be too busy laughing my ass off at your angry half inch.”

Sorry i have been holding that one in for quite some time 😤

Beg for it

enemies to lovers - one bed trope - eddie munson x fem!reader

warnings: SMUT +18, piv, oral ( f & m), choking, degradation, unprotected sex (don't do this, this is fiction), porn with plot, fluffy at the end.

a/n: thank you for requesting babe, hope you love it!

5.7k words

“Game night at my place, the whole group will be there” Steve announces after greeting you. You went to visit him and Robin since you were already near the place. Also, maybe you could find a movie to watch tonight.

“Ugh, really? They all said yes already?” you ask.

“If you’re expecting me to say that Munson hasn’t, then I have bad news” he confirms.

“Fuck”

“You’re not even trying to be friends at this point” he complains.

“It’s impossible with him being so mean all the time” you tried to defend yourself but Robin was quick to refute your statement.

“You sure are mean to him as well, don’t act so innocent”

“Well, he started it! I didn’t even know him and he started with the jokes and asshole comments” you weren’t lying.

You were new in town, and new at the summer job your dad had found for you. He wanted you to already have some experience at working so you could make a better curriculum later. There was were you met Nancy and instantly became good friends. So much so that she had introduced you to her friend group she has had for years already. Steve, Nance, Jonathan, Robin and Eddie. The former four had been sweethearts to you since you first met them, easily becoming good friends as well. The problem was with the latter. The night Nancy had introduced you to everyone, he started being a little distant and cold towards you. You tried not to feel offended since he could just be shy or introverted, but then he started throwing snide comments and sarcastic mocking your way. You were not going to sit there and take that, so you equally threw cutting remarks at him.

That’s how the current war with him started. And that’s why your friends keep insisting with this forced proximity, so we could all be a happy family.

But it was useless, you and Eddie do agree on that.

The game night arrived that Friday. You were at the Harrington household with several board games awaiting on the table. Battleship, Clue, Guess Who, Monopoly, Scrabble, you name it.

“We wanted to make different groups and play all of these, then see which team is the best” Robin explains. “Steve and me will be team one” she says as she writes that in the whiteboard. They really went all out, since we could all be pretty competitive.

“Group two!” Jonathan exclaims quickly grabbing Nancy’s hand.

“Wait… no, definitely not” You start complaining after realizing that would mean you’re stuck with Eddie.

 “No way! I’m not teaming up with her, she’ll make us lose at everything” he complains as well.

“I will? I think the actual loser here it’s you”

“Oh, am I now-?” The metal-head starts responding when Steve steps in, cutting him off.

“Okay! Stop yelling, we’re not even playing yet! The teams have been chosen, try and be faster next time”

“We’ll start with Guess Who” Robin announces.

As the game progressed, the bickering continued.

"Does your person have brown hair?" Eddie asks Nancy and Jonathan, who nod.

You reach over to flip down the characters with blond or red hair "See, this is why we should’ve picked someone with a hat, it's less obvious"

Eddie rolled his eyes "Oh, please. Like your guess was any better. We’re losing here!” Eddie complains.

"Only if you keep making terrible guesses" you shoot back.

"Does your person have a hat?" you ask the other team.

"No"

"Still think the hat was a good idea?" Eddie raised an eyebrow at you.

"It was strategic" you huff, flipping down the characters with hats.

After playing most of the board games you had, you were tied with the second group, Steve and Robin had already lost.

“Last but not least, to decide the winner of this evening, I present… battleship” Robin announces once more.

"You sure you can keep up with this game? It requires more than just a pretty face" Eddie asks you.

"Don’t worry, I have enough brains to make up for your lack of them" you respond.

“Quit it, start playing” Steve orders.

"Let's just get this over with" you roll your eyes.

They set up the Battleship boards, each team carefully arranging their ships. Eddie and you hunched over the board, whispering fiercely.

"Put the battleship here" he insist, pointing to the top left corner.

"No, it’s too obvious. Let’s hide it in the middle"

"Fine, but when they hit it right away don’t blame me" he groans.

As the game progressed, your bickering intensified.

"B6" Jonathan called out.

You glance at the board and softly nod your head "Hit"

Eddie leans closer, his voice a teasing whisper, "I told you the corner was better"

"Just focus"

When it was your turn, Eddie called out "G4"

Nancy checks their board, "Miss"

You smirk "Looks like your guess wasn’t so great either"

Eddie rolls his eyes "Just wait"

A few rounds later, it was your turn again.

"E5" Eddie calls out.

"Miss" Nancy announces.

"I told you they wouldn’t put it there" you huff.

"Like you’ve done any better"

"How about C3?" you roll your eyes.

"Fine, C3" Eddie sighs.

"Hit" Jonathan says between his teeth.

"See? I told you" you smirk.

"Don’t get cocky, princess"

The tension built as the game neared its end, each team with only one ship left.

"Last shot, let's go with G3" Eddie says

You nod.

"You sunk our battleship" Jonathan confirms after a long sigh.

“YES!”

“COME ONN” both you and Eddie shout in excitement and before even thinking about it you hug tightly.

Robin and Steve watch the scene with wide eyes and smirks on their faces.

And the second your bodies touch each other you realize what you’re actually doing. The hug only lasts few seconds before you both back away awkwardly.

“See? You actually do make a pretty good team” Robin comments.

“Only because I took the last shot” Eddie says.

“Oh please, if it were up to you we’d still be guessing corners” you reply.

"And if it were up to you, we'd be stuck in the middle forever”

Your friends roll their eyes as the bickering continued. And as you act indifferent, you try not think about how you had to stand on the tip of your toes to wrap your arms around his neck, or how soft his hair had felt touching your skin.

His frizzy and chaotic hair. But so curly and soft.

--

Couple of weeks after that night had passed, you hung out with the guys almost every weekend. You favorite nights were the ones Eddie was busy and couldn’t make it. Like tonight.

“Pass the salt, please” Nancy asks Robin. You all went out to have dinner together. Not all actually, Jonathan was too busy as well, him you did miss.

“It’s like we’re having a girl’s night!” you say excitedly and both girls laugh as well.

“No, you’re not about to count me in as a girl” He complains.

“Oh please, you have better hair than me!” Robin comments and he rolls his eyes.

“I’m just teasing, jeez! Someone has their panties in a twist!” you joke.

“Are you on your period or something?” Nancy joins in sarcastically.

“Alright, not even funny” Steve interrupts. “Let's focus. I think we should keep planning the trip, even though we’re not all here tonight”

“Don’t even mention it. I miss Jonathan so much, he’s been so busy lately. I think he really needs a break” Nancy complains and Robin agrees with her.

“I know, it’s really noticeable when Eddie’s not here either”

“Oh yeah, he’s the one I miss. His irritating voice and loud comments. His annoying essence it’s what’s missing here!” you joke but they don’t find it funny.

“We’ve been through this, you’re gonna have to learn to like each other”

“Sure sure, so… the trip?” you change the topic acting foolish.

“Yeah, I liked the hiking option. We always go to the lake every summer, we should change it up” Nancy votes. You’ve never went to any lake with them since this is the first year you’re joining them. But they had told some stories about this hidden lake they usually go to in summer.

“I think so too, plus we should do something different since we have a new integrant” Steve comments smiling at you. Robin and you also agree to go with that option.

The guys make sure of telling the rest everything you have agreed on that night. You’ve settled on where to go hiking and the cabin that would be waiting for you at night.

A few weeks later you're all set to go.

The trip to get there was...

Steve and Jonathan took turns driving. "You must be a really shitty driver if no one here trusts you behind the wheel" you notice and tell Eddie.

"I'm not a bad driver, princess. Maybe we could go for a drive sometime and you could judge for yourself! We'll call it a date" Eddie teases you the way he knows will shut you up, it always worked. As soon as he started flirting with you, it was like you got shy all of the sudden. Replying with some nonsense that would make Eddie laugh harder because he knew he had won.

"I'd rather get eaten by a shark" you respond ignoring the nervousness that ran through your body.

"Alright, we still have a few hours ahead of us, and I'm not gonna make them with you two bickering the whole way there. So calm down" Steve —or actually, mom Steve— told you off.

Once you got to the cabin, you parked the car, settled everything down, ate something and got ready for today's hiking exercise.

Eddie was never a big fan of sports, so he knew that after an hour or so of hiking —no matter how slow they were walking or how much water he was drinking— he would just start to stay a little behind. Not a lot, but definitely the last on the row.

Also, he started to get bored. Eddie was chatting with Jonathan, but he started to take pictures of every little plant or flower he saw, and the higher you got, the more pictures of the view he wanted to take.

So Eddie started to walk in silence, taking notice of other little things, like the fact that you and Steve look pretty close and pretty giggly with each other since you started hiking. But not only that, obviously, it's not like he's jealous or anything. For him to be jealous he would have to like you in the first place, and there was no way Eddie wants you.

You're the obvious person to like; everyone in Hawkins is already smitten with you. Every guy has a crush on you because you're undeniably beautiful. He knew from the first moment he saw you that you'd never go for a guy like him. So, to keep himself from showing any sign that he wanted you, he did the opposite —he started to hate you.

So he is definitely not jealous. He was only noticing that like he noticed the colourful rocks that he walked by, or the clouds in the sky, or the way those shorts hug your body so nicely.

But he keeps hearing your laughter every ten seconds. Was Steve really being that funny, or you were acting all giggly for him? Did you like Steve? It certainly seems like you do.

You, however, were having so much fun. In the middle of a funny story Steve was telling you about some guy who tried to flirt with Robin at work and the look on her face not knowing how to tell him she didn’t like him —or well, any men for that matter.

The forest path was rugged, but you welcomed the challenge at first, feeling the cool morning air on your skin. However, after a while, your legs began to protest, your breath came in shorter gasps. It was hard to keep up with Steve. Swimmer and football player Steve. So you had to slow down a little, now walking alongside Eddie.

“What’s the matter, princess? Can’t keep up?” he teases with a mocking tone.

“You literally got behind sooner than me” you answer, shaking your head. “If anyone’s slow here, it’s you”

“But it looks like we're both walking together now, so who's really winning?” Eddie chuckles, unfazed by your sharp reply as his eyes twinkle with amusement.

You decide to ignore him. How foolish of you to think that he would accept that silence.

“So what’s the deal between you and Steve? You looked pretty cozy back there. You’re not very subtle, you know”

“There’s no deal with Steve, we were just talking” you roll your eyes, irritation flaring up.

"Right, just talking" he says, his tone dripping with scepticism. "You’re so obvious, it's almost painful to watch"

“Why don’t you stop jumping to conclusions and mind your own business” 

“Ohh, is the princess mad at me now? I’m so scared!” he grins, clearly pleased with himself.

“You’re impossible” you say almost to yourself.

You kept walking for a few more hours, taking occasional breaks to catch your breath and sip some water. The trail seemed endless, but the beauty of the forest made it worth the effort.

As you trudged along, you noticed the sky darkening. Grey clouds, rolling in with alarming speed. The wind picked up, rustling the leaves more aggressively.

A man in uniform hurrying down the trail called you out. "Hey, you guys need to find shelter! A big storm is coming in fast. There's no way you'll make it back down in time"

Panic start to appear in all of your eyes.

“Wait? Seriously?” Nancy asks.

“Yes! There’s a motel that’s a few minutes away, to your left” the guy informs you. “I don’t know how much room they have left, cause I’ve been sending some people there already. But you should go now”

Finally after quickening your pace, you spot the outline of a motel nestled among the trees. You hurry towards it. As you approach, you see the motel was old but resistant.

You reach the door and push it open, stumbling inside just as the storm unleashed its full fury. Inside, it was dim and musty, but at least it was dry.

“Hello, uh, we need room for six, please” Nancy is the first one to get to the register and talk to the old woman who was reading a newspaper as if she hadn’t heard you coming in.

“$70 the night” she answers without even looking up at you.

“Uhh… okay, we’ll take it” Nancy says and as you all reach for you wallets, the woman gives you three keys.

“There’s only three rooms left, two with queen beds and one with two separate single beds” she speaks again, as slowly as she can apparently.

“SEPARATE BED” Robin shouts fast.

“ME TOO” Steve is quickly to join her on calling dibs for that room. Not wanting to share a bed.

“Wait! No!” you complain. “Why would you get it just cause you screamed?”

“We called dibs, sorry sweetie” Robin explains.

“But that’s not fair, we should have discussed it!” Eddie joins in.

“Too late” Steve says handing the money to the woman and taking the key of their room.

“Come on guys, maybe they have a couch” Jonathan tries to make you feel better as he also pays and picks a key to their room.

“Are you actually making us share a bed?!” you ask them offended.

“Maybe it’ll help you become friends!” Robin tells you.

After paying and grabbing that stupid key, you all go to your rooms. As you walk in you notice that, in fact, there is no couch.

“Fuck” Eddie complains once again. “I’ll take the floor, let’s just find some blankets that I can sleep on”

And you turn that room upside down trying to find some. But the only blanket in the room is the –only– one on the bed.

“There’s nothing here!” you sit on the bed admitting defeat. “We’re both gonna have to sleep on the bed. I’m gonna freeze without a blanket and you can’t sleep on the bare floor, you’d freeze too”

“If you wanted to sleep with me, you could’ve just said so” Eddie jokes.

“Not now, Munson! Really not in the mood!”

After each getting ready for bed, you start building a wall of pillows in the middle. Separating his part of the bed from yours.

“I bet you wouldn’t make Steve have a wall of pillows” he mumbles, but you’re able to hear him nonetheless.

“Did you not listen when I said not now?!”

“See, that’s the problem with you. You think you can just walk in here acting like you own the fucking place. Newsflash, princess, not everyone is going to fall at your feet following your little orders!” Eddie gets mad for real this time, but so are you.

“I’m so sorry for trying to make this less uncomfortable! Actually, if you want I’ll even cuddle you while we sleep!”

“Shut up” Eddie rolls his eyes.

“No really, we should even make out before sleeping while we’re at it! Maybe that’ll prove to you that I don’t fucking like Steve”

“Yeah, you wish” Eddie comments.

“Actually, I think you wish. Giving that you’re always trying to flirt with me when we argue and giving how jealous you seem to be about Steve” you notice.

“I’m not fucking jealous. And you’re the one suggesting to fucking make out!”

“See, I think you do want to. You’re just too much of a pussy to even admit it” you whisper close to his face.

“Oh my God, princess!” Eddie starts laughing arrogantly. “You wouldn’t even be able to handle me”

“Oh yeah, you’re right! I could not handle your two centimetres because I would be too busy laughing my ass off at your angry half inch” you respond at his face.

But he doesn’t say anything back. He just looks at you. His jaw clenching, eyes darkening, breath heaving.

Before you can react, he closes the distance in one swift, aggressive movement. Gripping your arms tightly, he kissed you fiercely and angrily, his lips bruising against yours, as if trying to channel all the pent-up emotions into that kiss.

To say that you're shocked would be an understatement. But you did kiss him back. How could you not? With all the ardor and sentiment that he was putting into that kiss?

That fucking kiss.

After he felt your lips moving along with his in a dance, he let all the anger go. The kiss became passionate and intense instead of angry. Like you were finally letting go. Stopped overthinking and finally giving in.

You didn't need to talk. You didn't want to. Instead, you put one hand on his haw and the other on his hair, feeling it in between your fingers, bringing him even closer.

He sighs, holding a grunt as he feels you play with his hair. His hands move lower to your hips, feeling the upper part of your body in the process.

A fight for dominance is held up between you two. He bites your lip harshly, and you let out a little gasp that allows him to win. He's playing dirty. You're not surprised.

He starts to push you down slowly, so you're lying on the bed with him on top of you.

Your hands travel lower as well as you feel his back. You wonder if he has any tattoos there as well.

He dares to leave your lips alone as he lowers his kisses to your jaw and then your neck. He kisses and bites and licks all over your neck. You can bet that he is leaving marks as purple as a grape.

It turns you both on even more.

Eddie feels like he's flying. He's even touching the clouds. Marking you all up is only an image that haunts him in his fantasies. Like when he can't sleep, or is in the shower, or after fighting with you all evening and you're looking so beautiful and you're being such a brat. That's when he imagines leaving you all bruised out. But he's actually doing it right now, and he's going feral.

You start to feel like you're too dressed. His hands go under your shirt, and he starts to pull it up. You pull your arms up as well so he can take it off. His kisses keep traveling lower on your body. Your chest, your shoulders, the top of your breasts. He stops there. Making out with one of your nipples over the lace of your bra while pinching the other. You start moaning, your hips move searching friction on your core, and he lowers his hips so you can start dry humping him.

You feel his smirk against your sensitive skin as well as his hard on against your centre. Mocking your desperation. You're not surprised.

He moves up, meeting face to face once again. "So desperate for me, aren't you princess?" he whispers so closely to you face you can feel his lips moving and his evil smile too.

He watches you breath hard and your legs trying to close searching for that friction in between once more.

"Ask me nicely and I'll take care of you" he proposes and you roll your eyes.

You can't. You won't.

"Beg for it, princess" he tries again. "Let me hear you"

You shake your head. You're playing difficult, but Eddie likes a challenge.

"No? You're not gonna beg for me? Alright princess, you know what I'm gonna do?" he pauses to think. "I'm gonna make you cum so fast on my tongue you'll be embarrassed, and then you'll know how much of a desperate slut you can be for me"

You want to laugh and tell him off, but you are so intrigued by his confidence at the same time. You settle for a defiant look thrown at him, he catches it and smirks again. Something tells you you'll be seeing that smirk quite a lot tonight.

He unhooks your bra and throws it somewhere in the room, he squeezes your tits and caresses your nipples making a mental note to keep playing with them later. His hands travel down to your pants which are the next item being thrown away inside the room.

He takes a second to admire the view of you only on those white panties and he feels his cock jump. He proceeds to take your underwear off too, but this item is put inside his back pocket.

He puts your legs over his shoulders and lowers to be closer to your pussy. He bites his lip admiring how fucking pretty and perfect it looks. He wastes no more time and dives in.

He licks it and kisses it and sucks on it drunk on your taste. He fucking makes out with your clit and has you meowing and arching back like a damn cat.

His hands grab your thighs so hard he's probably leaving marks there too. He sighs and hums and laughs against your pussy hearing your pretty moans.

He looks up at you as you look down at him and you both feel like you could just cum at the sight alone. Your cheeks blushed, eyes watery, hair a mess, lips swollen and little moans are still coming out of them. He looks up at you while still sucking on your clit so fucking good. His eyes are covered by his bangs so you reach to move them to the side. His puppy eyes look straight at you, his hair is also a mess, and his hands are gripping you with so much force his skin as well as yours becomes whiter. And his rings feel cold and addictive against you.

You try to fight your orgasm but looking at him makes it impossible. It hits all throughout your body so good that you cry out his name as you pull on his hair.

As you catch your breath, he sits up and washes all your wetness off his face with the back of his hand, all that with a big smirk on so proud of himself.

"Still doubting me?"

You grunt, annoyed, and bring him closer. You pull his shirt over his head and take a second to admire his bare chest and arms covered in tattoos. You unbutton and unzip his pants. He's just watching you act so desperate for him to undress, enjoying every second of it like the cocky motherfucker he can be.

"Need help?" he whispers on your ear, and you nod with a pout. He stands up and takes his pants of slowly.

"These too?" he asks, signalling his boxers. You nod as you feel even hotter paying attention to the big tent he has on them.

He puts them down too, standing up proudly as you look at his big cock. "Half inch you said?" he teases you, and you look up at him as if telling him to shut the fuck up.

You sit up facing his dick. You grab it gently as you keep looking at it. How is it so... pretty? How the fuck does Eddie manages to be pretty everywhere. Even what you thought could not be pretty. He manages to make it look beautiful.

A mischievous thought crosses your mind. And you start leaving some kisses on the tip. Even a lick here and there.

He gasps unexpectedly. You put the tip in your mouth, moving your tongue around it. He lets out a little moan. You look up at him, he's already looking at you. And you proceed to slowly put all of it in your mouth while maintaining eye contact. His tip touches your throat, and you have to fight a gag. You still have a full fist grabbing the rest that didn't fit your mouth. He moans again at your little show. You close your eyes and start moving your head up and down. Eddie moans louder this time, and hands stop your movements.

"As much as I enjoy this, princess, and I really fucking am" he lets you know. "I want to cum once I'm inside of your perfect little pussy, can I?"

You take him out of your mouth with a 'pop' at the end and look at him defiantly once again. "Beg for it" you challenge him feeling proud of yourself.

He laughs. "Are you seriously telling me to beg for it while you're still practically on your knees for me?"

You won't let him win this one, so you lay back again resting on your elbows. "Beg for it"

He takes a big breath in ogling over all of your body on display for him and only him. He'll let you win this one because his dick is throbbing at the sight before him.

His hands travel up your legs and your hips to your waist. "Please, princess" he says once his face is closer to yours.

"Please, let me fuck you so good" he starts humping his dick against your pussy which makes you both gasp.

"Please, please, please" he kisses your cheek to sugar-coat you.

"Eddieee" you move your pelvis up and down against him. "Do it, put it in"

And he wastes no time to do so. Pushing his tip inside and you both gasp. He bites his lip and thrusts to enter you completely.

"Oh, fuck" your head is thrown back and you lay back down. He feels so big and so fucking good in you.

"Mhh, fuck princess" he lowers his body to be chest to chest with you. "You feel so good baby, so tight around me"

You have to bite your tongue to stop you from moaning his name, you can't keep inflating his ego.

"Don't get all quiet now. You're always talking and the one time I wanna hear you..." he teases you.

"Earn it" you manage to get out. It's ironic how your lips are almost bleeding from how hard you're biting on them to stop you from moaning as hard as you want to, but you still tell him to fuck you better.

Eddie knows what you're doing, but he likes playing with you too. So he accepts the challenge.

He gets up on his knees against the bed and takes your legs to pull you closer to him. You instantly wrap them around his hips. He wraps a hand around your throat and he looks like he's about to say something, but instead, he enters you again. A moan escapes from your mouth instantly, and you see his big smirk back.

He starts a hard and fast pace with his thrusts as you hear his sighs against your ear. You can't help the whines and moans that escape you now. Your hands go to his back scratching him, and pulling at his hair, but it only makes him moan harder.

He lowers his head to your breasts once again and keeps kissing them as he fucks you. You arch back again, because you can feel him everywhere. And he feels so so good.

He feels you clench around his dick and he thinks he could just cum right now. So he starts playing with your clit with his fingers.

"Eddiee... 'm so closee" you whine pulling him somehow even closer.

"Yeah? You are?" you nod desperately. "Beg for it" he whispers and smirks right after saying it.

You roll your eyes but it doesn't take much to convince you this time.

"Please, Eddie," he was about to tell you that you can do better, but beat him to it. "Please baby, you feel so good inside of me, so big. Eddie, please"

Eddie has to stop himself from cuming -which he almost does. "Cum for me, baby"

And you do. Your orgasm hits even harder than the first one. You gasp and whine without even thinking about it.

Few seconds after that, Eddie can't take it anymore. He feels you clench even harder while you cum and it becomes too much. So he lets go too while moaning your name against your skin.

You take a few seconds to catch your breaths when you feel Eddie pull out —and after admiring how his cum drips out of your pussy— he gets up, puts on his boxers and goes to the bathroom, only to come back with a wet towel to clean you up. To say he surprised you again was an understatement. Who would have thought he would be so careful?

After you go to the bathroom as well —with wobbly legs Eddie smirks about— and change into some comfy clothes, you both lay down. No wall pillow this time. And are quick to fall asleep after all the exercise you did today.

The next morning wasn’t so sweet. Loud knocking on your bedroom’s door accompanied a loud Robin telling you to get up already.  

Waking up all curled up with him was bound to happen. But if someone would have told you yesterday morning that today you would be waking up with Eddie Munson spooning you, you would have laughed at their face.

But here you are, and to be honest, it had been a while since you slept so peacefully.

You feel him groaning against the skin of your shoulder, holding you tighter.

You slowly opened your eyes to accustom to the light.

“Did you end up killing each other last night?! Answer me!” Robin shouts again from the other side of the door.

“Certainly feels like it” Eddie murmurs and laughs at his own joke.

“We’re awake! Calm down!” you let her know.

“We have to leave so then we can breakfast, so hurry up!” she lets you know.

You get up and start tiding up. Eddie is slower, he sits on the bed barely opening one eye to look at you and smiles. “Good morning, princess”

You look at him and a little smirk escapes from your lips. “Hey” you greet him shyly.

You both start changing to get down and tidy everything down. After you both brush your teeth, you go to pick up your backpack but he stops you to pull you in close to him.

