#don't let the reality of this world break you down

[gangplanksorenji]

Magnitude

Pairing: LE SSERAFIM’s Chaewon x Male Reader ft. ITZY’s Yeji

Word Count: 13,912

A/N: Hallo again Orenjideul! I don't know what or who possessed me to write this yet here we are. Thanks to @kooyabooya for betareading and the insights! Enjoy reading and hope you like this one! god this is the longest i've ever written i would need some nice hibernative lobotomy right after.

A sequel to Pulchritude

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“Wait, this feels good—what’s happening?”

You’re in this lucid state, feeling everything is written to your own fate—you have the pen, writing your own story onto your own book yet this one feels different, and it’s more than this reality.

You break into this trance, cracking the code and guess what, the culprit was just a meter away, and down to your southern peripherals.

A faint blur distracts you from your drowsy state, far from regaining the peak state of your senses as you involuntarily call her name and hear her little chuckle. You wouldn’t expect waking up to such a delightful sight and moreover, making yourself closer to the edge.

“Hope you didn’t mind this—sorry for waking you up…” Yeji’s gaze shoots a primal instinct up in your spine, an instinct somewhat close to arousal as you quickly regain your senses to assess the situation that’s been happening.

“Hah—you’re clearly in need, Yeji.” Your voice feels raspy that usual and it’s no surprise. She smiles while still maintaining her eye contact, knowing that there’s no world she wouldn’t agree with. 

You’re in a vulnerable state, laying down as she audaciously coursed its way towards your nether region and it was clear what her need is. You could only succumb onto the pleasure she brings in every flick, twist and inevitable kiss. Her mouth never fails to amaze you and with such overwhelming factors with her expertise, it didn’t become long before your hands found the ginger blur and surprisingly, she stopped you from a leverage that just made everything fall down into utter deprivation.

It is the best of both worlds: shooting up gratification up your spine and inability to handle the situation better through a defenseless state, her body poised to assert control over you.

“No—not now—” Yeji’s hands were fast enough to stop you, and you could only utter a symphony of moans, mouth slightly agape as she continued her prowess. “—relax and let me do the work for you.”

Those words latched with lust and it illuminates on those very eyes of hers. You know this will be a long day full of secrets and surprises and for sure, it will be.

---

It’s probably the addiction that settles within her, unable to make herself deprived from the taste of you and you just succumb to her control, feeling every nerve in you invigorated with her pleasurable maw.

She takes it all and it earns a moan coming out of you, Yeji gleefully taking it as a signal to even elevate the experience and god, she doesn’t disappoint. She glides her mouth all throughout your length, glistening it with her spit and slobbering over it like it’s her last meal. There’s something about the way her pace compliments her techniques—not too fast, not too slow and focusing on how you derive pleasure, not hers.

You’d never get tired of this.

“God—fuck, that’s great Yeji…” You moan and she takes it as a compliment, dancing her tongue all over that insatiable muscle, never withdrawing and ultimately pleasing. 

You run your hands throughout her ginger hair, opting for leverage for her immaculate display of talent as she pulls up another trick that makes you weak—fondling those balls dying for a release.

She releases, and drives her attention onto those, suckling each one as she strokes your cock, making it hardly stiff and it throbs with the cool air the room permeates. You uncontrollably elicit streams of groans and pleas, calling out her name as the pleasure is stimulating you up to your limit and thankfully, you’re able to cope and fight.

“I’d need to start off the day with one hell of a breakfast.” You heard it loud and clear, and she’s not going to play, making up for the sluggishness she's shown earlier, taking you hard and fast and that was your breaking point.

You can’t even acknowledge everything she probably said as your sensitivity increases, feeling her simple touch could break you at any given moment. Her rapidly bobbing picture falls a little blur to you, just totally focused on succumbing onto the pleasure and you fall down deeper into the abyss, her in full control.

She looks at you, seeing your eyes closed, mouth able to just repeatedly groan makes her smile evidently even with your length fully plunged inside her tight throat. Her hands work like magic, around your spit-sheathed length, putting you up in a spell where you’ll ascend in no time and you can’t fathom how she’s great at everything like this—it’s heavenly sinful and rightfully wrong, because you could just feel her mouth parting away from your head and you don’t want it to end like that.

You surely hit the jackpot meeting a girl like Yeji, perfect in every inch and ultimately talented in various ways, mostly regarding the intimate scope of things but you could just assume there’s more to know about this girl. 

She gives you another chaste kiss, making you shudder in response as she utters a proposition you can’t properly decide, and it’s not helpful with the way her hands glide with such a moderate pace and the constant fondling of those balls that’s needing to be drained.