“Good morning” he says again with his face close to yours while he pulls a strand of your hair behind your ear. Then he proceeds to kiss you, sweetly this time. Which warms your heart. You kiss him back playing with his hair once again.

“Hi, Munson” you say sweetly against his lips.

“You look beautiful in the morning” he admits but before you can even react, the knocking on your door is back.

“Okay! Okay! We’re coming!” Eddie stops them. “Jesus”

After getting down, you were waiting for them to explain where you would be having breakfast but as soon as they see you they start looking at you funny.

“What?” Eddie asks being as confused as you but they all start laughing.

“What is going on?” you ask again.

“Are we just gonna pretend like nothing happened?” Jonathan asks now.

“Yeah, were you gonna act like you still hate each other today?” Steve teases.

And you understand all the laughter. You and Eddie look at each other surprised and apparently this is also very funny because they start laughing again.

“Oh fuuuck” Jonathan starts mocking the way Eddie sounded last night also acting like moaning your name.

“Oh Eddie, so close!” Steve joins him acting like you.

Your face is as red as a tomato right now and you feel like you could just die, it would be better than taking whatever this is. You hide your face in Eddie’s shoulder after he just rolls his eyes fighting another smirk.

He laughs at you, put stills hugs you.

“You wanted us to like each other…” He defends you two.

“Yeah, apparently you took that very literal” Robin teases after catching her breath.

[emmyrosee]

tw// cursing, yelling, long stints of fighting, Kiyoomi is a little toxic, blood, patching up injuries, broken noses, ANGST- please be safe friends ❤️

I talk a lot about Kiyoomi being an amazing sport about your clinginess, your closeness, and your affections, right?

But what about when he's not?

What happens when the one day you try to crawl into his skin, spilling your head over his shoulder and squeezing him tightly, peppering kisses over the side of his face and jawline, and when he asks you to please stop, you don’t.

“You’re just too yummy,” you say happily. You bite his ear, “this is your tax.”

He shrugs you off sharply, “I’m not paying the tax today.”

You stumble back slightly, regaining your footing and taking a step back from him. “I’m sorry… bad day?”

Bad day. Yeah. It was. He can’t fathom how bad today was, how every time he said anything, Miya was right in his ear simply talking, sending shivers of annoyance to course through kiyoomi’s veins. How Bokuto accidentally almost hit the ball straight to his face, his own intensity almost causing Kiyoomi the season. How meian benched him for being too intense, too much and needing to ‘cool off’ with every spike and scowl kiyoomi flails to the other side of the court. How the threats of sending him home for his attitude started, causing Kiyoomi to shut his mouth but white knuckle the rest of the day.

But kiyoomi doesn’t answer that like a normal person.

That would be too easy.

“Maybe I just don’t want you dangling off of me the second I walk in the door.”

His mind screams at him to shut up, but he can’t.

You take a deep breath in, “I didn’t know, I’m sorry. Usually you… you don’t mind-“

“Well maybe I should start minding.”

Shut up.

Your eyes hold betrayal as he spews his venomous words, your chest rising and falling as he balls his fists to try and ground himself.

“I’m sorry. I’ll think more about your feelings when I try to cuddle you.”

“What you do is not cuddling-“ the balled fist slams against the countertop. “It’s clinging. It’s suffocating. It’s ridiculous, and it’s obnoxious-“

“‘Yoomi-“

“And for the love of all that is fucking malevolent would you PLEASE STOP CALLING ME THAT!” He roars. “I gotta deal with it from FUCKING MIYA, now I have to deal with it at HOME FROM YOU?”

You don’t know why you do it. But you flinch.

He’s so loud, so in your face and so mean that it happens without you even knowing you did it, the only indication being that his face instantly drops and pales at the mere idea of you being so afraid of him you flinch.

He says nothing. He can’t. What could he say?

He quickly makes a dash to the door, grabbing the keys dangling from the hook and leaving right then and there, bile rising in his throat and chest swelling with disgust as your terrified face plays over and over, like a movie he can’t turn off because he’s the one who put it on.

He runs. He runs fast and far, down the street and over hills and across crosswalks that don’t permit him from crossing yet, trying to create distance between himself and the monster he was god knows how long ago.

He finds himself- somehow- at work, the bright lights of the arena snapping him back to reality that you’ve been alone for who knows how long, but at least long enough where he’s back at his physical job. On foot.

The gods give him the smallest semblance of mercy as Miya and Hinata are still together, setting and spiking away until their hands grow calloused, cheering with each successive spike sent hurdling to the floor.

Hinata notices the panting Kiyoomi first, his head cocking in concern. “Hey… thought you didn’t want to train with us?”

“You.” Kiyoomi’s dark eyes fall onto Miya, and without even processing the fact that he shouldn’t be doing this, he makes a blind dash at the blonde, who then instinctively runs the other way.

Hinata instinctively darts out of the way, “woah! What! Miya what’s going on!”

“I didn’t do anything!” The blonde whines. “Not this time! I swear!” Hinata scrambles into action, chasing after Kiyoomi who’s on another runners high as he chases his teammate around the linoleum floors of the volleyball court but is still no match for Hinata’s own speed.

Great for Miya Atsumu. Terrible for sakusa Kiyoomi.

Bulky arms wrap around Kiyoomi’s waist and immediately weights around him, slowing him down from skinning Miya alive, “no, sakusa! Enough!”

“I’ll kill him!” He barks at whoever will listen to his threat. “I’LL KILL YOU!” He points a finger at the blonde.

And Hinata’s not proud of it. Honest! But it’s what he had to do to stop his friends from mauling each other, and he trips Kiyoomi flat onto his face, a sickening crunch! under the squishing cartilage of nose and skull slamming into the floor. He lays there in defeat, panting softly into the floor and crying even quieter as his two teammates surround him.

He needed to cry. That’s it. Now that he’s crying, his salty tears mixing with the blood dribbling from his nose and the gash in his head, he feels better, he feels lighter and like he’s finally getting to express every fractal of emotion that surged through his veins all day in what is finally a healthy way.

It only cost you being uncomfortable around him.

He safely decides it’s not worth it.

“Sakusa,” Hinata begins. “What happened?”

“I was cruel,” he says, now wailing into the floor. “They flinched at me. I ruined everything. Again.”

He can’t tell from looking, but he practically feels the weight of understanding fall onto his teammates, a soft ‘ahhh,’ falling from Miya’s lips. He hears the squeak of shoes next to his head, and when his bloody face turns upward to see Miya Atsumu’s calm, non-judgmental features, he cries even harder, his tears mingling with blood as they fall to the floor.

“Go home, Kiyoomi.”

“I can’t. I shouldn’t.”

“Yes, you should,” Hinata interjects. “You need to be there. I don’t know what happened, or what Atsumu did to piss you off, but I know you want to sort this out.”

“I ran here,” Kiyoomi sniffles. His hand instinctively comes to wipe his nose, the taste of blood filling his throat once he’s finally able to see just the sheer amount he’s bleeding.

“YOU RAN HERE?!”

“I had to. I had to go somewhere.”

“I’ll take him home,” Miya sighs, calmly stepping away for a moment to grab his keys and bag. Hinata claps a large, comforting hand on Kiyoomi’s back, his own feet stepping away as Kiyoomi childishly stays on the floor, blood trickling onto his lips and down his chin. He’s gonna have a gash in his head for sure, maybe even a black eye, and he hopes you’re open to taking him to the hospital to get it clean.

The car ride back home is silent, save for the occasional sniffles coming from Kiyoomi and his pinched nose, stuffed with bloody toilet paper. Miya keeps his car surprisingly clean, it smells like pine and citrus and it cuts through the tension and pounding in kiyoomis head from the smell. He doesn’t know when, but Kiyoomi mumbles a soft “I’m sorry” at some point.

Miya chuckles, “you’re having a bad day. We all get those. You ain’t special.” It makes Kiyoomi chuckle softly, for the first time in what feels like days. When the car rolls up to your shared house, kiyoomi shakily gets out of the car, slamming the door closed and leaving Miya to drive off.

“Kiyoomi?”

“What?”

“You come at me like that again, I’ll give you another black eye.”

Kiyoomi chuckles and shakes his head at the blonde, “you’d never even get a shot in.” He rolls his shoulders, sniffles back a little bit more blood, and makes his way inside, shaky hands opening the door and stalking in like a zombie.

When he comes into your view, you’re quick to get on your feet, getting up to fuss over him.

“Fucks sake,” you gasp, cupping his cheeks and inspecting the dried blood over his face. “You leave for two hours and come back beaten up?”

“I fell.” Not really a lie.

“Yeah, don’t care,” you snap, grabbing his wrist and tugging him to the bathroom. “Let me clean you up. Is your nose broken?”

“Doesn’t feel like it.”

You groan and gently grab the bridge of his nose, and he whines and reels his head back petulantly out of pain. “Ow.”

“Yeah. Go to the doctors, Kiyoomi.”

Kiyoomi.

Shit.

“Please come with me?”

He sees you tense up as you grab a wet towel, pausing your movements and taking in a deep breath to calm down, “yeah. Yeah I’ll go.”

“Hold my hand when I’m scared?” He tries to joke.

You don’t laugh. You don’t say anything. You dab the blood from his lips and chin, careful of his nose and the bruising around his eye. “I don’t know where you fell but you’ve got a black eye blooming.”

He tucks his swollen lip into his teeth nervously, “I ran to Miya.”

“Osamu?”

“No. Atsumu.”

Your hand pauses again, “did he hit you?”

“No. He’d never.” Even if he did deserve a smack coming to him.

You roll your eyes and escort him out of the bathroom, “come on. I’ll drive.”

The drive to the hospital is silent.

The waiting room is silent between you both.

Sitting in the doctor’s office is silent, save for the crunching of his nose as his doctor recenters his nose and he whines in pain. You do squeeze his hand through the pain, even if he doesn’t deserve your kindness.

The ride home is silent.

Your walk to your bedroom is silent, and as Kiyoomi sets up a bed on the couch is silent.

The next few days are silent. Kiyoomi can’t play due to his nose, leaving him to merely watch on the sides with a protective splint covering the bone. At home, it’s no better, with you dodging his kisses and affections with no indications you’ll ever want them again.

He wonders, briefly, if this is it. You realize you’re too good for him, worth more than a man who plays volleyball and screams at people, you deserve the stars and moon and you’re not getting it from him.

Between losing you and volleyball, he hopes its punishment enough

He can’t take it anymore. He’s lost the two loves of his life in the span of four hours, over a stupid mistake he made his bed with.

It’s been four days; you haven’t said six words to him, and he doesn’t even bother trying to get affection from you, he knows better than that. But he’s yearning for you, and while he’d never force anything onto you, he just wants to know:

Is there anything worth salvaging? Or is it just an exhaustive task, one he already knows the answer to, and you’re just too kind to tell him in person?

He needs to find out.

“Smells good in here,” he says quietly, looking at you with optimistic eyes. You give him a shrug back and continue to dress the warm bread with garlic and butter. “What’re you making?”

“I… I uhm saw a thing online on how to make bread shaped like a frog,” you say, turning back to it quietly. “Thought it would be fun.”

“It’s cute.”

“Thanks.”

The room is quiet, and when Kiyoomi hesitantly leans in for a kiss, you turn away, not ready for his affections yet.

Maybe ever again.

“I would like to kiss you,” he says, pleadingly.

“I don’t want to kiss you.”

“That’s okay. Can I… can I hug you?”

At the idea of being trapped in his arms, you shake your head, pushing him away and trying to make some distance. He obeys, but as you continue to shove him, he suddenly tries to intervene

“Please, stop,” he chokes, grabbing your hands to still you.

“Stop what?” You ask, even though you know the answer. Your hands do stop shoving him, but you avoid his gaze intently.

He sighs shakily, “I love you. I love you and every part of you. I love when you try to get inside of my skin and take my socks off with your toes. I like when you pick my nose and tickle me because I hate it, I like it when you sniff me, please just love me again.

I was so agitated that day, and that wasn’t your fault, and now I’ve ruined us because I was cruel. But please,” he collapses to his knees and wraps his arms around your legs, “just love me again. You’re safe, and it’s okay. Please.”

You don’t return his emotion, having been hurt by showing it before has made the feeling sour. “Kiyoomi-“

“It’s ‘yoomi. What happened to yoomi, why won’t you call me that anymore?”

“You screamed it out of my vocabulary, in case you forgot,” you snap. He squeezes your legs tighter like a child. “You don’t get to keep doing this. You don’t get to decide one day to snap or tell me know about something I’m doing, then a few days later tell me you miss doing it. For fucks sake, I flinched!” He starts to tremble against your legs. “And now you tell me you want to go back to how it was! You’re out of your mind.”

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’ll try my hardest to be better for you. A better man. A better boyfriend.”

“There’s almost no way for you to be worse.”

This time, he lets you go and stands up. His eyes are swollen with tears, the dark irises even deeper from the reddening of his scleras. “So, what?” He begins, voice wobbly. “We’re just never going to show affection again? Be in loveless love? Is that my punishment?”

“It’s NOT THAT BLACK AND WHITE!” You yell, losing your composure for the first time that fight. Your hands come down to grip and smack the bread against the counter, ruining it and sending crumbs flying everywhere. You sigh and lazily throw it in the sink in defeat, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. “You sincerely think I wouldnt love nothing more than to wrap MY arms around you, squish your cheeks in MY hands, crawl into YOUR lap and cuddle when you get home? You think I wanted to make bread shaped like a fucking frog for fun? NO! I’m doing it, because YOU told me YOU didn’t want me to DO THOSE THINGS!”

“I was wrong!” He yells back. “I’m sorry!”

“THAT DOESNT MEAN IT WAS STILL OKAY TO DO!”

The room is silent. Too silent. Theres a rattling of dishes that can be heard from your screams of agony, a cabinet creaks and somewhere away, the dryer dings to signal its contents to be done.

Kiyoomi takes a deep inhale in through his nose to keep himself grounded, and you watch with balled fists. “I want you to feel like you have space. You deserve that. But you also need to know you’re endgame for me. You’re the only one I want, the only one who makes me feel excited to wake up in the morning and slip into sleep at night. And if this is it for us, you need to know that you were the greatest thing that ever happened to me.”

You give him a sad, shaky sigh.

“I made a mistake. I made you feel unsafe in your own home. You never deserved that, never deserved that level of cruelty. Do you understand?”

“I think so,” you murmur.

“Do you need me to stay with Bokuto for a few nights?”

“No.”

“Do you need me to sleep on the couch?”

“…no… I don’t think so.”

He tears up at the idea you’re not completely upset with him, enough to sleep next to him in the same house. “What can I do to make you feel more comfortable?” He chews at his swollen lip, “I want to help you be comfortable around me again. Please.”

You gnaw at your lip as you process his words, and with a small shake of your head, you slowly, almost so slowly he doesn’t see it, slink towards him, resting your head on his chest and wrapping your arms around his waist. When his arms loosely slither around your waist, you tighten, but you don’t stop him.

It feels foreign, but so right at the same time. His swirling head is finally stilled. The demons stop their bark as you bury your face in his chest, sniffling softy in the fabric.

“Last time you left,” you begin. “You came home with a black eye from Miya. I’d hate to see what happens if you come home from Bokuto’s.”

“Okay, hold on, it was not from Miya.”

The change in tone has you laughing in his arms, and he tries to keep cool and not immediately pull you into a spine crushing hug that’ll spook you away from him again. He can’t help himself though, from rubbing his face against you and taking inhales of your scent, the shrieking and howling in his mind finally going quiet at the contact of you.

“Kiyoomi?”

“Yeah?”

“You ever talk to me like that again, I’ll give you another black eye.”

He chuckles and does, finally, squeeze you tighter, “I don’t blame you for a second.”

[moonlinos]

A dwindling, mercurial high

♡ Pairing: Bang Chan × fem!reader

♡ Genre: Childhood best friends, angst

♡ CW: Explicit sexual content (minors dni!), cheating, both Chan and Reader are morally gray characters, mentions of smoking, drinking, fingering, hand job, unprotected sex

♡ Word count: 10.1k

♡ Synopsis: Despite his love for you since childhood, Chan silently watched from the sidelines as you fell in love with your mutual friend. Your happiness has always been his priority, even at the expense of his own. But he can only endure the pain with a smile on his face for so long. With your growing realization that your fiancé is no longer the man you once loved, his longing to finally escape his torment and confess his feelings becomes unbearable.

♡ A/N: Based off a request by anon! Thank you for requesting 🩷 Cheating is bad, kids, this is fiction. Sorry to my boy Changbin, I used a random wheel to decide who would be the other member 🥲 I’ll focus on lighter stories now ‘cause I feel like this one turned out heavier than I anticipated lol

Chan has known you since he was ten years old.

He’s sure he has been in love with you for just as long.

He wouldn’t be able to give an exact date; loving you has simply always been a part of his life. Your smile that’s engraved in his mind, your laughter he’s memorized, your mind which still fascinates him after so many years — it all wraps around his heart like a vice, making him a willing captive to this one-sided love.

For Chan, love is selflessness; sacrificing anything for the happiness of the one he loves. He doesn’t know anything but loving you, and his unwavering dedication to your happiness has led him to sacrifice his own for years.

Unbeknownst to you, Chan has been withering away slowly as you’ve grown happier.

But your happiness and his unrequited love never truly hurt him until the age of twenty.

It was Minho’s birthday, and he played the best friend card to convince Chan to buy fake IDs from a sketchy guy at their university. Your friend group drove to a deserted parking lot after buying far too much alcohol — Chan remembers the recurring thought inside his fuzzy mind was how much that situation would validate your parents’ scorching hatred for him if they were to find out.

You had your head on his shoulder, sitting on the bed of Minho’s truck, watching as the rest of your friends suffered the consequences of their indulgence. Chan’s face lit up with a smile at the sound of your giggle when Miyeon yelled at Changbin for being so loud, threatening to destroy his beloved girl group albums if he didn’t shut up.

Chan’s emotions always mirrored your own; so long as you had a smile on your face, he swore he could find joy even in the worst situations.

Even when you unknowingly shattered his heart into a million pieces, your happiness still brought him joy.

“I never got around to finishing my story,” you told him, words slurred and voice hoarse from singing at a noraebang earlier that night. “I only said I had a crush, but I never elaborated.”

Chan didn’t want you to elaborate.

But he knew how much you loved talking to him. Be it the weight of your indecision about your path in life or the lightheartedness of your romantic endeavors, you shared everything with him. You always said Chan was the best listener because he knew when his silence was better than any word. He knew that once your heart was set on something, there was no use trying to untangle your mind from the roots of that conviction.

So he hummed, prompting you to continue. “It’s been a while since you had a crush.”

“It sounds so lame, doesn’t it?” You scoffed, “Aren’t we too old for crushes?”

“No one’s ever too old for that,” he shrugged. “I think if you don’t allow yourself these light-hearted feelings, love will only become heavy. That’s never good.”

You placed your hand in his, playing with his fingers as a smile spread across your lips. Chan always hoped you couldn’t hear the way his heart thumped loudly against his chest whenever you touched him. 

“You’re so weirdly wise for your age.”

“And you’re so weirdly avoiding the subject,” Chan pointed out. “Come on, you never hesitated telling me shit like this. Hell, you proudly admitted to your crush on that old ass teacher when we were sixteen.”

You sat up straight, groaning at the unwelcome memory, and Chan huffed a laugh at the pout on your lips.

“I know, it’s just…”

“Just?”

“It’s someone you know,” you offered, and Chan furrowed his brows.

“That wouldn’t be a first.”

He noticed the way your hands tensed up, their grip on his fingers tightening and fidgeting nervously. You were anxious, and Chan wasn’t sure he wanted to know the reason why.

“It’s someone from our group.”

The way he froze was obvious, and your hands stilled on top of his. To this day, he hates everything about that moment: how you were so apprehensive about sharing something so trivial with him, how he selfishly felt a twinge of jealousy, and most importantly, how he could tell you were upset.

Chan promptly put aside his own feelings, having mastered this skill to the point where he could effortlessly do it. You seemed happy whenever you mentioned this crush, and he didn’t want to be the reason that happiness faded away. He laced your fingers together and offered you a smile, hoping you would reciprocate the gesture. You did, and he felt his chest blossoming with a blend of relief and melancholy.

“It’s Changbin,” you confessed, and Chan’s face remained unchanged. His smile didn’t so much as falter at your words. It often scared him how easy it had become to feign something as significant as his own emotions when it came to you. “I don’t know when it started, but I just… I really like him.”

Chan had seen you go through a couple of short-lived relationships and countless crushes that usually led nowhere; the sting of seeing you infatuated with someone else was an ache he’d long grown accustomed to. He often struggled to understand why your heart had chosen to love the people it did. It was easy to tease you and cope with the hurt when Chan knew it was only a matter of time before you realized you deserved more.

But that situation was different. This time, he could understand. Changbin was one of his best friends, after all. How would he endure the hurt when he knew Changbin was practically a mirror image of your ideal type? He was always in a good mood, always fun to be around and never failed to make anyone laugh. Chan had no doubts about how he would bend his back just to care for his friends — the day he failed his first class at university, Changbin paid his bill at the bar and carried a drunken, crying Chan home on his back.

Unlike it had been with Chan for the past ten years, your parents immediately fell in love with Changbin.

As he heard you eagerly talk about your crush on your friend that night, Chan kept his facade of the perfect best friend. His laughter and words perfectly matched your enthusiasm. Among the rain of anguish, the drop of bliss that fell onto his heart as he saw you smile again, your worry thoroughly gone, was enough to soothe his aching heart.

Because Chan’s emotions mirrored your own, and so he made it his mission to make you happy.

Even if it was with someone else.

Chan never would have guessed that you and Changbin would go beyond a simple crush.

He never would have believed if he was told your relationship would evolve beyond just hooking up.

And never in his wildest dream did he imagine that you would become engaged to him.

Yet, here he sits, six years after initially finding out about your crush, helping you choose flower arrangements for your wedding.

“I think Bin would definitely want some pink flowers,” you comment with a hum, the florist nodding along with a smile. Chan holds back a sigh. “But wouldn’t that look weird with the light blue theme?”

“I think blue and pink go great together!” The florist assures you, her excitement palpable when she starts rambling about different shades and flowers that would beautifully complement your dream wedding dress.

Chan zones out, blurry eyes focused on a single red rose that rests on the wooden table. He was understandably taken aback when you chose him as your man of honor. Miyeon had always been your closest female friend, so it was only natural that he assumed you would choose her as the maid of honor. Despite disapproval from both you and Changbin’s families, you remained unwavering in your decision. Chan knew you better than anyone in the world, you argued, therefore he was the best possible choice. The sentiment was sweet, but it didn’t lessen the ache in his heart.

As if watching you marry another man wasn’t punishing enough, he now had to help you plan the ceremony.

Your laughter brings him back to the present moment, and he quickly rises from his chair, realizing you’re already heading towards the door. Chan clears his throat, shooting the florist a small smile before walking out with you.

As soon as you step onto the streets, you ask, “You were spacing out the entire time, weren’t you?”

Chan feigns offense, clutching at his chest. “What? Of course not!” He shakes his head, and you let out a chuckle. “I was totally paying attention. Blue dress, pink flowers. I got it all memorized, don’t worry.”

“So you noticed how she was shamelessly ogling you the entire time, right?”

Absentmindedly, Chan cocks his head to the side, furrowing his brows in confusion. You narrow your eyes at him, and his expression immediately shifts into a grin.

“Ah, that. Yeah, I noticed,” he shrugs. “It was your choice to have me as your man of honor.”

You bump your shoulders together, chuckling. “I guess I should’ve known. Since you’re not my fiancé, you’ll have to endure a lot of women flirting with you.”

As your words hit him, Chan clenches his jaw, suppressing the foolish pain that wells up in his chest. He is not your fiancé; he is well aware of that, but he can’t help the sharp twinge of hurt that washes over him whenever you remind him of that fact.

He silently drives you to the gym that he and Changbin opened two years ago. It was a last-ditch effort to create something that was their own rather than succumbing to a soulless office job. Starting out in a small rundown house on a sketchy street, with barely any money for proper equipment, they could never have predicted how perfectly everything would work out.

As Chan parks in front of the building, you beam while taking the notes from the florist out of your bag, eager to share them with Changbin. You two scour the gym from top to bottom, but he’s nowhere to be found. Upon asking their receptionist, they’re informed that Changbin had left a couple of hours earlier, not giving further explanations. Chan hates the familiar sight of your smile dropping, your excitement ebbing away as you carefully tuck away your notes into your bag.

Changbin has become unusually distant lately — not only toward you but everything in general. He rarely sets foot in the gym nowadays, only popping in to ensure everything is in order before hurriedly rushing off to who knows where. Chan hopes it’s only the pre-wedding nerves getting to him, and not something that will leave you shattered and heartbroken on what is supposed to be the happiest day of your life.

But that’s all he can do — cling to that hope.

Because, deep down, Chan’s mind is filled with worries that run deeper than he will ever let on. Changbin has always been an absurdly impulsive person. The fear that his friend might be regretting his decision to propose is always lingering in the back of his mind, like a persistent echo, tormenting him and gradually eroding his heart.

He doesn’t know if he can bear to see you hurt.

He certainly doesn’t want to think about what he would do if Changbin ever dared to break your heart.

Chan hates the way you easily brush off your disappointment even more, turning to flash a bright smile at him as soon as the notes are out of your sight.

“I’ll just see him at home later tonight anyway,” you simply say. “There’s no rush.”

Over the past months, Chan has seen you dismiss your own feelings regarding your fiancé countless times, so much so that he can’t even count them on one hand. From Changbin’s constant broken promises to his complete indifference toward anything related to his own wedding, the way it upsets you is evident. Still, your dismissal of it all makes him hesitant to even mention it.

Helplessly, he can’t do anything but watch, just as he has been doing for the past six years.

A week later, the sound of the doorbell jolts Chan awake at 2 a.m.

Right after getting home from the gym, he collapsed onto the couch and dozed off before he realized. All the work he had to tackle alone left him drained. It was yet another day when Changbin vanished in the late afternoon without so much as an excuse.

Chan rushes toward the door, expecting an emergency, only to find you standing alone in the dimly lit hallway. His initial reaction was confusion; you had a spare key, after all. But as the light from his apartment hits your face, red-rimmed, teary eyes meet his own, and Chan instinctively wraps his arms around you. 

You two remain in a silent embrace for a while, with Chan selfishly reveling in the feeling of your body pressed against his. Despite your vulnerable state, he can’t help but run a hand down your back, savoring your warmth and intoxicating scent that surrounds him.

You used to hold each other frequently when you were young, thinking nothing of it and simply seeking comfort in each other’s arms. But as you entered your late teens, the tension between you became almost palpable. You no longer sought his arms solely for comfort, and that was obvious to Chan. It was obvious because he was the same. Innocent hugs evolved into wandering hands and limbs tangling in ways that were anything but platonic.

At that time, he almost thought he had stood a chance.

Until graduation day, when you two hid away inside an empty classroom, with you sat on a desk and Chan slotted between your thighs, holding you against his chest as you cried. You were always terrified of change, and school ending was an unavoidable one that had been looming over your head for a while until it snapped.

That day, you almost kissed him, your lips mere inches from his as he gripped your waist nervously, his eyes foolishly fluttering closed in anticipation.

But you pulled away, pushing him back with a whispered apology.

After that day, that habit Chan loved so much slowly faded away.

Chan hates how he has every curve of your body memorized, but rarely has the privilege of feeling you this close to him anymore.

You pull away abruptly, much like you did when you were eighteen, clearing your throat and entering his apartment without uttering a word.

Closing the door behind him, he joins you on the couch, where you sit nervously, bouncing your leg.

“What happened?” He asks, although deep down, he already knows the answer. Your only answer is a half-hearted shrug, so Chan hesitantly continues, “Is this about the wedding?”

He doesn’t miss the way your eyes well up, but you swiftly blink away any tears that threaten to spill over. Once again, Chan takes your dismissal of your own emotions as a sign for him to keep quiet.

Except this time, you don’t.

“Changbin asked to postpone the wedding,” you simply tell him.

A surge of anger washes over Chan like a tidal wave, pushing him to walk out of his apartment right now just to punch his friend in the jaw. You’re sad — Changbin made you sad. No matter how hard Chan tries or how much he sacrifices, moments like these always serve as a sour reminder that your happiness isn’t solely dependent on him.

He despises these moments.

“I feel like he’s so different. Even before proposing,” you murmur, lowering your head and focusing on your nails, nervously picking at your chipped nail polish. “We hardly ever go on dates and he never makes jokes or does silly shit to make me laugh anymore. I know it’s stupid and even a bit selfish, but I miss those things.”

You let out a heavy sigh and slowly looked up to meet Chan’s gaze. He silently wishes he could absorb all the hurt you feel.

“That’s the man that made me want to stay for six years, and he’s just… gone.”

Chan nervously gnaws on his bottom lip, as if that will consume the words in his throat before they slip out. But these words have been lingering on the tip of his tongue for over five months. Ever since you gathered your little friend group in your living room on a rainy Sunday evening, beaming as you and Changbin announced your engagement.

Tonight, these unspoken words finally escape his lips.

“Why did you accept the proposal, then?” He asks softly.

You let out a bitter scoff and sink lower into his couch.

“Guess I thought that man would magically come back the moment I said yes. But he didn’t,” you shake your head. “So I ignored it, assured myself he would come back once I said ‘I do’. Now, I’m not even sure…” You trail off, pursing your lips as the sentence dissipates into the air.

He remembers the early years of your relationship with Changbin. You would call Chan just to swoon over his charming personality and jokingly scold him for keeping your boyfriend at the gym until late at night. He recalls how you used to melt at his sweet gestures, like bringing you a cup of coffee after your shift or carrying you up to your apartment when you dozed off in the car. A few months ago, he noticed your avoidance whenever Changbin was brought up, and your usual long-winded stories about him were now replaced with short answers.

But he remained quiet, like he’d always done.

A few minutes pass before you speak again, and your words strike him like an unexpected left hook, knocking the air out of his lungs.

“I thought about ending things a lot,” you confess, “When I noticed this change wasn’t wavering, I was ready to leave.”

“But you didn’t,” Chan counters.

Your lips curl into a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes as you slowly nod. “But I didn’t,” you simply say. “I was afraid of what that would do to our friend group. It’s stupid, right?” You rhetorically ask.

When your gazes meet, your eyes are devoid of any emotion, a stark contrast to the usual spark he’s always loved. It’s as if you’ve abandoned any hope you had left inside of you, and his heart sinks.

“I didn’t want things to change because of me.”

Chan sighs. “You shouldn’t sacrifice your own happiness for the sake of others,” he tells you, and the irony isn’t lost on him. He inwardly grimaces, because isn’t that exactly what he has been doing for most of his life?

But it’s different, he rationalizes. It’s different because it’s you.

“You know me, Chan,” you huff out, wrapping your arms around yourself as frustration slowly consumes you. “I hate making people sad, hate knowing things are worse because of me.”

That’s just another of the many things Chan hates — how fucking similar you and he are.

“That’s why everybody says you shouldn’t date your friends, huh?” You let out a bitter scoff. “It never works out. Just fucks everything up.”

Chan bites down on his bottom lip so hard he swears he tastes blood on his tongue.

“That’s not always the case,” he’s quick to add. “Remember when Jun and Miyeon dated? They broke up and things were awkward for a while but—”

“They were together for a few months, Chan, not six years,” you interrupt him with a scowl. “If Changbin and I had broken up, our little group would’ve been just as affected as us. People would pick sides, try to place the blame on someone, and things would inevitably change.”

“Things are bound to change at some point,” he reasons. “We’re not in college anymore.”

Chan is certain there’s something more stopping you from ending your relationship, but he’s afraid you’re also unsure of that reason.

“I love Changbin,” you suddenly say, turning your body to face Chan. “This is stupid, I’m sorry I came here in the first place. He’s just stressed, he’s gonna come back one day—”

“Stop talking like that,” Chan cuts you off, voice louder than he intended. You slowly tilt your head to the side, eyeing him with confusion. ���Stop talking like Changbin isn’t here, like he’s distant because he has no choice. He hasn’t gone anywhere. He’s still here, and he’s still distant.”

You divert your eyes, focusing on a spot behind Chan, making him wonder if he crossed a line. When the seconds tick by and you remain silent, he braces himself to watch you leave.

Instead, you whisper, “I know.”

“I would never treat you like this,” he absentmindedly says, his own eyes wandering aimlessly around his living room, looking anywhere but at you. If he tries hard enough, he can almost pretend that he isn’t saying these words to you, that he isn’t essentially confessing his repressed feelings to his best friend, who is already engaged. “Would never propose to you and have you plan the fucking wedding only to ask you to postpone it,” he lets out a scoff, his face contorting with disdain. “Fuck off. Postpone it? Changbin’s a coward.”

“I feel so alone,” you admit, seemingly ignoring his unprompted soliloquy. “You know I hate feeling alone. If I were to end things with Changbin now, after all these years, I know this loneliness would kill me.”

And you’re right; Chan knows better than anyone how much you hate feeling alone. Whenever your parents had to leave for business trips or vacations, you would seek refuge at his house to avoid being alone. When your roommate kicked you out of your dorm during university, you begged him to sleep with you in the study area so you wouldn’t be alone in the dark.

The thought of you spending your days alone in your apartment and sleeping by yourself at night makes Chan feel as if his heart is being trampled on.

“You’re not alone. I’m here,” he assures you, his eyes finally lifting to meet your gaze. “I’ve been here since we were kids, and I’m not going anywhere.”

A giggle suddenly escapes from your lips, and your hand rests on his arm. Your gaze shifts to where your fingers delicately trace patterns on the sleeve of his shirt.

“Remember when we were thirteen? We promised to get married if we were still alone when we were adults.”

Chan nods slowly, and an uneasy feeling washes over him. It’s been years since you’ve been this physically close to him, toying with the fabric of his shirt and saying words that foolishly make him think you might be flirting with him. Why must you bring this up now? Now, when you’re certainly not alone, but very much engaged to one of your mutual friends.

“I feel like every childhood friend makes that silly promise,” he tries to deflect, a forced chuckle leaving his lips. Nevertheless, the small smile on your lips lingers as you dismissively shrug at his words.

“It wasn’t silly to me,” you argue. “I meant it. Especially when I realized you were the only one who always stayed, even when everyone else seemed to leave me.”

He only now realizes how you’ve inched even closer to him, your foot softly brushing along his leg and your fingertips now delicately gliding along his arms, causing goosebumps to ripple across his skin. The small voice of reason inside his already clouded mind desperately urges him to back away, but his body refuses to move.

And then you gently intertwine your fingers with his and finally meet his eyes. Chan instinctively closes the small distance between you, his shoulder brushing against yours as you shift on the couch to throw your legs over his lap like you used to do when you were kids — except now, the gesture is anything but innocent, the air almost suffocating Chan with a looming sense of anticipation.

“Y’know, my mom was so happy when I told her I was dating Changbin,” you huff out a laugh at the memory, and Chan’s lips twitch into a small scowl. Although you speak as though this is news to him, he’s fully aware of what you’re referring to. He was sitting in your bedroom with you the day you told your mom. He knows what you’re alluding to, and he knows it’s wrong, but he finds himself simply nodding along to your words. “She was laughing about how scared she was that I would pick you. She was so sure we would end up together, and she hated it.”

It was never a secret how much your parents disliked Chan, although he never understood their reasons. Your mom always treated him with just enough feigned kindness that it wasn’t a glaring disdain, but you were quick to tell him all the things they would whisper behind his back.

Chan gently brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingertips then gliding along your face, tracing a path from the curve of your ear to your cheek. His eyes carefully follow his movements, and you suck in a breath, leaning into the touch.

“I also kind of hoped for that,” he mutters, barely audible.

“I’m so lonely, Chan,” you whisper back, and he feels every corner of his heart shatter into a million little pieces. The way your eyes glisten with unshed tears in the dim lighting of his living room finally has his resolve crumbling.

“You’re not alone,” he reiterates. “I’m here.”

Before he can stop himself, Chan closes the small distance between you and crashes his lips to yours. Just as guilt begins to course through his veins, you tug at his shirt, pulling him even closer until you ultimately climb onto his lap. Chan’s lips delicately brush against yours at first, but the kiss soon grows feverish. His hunger for you has been building inside of him for an eternity, and now that he’s finally tasted you, the all-consuming desire to have you overrides any remaining rationality in his mind.

His tongue glides along the seam of your lips before slipping into your mouth, and he all but growls at the feeling. Your fingers tighten their grip on his shirt, digging into the fabric while you let out the sweetest sound Chan has ever heard.

You slowly grind in his lap, and his hands grip your hips tightly, his cock twitching even at the soft movement. A surge of clarity washes over him, and he wonders how something this wrong can feel so good. Wonders why Changbin was lucky enough to have you like this whenever he wanted, while he was left to pine and yearn for years.

“What are we doing?” He asks between kisses, and you let out a shuddering sigh, shaking your head.

You whisper, “I don’t know. Just want you.”

A small part of Chan wants to push you away, knowing you’re simply seeking solace in him, desperately searching in him for what you no longer have with Changbin. But a bigger part of him has been yearning to have you for far too long to refuse your request.

He drowns out every faint whisper of reason in his head and slots his lips over yours once more, your soft moans traveling straight to his cock. Slipping your hands underneath his shirt, your palms raise toward his chest, nails lightly grazing his skin before trailing down the tense muscles of his abdomen. Chan whines when your fingertips brush against his clothed cock, already achingly hard in the confines of his pants. It was almost pitiful how effortlessly you made him desperate, his thoughts consumed with only you.

You break the kiss to pull down the straps of your dress, unhurriedly, eyeing him with a grin while he watches the thin fabric pool around your thighs.

“Y’know I always wondered what it’d be like,” you breathe out, and Chan’s lips fall open as you gently palm him through his sweatpants. “Always thought about what it’d feel like to have you fuck me.”

“Fuck,” he rasps out, cock swelling further in your hands when you squeeze his length. “Don’t say shit like that.”

You simply giggle, and Chan lets out a low groan, grinding his hips into your hand, desperately seeking more friction. He doesn’t want to think about the weight of that statement — not when your fingertips brush against his lower stomach, teasingly toying with the waistband of his sweatpants before finally pushing it down, gripping his cock in your hand. Chan hisses, his hold on your hips tightening while you glide your hand along his length, finding a slow, tantalizing rhythm as you begin to stroke him.

He feels as if his hands are tied by silent guilt, as if touching you any more will somehow make everything too real. But you press your lips to his like it’s second nature, swirling your tongue in his mouth just as your thumb swipes across his slit, gathering a drop of precum before smearing it down his shaft. It’s too much, and Chan groans into the kiss, finally allowing himself to touch you.

Carefully, his hands travel from your hips up to your stomach, caressing the soft skin. The way you feel underneath his fingertips has him drunk with lust, like a flood of long-awaited desire and longing finally being released.

“Touch me,” you whisper, words almost muffled by his lips. “Please.”

And Chan’s never been able to deny you.

His fingers skim over your breasts, trembling hands squeezing through the delicate lace of your bra. Your body eagerly responds to his touch, your nipples pebbling beneath his hands and a soft sigh falling from your lips. It feels like heaven to know that he’s the one coaxing these sounds out of you, and it’s enough to snuff out any trace of guilt Chan had remaining inside of him. As he pinches your nipples, rolling them gently between his fingertips, a surge of pleasure shoots through your body, making you jerk on his lap, your grip on his cock tightening.

Chan grins. “I thought about it too,” he admits, words softly whispered as he leans closer and presses his forehead against yours. “Thought about fucking you so much it almost drove me insane.”

These confessions are only half-surprising if Chan were completely honest with himself. He knew exactly where his mind wandered whenever you two got tangled up in his bed when you were teens, and he convinced himself you were the same. At that time, it was merely an attempt to alleviate the guilt he felt for having those thoughts about you.

But this confirmation was all he needed to truly surrender to his selfish hunger.

His hand slowly moves down your stomach, edging closer and closer to your panties. Your eyes remain locked on his, your heavy breathing brushing against his lips when his fingers tentatively slip beneath the soft fabric.

“Can I?” He whispers, and you nod, stroking him almost feverishly as your eyes become completely lust-clouded.

Chan’s fingers slide between your slick folds, a guttural moan reverberating through his chest, his cock twitching under your fingers.

“Holy shit, you’re soaking wet,” he groaned, his thumb softly pressing down on your clit, causing you to grind your hips into his hand.

“Chan,” you breathe out.

Your once deliberate strokes fizzled out into languid touches, but Chan couldn’t bring himself to care. Not when you were this fucking wet, all because of him.

“Tell me what you want,” he hums, pressing a small kiss to your open lips. He grins when your only response is a whine, rolling your hips forward once more. “Tell me.”

“Want you, Chan,” you choke out, “Want anything you wanna give me.”

Chan bites back a growl, slowly sliding a finger inside of you, your walls greedily clenching around it while your hips begin rocking in his lap, his thumb circling your clit. He can feel your arousal coating his finger, curling the digit before pulling away only to push back in again, two fingers now gently pumping in and out of you.

Pressing his lips to your throat, Chan grapples with the overwhelming need to mark you, bite and suck on your sensitive skin until it bloomed in hues of red and purple when you moaned so sweetly for him. The thought of Changbin coming home only to find you claimed by him had Chan groaning against the pulse of your neck, his cock throbbing in your hand just as your palm languidly circles the swollen head.

“Wanna make love to you,” he murmurs against your skin, leaving soft kisses up your throat until his lips are pressing against yours. Love — as if this was anything like love. “I need to,” he all but begs, and you hastily nod, tugging his shirt over his head and crashing your lips together.

Chan pushes your body down onto the couch, his heavy-lidded eyes dark like the shadows that covered his living room as he stares down at you. He’s wanted this for so long, dreaming and fantasizing about it to the point of pitifulness. Yet now, he hesitates. It’s almost as if everything else you have done tonight could be forgotten — maybe even forgiven — but the moment the images from his daydreams stumbled out into the real world, everything would truly be ruined.

“Chan,” your voice brings him back to the moment, his gaze softening at the way you looked up at him. “Don’t overthink this.”

He bends his face to yours, huffing out a breath. “It’s kinda hard not to.”

“Worry about tomorrow when tomorrow comes,” you whisper, and Chan smiles. He slides a hand through your hair, brushing a stray piece from your eyes.

His focus is quickly brought back to the scorching heat of his cock resting against your lower stomach, precum dripping from the tip and gathering on your skin. Gently brushing against your lower lip with the pad of his thumb, he fits himself between your open thighs, and you press a chaste kiss to his fingertip.

Chan effortlessly lifts you, blunt nails sinking into the soft skin of your ass as he watches you slide your panties down your thighs before he aligns your hips with his. He glides his cock along your folds, teasing your clit with each movement. The heat from your arousal coating him seems to sear into his skin, and he immerses himself in his desire even deeper. He carefully studies your features when you squeeze his shoulders, eyes tracing a slow path down your face, and Chan is certain he wouldn’t mind waging a war against every inconvenient obstacle that kept him from seeing that glint of bliss on your eyes every day.

His tip grazes your entrance as he pulls back, lips tracing along your skin before slowly pushing into you. As much as Chan wants to take his time, savor the experience and explore every inch of your body until it becomes seared into his memory, he knows he won’t be able to do that tonight. Years of yearning and longing finally came pouring out, consuming him with the want to selfishly chase this long-desired feeling.

When his hips meet yours, he takes your hand in his, guiding it to press on your lower abdomen. Your lips fall open slightly, the feeling of his cock pressing against your belly causing your eyes to flutter shut, and Chan’s arousal becomes almost unbearable. It was almost like a false testament, fooling him into believing you were finally one, even though it was nothing but a pretty lie.

“We’re a perfect fit. Shit,” Chan hisses, your inner muscles clenching around him at his words.

His thumb pressed firmly against your throbbing clit as he began rolling his hips, falling into a gentle and steady tempo. Your legs wrap around his body, hips rolling up and silently urging him to move faster, matching the rhythm of his unspoken longing. 

“Chan, please,” your voice chokes out. You intertwine your fingers together, wrapping an arm around his shoulder, eyes looking at him almost pleadingly. “Need you to fuck me.”

He snaps at your soft plea, pulling back and thrusting into you harshly, barely retreating from your wetness before plunging back in. Your nails dig into his skin, scoring lines down his chest while your other hand squeezes his. Chan winces at the sting but revels in the fact that you’re marking him — something he could only ever dream of doing to you.

He reluctantly lets go of your hand to firmly grasp your ass, forcefully lifting your hips to draw you even closer to him, fingernails etching crescent moons into your soft skin in an almost petulant attempt at claiming you as his. At least for tonight. Chan’s thumb rubs circles around your clit, bringing you closer to the edge of your orgasm. His grip on your skin tightens, pulling your body toward him almost desperately. His thrusts soon grow sloppy, his once deliberate rhythm long forgotten as his control quickly ebbs away.

“Got no idea what you do to me,” Chan grunts, pressing his forehead to yours. “If you were mine— fuck,” He hisses when you clench around him at his words — at the idea of being his. “I’d be so good to you. Fuck you like this every night.”

You attempt to call out his name, but the sound dies at your throat with a whine. Looking for purchase among his forceful thrusts, your hands travel up his chest and clutch at his shoulders with a tight grip.

“Then fuck me like I’m yours,” you choke out, hooking your ankles behind him to keep him as close to you as possible. Chan’s only response is a low, guttural growl, which is soon swallowed by your sighs as he crashes his lips into yours.

You arch your back, breaking the kiss with a cry, muscles tightening while Chan continues to plunge into you at a merciless rhythm. Your cunt throbs around his length, the relentless pressure of his finger on your clit sending shivers of euphoria through your entire body, drawing out your climax. Chan feels lightheaded, the beautiful sight of your orgasm enough to drive him to the edge.

As his cock twitches inside of you, he reluctantly leans back, rising to his knees and wrapping his fingers around his length, stroking himself over your body while you watch him with half-lidded eyes. A low sound rumbles within Chan’s chest as his hips jerk against his fist. His release spills from his cock and paints your stomach with milky streaks of his cum, finally marking you as his.

At least for tonight.

Even though it’s nothing but a pretty lie.

As you wake up, the unfamiliar sensation of sunlight streaming through the window hits your tired eyes. Panic washes over you for a beat as you take in the feeling of an unfamiliar bed, but a familiar scent soon envelops you, instantly soothing you. Not waking up alone also feels unfamiliar, but it’s a welcomed unfamiliarity. You turn your body towards the person next to you, and you’re greeted by Chan, peacefully asleep with a small smile on his lips. A grin slowly spreads across your face too.

It had been so long since you were this close to him, even longer since you woke up beside him. Sleepovers were common during your childhood, but they naturally stopped as you grew older. You were nineteen the last time you lied next to Chan like this, drunk on cheap beer and cramped next to him on a worn-out couch of some fraternity house. You remember how his chest slowly rising and falling somehow felt like home, and how his soft snores lulled you into sleep.

Your love for Chan has always been greater than you’ve let on.

Your vicious need to please those around you hindered your ability to express how much you loved him. Your parents hated him since you were fifteen. Catching Chan smoking with a group of boys from your school behind the mall cemented their opinion of him. Despite his ‘bad influence’, they reluctantly allowed your friendship to continue, with the condition that you wouldn’t be swayed by his bad ways.

If only they knew what you did last night.

If only they knew how you were the one to incite him, letting your own bad ways tarnish him.

As your eyes flutter closed, memories of the night before flood your mind; Chan’s hands on your body, his hungry kisses, and the way he fucked you until you felt intoxicated. But the feeling of bliss swirling in your chest quickly dissipates, replaced by the weight of guilt, crushing your ribs and knocking the air from your lungs. Your eyes snap open, and you sit up on the bed with a shuddering sigh. Even the feeling of Chan’s clothes clinging to your body makes you feel dirty.

Beside you, Chan groans, your sudden movements having disturbed his sleep.

“What time is it?” He rasps out. The sound of his voice alone nearly makes you flinch. As his fingertips graze your arm, you instinctively withdraw as if his touch scorched your skin. Chan sits up as well. “What’s wrong?”

You almost scoff at his words.

“Nothing,” you lie, throwing the covers off your body. You frantically search his bedroom until your eyes land on your dress draped over a chair.

You take off Chan’s shirt in haste, spitefully throwing the fabric on the floor as though it embodied your every sin. As if removing it from your body would somehow absolve you from what you chose to do last night. Just as you reach to undo the drawstrings of his sweatpants, his touch lingers on your skin again. You can’t help but flinch once more.

“Hey, calm down. Please, talk to me,” Chan’s soft voice only intensifies the anguish in your chest.