“I have options for you—thinking really opportunistically here, y’know?” Yeji’s elbows rested onto the mattress, laying onto her stomach as she didn’t stop her strokes, eyes gazed onto yours as she demanded an answer. “Would you want me to finish you, right down my throat or… ride you until you spill everything inside me—your choice.”

You’d die for a woman like her riding you like it’s her last, feeling that weight on her slam against you as she does all the work but you can’t miss out of that heavenly mouth of hers—she possibly have sucked you for god knows how long but it’s your drug that you can’t get enough.

Even with a clouded mind, the verdict was clearly decided without any hesitation.

Partly missing out of her expected tarnation with her walls clenching around you for like the third time, you utters words that seals the deal. “Your mouth, Yeji—can’t get enough of it.”

It was crystal clear and she didn’t waste time parting her lips against your swollen head again, clearly hungry for your taste as she enthusiastically thrusted herself with a pace unparalleled than before, full on the throttle. Her hands rests onto your thighs, a leverage for a greater velocity she’s evidently consistent of, not turning back as she knows how you’re getting closer to the promised land.

“Such t-talent you have there, Yeji—fuck!” And it was predominantly factual, your compliments simply fueling her for more as she works both her hands to stimulate whatever she can—those aching balls, ticklish touches and her tongue dancing around was a great element of utter gratification.

You melt under her touch, completely indulged to the pleasure as her eyes widen, feeling your persistent throbs a sign of your nearing orgasm and she doubles her efforts, hollowing her cheeks to emit a vacuum that elevates the pressure, driving you onto the edge with pace. With her commendable performance breaking your reservoir loose, you call out her name and this time, it’s different and it’s primal call for your utter need.

“Yeji—Yeji, I can’t t-take it any longer…” She knows this and she utilizes your exasperated state in bliss, not even responding to your words as she plunges her mouth deeper, nose flushed onto your abdomen as you groan beautifully. The signal was a carnal call of delight, releasing every spurt down her walls as she gags repeatedly because of it, fighting the urge to withdraw but was unsuccessful in the end. She chokes a little, coughing a little of your cum before her fingers catch it, not wasting a single drop and tasting it with a face so sullied it makes it even harder.

Her idyllic visage showing her ultimate work being a complete mess wins it all, and her day has never been better and it’s just the start of it.

“Thanks for the ‘breakfast’ you gave me—its taste never fails…” Of course it never does, fingers licking signifying utter satisfaction on Yeji’s end.

You know she swallowed it all, like the good girl that she has been all throughout the time you’ve met her. She continued cleaning you off, tongue swirling in every centimeter aiming to tidy the mess she made as her constant slurps derives the sultriest moans in you. The sensitivity is on the roof as her touch is kryptonite and with your softening cock, she knows her business is now over and let the both of you appreciate each other’s beauty for another time.

“You’re crazy at that, Yeji.”

Yeji chuckles, smiling sincerely enough to make you in awe as her crescent-like eyes accentuates her striking and beautiful face. “I just can’t help it—I already missed the taste of your cock.”

You shake your head and laughed a little, her words making you feel butterflies as the feeling are mutual, but you needed to really start the day in an acceptable fashion and can’t stay all day fucking each other’s brains out. 

“You know what, Yeji? Let’s actually get some real breakfast.”

“Yeah, you’re right…” She stands up, and away from the bed as you follow, raising your shorts up as the both of you get yourselves ready for another day, sun greeting you out as it shines once you open the window.

You never thought this would be such a riled-up start, yet you won’t complain if it’s the Hwang Yeji that greets you, the first thing your eyes would see.

---

It was surely such an exhilarating way to kick off your day, commencing her with the sloppiest morning blowjob (maybe minus the morning, it’s actually the sloppiest she’s ever been, and even your whole life) and a delectable breakfast, and it’s worth remembering as she earned her place. Hence the invigorating and promising fragments of an experience meet the inevitable obstacles, your own endeavors and your mind going in circles around it and it’s time to kill the cat for that curiosity, as they say.

You just end up on her balcony, frantically uncomfortable about the fact that she’s still not texting you—you’d say you overthink too much, but it’s a natural state of mind when it comes to being cognizant.

“Come on, come on—pick up the damn phone…” You let out breaths of impatience, tapping your foot as the constant ringing of the phone in your ear puts you in an anxious situation.

You can’t possibly wait for more hours until it’s the afternoon or whenever the sun sets because of anticipation and desperation. You walk around in circles around Yeji’s balcony as the constant ringing still lingers onto your eardrums and eventually, it ends up not in your favor.