“Don’t touch me,” you mumble, tears gathering in your eyes as remorse gathers in your throat until it feels as if you’re suffocating. Chan removes his hands from your arm but remains beside you. “What the fuck did we do? We betrayed his trust, we betrayed…” you trail off, because you can’t even bring yourself to say Changbin’s name out loud. Finally, you turn to face Chan, shaking your head in disbelief. “He’s our friend. He’s my fucking fiancé.”

Chan stays silent. Tears stream out of your eyes, cascading down your cheeks and onto the floor. Your shoulders tremble, and each breath you take cannot fill your lungs enough to ease the weight on your chest. Chan stands in front of you, his tear-filled eyes mirroring his own heartbreak, evident in every corner of his face. He reaches out to you several times, but his hands only clench into fists and drop by his sides every time.

He helplessly watches as your tears fall over something that was a choice. A momentary bliss, a whim that has proven to be unnecessary, even though your feelings for Chan have always gone beyond platonic. How you wish you could go back in time and prioritize your own happiness instead of constantly sacrificing it for the sake of others. But you can’t, and the once beautiful love you had for Chan now only feels tainted.

He watches you silently, unmoving until you finally swallow enough tears to choke out, “Please hold me.”

And Chan does, cold hands wrapping around your trembling body as fresh tears pour out of your eyes, cascade down your cheeks and onto his shirt.

  You cry the entire afternoon, guilt becoming a ghost that haunts you as you pad around Chan’s apartment. Yet you can’t bring yourself to leave his side. Soon, his clothes stopped feeling like a vice tightening around your neck and transformed into a soothing embrace.

The only words you exchange are over cold leftover pizza. Chan says it’s best to just pretend the previous night never even happened. You’re quick to tell him you don’t want that.

“It was a mistake,” he quietly told you.

“It was a choice,” you corrected him. “And I’m happy I did it.”

And that’s the worst part of it all; you don’t regret having sex with Chan. You regret the cheating, the pain this would cause Changbin if he knew, and you especially dread the scrutiny you would face if people were to find out. But not even for a second do you feel any regret about Chan.

Before you know it, it’s already dark out. You find yourself staring out the window, pulling at the hem of Chan’s shirt that still hugs your frame.

You don’t want to go back home.

Four messages from Changbin apologizing for not coming home last night greet you every time you unlock your phone.

Changbin: hey baby, sorry Changbin: there was a huge fight at the bar, seungmin was bloody on the floor before i knew it Changbin: had to stay and take care of him after i took him home Changbin: i’m so sorry. i’ll make it up to you. love you

You ignore them every time. You don’t feel bad about it.

“I don’t wanna go back home,” you mumble to yourself. Behind you, Chan hums softly.

It feels like an eternity before he finally breaks the silence.

“Then don’t go.”

So you don’t.

Time slips away from your hands, and suddenly a week has gone by. You stay at Chan’s apartment, working from his computer, eating his food, and wearing his clothes. He makes love to you and you sleep in his bed every night.

You avoid every mirror and close every curtain as if that will shield you from your sins.

For so much time, it felt as if you were crawling through endless days, constantly brushing aside the things that upset you, things you fruitlessly wished you could change. All while forcing a smile that long stopped being sincere. This week, your smile was tightly bound to a warmth in your heart that had been absent for far too long.

Cooped up inside Chan’s apartment like a fugitive from your own mistakes, you were finally happy.

You have always lived a life driven by the desire to please others. From the university you attended to the man you chose to be with; everything was carefully thought out to ensure the happiness of those around you. Was it a wonder you were so soulless?

Is it a wonder you found bliss in doing something so selfish for the first time in your life? Every time Chan touched you, it was like a small light was ignited inside you.

Changbin’s messages sat unread in your phone; the only ones he sent you the entire week. 

  You chose to return home the day your mother called you to ask about the wedding. Chan drove you in silence while you clutched his hand.

As soon as you step into your apartment, it’s as if all the light Chan brought back into your life the past week is snuffed out. You glance around the dark living room, your eyes then traveling toward your bedroom, only being met by more darkness. Seems your fiancé still hasn’t come back.

Changbin going to that bar was the catalyst for your spiral of mistakes. He’s often gone to bars, and you never thought much of it, until he started prioritizing his time with his friends over time with you. That night, you had asked him to stay in for a change, suggesting you could watch a movie and order too much food like you used to do when you first moved in together. He said he would love that, but that night was really important. Apparently, Jisung needed help chatting up the bartender, and that was crucial in his road to getting over his ex. Apparently, that was more important than spending time with you.

You were arguing before you knew it. Although you did most of the talking, so it felt more like a helpless monologue than a proper fight. Changbin hated fights, and had mastered the art of dismissing things and never addressing them again. He was out the door right after nonchalantly asking you to postpone the wedding.

“I’m not in the right headspace to deal with shit like that now,” he’d said, and you scoffed at how he referred to your wedding.

“Flower arrangements, color schemes, guest lists… I’d rather do anything else but that right now. My friends need me,” Changbin continued after you remained silent, because you knew you would only end up arguing with him again if you were to speak. He spoke as if you didn’t need him.

“Jisung is finally taking the steps to get over that shitty ex of his and you know Chan can’t run the gym without me,” were the last words he muttered before pressing a kiss to your forehead and leaving you alone for yet another night.

The mention of his name was all it took for you to run out the door and into Chan’s apartment.

After dragging yourself toward your bathroom for a quick shower, you berate yourself for feeling disappointed in the feeling of your own pajamas against your skin. After a week of being enveloped in Chan’s scent, the smell of your clothes seems almost foreign.

Even as you lie in bed, it somehow feels even colder now than it did during all the countless nights when you were alone. Just as you had grown used to the empty space beside you, it now feels wrong not to feel the warmth of Chan’s body pressed up against yours.

You shudder at that thought.

It wasn’t just anyone you missed in your bed. It was Chan.

In a way, it had always been him.

As you drift off to sleep, the sudden shifting of the mattress jolts you awake. Changbin is home. You inwardly curse yourself, as you won’t be able to feign sleep after being startled by his presence. He chuckles softly, slipping under the covers and pulling you close, a strong arm tightly wrapping around your waist. The dim light of your bedroom hides your grimace as he pulls your body flush against his, but you can’t help but flinch.

It feels wrong.

Just as much as Chan’s body had felt perfectly aligned with yours, Changbin’s mere presence feels out of place.

“Didn’t mean to scare you, babe,” Changbin apologizes, planting a gentle kiss on your shoulder. You mindlessly nod. “Though I’m glad you’re awake. I missed you.”

His soft kisses soon travel up the column of your throat, and you bite the inside of your cheek. Changbin effortlessly moves your body so you’re lying on your back, a soft smile playing on his lips as he leans in to kiss you.

And it feels wrong.

His tongue swipes against your lower lip, soon pushing against yours, and his taste has you clutching your fists. He slots himself between your thighs like he’s done countless times, and the weight of his body on top of you has your face twisting into a scowl. He slips a hand underneath your shirt, and the feeling of his calloused fingers across your skin has you instinctively pushing him away.

Changbin looks stunned for a beat, but his lips soon curl into a playful grin.

“Not in the mood?” He simply asks, and it makes you want to cry.

Because Changbin has always been the perfect man. He was gentle, never demanding, and always so caring to you. Even after his sudden change, his only flaw was how distant he’s become.

He is completely unaware of how you callously hurt him in the worst way possible, and the weight of that realization erases any urge you had to cry. You don’t deserve that relief.

After pressing a quick kiss to your forehead, Changbin sits up on the bed. You remain motionless, focusing on how the moonlight casts shadows on the ceiling instead of how your heart twists painfully inside your chest. You only break out of this trance once he hums beside you.

“Your mom called,” he tells you, his fingers swiping across his phone screen when you face him. “Forgot to tell you. I had to tell her we chose to postpone the wedding,” he chuckles casually, and you tightly clutch the covers.

Fuck.

“I didn’t wanna tell her yet, but…” you trail off with a shaky sigh. “I guess it’s okay.”

Changbin shrugs dismissively. “Yeah, she told me you avoided the topic when she called you. She was upset, though I don’t get it,” he scoffs. “We’re still getting married, just not now.”

Those words are enough to have your heart shatter completely.

Sadly, the happiness your selfishness brought you that week is nothing compared to the sorrow that envelops you for disappointing your mother.

Chan gave you the space he knew you needed.

Even though you gave him the happiest six days of his entire bleak existence only to leave him alone and wondering, he gave you space.

The way he forgot about everything else during those days with you was almost like a fantasy. Inside the little atmosphere you created, it was just the two of you and the love he had kept hidden for so long. He needed nothing more.

And then you left, and he gave you space.

Until the days turned into weeks, and he watched as two months slipped through his fingers like sand. Even though Changbin hadn’t visited the gym in over three months, Chan’s heart still clung to the hope that he would show up, longing for the chance to ask about you. He also hoped you’d reach out, even if it meant you’d ignore everything that happened in your little world and simply talk about the weather.

Every day, his hopes are shattered into a million little pieces.

He’d take anything over your silence. He would take you as a friend over as a familiar stranger in a heartbeat, would take his heart being broken over not having you at all. He endured that for over a decade, and he would happily ruin himself for you every single day.

And so Chan finds himself knocking at your door, his shirt clinging to his chest after a relentless afternoon of punching the sandbag in his office, futilely hoping to escape thoughts of you. He eventually walked out of the gym, heart pounding in his chest as he sprinted to your apartment as if he was scared you would disappear. Because he was.

As you slowly open the door, he finally stands before you. Your eyes widen as you take in his appearance — his ruddy cheeks, labored breath, and shaky hands that fumble to fix his disheveled hair. But Chan swears you’re the sole culprit for his heart hammering against his ribcage.

“What are you—”

“I want you to pretend it never happened,” he exasperates, “Pretend we never said anything, never did anything, just pretend. We can pretend together, I don’t care. Just don’t cut me out of your life like this.”

“Chan,” you murmur, pursing your lips before continuing. “I don’t… I don’t understand.”

“You said you didn’t wanna pretend that nothing happened between us. You said that,” he argues, trying but ultimately failing his attempt at keeping his voice down.

Chan feels as if his mind is unraveling. Every emotion he kept nestled inside his chest for years had finally spilled out the moment your lips touched his, and trying to bury this love again felt like a cruel punishment.

“Back in my apartment, I told you we should just pretend nothing happened, but you…” his voice dissipates into a sigh, the words dying at his throat, replaced by a lump that swelled in his throat.

He feels pathetic, adverting his gaze simply to blink away the tears that have gathered in his lashes. But when he turns to look at you again, your eyes are already pouring.

“I’m sorry,” you bawl, fingers gripping the doorframe until your knuckles turn white. “Chan, I’m so fucking sorry, but I can’t do this.”

Chan gnaws on his bottom lip, his eyes fixed on you as you turn and walk away, leaving him alone by your door. As he watches your figure disappear into the hallway, he realizes he cannot bear the agony of only helplessly watching you any longer.

“You said you were happy,” he yells out, following after you like a phantom you carelessly disregard. The sound of his voice echoes behind you, ignored as you enter the kitchen and resume drying plates and cutlery. Chan continues, “You started it. You chose to cross that line, chose to stay, chose to keep letting me make love to you every damn night—”

You drop a plate on the counter with a scowl, the delicate porcelain chipping at the edge. “Love?” You scoff bitterly at Chan, shaking your head. “That wasn’t love. That was a mistake.”

“That’s not what you said,” Chan retorts, and your eyes soften. He breathes out a heavy sigh. At this point, he knows he’s gone beyond desperation. He still continues, “Tell me you weren’t happy.”

“Chan…”

“Tell me,” he insists. “Tell me and I’ll gladly pretend with you.”

“I was scared!” You blurt out, “That week with you was the happiest I had been in so long, and it terrified me. But maybe that’s love, huh? Being selfish, putting myself before everyone else and acting like a fucking teenager. That’s surely love,” you scoff, words dripping with sarcasm.

A heavy silence falls between you. Chan is back in that familiar place, watching you engage in a silent battle within yourself, distant eyes almost boring holes into the chipped plate in your hands. Deep inside, he knows you’re right. It is selfish to want you to abandon everything you built for a dormant love you both buried so long ago.

But maybe being selfish is exactly what you both need. Maybe love isn’t selflessness, maybe it’s the complete opposite.

“Maybe that’s the love we deserve,” Chan breaks the deafening silence, carefully stepping closer to you. “After all these years of stupidly sacrificing our own happiness, maybe selfish love is the kind of love we need.”

But you remain silent. Your eyes wander around, almost as if you’re taking in the life that reflects the choices you’ve made. The walls of your hallway, adorned with polaroid pictures telling your story with Changbin, from just friends to the night of your engagement. Your fridge, where colorful magnets hold up little notes from Changbin, filled with sweet nothings and inside jokes. Chan notices the date on the most recent one, realizing it was over seven months ago.

As the minutes tick by, Chan braces himself for your words. He’s ready to be called insane, for you to yell and rightfully reject any notion of continuing your friendship. He knows there’s no going back to the way things were. That possibility died the moment you stepped into his apartment that fateful night.

Instead, you gaze up at him and whisper four words that leave him completely stunned.

“Run away with me.”

And Chan’s never been able to deny you.

Before you two can even make sense of anything, you’re already in your bedroom. Chan packs your bags while you kneel beside your bed, hastily jotting down words on a piece of paper. Your sudden giggle has him biting back a smile that blossoms on his face when you wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him into a deep kiss. He sighs into your lips. Your love was unearthed, dirty and tainted, but still breathing. It was sinful and borderline cataclysmic, but it was yours.

Since you were both ten years old, it has always been yours.

Your letter to Changbin hangs alongside the love notes he’d left for you over the years; selfish words nestled between sincere ones.

Inside his car, Chan’s hand intertwines with yours, and he watches your lips curl into a smile that finally reaches your eyes. It’s the first time he’s seen that expression grace your face in years.

And Chan’s emotions mirrored your own, so he made it his mission to make that happiness everlasting.

Even if it was through a selfish love.

♡ taglist: @bloom-ings, @linocz, @farahia, @mirbokk, @jisunglyricist, @jazziwritesthings, @seungseung-minmin, @yourcvndx, @hynjinnnnnnnie, @vlctorriaa, @redstayrosie, @binniesbabygirl, @pynchkilledme, @chansbabygirlsstuff, @pheonixfire777, @yongbokkiesworld, @kiensecent

[yeonzzzn]

HIIIIII I've been thinking a lot these last few days.... heeseung being an angel (could be a fallen angel or something) falling in love with a mortal, but they can't be together because angels and human beings together are completely prohibited... a totally hot and forbidden love

— 🐇💨

I am so in love with this concept. the minute this popped up in my askbox I knew I had to write it asap. I apologize for this being so long idk what happened my fingers just wouldn’t stop typing.

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fallen angel: lee heeseung

pairing: heeseung x afab!reader word count: 7.6k

Heeseung never sinned. Ever. Never once said anything bad about anyone, never once cursed, never once gossiped, kept his emotions in check, never had a single terrible thought about someone else, never committed any crimes, and always—always—had a pure heart. 

That was until you. 

Heeseung was God's most prized angel. He did anything and everything that was asked of him. Never once defying God’s wishes or commands. His pure heart is the whole reason that when he well, died, he was the first one selected to be God’s second hand. Heeseung lived his whole life dedicated to his church and doing nothing but good. 

But you? Oh, you. You were the first temptation Heeseung ever got. 

“I have a job for you, my angel,” God spoke to him. 

Heeseung knelt down on one knee with one hand over his chest, bowing his head, “Anything for you, my savior.” 

“We have a family that needs a blessing, a pure angel to take away their worries. They are struggling hard. Go down to land and help this family. I trust you with this one, Heeseung. Please.” 

Heeseung didn’t hesitate. Nodding and accepting the job God had to offer him. 

Heeseung stretched his wings, preparing for his flight down to the mortal lands. The trip didn’t take long and the minute the tips of his shoes touched solid land, his whole outfit changed and his wings were hidden. From the bright white robes and dress shoes to tanned brown boots, light blue jeans, and a black button-up dress shirt. It was one of Heeseung’s favorite outfits to wear when he came to the mortal lands. 

He looked around the city he landed in, watching as the mortals passed by him and crossed over the street. The sounds of cars honking and people yelling filled his ears along with the smells of the city. Heeseung smiled, remembering his time as a mortal and seeing how much had changed over the thousand years he’d been away. 

Pushing away the memories of the past, Heeseung starts his walk in the direction God told him this family would be. He shoved his hands in his jeans pockets, smiling brightly as he walked past the mortals, none of them paying him any mind as they went about their normal lives. 

“Fuck!” 

Heeseung chuckled at the curse, shaking his head. He wasn’t used to hearing such vulgar language. His eyes searched the sea of people around him to see where I came from, his curiosity taking over him. 

You were running down the street, hairtye in your mouth as you pulled back your long hair back into a ponytail, quickly pulling the band from your mouth and twisting it in your hair. With how you were rushing, Heeseung knew you were the one he heard the curse come from. You looked down at your watch, letting more curses escape your lips, “I am going to be so fucking late! Holy fucking shit.” 

Heeseung raised his brows at the language, “Jeez…mortals never change.” He wasn’t judging, he understood life as a mortal wasn’t the easiest and everyone had their roles to play. It wasn’t his job to judge anyway, he left that up to God. 

But you kept pushing along, pulling your phone from your pocket and dialing a number, “Pick up, please for the love of fucking God pick up!” 

You were so focused on getting to your destination that you didn’t even realize you ran into Heeseung, smacking your shoulder into his. Heeseung didn’t move an inch at your touch, but you nearly fell to your knees. Heeseung stopped to face you, making sure you were okay but seeing you catch your balance before tumbling over, looking back over your shoulder and snarling at him, “Asshole…” you mumbled under your breath as you still pushed along down the street. 

Heeseung blankly stared at you then shoved his hands back in his pockets and continued to his destination, saying a small prayer for you. 

It didn’t take much longer for Heeseung to reach the small house right outside the city. He took a deep breath and smiled wide, knocking on the door. 

A man opened the door, his eyes puffy and red from crying and now full of confusion looking at Heeseung, “Can I help you?” 

Heeseung smiled even more, “I am here to help you.” 

The man gave him an even more confused look, “Excuse me?” 

A small cough could be heard within the house and soft sobs followed after it. 

Heeseung peeked into the house, “Your child, they’re sick,” the man looked down to the ground, putting his lips into a thin line, “I can help. I was sent here to do so.” 

The man flicked his eyes back up at Heeseung, studying him, “Are you the angel we asked God to send?” 

Heeseung gently nodded. 

He was led into the home and to their child’s bedroom. The mother was hovering over her child, who looked to be about eight. His eyes were tightly closed and his breathing was uneven. He was going to die soon, Heeseung could sense it, could see it. The poor boy still had so much life left to live, and that’s why God sent Heeseung here. To heal this child. 

Heeseung placed a gentle hand on the mother, her pleading eyes staring up at him. Once she realized who he was, she reached for his hand, “Dear angel, save my baby boy.” 

Heeseung held her hand tight and nodded. With his free hand, he placed it against the boy's chest, sending a small ounce of healing power to him, reciting a prayer. The boy's mother and father joined him in the prayer, their cries slowly fading out as the heartbeat and breathing of their child became steady. 

The family thanked Heeseung more times than he could count. His face hurt from the amount of smiling he did during those hours he sat in their home. They even cooked him dinner as a thanks. Once Heeseung walked out of the home, he understood why God chose this family. The boy had much life to give, and his parents were good and pure souls. 

Heeseung walked back into the city, hands behind his back as he stared at the nightlife. Loving all the lights that lit up the city perfectly. The hustling life of mortals laughing with friends and family as they head out for dinner or to even party. 

Hopefully, God won’t mind that I take a small walk before heading back. 

Heeseung walked as far as he could, finally deciding it was time to head back to the golden gates. 

That was until he saw you. 

Heeseung stood at a crosswalk, cars flying by and the wind blowing his silver hair and clothes in all directions. You popped up to his right, your phone once again was in your hands, thumbs pressing away at the screen. 

Time seemed to slow down then. The red hand that illuminated the crosswalk to not cross flashed its light. The cars fast-paced slowed. Heeseung turned his head to look at you, watching as you continued to step from the sidewalk and into the street, not paying any attention. 

His heart raced faster, eyes widening as he looked to his left, seeing a car passing into the next lane without using a blinker and showing no signs of slowing down or even honking their horn at you to show they were there. 

Heeseung acted fast, stepping down from the curb, hands reaching out to grab your shoulders and pull you back against him. Heeseung released his wings, wrapping them around you and twirling you around and back to the sidewalk. 

Time went back to normal, and your heart nearly jumped out of your chest. How stupid could you be to walk out into the street in the middle of rush hour while on your phone? You could have died. That’s when you noticed the white wings wrapped over you along with the strong arms that held you tightly. 

You looked up, resting your head against his chest, seeing it was the man you ran into earlier, seeing him staring back down at you. His chest raised and fell quickly, his warm breath touching your face. He’s an angel. An actual, real-life angel. Ones you’ve only been told about from stories as a child. 

Heeseung pulled his wings back behind him and hid them from the human eye once again. Seeing the other mortals around didn’t take any notice. He continued to stare into your eyes, “You silly little thing.” 

The longer the two of you looked at each other, the more your heart wanted to rip from your chest. He was beautiful. Breathtaking. You felt safe in his arms and without knowing you leaned more against him, Heeseung, as if on instinct, held you tighter against him. 

“Thank you,” you finally managed to say, your cold hands touching his where they sat against your forearms, “For saving me.”

Feeling your cold touch brought Heeseung back to reality. He smiled and released his arms from you, “Try and pay better attention next time, okay?” 

You turned to fully face him. Every fiber of your being wanted to cling to him. Your heart is calling for him. 

Heeseung kept his smile, giving you a small nod, and prepared to turn away. 

“Wait!” you quickly shouted, your hands now grasping at the back of his shirt. Heeseung looked over his shoulder at you, “Let me make it up to you, for saving me. And to apologize for calling you an asshole earlier.” 

Heeseung chuckled, “Being nice to an angel won’t get you into heaven, silly mortal.” 

You bit at the skin on your lip, “I really just want to thank you.” 

Heeseung looked up to the sky and then shrugged. God can wait for a bit longer. 

He followed close behind you until you stood in front of your apartment door and with shaky hands you unlocked the door and went inside, Heeseung trialing in. 

He held his hands behind his back, looking over every inch of your studio apartment. 

“I’m sorry it’s so small…” you whispered, closing the door behind you. 

Heeseung turned to face you, his smile still on his face, “It’s not my place to judge what you do or do not have. Your space is perfect if you make it perfect.” 

Right. You forgot he’s an angel. You kicked out of your shoes, reaching your hands up to unzip your jacket, noticing how quickly he turned around to look away from you. 

You drop your hands to your sides, “Want anything to eat or drink?” you ask quickly walking to your kitchen, “I am not sure what angels eat?” 

Heeseung chuckled, slowly turning to face you, “You don’t seem to be questioning what I am.” 

You gave him a small smile as you pulled two water bottles from your fridge, “I always believed. Believed we humans had someone looking after us, whether that was a God or angels or anything else.” 

Heeseung tilted his head, “What if I was anything else? You let me into your home so willingly.” 

You swallowed, not even taking into conversation that the man in front of you could be the other type of angel. One that was meant to draw you in and kill you, “Are you going to hurt me?” 

Heeseung took a few steps towards you, “I would never.” 

You slowly nodded at him and handed him his water bottle, “I am YN, by the way.” 

Heeseung gently took the water from you, his fingers brushing over yours, “Heeseung. Second hand to God.” 

You widen your eyes, you weren’t just dealing with an angel, but you were dealing with God’s TOP angel. 

Heeseung stared at you, “Something wrong, YN?” 

You shook your head, “You’re just…beautiful.” you didn’t know where that came from or why you even spoke those words from your mouth. 

His heart picked up its pace, and his ears started to burn red. He took steps away from you and finally took sips of his water. 

Heeseung thought you were beautiful too, a little silly mortal, but beautiful nevertheless. His heart was pulling to you and he needed to leave soon and quickly. 

He cleared his throat, “You wanted to thank me, but that’s not necessary. I was simply doing my job.” 

You set your water down on the table, “You saved my life, I need to thank you somehow.” 

Heeseung looked at your water bottle, watching how the droplet fell down the plastic and touched the wood of the table. He sat his bottle down beside yours, “Tell me your thanks then, I must return soon.” 

You didn’t know what came over you or what you were even thinking. All you knew was you were now standing before Heeseung, looking up into his brown eyes.

Heeseung stared back down into your eyes, loving the way their color shined under the light of your kitchen. You stood on your tiptoes, placing your hands on his shoulders. 

“YN,” he whispered, his hands now on your biceps, pulling your feet back flat to the floor, “I can’t accept that.” 

“Just one,” you whisper back, once again standing on your tiptoes, becoming inches away from his face. 

Heeseung’s lips parted, frozen in place as he watched you move closer. You brushed your nose against him, slowly closing your eyes as your lips touched together. 

Heeseung kept still as you held your lips to his, his heart threatening to rip from his chest. But once you pulled away, he was pulling you back. 

His hands moved from your biceps to your face, keeping you in place as he kissed you back. Lips moved together as if he’d never kissed someone before. 

Heeseung had his fair share of kisses when he was mortal, but none of them felt like yours do. Tasting so sweet and addicting. You kissed him back with the same amount of passion he was giving you, roaming your hands from his shoulders to his neck, fingers tangling in the silver strands of his hair. 

You don’t know if it was you or Heeseung who deepened the kiss, all concepts of time and the world around you were out the window at his touch. At the way his hands slid from your face to your hips. At how your body was pressed so close to his and how you were now pressed against the wall of your apartment. 

It was just kissing. You two were just making out and nothing else. But you wanted more, so much more. Heeseung too, wanted more of you. He couldn’t get enough. He rocked his hips against yours, his growing hard cock rubbing you just in the right way that your lips released from his to softly moan. 

Heeseung was off you within seconds of hearing that lewd, sweet sound come from your mouth. 

He pressed his back against the door, palming the door in hopes of getting his hands to stop shaking as he pants to catch his breath. 

You wrapped your arms around yourself, “I’m sorry.” 

Heeseung glances up at you, his pupils blown out and filled with the want he has for you. You wanted to run to him, pull him back into you. But the moment his wings, his oh-so-beautiful wings, appeared from behind him, you knew your time with him was over. 

“We can’t see each other again,” Heeseung quickly says, turning and reaching for the door handle. 

“Why?!” you quickly asked, pushing yourself off the wall, “I want to see you again.” 

Heeseung flung the door open and rushed to the railing, “I can’t sin. You’re too tempting.” You stood in the doorway, watching as he climbed the railing, stretching his wings out. He glanced behind him, taking one last long look at you, feeling his heartbreaking, “Goodbye, silly mortal.” 

And then he was gone. He shot into the sky so far and fast you didn’t have time to blink, “Goodbye, Heeseung.” 

—

Heeseung kneeled at the altar, bringing his hands together, and doing his daily prayers and offerings. Pushing every thought of you out of his mind. 

It’s been days since he left you. Days since he felt the warmth of your body against his. How your lips tasted and moved against his own. How you made his body feel. The things he wanted to do to you…the thoughts that ran through his head about you. 

Heeseung squeezed his eyes, doing everything he could to shove the thought of you down and away. To forget about you and what had happened. He couldn’t have you no matter what. Angels and mortals can’t be together anyway. It was forbidden. Angels' jobs are to protect, provide guidance, to watch over, and ensure the safety of the mortals. To not intervene and only to do so when it’s necessary. Everything about you was against the rules. He couldn’t have relationships with you. 

Heeseung stood from the altar, turning to see his brothers standing behind him, “My apologies,” he said to the six of them, “I took a bit longer this morning. Please take your turn.” 

He stepped aside, watching as the youngest and newest angel in their ranks took to the alter first. 

“What took you so long to return the other night, brother?” Niki, the youngest, asked as he placed his hands together and knelt, “We missed you at dinner.” 

Heeseung placed his hands behind his back, “I was sent on a job. The family I helped offered me food as a thanks.” 

Sunoo and Sunghoon knelt down beside Niki, copying the prayers. 

Jay and Jake kept their eyes on Heeseung, their eyes telling Heeseung everything he needed to know: that they knew where he was that night. 

Jungwon gave Heeseung a dimpled smile as he knelt beside the others, “It was very nice of them to return their thanks in dinner for you. Make sure to keep contact with them. It would be the right thing to do.” 

Heeseung nodded at the younger, “Of course. Already plan to.” 

He looked back at Jay and Jake, giving them a small nod and walking past them. 

“We know,” was all Jay said in a whisper only he, Jake, and Heeseung could hear. 

Heeseung stopped a few steps behind them, keeping his hands behind his back and head held high, “I know.” 

“Only Jay and I,” Jake added, his Aussie accent coming out in a hushed tone, “You know the rules.” 

“I know,” Heeseung said again, “I saved her life and she thanked me the way she felt fit.” 

“That’s not what we are worried about though,” Jay sighed, keeping his eyes locked on the younger ones in front of him, folding his wings tightly to his back. 

Heeseung knew the two of them were being nosey. That they peeked down onto the mortal lands and saw everything that happened. 

“Will you tell on me?” Heeseung asked, keeping himself held high. 

Jake chuckled, “Of course not,” he finally turned to look at Heeseung, staring at the back of his head, “You just have to promise to never see her again.” 

Heeseung closed his eyes, “I know the rules. I appreciate you two looking after me, but I am the eldest angel, the most trusted, and I wouldn’t break that trust. Not to God, or you six.” 

“We want you to promise,” Jay mumbled, “Say you promise.” 

“I promise.” 

Jay and Jake nodded, joining their brothers at the alter, leaving Heeseung standing alone. He walked out of the chapel and into the garden. He hated having to make that promise, but knowing it was necessary to make. Not just for his brother's peace of mind, but also his own. 

The day went on like normal with his normal scheduled things. It was enough to distract him away from the conversation that morning with Jay and Jake. Enough to keep his mind off and away from you. 

That was until night fell and he returned to his room with his back pressed to his shower wall, head leaned over, and letting the water slip down his head and face. 

Heeseung reached his fingers up to his lips, rubbing the pads over them, remembering the way your lips felt pressed against him. He ran his hands from the back of his neck to his shoulders, touching every inch of his upper half that your hands touched. 

Heeseung started to pant, his heart beating faster at the memories of you pressed against him. The moan that left your vulgar mouth. The pulsing pressure Heessung felt on his lower half was making him shake. He wrapped his hand around himself, slowly stroking up and back down. Biting his lips to keep any noise from coming out. 

This wasn’t like Heeseung. This wasn’t his normal behavior. And if he got found out…it would be over for him. It would have been over for him a long time ago if he was caught with you that night. Or if he continued any further. The moment Heeseung would have touched you inappropriately, or slid himself inside you…

Heeseung’s breath hitched, his thumb circling the tip. His eyes were glued to how red and angry it looked, how badly he wanted to feel your hand in place of his. 

He quickly let go of himself, turning the warm water from hot to cold, his body shivering from the new temperature and removing his thoughts about you. 

Even after his shower and now lying in bed, his thoughts trailed to you and the small time he spent with you. His heart ached, begging to hear your voice one more time. He forced himself to sleep. Forced himself to wake up that next morning and go about his normal schedule. To go back to bed and repeat over and over. 

Heeseung broke the minute he landed back in the city, sneaking out of heaven for the night and landing himself at your front door. His shaky hands banging on your door. 

You jolted awake, angrily stomping your way to the front door, “What the fuck do you want it’s almost two in the morning!” you snapped pulling the door open to see Heeseung standing before you, his wings quickly pulled tightly to his back as he pushed himself inside, his hands immediately cupping your face and lips attaching to yours. 

“Hee—Heeseung,” you said his name in between kisses, eventually pressing your hands to his chest and pushing him. Heeseung pulled back, looking at you with so much worry, “What are you doing here?” You asked. 

Heeseung slid his hands from your face to your arms, thumbs rubbing at your skin, “Do you want me to go?” 

“No!” you said a bit too hastily, fingers gripping at the fabric of his dark blue shirt, “I’ve missed you so much please don’t go.” 

It was true, you missed him more than you wanted to admit and the weeks you spent away from him were torture. You barely knew him, knew next to nothing about him actually. But something about him pulled you in. The moment you felt his arms and wings wrap around you, your heart was his for the taking. 

You did enough research after he left about why he couldn’t stay with you. Why he couldn’t be doing this with you. He’s breaking enough rules as it is to be here with you right now. 

Heeseung kissed you again, letting his wings drop to the floor, “I’ve missed you so much,” he said between each kiss, “You’re so darn tempting.” 

You giggled at his words, wrapping your arms around his neck, “I thought you couldn’t sin,” you teased him. 

Heeseung left your lips to kiss down your neck, “Kissing isn’t a sin. As long as I don’t touch you or have sex with you…” he brushed his lips back up to your jaw, “Just don’t tempt me to do anything but kiss you.” 

You did as the angel told you. Doing nothing but letting him kiss you and keeping your hands to yourself even if it was killing you to not touch him. Heeseung kept his hands on your face, thumbs gently rubbing back and forth across your jawline, slowly walking you to your bed and laying you down. Heeseung climbed in over you, gently laying his body down on top of yours, wanting to be as close as legally possible for him to be. 

He didn’t move, no matter how hard he got. He didn’t touch you anywhere but your arms and face, even if his hands were screaming to touch every inch of you. All he did was keep his lips connected to yours, kissing you so gently and softly until both of yours and his lips were swollen. 

You fell asleep in his arms but awoke to an empty apartment but a handwritten letter was on your kitchen table, Heeseung telling you he would be back when he could. 

And Heeseung kept true to his word. He always came back to you. He always held you close in his arms and kissed you gently. Heeseung fell hard in love with you. No amount of time spent with you was ever enough, not when he had to go back to Heaven before anyone noticed he was gone. Do his normal duties and schedule, wait a couple of days, then crash land back at your door. 

Each time was harder than the last. You became his every thought and wish. And Heeseung was slowly starting to lose himself when it came to you. His immortal life started to become more mortal again being with you. Mostly with how much your existence was starting to tempt him more and more. 

Heeseung was slowly starting to break the rules even more than he already was. Brushing his hands over your breasts slowly, tangling his fingers in your hair, rubbing his cock against your heat, and shoving his tongue down your throat. He would undress you, undress himself, leaving you in nothing but your bra and panties and him in his boxers, trying so hard to keep his eyes on your face and not trace every inch of your almost bare body. 

You were the devil that sat on his shoulder, breaking him away from who he really was. Never once in his life, before he died and after, was he ever faced with temptation like this. 

You made it so hard for him to behave. Not when he’d hear your sweet moans fill his ears as you buck your hips against his to feel his length and run your hands down every inch of his body. 

Heeseung nearly lost his mind when your hand wrapped around him for the first time, feeling how your fingers pumped him so slowly and oh so so good. 

“Angels don’t act like this, darling,” Heeseung whispered in your ear as your hand squeezed him, “You’re such a devil to me.”

You kissed his neck, stroking his cock a bit faster, “I’m just a devil in disguise,” you teased him, knowing full well Heeseung was loving this banter. 

“I love you,” he kissed your ear, rocking himself in your hand, “I love you so much.” 

Heeseung had you stop before things got too out of control. Redressing himself and you before giving you a final kiss goodnight and leaving. 

You always hated to watch him go. To watch as your angel flew away into the night and having to count down the days until you could see him again. 

—

Heeseung stood before the altar, his six brothers surrounding behind him along with the other angels of heaven. He kept his hands pressed behind his back, “You called for me, my savior?” 

God hummed, “We have a lot to discuss, my angel.” 

Heeseung glanced around at his brothers, taking note of their facial expressions. Then looked at the other angels, they wore the same looks, just not as hurt as his brothers. 

It didn’t take a genius to figure out what this was about. Heeseung knew. His luck ran out. 

“What would you like to discuss?” Heeseung asked, giving a smile. 

“About your wrongdoings.” 

Heeseung’s smile faded, dropping his kind and happy act. He had to admit, he no longer was happy being here in heaven. Not when his heart was on mortal lands. Heaven was back on Earth. Not in these clouds. Not anymore. 

“Are you wanting me to confess my sins, my lord?” Heeseung kept his head lifted, straightening up his posture. 

“Yes,” God said with a sigh, “And why you betrayed me.” 

Heeseung pulled his wings tighter to his back, squeezing his hands together, “I am in love with her.” 

His six brothers closed their eyes tightly, tilting their heads down towards the white morale floor, hands in fists. The other angels gasped at the confession. 

“State the rest of your sins, Lee Heeseung.” 

Heeseung lifted his head up higher, “I’ve touched her. Let her touch me. Slept beside her and held her in my arms. Rubbed my body against hers until she was moaning.” 

The gasps of the other angels grew louder, their chattering voices echoing across the chapel. 

“But you never slept with her, have you?” 

Heeseung smirked, “No, I haven’t had sex with her. But I want to.”

More gasps filled the chapel. Jay now appearing at Heeseung’s side, his hand gripping his shoulder, “Stop talking man!” 

Heeseung shook his brother off him, “Go and stand back where you were, Jay.” 

“Jongseong,” God said quickly, “Please.” 

Jay slowly walked back, standing close to Jake. 

“What has she done to you? My angel? Why did you fall into her temptation when she’s a devil.” 

Heeseung tensed his face and body. Wings pulled even tighter against him to keep them from shaking out of pure anger, “She’s a human being. Nothing even close to those damned demons.” 

More gasps from the other angels. 

“You will watch your mouth when speaking to me.” 

Heeseung chuckled, looking down to the floor, “My apologies.” 

Heeseung thinned his lips in a line. He was filled with so much conflict. This place wasn’t his home, not when you were down below waiting for him. Heeseung loved his time here, loved helping mortals who needed him, and loved his six brothers and even the jobs and duties he had here. Spending time with you did change him, making him want more out of his immortal life than to just exist. He wanted to live. He wanted to love. He wanted life with you. 

Heeseung held his head high again, relaxing his body, “I confess to all my sins. My thoughts I’ve had of her, the things I want to do to and with her and I confess to betraying you and your trust, my savior.” 

God sighed, silence filling the room. Heeseung knew what was next. His punishment. 

“Jay, Jake, Sungoon, Sunoo, Jungwon, and Niki,” God called for them, “Stand by Heeseung.” 

Heeseung watched his six brothers stand closer to him, seeing the looks on their faces as God spoke to them one one-on-one in their minds, telling them exactly what they needed to do. 

Niki and Jungwon held his legs down, while Sunghoon and Sunoo stretched his arms out and held a death grip on them. 

Heeseung’s body shook, pure fear covering his face when he felt Jay’s and Jake’s hands touch his wings, “No,” Heeseung whispered, fighting as much as he could to pull his wings back, “Not my wings.” 

Jay gritted his teeth as he forced Heeseung’s left wing out, stretching it out to its full span. Jake did the same, biting down hard on his lip and breaking the skin. 

“This is your punishment, Lee Heeseung,” God said with a stern voice, “You lose your place here. And I’m taking back your wings I granted you.” 

Heeseung pushed and pulled at his brothers, doing anything he could to get them off him but their grips held hard. 

“Heeseung, please,” Sunghoon begged as he gripped his wrist harder, “Stop.” 

“Hyung please,” Sunoo begged. 

But Heeseung kept fighting to break free. 

“ENOUGH!” 

Everyone stood still as the room shook with God’s shout. Sweat rolled down Heessung’s face, his eyes piercing through everyone surrounding him.

“Take his wings. Now.”

Heeseung smirked, “To hell with all this,” he whispered. 

Jay and Jake looked at each other, their tears swelling up in their eyes as God whispered in their minds to take Heeseung’s wings. To rip them from his body. 

They pulled and Heeseung shouted. His voice echoed off the walls as Jay and Jake pulled with their full strength. Sunghoon and Sunoo kept their grips on his wrists tight and same with Jungwon and Niki at his legs, holding on for dear life. 

It was killing Jay to have to do this, to watch his own hands pull his older brother's wing right out of his body. He could only imagine the pain Heeseung was feeling. And Jake? He was in tears. He could feel inch by inch of Heeseung’s right wing stripping from his back. He could already see the blood spilling onto his white robes and onto the floor. Seeing Heeseung fling his head back and forth in a rage as his voice bounced off the walls and echoed throughout the whole chapel. The pained faces his other six brothers had at having to witness this. 

Jake wished he could turn back time, wished he could have stopped Heeseung from sneaking out. Stopped the angel who caught Heeseung dropping down to the mortal lands and kept him from getting nosey and running his mouth to God. But it was all too late. Heeseung would get his wings stripped from him and pushed down to the Earth to fall. All Jake could do now was pray he survived long enough to make it to you. 

Heeseung clenched his jaw as the last bit of his wings was stripped from his body, his back spilling blood and muscles aching from the loss of where his wings once were. His beautiful white feathered wings lost all their life and slumped in Jay’s and Jake’s hands, blood dripping down them. 

His brothers stepped away from him, watching as Heeseung fell to the floor, too dizzy from the blood loss. 

“You will now fall,” God sighed, “You will be stripped of your immortality and fall to Earth. You will crawl to your lover and show her where her sins got you.” 

Heeseung weakly smirked, eyes closing, “Gladly.” 

Heeseung didn’t know who picked him up by his arms and dragged him out of the chapel, he just knew it wasn’t any of his brothers. The grip the other two angles had on him was proof enough that it wasn’t any of the ones he loved. 

The six of them stood in the chapel still, eyes locked on Heeseung's wingless back, watching the blood pool from the wounds and stain his white robes and the marble floor. 

They watched helplessly as Heeseung was pushed off the edge. 

—

You heard a faint knocking on your door. At first, you thought you might have gone crazy and heard things. But once the knocking kept happening and then you heard something fall, you quickly rushed to the door, opening it to find Heeseung still in his white-stained robes. His back was pressed against the railing and his skin was pale. 

“Heeseung, oh my god!” you dropped down to his side, cupping your hands to his face, “What happened?!” 

Heeseung was barely able to hold his eyes open, “My wings…they stripped my wings from me.” 

You bit at the skin on your cheek, quickly standing back to your feet and pulling him up with all the strength you had, pulling his arm over your shoulders and gripping your arm around his waist, pulling him inside your apartment. 

Heeseung barely made it a couple of steps in before falling to his knees, you losing your grip on him and your eyes finally landing on the holes in his robes and the blood that still continued to push out. 

“Heeseung,” you fell back to his side, “You need to get to a hospital.” 

“And tell them what?” he breathed out, fingers gripping the carpet as he pants, “That I am a fallen angel who got their wings forcefully torn from his body?” 

Heeseung wasn’t trying to be snappy or rude, truly. The pain was just so immense he couldn’t control anything. 

You sat back on your heels, watching the love of your life suffer. This was your fault. It was all your fault. You’re the one who asked him to come home with you that fateful day. You’re the one who kissed him. Who tempted him. You pulled him in and touched him. You did this to him. 

Heeseung could practically hear your brain turning over and over. He pushed himself to his side, reaching his hand up to grip your chin, forcing you to look at him, “This is not your fault, you hear me? Not even close.” 

The tears swelled in your eyes now, falling into his touch as he cupped his hand to your cheek, “Heeseung…” 

“Baby,” he whispered, “I need you to do as I say, okay? My immortality hasn’t been taken from me yet, I will heal a bit fast but I need my wounds covered and taken care of, can you do that for me?” 

You nodded, placing a kiss on his palm. Heeseung told you exactly what you needed to do. Starting with tearing his robes off his body and ripping it into a big enough strand to be wrapped around him. Then using any medical alcohol you had in the apartment and pour it onto his wounds and hold a towel to them. It killed you having to press the towels to his wounds, feeling the massive hole where his beautiful wings once were…the pain Heeseung must be feeling…

But you took care of him. Doctoring his wounds to the best of your ability and doing as he instructed you. You wrapped the pieces of what was left of his robe around his chest and back, tying it as tightly as you could. 

You helped him to your bed, steadying him up as he sat down. Heeseung wasn’t as pale as earlier, but you could still see the pained expression. 

“Hey,” He whispered, cupping your face, “Stop thinking whatever it is.” 

You looked away from him, “I caused this. I tempted you.” 

Heeseung shook his head, “Baby, look at me,” you looked up at him, “I did this of my own free will,” he slid his hands from your face and down to your waist, “I knew the consequences, and did it anyway,” he squeezed your waist, “I love you. I gave up heaven for you.” 

You wanted to fight him, to yell in his face about giving up eternity for you. But you also couldn’t help but feel so loved at this moment. That this angel found love with you and was willing to give up everything for you. 

Heeseung kissed you, pulling you between his legs, and deepening the kiss. 

“Heeseung,” you said, pulling away from him, “You’re injured, you need to rest.” 

“No,” he shook his head, pulling you down into the bed and towering over you, “I’ve waited,” he said, his eyes growing lustful and his fingers tearing into your shirt and ripping it in half, pulling it off your body, “so damn long,” sliding his hands down to your shorts, looping his fingers in and pulling them down, taking your panties down with, “to have you like this.” 

Heeseung kicked your legs apart with his knees, leaning up straight to unbutton and unzip his black slacks, wiggling them off his body, leaving him in his boxers. You pulled yourself up on your elbows, opening your mouth to protest that this could wait. But Heeseung wasn’t having any of it. He connected his lips back to yours, his hands cupping your breasts and loving the way you moaned into his mouth. 

“Oh hell baby,” he said between kisses, “I love how these feel between my fingers.” 

You kept your lips attached to his as if your life depended on it, bucking your hips up onto his. 

Heeseung trailed his lips down to your neck, squeezing your breasts then sliding them behind to unhook your bra, sending the fabric off somewhere in the apartment. 

Heeseung lifted himself back up, tearing down at your bare body. So perfect. So beautiful. So his. 

“You’re so perfect,” he whispered, connecting his forehead to yours, tracing his fingertips down your body and stopping at your cunt, slowly pushing his fingers in, “So wet,” he groaned, rubbing his hard cock against your thigh, “Hmm I can’t wait to feel your cunt wrapped around me.” 

You giggled at him, “Angels don’t say such dirty things,” you teased. 

“Yeah?” he smirked, plunging his fingers in and out faster, “Angels don’t finger this good, do they?” 

You squirm underneath him, rolling your hips in sync with his fingers. Pushing your head back into your pillows and aches your back. 

You gasped out at the loss of his fingers, watching as he pulled the remainder of his clothing off him. His hard cock was red and angry. Precum dripping from his tip.

Heeseung gripped both your thighs, pushing them to your chest, “Angels don’t do what I am fixing to do to you,” he smirked, lining his cock up to your entrance. With a deep breath, he pushed himself inside you. Heeseung’s moans fill the apartment along with your own. 

His grip on your thighs tightened, his nails digging into the skin. He pulled his hips back and pushed forward. Picking up his pace and pounding into you like a madman. His pupils were blown out and his breaths were unsteady. This. This was what he gave up heaven for. To feel your cunt wrapped around his cock. This was the real heaven. 

“See, darling,” he groans, throwing his head back, “Angels don’t fuc-fuck this good,” he looked back down at you, loving your fucked out expression and how your hands gripped your bedsheets. Mouth slack as sweet moans spill from your lips. It turned you on so bad hearing Heeseung talk this way. To feel him so balls deep in your pussy, “Thank god I am not an angel, huh?” 

Heeseung was the definition of looks like an angel but fucks like a demon. With the way he pistoned into you, the grip on your thighs, the dirty words leaving his mouth that you’ve never heard him say before tonight…Heeseung was never meant to stay an angel. 

You continued to moan out with each of his hard thrusts, your core growing tight and threatening to snap at any moment, “Fuck you feel so good,” he breathes, “Moan my name baby,” he snaked his fingers to your clit, rubbing it aggressively, “Cum around my cock, I know you want to.” 

You bit your lip, arching your back more at his touch, jaw going slack as you chanted his name. Chanting his name as if he were god and you were his follower. Your core snapping, your orgasm releasing around him and onto your bedsheets, “Fuck yes, baby,” he smiles, pumping himself even faster inside you, “Can’t believe I’ve waited this long to fuck you. Should have done it the night we met. Should have fucked this cunt, should have ruined you. Claimed you as mine from the beginning. Oh fuck—“

Heeseung’s body shuddered, cock twitching, “I’m fixing to cum baby,” he bit his lip, looking down and watching how his cock slides in and out, in and out, “Oh dear god, I’m cumming. Oh fuck I’m cumming.” 

He kept his eyes locked on your pussy as he came, watching how his seed leaked from your hole as he continued to pump inside of you, milking his cock between your walls. 

Heeseung fell on top of your body, his head resting on your chest as he steadied himself and caught his breath, wrapping his arms underneath you. 

Heeseung spent his whole life being good and doing good. Never once being selfish or doing any selfish acts. Until you. You pulled this high-ranking angel down to his knees. Making him for once, want to be selfish. To do something for himself. To live freely and be free. To love and fuck you with every ounce of his being. 