“Why won’t she just answer my goddamn call—”

“Hey!” Yeji gleefully calls you behind the sliding door, slightly ajar as she seems worried with your agitated demeanor. “You should probably just give up on who you’re calling to—it’s been like seven minutes?”

“Yeji, this one is important.” Your voice is stern and composed but it wouldn’t break her thoughts of interrupting you.

“More important than me?” You heard her loud and clear, merely a meter away from her and that tone just exudes the spell you can’t quite fight: submission and breaking your temptation.

As much as it hurts to say that both sides are as important as it is, your soft side tends to prevail, sugarcoating a response that wouldn’t hurt her. “Both are, Yeji but like, now is not the ti—”

She closes the door gently, then inches closer towards you with a reassuring stare and caresses onto your shoulder “Come on—don’t stress yourself that much…” She then motioned herself onto your back as your eyes followed her movements, gazed fixated onto hers as her mouth inches near to your earlobe, whispering words of abstaining yourself to further tension. “Because you know what can happen if you are overdoing yourself too much and it won’t be great for you.”

She has a valid point and you’re in this state of recollection with her words of wisdom. Her slight massages on your back with her hands eases up the built-up pressure you’ve had since minutes ago and with a quick conclusion, you know she is right. “Yeah, hah… you’re right—I’m just—I just want to know what’s up with her.”

“Her?” Yeji’s seductiveness quickly fades from a piqued expression, curious about who you are calling and who she is. “Who’s her? Is it your girlfriend? Oh fuck—I’m sor—”

“Hey, hey, it’s fine.” You stop Yeji with your reassuring tone, gesturing to calm her down and there’s nothing to worry about. Such a roller coaster of events unshackled within seconds and with the tables being turned, you can’t help but feel to let off a little chuckle, and it’s even ignited with Yeji’s furrowed eyebrows and worried face of hers. “It’s really hard to explain, y’know? But just don’t worry that much about her, okay?”

“Yeah, okay… Also—” She nods before that, then Yeji’s countenance shifted onto an evident curiosity, feeling that her nerves are connecting the dots too well. “Was she the girl I saw you with at the bar yesterday?”

You almost forgot that you would totally steal glances with her at that time, luckily all being unnoticed by Chaewon (if she even cared if you caught glances with her coquette nature yesterday). You’re impressed with her adaptability to assume things that’s almost right, and there’s nothing to lie about with the given skill of hers.

“Yeah, she’s her. It’s nothing much though—we’re literally just friends.” It's a double-edged lie that you’d live with anyday, mostly on these times without a favorable conclusion to enclose onto a selected status. Like you said, her role in your life is pretty complicated in ways you can’t even explain and you won’t make yourself a burden to dissect every detail to Yeji.

Even if you had the chance, you won’t really bother to.

You dismissed the current topic and just continued to admire her pulchritude. Your stare could melt her as she smiles with a genuine lace of joy, then kissing the nape of your neck as she opens up about an experience. “Yeah, okay—I’m sorry though ‘cause like, you’re too hot to the point that I can’t resist you.”

Looking over your shoulder, her siren eyes probably does wonders over you and with that stare, you just can’t help but do the same. “The feelings are mutual, Yeji.”

You then face her and cupped her cheeks, initiating a torrid kiss that was fueling your desires over her, and they won once again. She quickly reciprocates and deepened the kiss, feeling such entanglement that yearns for need and gives out such pleasure. Your hands involuntarily seeks its way onto her waist, and her hands onto the back of your head, feeling the tension growing before pulling out of her embrace, breaking the trance which earns a definite whine escaping her lips. 

“Why’d you pull out?”

“Sorry, Yeji—” As much as it hurts to stop, you would want to as there are more endeavors important than this, and you’ll hope she understands it. “—I’ll meet someone this afternoon and I gotta go home and get myself ready.”

Yeji lets out a sigh, her hot breath brushing on your nostrils as she meets you eyes one more time, glowing with sincerity and understanding about the possible situation. “I don’t need to bother you for more time then…” 

You smile, relieved she won’t bear much of a nuisance to make you expound your reasonings. “Sorry again, Yeji—I’ll call you whenever all of this is over.”

Yeji paints a sly smile, the latter sending her limbics into delight and anticipation, knowing that you’ll be connected with hers as soon as you can. “Yeah, sure—just don’t stress that much, hm?”

It’s perplexing with such a thoughtful development over the span of hours since you met her, maybe of the reasons rewarding enough to be cherished or the intimate inkling deepening within the second. You fix your jacket, nodding reassuringly as you waved goodbye and mouthing the words See you soon before you close the sliding door.