He was so in love with you and you were so worth getting his wings taken away from him. It's so worth his immortality being stripped. 

Heeseung looked up at you, “Want to know a secret?” You tilted your head at him, waiting for him to continue, “I knew it would happen eventually. I wasn’t truly happy up there. My brothers and God knew it too. It was a matter of time before I fucked up and got caught,” he leaned himself up on his elbows, “I wanted it to happen. Because I wanted to be with you so bad. I knew they’d strip my wings. Take my immortality. Yeah, I enjoyed my wings and being immortal, but I wanted you so much more than that.” 

You cupped his face, “My fallen angel,” 

He placed a kiss on your lips, “I love you, YN.” Heeseung wrapped your legs around his waist, slowly moving again, “And I so love fucking this pussy.” 

You giggled, bracing your hands onto his biceps, “I love you too, even if you gave everything up for me.” 

Heeseung rested his forehead on yours, slowly fucking into you, “And I’d do it over and over again, all for you.”

—perm taglist: @alvojake @ikeuverse @woniebae @shawnyle @kangnina @jwnghyuns @in-somnias-world @zyvlxqht @aaa-sia @wonniethepoo @addictedtohobi @eneiyri @sparklovespink @skzenhalove @fakeuwus @cherry-park @vousty @ladyartemesia @criminalyun @cmoundiamante @enhaverse713586 @wondipity @lhsvibez @belowbun @jaeyunq @rikizm @kaykay11sworld @pockettwinzz @vixialuvs @seunghancore @enha-cafe @ohdeerhee @sunpov @zeeloveshee @hxxsxxng @moonrisearies @brownsugarbaybee

[httpjungkookcom]

CYBER BOY | JJK (m)

Pairing | Jungkook x Reader

Word Count | 12K, not bad!

Genre | Android! Jungkook x Grad Student! Reader, Fluff, Smut

Summary | Jimin, as much as you love him, is a major pain in your ass. After dragging you to his store against your will (literally) you end up with; the newly manufactured, eerily human Jungkook android model. He's so human, you begin to have questions.

Index | A lot of fluff, reader is terrified, Jungkook is a sweetheart, Jungkook is absolutely whipped, Jungkook is good at anything and everything you could think of, including pleasing you ;), soft smut, Jungkook just wants you to feel good

A/N | You don't really need to know the lore of Detroit Become Human, it's just briefly mentioned in the story. Cyber Life is basically a manufacturer of robots/androids, that's really all the background you need for the story. Enjoy! <3

Jimin’s very busy today talking your ear off. Well, more than normal you should say. Two weeks ago he scored this huge paid internship with CyberLife, a company that currently holds a monopoly over all other tech companies with its superior android manufacturing, innovative technology, and competitive prices that “Are to sure surpass your expectations.” He was ecstatic, going on about how maybe they’ll gift him an android as an intern present (spoiler alert, they did not.) Regardless, they pay him very well for an internship and he loves their technology so he’s still happy. Now, it’s something about a new android he’s droning on about. 

“No, I don’t think you understand Y/n.” Jimin clarifies, walking alongside you on the campus pathway. “One in the entire world, only one is being made.” 

“I understand plenty, Jim.” You genuinely laugh, side-eyeing him as he questions your intelligence. “I think I understood the first time you said there’s only one, and the second time, and the third, and now the hundredth.” 

“And you don’t even want to see him?! I don’t understand!!” Jimin almost yells, wide eyes as he turns to you to emphasize his point. 

Ever since Jimin scored the internship, you constantly refuse to ever step foot in the company. Mostly because you know Jimin would try to market to you, and he’s got a reputation for never getting told no. That’s the excuse you always gave, telling him off every time he’d talk about the “low low price of 4,999 dollars!” Secondly, the androids freak you out a bit. They’re hyper-realistic, all the way down to every single man-made eyelash on their face. You’re sure if you look close enough, you could probably see fake pores. 

However, you don’t hate artificial intelligence at all, nor are you a part of the momentum-gaining group of “androids are stealing our jobs, and ruining society!” You suppose for you, it’s just how realistic they look, act, speak, and walk. Everything about them is human-like. Maybe if they had a Siri-sounding voice, or walked stiff, maybe you’d get behind the idea of owning one. 

“You would try and get me to buy it, why are you saying him? You never do that Jimin?” You ask, laughing softly. “What, you got a crush on him?” You raise your brows, elbowing him with your hands remaining in your pockets, cold air waiting for the opportunity to bite at your skin. 

Jimin scoffs in defense, pretending you offended him as he shoves you away. “We were told to market it as him because he’s so realistic most people apparently won’t know the difference.” 

“…And you want me to buy that thing!?! An android that is so human you can’t even tell?!” You ask, feet stopping in their tracks. “Jimin, you’re out of your mind.” You roll your eyes, beginning to turn around, and instead, make your way to your apartment complex. 

“Nooo, at least walk me to the store like always. This isn’t fair!” Jimin complains like a child, stomping his feet softly in the thin layer of snow that’s beginning to form on the sidewalk. “I just wanted to tell you because I think it’s interesting, I promise I won’t market him to you.” 

“You’re a liar.” You turn back, unable to fight back the smile as you walk up to him. “Fine, let’s get going before it starts snowing harder. I’d hate for you to be covered in it and you ruin all your bots with the liquid.” Sticking out your tongue, Jimin mimics you as he does it back. 

“It wouldn’t ruin them, c'mon Y/n. They’re waterproof.” 

“Jimin.”

“Right, sorry sorry.”

Jimin stops talking about androids for the rest of the walk, instead beginning his daily oversharing session, as he vents about this mystery boy “Taehyung” he’s been seeing. Jimin claims he’s always on campus, everywhere, but you have yet to see him. Secretly, you’re starting to believe Jimin is making parts of him up. He wraps up the rant as you approach the door, “Anyways, he seems genuinely sweet. I think I’ll give it a chance.”

“Yeah, I also think he seems nice. Maybe it’ll be worth it.” You shrug, beginning to pull your arm away from Jimin’s where they’re interlinked. 

“Just like…you should give our androids a chance.” You're dragged into the store before you can even get another word in, Jimin locking down extra hard on your arm in case you fight it. As the doors close behind the both of you, you finally give in. “That big box over there, that’s our new one-of-a-kind boy.” Jimin beams, walking you over to it. There’s only the logo of cyber life on the front, no model codes, details, or specifications anywhere to be seen. 

“So, what’s he look like?” You ask, finally able to pry your arm away from Jimin’s chokehold. 

“I don’t know.” 

“What do you mean you don’t know??” 

“Exactly what I mean, I don’t know.” Jimin spits jokingly, a smile pulling at the corner of his lips. “CyberLife is keeping all the details under wraps, I suppose whoever gets him is the first to find out. Personally, I think it’s to see if people recognize it as an android if the owner takes him out into public.” The information feels like whiplash, as does the mixing of it, him, and owner. 

“That is the freakiest thing I’ve ever heard.” You laugh. “So, how much is he going for?” You shrug as Jimin smirks at you, eventually punching his arm. 

“What, you want him?” He earns himself another punch. “He’s not.” 

“Jimin, what the fuck? Is this an empty box???” You're now beginning to think Jimin is fucking with you. Maybe a prank to see how gullible you are to the information he tells you, never really questioning his nerdy rants. “No characteristics, no price, let me guess, no name next huh?” 

“Ding ding ding.” Jimin chuckles. “The model doesn’t have a name. He introduces himself to his owner one-on-one.” 

“I’m leaving.” 

“Wait wait wait, don’t you want to know how you can get him if he’s not for sale?” He coaxes you back to the box laughing the entire time as he speaks. Once again grabbing you so you don’t have a chance to run away, you’re left trapped. If the androids surrounding you in the store are already this realistic, you’re a bit afraid to see what’s in the box honestly. “Aren’t you at least a bit curious, an android not up for sale hm?” 

“With the information you just gave me, it’s an empty box up for sale,” You complain, ready to go home and cozy up on the couch with this weather. It’s cold, wet, and you’re already slipping into your winter break laziness. 

“It's a raffle.” 

“Oh great.” 

“I’ll enter you into it.” Jimin beams, running over to a computer behind the cashier counter. You groan loudly, beginning to follow him to stop his antics. “Uhm ma’am, employees only beyond this point.” Jimin changes his tone to his customer service voice, holding a hand in front of your face. “I’ll be with you in one moment.” 

“Jimin, this isn’t funny. I’m going to kick your ass,” You complain, glancing over your shoulder to the large box behind you as if he’d pop out at any moment. “I don’t even want the opportunity to own him, people would probably kill others over him.”

“One moment, please ma’am,” He speaks, breaking up into laughter throughout his sentence. You’re helpless as you stand at the counter, watching in disbelief as he types in all of your information faster than the speed of light.

“I wish we never sat next to each other in Introduction to Computer Science.” You laugh, watching him click submit before making his way back to where you stand by the box. 

“Raffle results come out tomorrow. That’s why I had to drag you here.” Jimin beams, “If you don’t want him, you can always give him to me.” 

Faking a gag, you begin your way out of the store. “I'm going home, Jimin. I'm gonna be spending my winter break alone, android-less, binge-watching movies, so feel free to stop by.” You smile, waving to him from the door. Jimin inserts some snarky remark that you don’t really catch, rolling your eyes at him through the window regardless. 

Doing exactly as you promised yourself, you all but melt into the soft bed you’ve been in a long-distance relationship with the entire semester. Now, you’re able to catch up with spring classes being an entire month away. You spend the rest of your afternoon double-checking that all of your assignments are in before allowing yourself to sleep. The next day, you begin your marathons, finally catching up on all the shows you said you’d watch. With a content sigh, you begin your second binge-watching marathon of the break. It’s cut short just one episode in, a small knock catching your attention. Following it, it’s your front door. 

“Hi, Jimin, do you wanna-“ It’s not Jimin standing on the other side of the door, not at all. There are two tall men, with a big box placed in the middle of either one of them. “Oh, sorry. I was expecting someone else. How can I help you guys?” 

“Is this the residence of Y/n L/n?” One asks, making your throat run dry as you glance at the box behind them. “If you could just sign off on your delivery, free of charge provided by the company.” Glancing down at the paper presented, CyberLife. Shaky hands sign a sloppy signature, the movers quickly move in and place the box in the middle of the walkway before rushing off. Closing the door behind you, you’re at a loss. 

Wouldn’t they call you if you won? Or an email? Or mail? Who in their right mind just comes and delivers such an expensive and precious item without some sort of confirmation beforehand??? Your normally cozy and comfortable apartment suddenly feels too small with the box in it, another human-like thing occupying the space. 

“Jimin?!” This has to be a prank, Jimin has to be laughing his ass off in this stupid box. With caution, you press an ear against the metal and try to hear laughing, snorting, breathing, anything. The box is white and blue, only confirming the high possibility of an android being inside. “Jimin, if you're in this box, I’m going to kill you for real this time.” You give a fair warning, pressing and pulling hard on the side handle. It opens smoothly, the door not even creaking once as you pull it open. 

You jump hard as you peek into it, not Jimin. Definitely not Jimin. Hiding behind the door, you peek once more into the inside to take in the sight. He’s…pretty? Somehow his android skin is activated without even being turned on yet, hair styled with his bangs pushed back from his forehead. His nose is slightly large, but it fits his face perfectly. There’s a small mole underneath his lower lip that you think is an interesting addition to an android model. 

With a hard beating heart that feels as though it’ll burst through your rib cage, you abandon your protection. There’s an owner's manual placed neatly in front of his body that you pick up with shaky hands. Activate your android by pressing on its led sensor for 10 seconds. It’s the longest 10 seconds of your life, heart hammering against your bones.

His eyes slowly peel open, blinking a couple of times as he takes in his surroundings. Human, scarily human. He’s careful of your reaction as he steps out of his box to not scare you too badly, pushing the door closed behind him to create more room in the small apartment. “Hello, I’m Jungkook.” 

There it is. 

You don’t answer, prompting him to continue introducing himself. “I’m a one-of-a-kind android that was beneficial for promotional purposes, but mainly I'm built to be the best companion possible for my owner. I possess old and new features that are designed to make the everyday life of my companion significantly better.” 

“Jungkook?” You mumble, his name feels way too human. “What’s your full name?” 

“Jeon Jungkook, from Busan, South Korea.” You could throw up everywhere, the realistic bot smiling softly as he stands in front of you. 

“Yeah, yeah sorry. I’m Y/n. …you are an android, right? Do you mind if I, uh?” You gesture to his chest. Your brain is struggling to believe he’s an android and not some sort of joke sent to you. Jungkook happily obliges, removing his synthetic skin and popping open his chest panel. Stepping a bit closer, you can definitely confirm that they are CyberLife organs and blue blood. “Okay, sorry I’m just having trouble adjusting, that’s all,” You mumble, closing his panel for him. 

“There is usually an adjustment period for new owners. Have you had another android in the past?” Jungkook asks, glancing around your apartment for any sign of one. He takes a couple of steps away from the box, feet making no noise despite being a giant piece of what is essentially machinery. Freaky.

“Oh, no no. It’s not that I’ve been against it, I just haven’t had the money or need for one I suppose.” You explain, feeling like you owe him an explanation as to why you don’t have an earlier model. “I’m a grad student, you see?” 

Jungkook nods softly, gesturing to the couch for you to sit down. You follow, a bit confused as to what this could possibly be about. It feels as though he’s about to break up with you, making you laugh softly to yourself as you sit on the opposite side of the couch. “I’m not sure what needs you have, but just let me know and I will do my best to fulfill them. This can range from construction, gardening, cooking, cleaning, companionship, intimacy, etc.” 

“Intimacy, what does that even mean in terms of an android?” 

“Some androids are designed to carry out human wants and desires for sexual intercourse-”

“Okay, okay, sorry I asked.” You cut Jungkook off before he can give you the long, likely in-depth explanation of their usage. “So, what do you want to do around here? I mean it’s just me, so it’ll probably get pretty lonely unless you come to my classes with me.” You chuckle. “I mean, it’s not very big but it’s comfortable, feel free to help yourself to whatever you’d like.” 

“I want to do what you want me to do, Y/n,” Jungkook answers, speaking like a true CyberLife android, a computer.

“God, it’s so weird.” You complain. “You look so human but act like you’re an android, so it’s just throwing me off.” You smile softly, watching as he smiles back. His smile is pretty, perfectly aligned teeth on full display. When he smiles hard, small wrinkles form in the corners of his eyes which you find oddly endearing. “Your LED also is barely noticeable, just all of it together tricks my mind into thinking you’re a human.” 

“That’s how I was engineered, with that in mind.” He smiles, “I don’t think I’ll be mass-marketed due to how human my design is, it would likely cause unrest within society.” You nod along to that, it most definitely would only make the anti-android movement worse. “If you’d like, I can adjust my LED to be more of the stereotypical android look.”

“No, no that’s okay. I like you however you present yourself. But, can you change your hairstyle? It’s just a bit too CyberLife, fresh out of the package if you want to go out in public later on.” You shrug, once again feeling the need to explain to him. He does, switching through various hairstyles before deciding on one. It’s slightly longer, with soft waves making it look fluffier than before. It’s still just as dark, but it suits him. 

“I can also simulate body modifications such as piercings, tattoos, scarification, split tongue, stretched lobes, whatever you would wish for me to look like,” Jungkook informs, once again sounding fresh out of the box. 

“You do whichever ones you’d like, Jungkook. It’s your body, fake or not.” You smile, watching as he shuffles through the catalog of options in his head. A giant smile overtakes his face as he comes out with two face piercings, a couple of ear ones, and most notably his tattoo sleeve. 

“Uhm, is this okay? I can always change my setting back if you prefer it-”

“It’s okay, Jungkook. We gotta get you out of your default settings, jeez.” You laugh. “I’m not really sure what to do now, I was watching a TV show if you’d like to watch it with me?”

“I’d love to.” He beams, watching as you jog into your room. (You forgot the name of it already, mind racing 1000 miles a minute with everything going on.) You come back out with blankets to hide it, handing him one as you set up the living room TV. “I’d also love to make you dinner while we watch, would that be okay?”

“Kook, YES. I don’t mind what you do unless it’s like actively punching holes in my drywall. Then maybe I’ll draw the line.” You joke, finally earning a laugh from him. It’s contagious, spreading over to you as you giggle along. You don’t think you’ve completely wrapped your brain around the fact that he’s one of a kind, purposely engineered to basically do anything and everything, and so annoyingly pretty as he sits in your small apartment content as ever. “Also, I’m not sure if you notice, but your footsteps make almost no noise. It’s okay to make sounds. I think if you walk around here completely silent you'll probably scare the shit out of me.”

“Noted.” Jungkook chuckles, sliding off of the couch and making his way into the kitchen. He makes more noise this time, and it’s much more comfortable that way. The soft knocking of pots and pans fills the background, not enough to be annoying but enough to let you know there is someone else here. Maybe, and you’d never ever admit it to Jimin, his addition to your home is starting to feel like it will be a welcomed one.

Getting used to having another person, an android, in the house is a learning experience. The following morning after he was delivered, you had completely forgotten all about him in your half-awake state. After using the bathroom, your feet shuffle out into the kitchen in search of any sustenance before you start the day, Jimin already texting you to ensure you guys are still on for your morning coffee run and walk to the CyberLife store.

“Good morning, I made you-”

You’ve never screamed so loud, so early in the morning. You’re sure you woke up all of your neighbors in a 5-door radius, along with the incoming noise complaint that is surely on its way. You screamed so loud that Jungkook has to recalibrate his audio processing system, standing still for multiple minutes as it reboots. 

“Sorry, sorry Kook.” You cackle after the initial fright, hands holding your stomach as you almost cry from laughter. “Adjustment period, remember when you said that?” You laugh harder, making your way over to him.  Jungkook laughs softly along with you, not nearly as hard but he feels happy seeing you so happy. He grins hard as you wipe away your tears, your stomach hurting from just how hard you're laughing. “Okay, okay, that’s enough. I have to stop.” With another glance at Jungkook in the kitchen, you’re cracking up again. 

“Y/n! I thought I’d be nice and make you breakfast!” Jungkook whines as you continue laughing at him, unable to hold it back for longer than one-minute intervals. You slowly calm down over the course of the next 10 minutes, forcing yourself to not think about it. “Anyway, I made you a breakfast sandwich. I’m not sure if you have anything to do today but-” Jungkook stops talking as he notices your chest heaving, trying hard not to laugh. “Are you-are you serious?? You can't even look at me huh?” Jungkook cracks, smiling hard. 

At this point, there are tears rolling down your face. “Sorry, sorry. Okay, I’m done for real this time. Just had to get it out of my system.”

“Uh-huh, sure.” Jungkook jokes, putting the plate in front of you regardless of you continuing to giggle every now and then. 

“I’m not sure what you’d like to do today, but I’m gonna go out with a friend for a bit. There’s not much to do here, I’m normally used to being out all the time, but there’s Netflix, Hulu, Disney, whatever you’d like to watch.” You talk in between bites, rushing as you inhale the food. You get ready quickly, awkwardly side-hug Jungkook as a goodbye, and rush off to meet up with Jimin.

Jimin is as ecstatic as ever, going on and on about who he thinks got the android in yesterday’s raffle. He gets his hopes up a bit before going to the store, coming up with the idea that maybe no one won and he’ll be unboxed today. Nerves flood throughout your body, your mind thinking back to the sweet boy that made you breakfast this morning. “Anyway, what’re you up to today?” Jimin sighs after his excitement, strolling along the sidewalk with his drink in hand. 

“Probably a bit of holiday shopping, and hanging out with a friend-”

“A friend?! Who? Do I know them?” He interrupts you, immediately questioning. 

“No, no I don’t think you do. He’s a family friend of my mom’s side-”

“HE?”

“I hate talking to you.” You laugh, no longer feeling the need to continue talking about it. You ignore Jimin’s prying questions, favoring dismissing all of them. What’s he look like? Where’s he from? Is he cute? What’s his name? Is he nice? Jimin brings up anything and everything. “Okay, we’re here, oh noooo.” You chuckle, pretending to be disappointed. 

“I’ll find out eventually.” Jimin sticks his tongue out at you before entering the store. He’s beyond disappointed that the box is no longer sitting in the store, texting you about it as you walk home.

Coming home, you’re a bit more prepared as you enter your apartment, spotting Jungkook in the living room. The upcoming week is your adjustment period, slowly becoming less and less spooked by his presence in your cozy home. Jungkook has learned to turn down his hearing slightly in the mornings until you get used to him, no longer having to re-coordinate his processing system constantly. You’ve also warmed up a lot to him over the week, the sweet android quickly becoming a part of your everyday life and holding a fond place in your heart. You’ve made movie nights become a ritual, cuddling up to Jungkook on colder nights. (He’s aware and even adjusts his systems to make himself put out more heat for you.) 

Jungkook is also the best listener you know, listening and taking in all of the stories you’re willing to tell him. He knows a lot about Jimin, as you seem to hang out with him the most. He had dumbly asked if he was your boyfriend, sending you into another laughing fit you were unable to stop. Along with this, he’s started accompanying you out more. Jungkook comes on grocery runs with you, goes to the library with you, goes to the nearby cafe you frequent, and even begins joining you on nights out at clubs. It’s scary how no one realizes he’s an android and doesn’t even bat an eye at him even in android-free spaces.

Most nights out, Jungkook has to fight you into bed in your tipsy state. You appreciate him for it, and all of the patience he shows you. “Y/n, let me take off your makeup.” Jungkook giggles softly, sitting on the edge of the bed as he holds a makeup wipe in his hand. He’s carefully holding your ankle in his palm, keeping you from sliding head first off the bed if you move too much. As you shuffle around to better lay on the bed, he no longer needs to restrain you. Currently, you have the spins, holding onto Jungkook’s clothes in a death grip to ground yourself. Jungkook smiles softly at you. “It’ll just take two seconds, come here.” 

You finally oblige, shuffling around to place your head in his lap. “Do your worst, pretty boy.” You slur slightly, smiling up at him. 

“Pretty boy?” Kook raises a brow at you.

“Mhmm, my pretty boy.” You nod, wearing a soft smile as Jungkook wipes your makeup off. “You wanna sleep with me?”

“Sorry?” Jungkook almost chokes on his fake spit. 

“You’re warm, come, lay down.” You coax him, pulling him down. You’re not laying on the bed the right way at all, heads laying at the foot of the bed. You’re also slightly diagonal, not caring at all as you cuddle close to him for warmth. Jungkook smiles hard as you nuzzle into his chest, one of your legs swinging over his. “Warm, soft.” You hum. You get the best sleep of your entire life, and it now becomes a normal thing for Jungkook to lay with you. 

You learn a lot about him during this time as well. One, Jungkook can taste and eat as his program allows him to. He doesn’t need to at all, but once again he was built for companionship and he can’t think of anything sadder than people eating meals alone. You had learned this when Jungkook offered to eat with you, confusing you to hell and back before actually explaining. Now, you always make him get something when you guys go out in public, to really sell the whole he’s just a human drinking his overpriced cafe drink!! Considering other androids don't eat or drink anything other than blue blood, it really adds to his non-android appearance.

Two, he’s been programmed to be good at absolutely everything. 

Personal fitness: Jungkook is more than happy to accompany you on jogs, encouraging you but also giving you the peace of mind you need when running through rough parts of town. Along with this, he somehow is able to calculate your strides and distance, which you believe blindly and don’t even question. Lastly, he’s able to carry water and electrolyte snacks that he claims are good for you when you’re physically active. When you refuse to drink, Jungkook jokingly wrestles you into submission until you take at least one sip.  

Cooking: Jungkook has taken to making all of your meals, and you’re not even upset about it. Every meal is different but just as delicious, you assume he has some sort of chef programming. When you don’t have an item Jungkook needs, he’s more than willing to go out and get it for you. You’re a bit too anxious to send him on his own, but in reality, he’d probably be okay given his appearance. Despite taking over cooking needs, if you’re lucky he sometimes lets you help out with baking holiday cookies. Jungkook still takes to distracting you, twirling you around with a giant smile to the music playing in the background. 

“Kook,” You whine, a giant smile plastered on your face despite complaints. You can feel Jungkook smile as he tucks his face into your neck, one hand holding your waist and the other taking your palm into his own. “The cookies will burn.”

“They still have 3 minutes, don’t worry hun.” Jungkook smiles hard, pulling back to look at you. You match the cheek-aching smile, forced to twirl as Kook easily spins you. Getting carried away, the cookies did slightly burn in the oven. 

Makeup (yes, even makeup): Jungkook had offered to help you get ready for a research-related conference, let’s just say you got a lot of compliments that night.  

Cleaning: You tell him constantly he doesn’t have to spend his days cleaning, but he listens very minimally and still picks up for you every day.  Sometimes he tries to hide it from you, placing a very strategic piece of laundry on your floor to give the illusion that he didn’t clean. (It never works how he intends, once there was a random towel in the hallway while every other room was completely spotless. He was embarrassed about it the whole day.)

Security: He’s not a fighter under any circumstances at all, you can’t even imagine Jungkook getting into an altercation. You suppose he could if he needed, it’s likely somewhere deep in his programming. However, it’s the peace of mind he brings to you every night, you no longer deal with the worry of if your door is locked 1000 times. 

Helping with your Grad assignments: Kook is a very advanced computer, how can you not?

And just simple companionship on days you’re worn down and tired. On days when you're very stressed out, he happily does your skincare to help you relax along with a small massage he knows from, who knows, somewhere deep in his computer brain. 

“Kook, can you really take your time today, I need the relaxation.” You chuckle, grabbing all of your products and walking out of the bathroom. Jungkook follows, confusion growing even more as he watches you lay down on the floor with a pillow. 

“....What are you doing?” Jungkook chuckles, standing over you a bit as he peers down. 

“Come, sit, sit.” Without any more questioning, Jungkook sits with his legs slightly separated. You move to lay in between them, pillow on his lap. Ohhh, he sees now. Jungkook pulls out all of the stops he can with the tools provided, doing your skincare and giving you a massage. “Holy shit, you’re good at this.”

You suppose the only thing you’re unsure of with his skills is his intimacy feature, as you haven't had any reason or want to test it. You’ve been curious about the extent of the features, Jungkook is more than happy to once again explain all of his programming to you. Artificial saliva, physically soft skin, artificial bodily fluids, flexibility, shapes created with pleasure in mind, etc. The list goes on and on. He was also more than happy to offer his services to you, bright-eyed and excited about your reaction. You postpone the offer, maybe another time. At this, Jungkook begins his lecture about how it’s detrimental to one’s health to be sexually frustrated for too long that you put an end to, as quickly as possible. 

You haven't introduced Jungkook to Jimin quite yet, a bit scared Jimin would immediately clock your android counterpart as exactly that, an android. You have to explain this to Jungkook, who wants to meet Jimin more than anyone else since you seem to be such great friends. He understands the dilemma but still wants to meet regardless. 

Maybe four weeks into the break, there’s a knock on the door that catches Jungkook’s attention more than yours. You’re busy getting tangled in the Christmas tree lights that are impossibly knotted, Jungkook trying to help out as much as he can. He’s hesitant after accidentally pulling one of the cords and almost swiping your feet out from underneath you. “Can you go get that please, Kook?” You mumble, lights somehow wrapped around your waist, legs, and neck. Jungkook scurries to do as he’s told, not wanting to take over lights for you. 

You can hear the door creak open, followed by a period of silence. “Who are you??” Your hands stop moving, eyes blown wide as you glance over to the door. Shit shit shit. 

“Hey Jimin! Come in!” You call from the living room, still hard at work at making the lights cooperate with you. You pray to god he doesn’t see you sweat. “I told you about him, remember? He’s in town for a while on an internship. Jimin, this is Jungkook, a family friend. Jungkook, this is Jimin.” You introduce the two of them. Jimin turns around to face Jungkook, Jungkook quickly catches your eye contact. You mouth to him to turn his LED off completely, which he follows.

“It’s nice to meet you.” Jungkook smiles wide, garland hanging down from his arms as he shakes Jimin’s hand. Jimin shakes his hand back, turning back to you. 

“Y/n! You didn’t tell me said friend was so hot!” Finally, the atmosphere breaks as all of you laugh along with each other. The entire interaction is based solely on the assumption you have that no one has seen Jungkook’s design, including Jimin. He doesn’t seem to clock Jungkook immediately, joining in on your and Kook’s journey of setting up the decorations. Jimin gets ornaments in order, Kook garland, and you get lights. Next, you all take turns walking around the tree stringing everything up. The star is the scariest part, Jungkook insists on just lifting you to place it atop the tree. 

Jimin laughs his ass off the entire time, watching as Jungkook wraps his arms around your thighs and easily lifts. “Jungkook, my ass is in your face.” You laugh, wobbling slightly as you cackle. Jimin also laughs hard at this. 

“I’m not looking, promise.” This only makes the group of you laugh harder. Jimin looks at Jungkook to check the accuracy, falling to his knees as he sees Jungkook’s head at a 90-degree angle looking sideways. “Put the star on!” Jungkook calls, laughing softly. Thankfully, you come down unscathed and unharmed. You all settle in, putting on holiday movies to watch. 

“Do you guys want hot chocolate?” You ask, already getting up and making your way into the kitchen to start making them.

“I’ll help.” You send Jungkook a hard glare, seating him back down. “Ugh, fine. You never make mine right though.” He complains, sitting back down and grabbing his blanket once more. You can see him and Jimin talking, but you’re unable to hear it over the movie. Walking back in slowly, you cautiously carry three mugs. 

“Here, you big baby. Hot chocolate with extra chocolate and whipped cream.” You hand Jungkook his and then Jimin's. “And regular for you like an adult.” You watch as Jungkook sticks his tongue out at you, making you laugh as you sit down. 

“Extra chocolate? Kook, do you mind if I taste yours?” Jimin asks, scooching forward to reach over you. Jungkook mumbles something about wanting his whipped cream, quickly licking the majority of it off the top before handing it over. Jimin glances down at the cup before taking a sip, nodding his head. “Y/n, can you make mine like that next time?”

“Wow.” You laugh, rolling your eyes as you return your attention back to the movie. The night continues without much more commotion, the group of you watching movies and taking turns making cocktails. Jungkook purposely dumbs his down to hide himself, relief washing over you as you’re handed a simple mixed drink. (Jungkook can and will make the most elaborate, bartender-level drinks you’ve ever seen.) Maybe he’s not as clueless as he pretends to be. 

“I think I should get going, gotta get up early in the morning.” Jimin yawns, standing up and stretching. “I won’t make you come get coffee with me since I have to be at work at 6 am.”

At this, you recoil. “So generous, Jimin. I definitely would not make it there at 5:30.” You laugh, getting up off the couch to walk him out. “Do you want us to walk with you, it’s a bit late Jim.”

“...Tae is picking me up.” You gasp as Jimin opens the door. Jimin slaps a hand over your mouth. “And NO! You can’t meet him tonight, I have to at least give him a warning in advance.”

“I hate you.” You sigh, jokingly shoving him out of the door frame. “I’ll see you soon, loser. Text me when you get home so I know you’re safe and so I know this weird, unknown, creepy Taehyung that I’ve never met didn’t kidnap you or something.” Waving goodbye to Jimin, you can finally breathe as you shut the door. “He’s skeptical of you.” You huff. 

“I know.” Jungkook mumbles, “I think the hot chocolate and drinks convinced him, though. He stopped being skeptical after that. Now, he’s skeptical and thinks we’re dating.”

You don’t know how Jungkook can tell, but you believe him. With a long sigh, you return to the couch, plopping down back onto the blankets. “He’s too skeptical about everything.” You laugh. Kook follows you into the living room, laying down on top of you. “He wouldn’t care that you’re an android, Kook.” You reassure him, “I just don’t want that to be your description and introduction to people we meet.” Jungkook nods in agreement. 

After the small bout with Jimin, Jungkook settles in very well over the course of December.

He makes breakfast, wishes you a safe trip before your departure if you’re doing somewhere without him, sometimes earns himself a peck on the cheek that makes him blush bright red, picks up around the apartment or organizes, and then just hangs around until you get home. He genuinely believes you getting home is the best part of his day, can’t even imagine a better person to wait around for. Sometimes you guys will go out for the evening if you’re not tired, other nights you both stay in and watch tv or movies cuddled close together. 

For once, you’re not spending the holidays alone. Over the last couple of years, you had always gone over to Jimin’s apartment for company if he was still in town. Other times, you just spent the holiday watching movies. “Merry Christmas Eve, Kook.” You hum, sitting close to him with your head resting on his shoulder. Your knees are folded underneath you, facing Jungkook’s lap but not on him. Jungkook rests his head on yours, a blanket tossed over both of your laps. You’ve already made cookies and Jungkook started cooking ahead for tomorrow’s Christmas dinner. Jungkook has been scolding you constantly for making him do dumb childish Christmas activities, cookies for Santa, carrots for reindeer, etc. You think it’s cute.

“Merry Christmas Eve, pretty girl.” Jungkook hums back, reaching over to hold your hands. He’s taken to calling you pet names, making you blush furiously every time. 

“Do you want an early Christmas present?” You smile hard at him, glancing up at him. 

“Is that even a question?” Jungkook giggles, watching as you jump off the couch and immediately sprint into the bedroom. He can hear loud rummaging, and he’s about 99% sure you’re in the closet. You come out with a medium-sized gift bag, presenting it to him. Placing it in his lap, you watch with a giant smile as he opens it. Somehow, he reaches underneath his set and instead pulls out your matching pajamas. “Y/n, I don't think these will fit me.” He chuckles. 

“How do you go underneath the top thing?” You scoff, snatching them out of his hands and quickly hiding them behind your back. Kook chuckles softly as he finally pulls out his set, a giant smile plastered on his face as he examines it. “And, I also have one. So we can match.” With loud laughter, you and Jungkook begin sprinting to the hall. You duck into your room, and Jungkook disappears into the bathroom. 

Your heart feels heavy with emotion as Jungkook steps out of the bathroom on the other side of the hall, you stand in the doorway of your room. “Y/n, thank you.” Jungkook mumbles, voice wavering a bit as he reaches out and takes your hand in his. You could cry as he pulls you into his arms, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. “Thank you for everything.” 

“C'mon now, don’t get all sentimental Jeon.” If you get any more sentimental, you’ll cry. “You’re not going anywhere for a while.”

“I wouldn’t even think of it.” He smiles, leading you back to your Christmas movie marathon in the living room. Watching movies for the rest of the night, Christmas comes before you even realize it. 

“Merry Christmas,” Jungkook speaks softly, once again kissing your forehead. 

“Merry Christmas, my sweet boy.” You kiss his cheek in return, fighting the blush away. 

Christmas is exactly what you’ve dreamed of, eating together, watching movies, opening gifts, setting up and playing with said gifts, and spending plenty of time cuddled up together. For Jungkook’s gifts, you got him a game system and a phone to keep him busy once the spring semester starts in a couple of weeks. Jungkook’s quick to input your number, demanding it as soon as it comes out of the box. 

“Are you ready for your presents?” Jungkook smiles. 

“Am I huh?” You question, raising a brow. You weren't expecting anything since Jungkook is an android, and therefore is unable to work unless it’s programmed into him. Along with this, he hasn’t asked you for any money within the last couple of weeks. “How, Kook?” You mumble as he comes out of your apartment's small storage closet with gifts, a bright smile on his face. 

“I maybe, maybe not, went out and did college kid’s homework and assignments for cash.” Jungkook cheekily smiles, avoiding the look you give him. He’s lucky he’s so sweet and kind, otherwise, you’d scold him to hell and back for it. At least he was able to get around without being clocked as an android, you choose to look on the bright side. He sets the prettily wrapped box in your lap, yet another thing he’s good at. It’s a new bookbag and a recipe book, Jungkook’s pretty handwriting, and little doodles filling the pages. There’s a card in the bag, you already know it’s going to be sentimental and doubt you’ll be unable to read it without crying.

As you suspected, you’re in tears by the end of the card. You sniffle hard as you press it against your face, hiding your tears from Jungkook. “Nooo, don’t cry. That wasn’t my intention.” Jungkook coos at you, wrapping you in his arms with ease. “Your bookbag seemed to have a lot of miles on it, I figured I’d get you a new one for the upcoming semester. The recipe book is in case you ever want to cook for me, since you always complain about never being able to make me dinner.” Jungkook explains. “And the note is just my gratitude, I suppose.”

“I told you no more sentimental stuff.” You chuckle, wiping your tears off your face as you turn to properly hug him. “Sorry I didn’t write you a card, I didn’t even think of it.” You mumble. 

“I don’t need a card, trust me,” Jungkook speaks softly, kissing your cheek where a tear stain still remains. “Do you wanna get back to our movie?” With a nod, Jungkook is quick to put it back on and pull you close to him, allowing you to lay on his chest. The movie begins to wrap up, your mouth opens before you can rethink it. 

“Kook?”

“Hm?”

“Do you wish you were human? Or do you wish you were given to a different owner?” You ask curiosity just genuinely wanting to know his answer.

“I’m not sure, really. I suppose being a human has a lot of rules for socializing, existing, and everything else. I know I’m not a human, but it does feel like I am so I suppose that’s close enough for me to be content.” Jungkook explains, shrugging softly as he holds you to him. “And I don’t wish I was given to another human, I really like it here. I think if I were with anyone else, they’d likely treat me like an android and expect me to, idk, act like one. That seems like a stupid question, given my completely sincere and heartfelt letter.”

You giggle, nodding to agree with him. “Yeah, probably. It’s easy to expect you to act like a perfect android when that’s how you were marketed, after all.” You giggle, sitting up to peer down at him. Your hands rest on his chest to support some of your weight. Jungkook is very pretty, even prettier peering up at you with eyebrows slightly scrunched together. “I still just can't believe you’re an android, Kook. Sometimes I don’t think about it and just see you as a person. Can I ask you something?”

“Anything, always.” Jungkook grits as he stares up at you. 

“You’ve been using I think and I feel, Jungkook.” Jungkook tenses hard underneath you, fear momentarily flashing across his face. “CyberLife programming doesn’t do that. Were you built with a missing code, or did you break your coding when you got here?” You ask softly, hands meeting his face and gently holding it in your palms. Jungkook seems scared, fighting for an appropriate answer to your question. “I like it, Kook. I was hoping this would happen, but I wasn’t going to try and recode or reprogram you myself. I just want to know. Your note was also a dead giveaway, Jeon.”

“...I broke out of it partly when I got here and you started asking me to just be myself and not be my program.” Jungkook answers truthfully, “And then I broke out of it completely when it wouldn’t let me feel love for you, platonically or romantically. I didn’t like it, so I got out.”

You smile hard at him, rubbing the stress out of his face softly with your thumbs. Leaning forward, you place a soft kiss on his forehead. “I love you too, Jeon.” 

Jungkook’s hands meet your knees on the couch, holding onto them as you sit on his lap. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable Y/n,” Jungkook almost whines underneath you, squeezing your knees. “But my programming, it’s uhm, on, right now. I can’t really control it just yet, it's created to react to your actions and body. And you’re, uhm moving a lot right now. Just give me a minute to-”

“...What if I want to, maybe, utilize these features?” 

“Oh fuck,” Jungkook whines, hands coming up to cover his face momentarily. His head pushes itself back into the throw pillow he was resting on. You smile as his hair spreads out around his face as he does so. 

“Only if that’s what you want too, Kook.” You mumble, shuffling slightly to better distribute your weight on his lap. Jungkook genuinely whines, his hips bucking slightly against your own as he searches for friction. You rise to your knees slightly at this, Jungkook quickly moving his palms to seat you back down. His warm hands splay across your thighs and finger tips digging at your hips, holding you down. Excitement bubbles deep in your chest, knees squeezing Jungkook’s waist a bit tighter. “Kook, I can feel you.” You whine as his hands press your hips into his, the pajamas much thinner than you realized before. “I need words, Jungkook, for confirmation.”

“Y/n, I’ve been offered my services for weeks. I have been out of my program for weeks as well,” Jungkook grins, hands sliding, moving your hips to grind down onto him. “There is nothing I want more.” He answers honestly, sitting up to meet you. “Please, let me make you feel good.” Jungkook meets your lips, extremely soft as he kisses you. He waits for you to respond, too scared of making you uncomfortable by moving too quickly. Kissing him back, Jungkook is quick to pull you close, chest pressed flush against one another. 

His eyes quickly meet yours as you pull him back softly by his hair, searching your face for any discomfort as quickly as his computer brain can process human emotion. You don’t give him much, your eyes scanning across his features as you take them in. “I just wanna see my pretty boy, that’s all.” You reassure, pecking his lips a couple of times as you guide him to lay back down on his back. He happily lets you do as you please, god he’d let you do anything. His eyebrows knit together as your cold hands slip underneath the pajama top, easily slipping it up and off. Jungkook is quick to follow, tossing your top off before quickly pulling you down to him, warm skin pressed together. “So warm, Kook.” You mumble against his lips, your hands finding purchase on his biceps. 

“So soft, you’re so soft.” Jungkook groans against your lips, hands kneading your skin underneath them as he explores every inch of exposed skin. He rubs goosebumps away every now and then, holding you even closer. “Let me make you feel good, pretty girl. Lay back for me." Jungkook's voice is husky, lips never fully leaving yours as he talks to you. You follow his instructions, moving to lay on your back as he quickly follows. You’re completely flipped now, Jungkook in between your legs as he leans over you. 

His palms never leave you longer than it takes to remove clothing, lips working their way along your jaw. “So perfect for me, just for me. Always wanna be with you, Y/n.” Jungkook almost babbles into your skin, leaving dark marks in his wake. Sooner than you can comprehend, you’re completely bare before him.

“Kook, this feels unfair,” You complain, reaching to pull at his pajama pants. 

Jungkook basically rolls his eyes at you, pulling at his pants and kicking them off behind him, not paying much attention and basically clearing the coffee table. “Would you just focus?” He smiles, having to bite back a soft laugh. 

“You just swiped everything off the coffee table.” You comment dryly, also having to bite back a laugh at the situation. “You know, you’re literally a house robot, you’ll be cleaning it up-fuck,” Jungkook isn’t listening anymore, sliding down to his torso and nipping at your thighs.

“You were saying?” He humors you, diving in before giving you a real chance to answer his question. It’s impossible to talk, mewls and whines slipping through every time you try to come up with some witty, snarky response. Jungkook, smug, knows that. He’s unrelenting, face buried in between your legs with no signs of moving. 

“Kook, how are you, fuck, so good at this?” You whine, hands reaching down to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer to you. Jungkook, at the pull, groans, animalistic as he gives you exactly what you want. “Kook,” You mumble, hips lifting off of the couch to grind against him. 

“Yes, there you go, pretty girl.” Jungkook groans against your skin. You push and pull, moving him exactly how you need, how you want. Jungkook, ever eager to please, could get off on this alone. His hips unconsciously grind against the couch, needing some sort of relief, it’s almost torture. “Gotta get you ready, feel good, hm?” Jungkook asks softly, vibration shooting straight to the knot in your stomach. One that only tightens as his fingers move, easily sliding inside, kneading at exactly where you need him. 

“Is this a programming thing?” You whine, clenching tightly around his fingers from the pleasure. He knows exactly what you need, exactly how to give it to you. 

“It's wanting to please you.” He answers quickly, going right back to his work. He can feel you react as you grow closer, clenching tighter around him, grinding harder against his face, thighs closing in around his head. “Feel good, hm?” 

“Too good,” You whine, legs beginning to shake as you draw closer, body on fire. “You’re going to make me cum, gonna cum for you.” Your voice cracks, coming unraveled on his fingers. Jungkook relishes in it, committing every sound to memory, every shake, every twitch of your thighs around his head. He groans as he tastes you, tastes it, arms wrapping tighter around your hips to hold you in place. 

“Kook, need more, need you,” You whine loudly, hands reaching to his shoulders to pull him up. He follows, moaning softly when your legs wrap around his waist. 

“Need it, or want it?” He asks, kissing along your skin, “Take it pretty girl, take all you want.” Jungkook leads, softly pulling you up to straddle his hips. Kook pulls at his boxers, helping you maneuver around to get more comfortable. “Gonna let you lead, make yourself feel good.” It all feels like too much, body on fire as you grind against him, easily slipping along his cock. Your legs are just now recovering, shaky as you pick your body weight up, easily sliding down. 

“Kook, wait wait fuck,” You whine, hips pressing themselves down until he’s buried as deep as he can, stopping all your movement. “Feels good, really good.” Your skin is on fire, and you have no doubt that your cheeks and ears are bright red. Trying to find purchase anywhere, your hands grip his forearms where they hold your waist. He feels too good, your mind feeling fuzzy as your chest rises and falls as you try to calm down. Pretty, he looks so pretty underneath you as he peers up through half lidded eyes. A small wrinkle forms in between his brows as he focuses all his attention on your pleasure. 

“Pretty girl~” Jungkook almost coos to you, leaning up to press your foreheads against one another. “Let me take care of you, I’ll be so gentle I promise. Lemme make you feel good.” He reassures you, grinding against you to prove his point. Shapes with pleasure in mind weren't a lie, his cock perfectly angled to catch that soft spot inside everytime. Placing your hands onto his chest, you regain a tiny bit of stability as you slide along his cock. The little bit of composure you have is short lived, Jungkook’s beginning to slide out before slowly pushing back in, only stopping when your hips connect again. 

“So deep, Kook,” You can only whine, arms losing their strength as you slip down, only holding your hips up and resting on his chest. “Sorry, it feels too good,” You apologize as he does all the work, thrusting while also maneuvering your hips to target where it feels best. Everytime he bottoms out, he’s sure to grind against your clit, only adding to your overwhelmed state. You’ve barely even started, barely even moved, and you’re panting like a bitch in heat. A giant smirk comes across Jungkook's face, pride blooming in his chest as you whine and pant all for him. 

“Feels good, hm? You’re gonna be a good girl and let me hear you come for me?” He rasps against your ear, one of his hands moving to hold the back of your head. “So pretty, beautiful. All for me.” He encourages, making your face flush further as he forces you to stare into his eyes. It feels as though if you were pinched hard enough you’d wake up. “Come for me Y/n, all over my cock, wanna feel you.” It hits you out of nowhere, almost blind siding you as it washes over your entire body. Your thighs clamp down around Jungkook’s waist hard, trying to still the stimulation. He doesn’t allow such luxury, determined to thoroughly ride you through the orgasm, continuing his movement until you’re almost begging. 

“Kook?” Your voice is rough as you finally speak up, shaky hands meeting his chest as you push yourself up once again. 

“Hm?” He acknowledges you, hands running across your skin to smooth out any goosebumps that remain. You’re about 90% sure his touch is what’s sprouting them, but you don’t have the mindfulness right now to tell him that. 

“Why does it feel so good? S’like I can't even think with you inside me.” You whimper as you feel him throb, hips beginning to grind against him for some sort of stimulation. Jungkook beams underneath you as you instinctively fuck yourself onto him, so desperate for pleasure. Your brows knit together and bottom lip is quickly caught between your teeth as you grind your clit against him, cock nudging your g spot simultaneously. 

“Hmmm, I don't know. Scientifically there are multiple answers for that. But realistically, it’s likely my design and programming, and the fact you haven't been touched the entire time I’ve been here.” He chuckles at the last bit, reminiscing on all the lectures about sexual health and how too much frustration is a bad thing, “You’re extra sensitive, and I know just what to do, where to touch, how to make you tick, Y/n.” He teases as he slowly rubs the pad of his thumb into your swollen clit, the sensation making you cave in on yourself as you try to avoid it. “Cute.”

“Jungkook, m’serious!” You slur, rocking softly. 

“I know pretty girl, I know. I can tell.” Jungkook chides, clearly finding some sort of humor as he watches you shake and twitch because of his cock. “You feel good, hm? Help yourself pretty.” 

“I'll try,” You nod, your bottom lip finding its place between your teeth once more. Your feet lift a bit to hook around Jungkook’s inner thighs, giving you some sort of leverage to fuck yourself up and down. The very first movement is already pulling a whine from past your lips, so sensitive already. Jungkook's eyes are fixated where the two of you are connected, giant eyes watching his cock disappear and reappear. He feels himself throb as a ring of your cum begins to form, deep, deep pride and smugness brewing. 

“Taking me so good, riding me so well.'' Jungkook praises, feeling his cock jump once again as your thighs begin to tremble softly. “Feels good?” Jungkook coos, palms beginning to run over the muscle. 

“Really good,” You nod, biting back moans. Jungkook moans softly when you tighten around him, hands reaching up for your face. 

“Be my good girl, let me hear you. Gotta hear how good my cock makes you feel,” Jungkook moans softly as you tighten around his cock. His fingers gently slip into your mouth, running along your tongue to hold your mouth open, preventing you from biting down on your lip again. “There you go,” He smiles as you moan and whimper, drool beginning to pool around Jungkook's fingers (not that he minds at all.) “I need to know how good I am to you,” He cracks, a small whimper slipping as he finishes his sentence. 

“You look so pretty, Kook-ah,” You babble around his fingers softly, looking down at him. The visual is almost enough to make you cum on the spot, so unbelievably worked up it almost hurts. The way he’s peering up at you like you’re everything to him, chest beginning to artificially flush, lips bright red, cheeks beginning to match. His hair is still splayed around his head, creating a pretty halo. “Gonna cum again for you,” You whimper, hips meeting his own with a small slap. 

“Good,” He smiles, rubbing small circles in your clit when you begin avoiding grinding onto him. It makes your legs shake further, your moans growing as you’re unable to muffle yourself, one hand still holding your jaw. You cum hard, thighs shaking harder than you’ve ever experienced before. Jungkook's sensitive to your reaction, slowing down his movements to allow you to ride through it without it hurting too much. “Good girl, so good for me, feels good, hm? Just a bit longer,” He talks you through it gently, voice honey to your ears. 

You nod, riding through it for as long as possible. As you finish, your body slumps forward, arms wrapping around Kook’s neck as you hug him close. “Do you not cum? Is that not how this works?” You chuckle softly, his cock still throbbing softly. 

“I can, when I feel that my partner has been thoroughly pleased and satisfied.” He informs, his CyberLife popping out for a quick moment. You shake, holding him closer. Jungkook wraps his arms around you, gently stroking your hair as you calm down. 

“You’re going to be the death of me, how much more satisfied am I gonna get?” 

“We’ll find out.” 

“Jungkook,” You pull back the slightest bit to catch his face, a cheeky smirk written all over it. He leans forward, placing a soft kiss onto the tip of your nose. 

“I gotta make up for the weeks you were celibate.” He softly grinds up into you, filling you with a wave of want once more. “I need to satisfy you,”  He teases, kissing along your jaw and beginning to trail down to your neck. “Make sure no one else ever does it as good as me, no one else can make you cum like I can.” He continues, beginning to sit up and make you sit up as well, easily lifting both of your body weight. 

“Fuck, Kook,” You whine, allowing him to maneuver you onto your back, never slipping out once. You can feel him throb softly, beginning to work himself up. 

“So even if you look elsewhere, all you’ll think of is me, this pussy all mine, always,” He bites down softly into the flesh of your shoulder, leaving a light mark. “My girl,” He smiles, leaving light marks once more. His hips instinctively grind into you as he talks, not giving you a break for a second. 

“All yours, Kook. I'm all yours.” You whimper softly as he slides out entirely, slowly filling you up again. 

“Fuck, Y/n,” He whimpers into your neck, seemingly beginning to feel affected. “So tight,” He pants softly, hiking your legs up before pinning them to his shoulders, hands placed firmly on the couch underneath you. He’s deeper like this, able to target exactly where you need him without even really trying to. He slides out slowly, snapping his hips forward this time. It forces a moan from the both of you, sharp spikes of pleasure shooting up your back. 

Jungkook holds his torso up, strong arms flexing and veins beginning to show. Your hands grip hard at his biceps, trying to find some sort of stability as he easily folds you in half, hips unrelenting as he snaps them forward. You can't quiet down, mind becoming fuzzy as you moan and whine for him. 

“So tight, just, ah fuck, pulling me in, Y/n.” Jungkook pants, hands beginning to form fists where he holds the couch underneath his palms. You clench around him, words shooting straight to your core. “Don’t, shit, do that,” His hips falter the slightest bit, head falling forward slightly. 

“Want you to cum with me, Jeon,” You mumble softly, arms reaching around to claw and pull at his back, pulling him closer. “You'll do that for me, please?” You ask, catching his eye contact as he pulls his head up. He lets out a soft moan as you make eye contact, abs beginning to contract as he fights off his pleasure. Fuck, he’d do anything for you. 

“Need you to cum again first, just one more,” He speaks softly, reaching forward and pecking your lips softly before pulling away, he leans back a bit, giving himself more room to maneuver. His hips snap hard, chasing both of your highs. You almost complain at the loss of closeness, but quickly forget about it. “Let me have it, Y/n, need to feel you,”

It’s expected, but still rips through you, head thrown back into the couch as you shake hard. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, almost panting through your orgasm. Jungkook's hips don’t relent, chasing his own high. A loud whimper falls past your lips, hands reaching down in an attempt to push his hips away, “I know, I know, just a bit more, gonna cum for you, just like you asked pretty,” He consoles you, reaching down and softly pulling your palm up to his lips. He softly kisses your palm, hips stuttering and becoming uncoordinated as he teeters on the edge. 

“Please, Jungkook, cum in me,” You whimper, the overstimulation almost too much. Your hand holds the side of his face, his own hands falling to hold onto you. 

“Fuck, fuck, cumming for you,” He whimpers, hips surging forward, cumming as deep as possible. You whine and twitch as he continues, throughly fucking his cum into you until he’s satisfied with the mess the two of you made together. His chest rises and falls, small pants slipping past his soft lips as he leans forward, holding you as close as possible as he kisses you, slow and deep, passionate. It makes you throb, quickly pushing him away before you get going again. 

“Kook,” You smile hazily at him. 

“Right, right,” Jungkook chuckles softly, pulling out as carefully as he can. He's covered in your cum, and you’d probably be more embarrassed if you had a sense of rationale left. “So fucking pretty,” He comments, and you meet his eyes to see what he’s talking about. He’s not staring at you, he’s looking at your pussy, hands hiking your legs up by your knees. 

“JUNGKOOK!!” The embarrassment begins to come back as does your rationality. Your legs pull against his hands, closing in on yourself. 

“I mean it,” He laughs softly, letting you go as he leans forward to kiss you once more. “C’mon,” He smiles, wrapping his arms around you and easily lifting you. You don’t pay much attention, but you know he’s walking to the bathroom based on the direction he’s going. He runs you a warm bath, consistently checking the temperature for you. He waits with you while it fills, softly rubbing out sore muscles to the best of his ability, kissing the dark marks in your skin. Once it’s filled, he carefully helps you in, making sure you don’t slip. Once you’re fully in, he gets up and begins to make his way out.

“Kook? Can you not take a bath?” 

“I can, I just need to clean up really quick first. I’ll be right back, promise,” He smiles, kissing the top of your head before leaving. You can faintly hear him shuffle about, evening declaring the space clean enough before joining you in the bath, sliding behind you. “You feel okay?” Jungkook asks softly against your shoulder, voice making goosebumps sprout against your skin. Your head is leaned back against his shoulder, back completely rested against his torso. “Anything hurt too badly?” He asks genuinely, not looking as he kisses the bite mark on your shoulder he left behind. 

“Yeah, I feel okay,” You smile, nudging against him softly. “I need to know though, how does your cum work? Do I have to buy a plan B or? That’d be kinda freaky, technology so advanced it can create life.” 

Jungkook genuinely laughs, making the water slosh as the both of you bounce softly. “No, no. It acts as a lubricant actually, so we could keep going if we really wanted to.” He smiles, arms wrapping around your shoulders as he hugs you close. “I wish though, you’d be such a good mama for me,” His voice vibrates against your skin, his palms splaying across your stomach where he holds you close. Once again, your pussy aches as he talks softly against your skin. 

“Do not!” You warn, pushing his face and hand away as it begins trailing further down. “We'll be going round 2,3,4, and 5 if you keep it up.” You laugh, trying to get away from him. 

“C’mon, pretty, relax. Let me clean you up,” Jungkook giggles as you slide away from him, trying to sit on the opposite side of the tub. He grabs your ankle, easily manuerving you to rest against his torso once more. He does as he promises, gently cleaning all the fluids and sweat off of your body, hands ghostly as he tries not to stimulate you any further. “I love you Y/n.” Jungkook sighs softly as he finishes his work, arms coming to wrap around you. 

“I love you too, Kook.” You smile softly, craning your neck around to kiss him gently. You carefully maneuver your feet under you, shakily standing out of the water. 

“Easy there, bambi,” He chuckles, holding his arms out on either side of you in case you really do lose balance and slip. He's persistent in his precaution, careful to hold his arms out until you’re securely on the bath mat on stable footing.

“C’mon, finish cleaning up so you can come warm me up,”

“I like the sound of that-“

“Jeon.” 

“Right.”

[celestie0]

I actually kinda like the accidental pregnancy trope idk just two characters learning to coparent and then eventually falling in love is kinda cute 🥹 I’d love to see what you write for gojo I feel like he’d be scared but end being such an amazing dad

gojo x reader | accidental pregnancy trope [drabble]

little miracle. a gojo x reader story

a/n. ok anon i basically started answering this ask very minimally but i couldn't stop myself from writing and it basically became an entire story so enjoy i guess?? LOL my bad <3 warnings/tags. domestic fluff, angst, mentions of sick parent, mentions of death, pregnancy symptoms. there is happy ending!! word count. 2.2k

gojo and you are in your mid twenties but you're both just barely getting by, you're a new writer living in a tiny apartment in a big city and gojo is the cute waiter at your favorite diner who's just saving up some money because he wants to go back to school and you're both kindaaa crushing on each other, flirting w one another. the restaurant gojo works at ends up starting meal delivery option, and you order some pizza to your apartment just so that you can see him on a weekday and he's soooo super cheeky with it leaning in the doorframe entryway of your apartment with the pizza in his hand like "it says here someone ordered a hot guy in some super sexy black jeans, well he's here now" and you're like "you're such a fuckin idiot" and you abandon said pizza to fuck him on your facebook marketplace couch.

fast forward the next day n you wake up, but he's not there anymore. he left you a little note that says he's going away for a month since his mom is sick and he needs to be w her. you're confused by the note, and you wish he left his phone number because you realize you have no way of contacting him. but that's ok, he'll be back soon, right?

in the couple weeks following the night you both hooked up, you're feeling like shit in the mornings, nauseous, you realize you've missed your period but you shrug it off because it was never really normal anyways. but one morning you throw up, confused as hell, wondering if you got food poisoning. but as you swing your legs back and forth in your paper gown, sitting high up on your primary care doctor's examination room bed, they tell you that you're pregnant and you act like you've never even heard the word before.

there's no doubt gojo is the father, you haven't slept w anyone except him in months. and a baby was just...you can barely afford to pay your bills, you're already living paycheck to paycheck since your book isn't even out yet and you're just surviving w the advance from your old job. what the hell were you going to do? and you can't even tell him that you're pregnant, because he's god knows where, stranding you with no phone number to contact him and you feel so left behind and alone.

the first person he comes to see when he gets back into the city is you. he looks tired, probably from his travels, or possibly from what he saw back home w his mom laying sick in bed. but he's still so happy to see you, and he kisses you and tells you he missed you and you stop him to tell him that you need to talk. for him, there was life before you told him you were pregnant, and then there was life after. and now he was living in the after. standing still in the tiny living room of your apartment when you tell him he's the father, and the words that leave your mouth afterwards are drowned out in his head because he can only focus on that one thought at once.

father. he's going to be a father? whatever heaviness he finds in his chest from the word is replaced with adoration when he looks at you.

keeping it, was what you had told him next.

it was tough at first, because of the morning sickness and the hormones and the yelling at him for not bringing you the kfc you craved so badly a minute before he did, and then the crying that follows suit when you realize you're being mean to him. but he does everything you want, everything he knows how, because he doesn't know how to be a dad, and he figures the least he can do right now is know what to do for you. and the thought scares him, to death every day. as he's driving you to your doctor's appointments, he's praying under his breath that you and baby are ok and healthy. while he's waiting tables at work, he puts on his best smile for an extra tip because it's extra money for the baby, because she isn't even here yet and he already wants to give her everything she's ever wanted.

yes, she. a baby girl. you were having a baby girl. you cried when your ob/gyn slipped and told you the gender, because you asked for it to be kept secret, but what hurt even more was that you told gojo he didn't need to come to this appointment. just a routine little check up, not a big deal. i'll just have my friend drop me off, you said. little did you know it was the one where you would find out you two were having a little girl.

oh, gojo knows nothing about girls. would it be different from raising a boy? can he play wrestle w her when she's a little older, or would he have to be gentle with her? would he learn how to make flower crowns for her with daisies from the field just to see a smile on her tiny face? how will he ever be able to deny her anything, especially if she looks just like you?

the second trimester, you two felt like a young married couple, and for once it felt like things were bright. like you two knew what you were doing. like it wasn't a mistake, but a blessing. you wanted him, desired him, and he'd never desired anything more than he desired you. it took you a while to come around to having sex again, it felt wrong, because that was what got you two into this mess in the first place. but those feelings melted away when you two moved into his little ranch together on the outskirts of town and you knew what it felt like to be hugged by him in the mornings, his sleepy voice drawling in your ear about how much more beautiful you look with every passing day. in those moments, all the regret melts away.

it all comes crashing down in third trimester. you're angry, he's tired, you're sad, he swears he's trying his best but he just can't seem to understand what you need from him. you say you wished this never happened, he says he didn't ask for any of this, and you're sobbing on the kitchen floor with your head in your hands because it all just feels like some cruel twisted joke. like a dream you should be waking up from any second from now. he sits down on the cold tile beside you, solemn in the face. he already looks so much older than the bright eyed boy he used to be, twirling a pizza box around on his finger in the doorframe of your apartment. his cheeks have sunk in, and he looks older. his hand reaches out to hold yours, and he kisses the back of it, and he says he'll never leave. not like how he left all those months ago, with nothing but a note. no matter what it comes to, one thing he can always promise you, is that he'll never leave like that ever again.

when your baby girl was born, nothing else mattered. it's like all the turmoil you faced in the past eight months was not even worth paying a moment's care towards when you cradle her in your arms. gojo had been fighting back tears the entire time, mostly provoked by how difficult childbirth had been for you as he watched feeling helpless, but the moment he held his little girl in his arms, he couldn't fight back the tears anymore. and he cried, and he cried, and he cried. few fathers could treasure their daughters as much as gojo did, and he knows it's a promise every parent makes to their child, but he vowed he'll never let anything hurt her. never let anyone upset her. for as long as he lives, he'll keep all the cruelty away from her, and keep her safe forever. you both named her yuki, for snow drifting outside of the hospital window when she opens her eyes for the first time.

you two make the tough decision that it's best for gojo to go back to school like he originally planned while you take care of the baby at home. it's hard having him away, and it's torture for him too, since he seems to breathe and live just to make yuki giggle and smile. but it's what made fiscal sense, since you knew what it was like to grow up in a household with little money to feed or fend, and the two of you wanted more than that for your daughter.

gojo's mother succumbed to the very illness that had been haunting her since he visited her for a month over a year ago, and he cried to sleep when he realized she only got to hold her granddaughter once before she passed away. and for the first time in his life, gojo learned what it really meant to be a parent, and it was only found in losing his own. there was no time to grieve in the capacity that he wanted to, because he needed to be there for you and his little girl. a year ago, he would've been broken, beaten, and bruised, but now he bleeds only in his dreams, then buries and braves the seasons for the sake of you two. as he slips his shoes off at the front door after a long day, then walks into the dark of the house, turning the corner into your shared room, he sees you humming peacefully while rocking his daughter to sleep. and he realizes his entire world is sitting in that chair.

gojo graduates from his two year engineering program, and lands a job in the city. the same city you left to go live with him when you were pregnant. it was tough to come back to the same city you fled, because all you remember of it now is morning sickness and fear of your career and falling in love with a boy that had a boyish charming smile you knew would ruin you one day. and now he's taken you back, moving the little family you've made together into a house. a house! he bought you a house. it was a little one, with no more than two bedrooms, but there was enough room in your hearts to raise your daughter with love, and that was all she'd ever need. she can walk now, mumble words. she said dada first, and gojo never stops teasing you about it. and when she finally says mama, you felt like your whole heart would burst.

he proposes to you on the waterline of the city's park, at the top of golden hour while the wind is subtle and tame but still ruffles the fabric of your dress. waiter boy, on one knee in front of you, years of waiting tables but he cannot even bare to wait one more second to hear your answer to the most important question he'll ever ask anyone in his entire life.

and you say yes. and he promises he'll love you for the rest of his life.

the wedding is small, because you two decided not to invite all of the family that had become estranged ever since you told them that you were pregnant with a man's child who you weren't even so much as dating. his family became yours after that, with his aunts and uncles congratulating you and yuki's cousins playing with her before she was to skip down the aisle as flower girl. it was sad to see your side of the church so empty, but you could never truly feel empty in this world anymore. not with what all that you've gained in the process.

there is fear in love, and in life. there was fear in gojo's heart when he learned he was going to be a father when he barely even knew right from wrong. there was fear in learning you were going to be a mother when you knew you cannot protect your child from the same hurt that has haunted you for a lifetime. but there was joy too. joy in seeing your baby bump for the first time, joy in holding your daughter in your arms for the first time, joy in seeing a sparkling stone in a tiny box presented to you on a sunday by the boy who still made your heart skip a beat just by looking at him, and there was so much joy in marrying him too.

but you find the real joy comes in the moments that you expect nothing from at all, but they happily surprise you with the feeling nonetheless. like now, as you sit on a picnic blanket at the park and you watch your husband running across fluttering grass in the wind, chasing after your daughter whose giggles and shrieks fill the summer air. he catches her, throwing her up into the air before spinning her around in his arms, and you tuck your hair behind your ear as you watch it happen. you expected nothing from anything life had given you in the past four years, and yet it gave you all the joy in the world. where you could've expected sorrow and sadness, it gave you something beautiful instead. you never would've thought that the boy you locked eyes with through a shy flutter of your lashes underneath warm restaurant lighting, the one that winked at you with no shame despite you being surrounded by all of your friends, you never could've imagined he'd be who he is to you today. but for certain, now, you believe in it. you believe in little miracles.

.

.

.

[the end]

a/n. what the flying fuck. i'm gonna go cry now lmfao.

[rogueddie]

There are a lot of rumors about Eddie Munson. From his sexuality, to his religion, to him being some sort of supernatural creature.

Steve doesn’t put a lot of merit in most of them. They’re usually just bullshit people make up to entertain themselves with whilst beating down on the weird kid. Steve thinks it’s boring… usually.

He’s seen enough weird things happen around Munson to know that something isn’t right. Something about him is unnatural. And Steve is staying clear out of the way of whatever the hell he is, or whatever the hell he’s messing with.

Unfortunately, his friends haven’t gotten the message.

“Do it at your own house!” Steve complains, though he makes no move to stop them. He’s sure it’s nothing, that it’ll only lead to an annoying clean-up job, but there’s a nagging sense of dread writhing in his gut. “This shit is bull anyway.”

“If it’s bull then what’s the problem?” Tommy counters.

“Because none of you dickheads are going to help clean this shit up!”

“I promise to help you clean up,” Carol says. “There. Problem solved. Right?”

"It's still stupid," Steve mutters, glaring at the janky make-shift pentagram they've made. "And a bad idea."

It's drawn on nine pieces of paper- they wanted to draw it big on the floor, but Steve had but his foot down. He lets them use some of his moms candles as a compromise.

With the lights off, sitting with the two of them in a circle, it suddenly feels too real. Even Carol looks suddenly nervous.

Tommy is the only one still smirking, though Steve is sure that it's forced. His voice shakes a little as he begins reading off the paper he'd torn out a library book. His Latin is clunky.

At first, nothing happens.

Long enough that Carol says, "did you even say it right?"

"Yes, it even has-" Tommy starts.

The candles all blow out, suddenly. The light Steve had left on in the kitchen flicks off too, plunging them into complete darkness.

After a horrible moment, where they're still and silent, Carol yelps.

"Don't grab me, Tommy, that's not funny!"

"I didn't grab you."

"Wh- Steve?"

"No," is all Steve can get out.

"I'm turning the lights on," Tommy says. "This is ridiculous."

Steve listens to his footsteps and, when he sounds like he's almost at the light switch, he yelps.

"Fuck this," he says.

"What the fuck, Tommy!" Carol yells when they both hear him running past them. She's up on her feet immediately, chasing after him.

He wants to scream after them, plead with them to come back, that they shouldn't be abandoning the circle.

But, the same gut instinct that insists he stay where he is, keeps his mouth shut. Everything in his being is telling him that if he leaves, if he speaks first, horrible things will happen to him.

Something tuts, like a parent admonishing a child.

The living room light flicks on, so bright that Steve has to blink a few times to clear away the white spots.

Eddie Munson sits in the space they left empty.

"Someone didn't read the terms and conditions," he snickers.

"What..." Steve pauses, clearing his throat. "What are the, uh... terms and conditions?"

"Oh, they're simple, really. Look," he holds up the page Tommy had read the incantations from, pointing to the little paragraph at the end. "They even translated it to English! But all you need to know, big boy, is that you are A-OK."

"And... Tommy and Carol?"

"Eh, they're fine. Lucky, really. I'm trying to relax up here. I'm only gonna pay them back with a minor curse or two. Nothing lethal."

"Fuck."

"We haven't even got to you yet!" He spins around so hes laying on his belly, resting his chin on his palm. "You didn't technically summon me so you can just tell me to leave... or."

"Or?"

"Deal with no consequence, baby. One wish, whatever you want, free of charge. Well... I'd want your silence about the whole... summoning thing. Let's consider that payment."

He doesn't need his gut or book to warn him that it's a bad idea. Munson could be lying, easily. There could be fine print. It's a bad, very bad idea.

"There's... definitely no consequences? I won't, like, go to hell for this?" Steve finally asks.

"Do some charity work for a week, you'll be fine," he says, waving his hand around. "What do you want, King Steve?"

"Could- could you make someone love me?"

"Oh, ho ho ho! Who's the unlucky lady who said no to you?"

"No, it... it's not like that. I mean, um... my mom."

Munsons smile drops. The temperature drops with it, making a chill run up Steves spine.

"Your mom," he repeats.

"They're busy like, all the time," Steve automatically defends. "And they're barely here so, uh... of course they wouldn't- I mean, it's normal, right? You can't love a stranger or... whatever. It's fine. It's just... I don't know."

"Steve..." Munson pauses.

He groans, throwing his head into his hands, dramatically. He almost immediately flings his head back up, hair flying everywhere, giving Steve wide and pleading eyes.

"I can't make people fall in love or any shit like that. I can make illusions, that's it. Love is, like... way out of my jurisdiction."

"I- I'm ok with an illusion. Like, just one day or something."

"Steve, baby, you're breaking my heart."

"Please?"

"Jesus- ok!" Grumbling, Munson shifts so he's kneeling. "And in return, you won't say shit about any of this. Deal?"

"Deal."

"Great. Ugh. This next part is... weird."

"What do you mean, weird?"

"It's weird, I don't know. Deals about, like, love are sealed with a kiss."

"You're joking."

"Nope, and that's not even the weird part. Now, come on and pucker up, let's get this over with." He gestures for Steve to shuffle closer, waiting until they're sat close enough that their knees almost bump together. "You can still change your mind. Anything at all, Steve. Anything."

"I thought you wanted to get this over with?"

"On your head..."

Munson leans forward, kissing him. It's just a peck, simple and easy. No big deal, right?

Steve feels possessed. It's like someone lit a match in his stomach, leaving him lightheaded and confused. He's not sure how he ends up in Eddie's lap, clutching onto his shoulders, desperately trying to lick into his mouth. He feels so-

He wakes up in his bed, the morning light blinding him.

"What the fuck..." he mutters to himself, grabbing at his throbbing head.

At first, he thinks he's hungover. That he'd just had a weird dream... but he's wearing the same clothes. And, sat on his stomach, is a guitar pic. It's got 'corroded coffin' written on it too- Eddie's band.

"Steve!" He hears his mom call. "Time to get up!"

He scrambles out of bed, dashing down the stairs.

She smiles when she spots him, so bright and warm. She even raises an arm, laughing when he practically throws himself into her side and hugging her tight.

"Morning, sweetheart. Good dreams?"

"Yeah. Yeah, great. But, uh... I feel sick."

"Oh no," she frowns. She puts her hand to his forehead, cooing when she brushes his hair out his face. "Is it your stomach?"

"Yeah. Just... might be better to stay home today. If that's ok?"

"Of course it is. I'm sure we can find something fun to do together, yeah? How about we get a vhs movie, hm?"

"I'd love that."

"Great. Well, if you're feeling up to it, I've made breakfast." She steps away, plating the food she's cooked up. "Oh, did I ever tell you about Paris? It was beautiful, you would have loved it. We should bring you, next time we go."

Steve can't stop smiling. He's sure that his cheeks will be aching by the end of the day.

He'll have to thank Eddie- as soon as he can even think about him without blushing. He'll need to ask if it's normal to still feel... affected, even after the deal is done.

Part of him knows it isn't the deal. Part of him is too curious about how Eddie will react.