As you were leaving her room and out of her place, you can’t help but think of what you’ve done with her yesterday and earlier this morning. With an emotion unparalleled from ever before, you let out little laughs and words of still and evident bewilderment. 

“She’s insatiable, it’s crazy.”

---

Thankfully, there wasn’t anything distracting you while driving your way home, not even the fact of a mental battle on keeping both hands on the wheel, eyes on the road while a slobbering mess is between your legs (this was supposed to happen and this was just a delusional imaginative outcome, but to your defense, you weren’t ready for such a risk costing more than what you could fathom).

Preparing yourself for what’s bound to come, you take some time to reflect on what you’ve been into—a mess worth indulging in, barely able to clean it up since the second it was ruined. As you were spraying that strong-scented perfume up the collar of your polo, your attention was diverted onto the buzz of your phone which to no surprise, is her.

kim_chaewon at 1:57 - “Meet me at the hotel where I told you to go and say the room number I told you to go, under my name, to the concierge. 4 PM, sharp and don’t you dare be late.”

Glad you have enough time for preparation but deep inside, you’re a bit conflicted on why she would send such vague details and tell them late. Well, it’s maybe of the twists and games she loves to play against you, and you won’t be surprised if she does call you and say something stupid—

“Ah shit—” Chaewon is calling you, and you knew this was going to be part of a well-written plan of hers. You know how things can boil down into the toxic pit of selfishness and need, and you can’t quite escape her leash because of you being the puppet under her string and it’s incredibly unhealthy—you want her, no, you fucking like her and her attitude wouldn’t stop you from proving her why you’re worth something more than what she’s used to see.

“You better stop calling on times like that—you know I’m still on my beauty slumber, tch.” Chaewon’s irk laced within her voice through the phone is evident and it was nothing less than expected. You gulp nervously as she lets her temper out within the phone and knowing it’s becoming too annoying, you wouldn’t sip your mouth and let her be as commanding as she is.

“Chaewon, I just wanted to ask you about it!” You raise your voice, fed up as Chaewon falls silent. You count to three, then swallow, feeling the instant regret with what you’ve done. “God, I’m sorry but you can’t keep me hanging on a thread like that.”

“What are you even trying to prove? I’ve already texted you about it, didn’t I?” It is true, but you’re trying to point out things that will probably develop her uphill and knowing her skull is as hard as titanium, your words aren’t able to penetrate through her brain to register and listen. 

You can’t fathom why you liked her in the first place, feelings probably mutual as it was deemed to be such a wicked relationship that’s even confusing. She wasn’t yours, yet but it’s only a matter of time before a verdict comes up, marking Chaewon as your territory and yours only. The roads you’re tackling stresses you out, considering how you grew something with Yeji and how divergent these are, making you suffer yet your mind yearns for both of them, can’t quite compute and let go of the other.

You are the problem, but they’re a drug you can’t quite stop to take.

You fall silent and Chaewon asserts her dominative approach with your lack of response. “See? You should trust me sometimes; I wouldn’t fail you as much as you don’t fail me. See ya’ later, I’ll even make myself appear prettier than what you think…” 

The latter is true—even if she doesn’t say so, her beauty is off the charts, alluring at its best—and somewhat, the former should be reconsidered for a while. Even with an unreadable mind that Chaewon possesses, it’s natural to be skeptical with her ways of controlling you (somewhat) but sometimes, you have to think optimistically and trust her. You’re just gaslighting yourself into thinking that she’s maybe right in every way, even if it means to dive you into a risk.

You faintly say your goodbyes as she hangs up immediately, letting out a breath as you’re punishing yourself for such a minimal act of regret. “Well, I shouldn’t have done that but this should be fine…”

As you should, it’s not a big deal on her end possibly and she’s not that kind of an immature, selfish woman that would take your little outbursts like something as a threat.

---

The staggering heights of the buildings around made such a metropolitan experience complete, and it’s even elevated with the luxurious ambiance the hotel exudes as you went inside it, the lobby doing wonders to enthrall its guests. 

You wouldn’t really waste time being in awe with the glamorous chandelier or the exquisite art the tiles have because you have a goal in mind: meet her at the designated time, not a second off or sooner. 

You roll off your sleeve, fixing yourself by a little as you advance towards the front desk, approaching the concierge as he meets you with a smile in which you subtly appreciate.

“Hello, excuse me—yeah. Room 018, for Ms. Kim Chae-won?”

His eyes widened, even enthusiastic as he was more eager to help you as soon as he heard the number of the room. “Oh yes sir, a presidential suite? I’ll just check the room again for further security and… may I get your name?”

You then say your name as you wait patiently, the concierge tapping onto the screen multiple times after he informs you that you’re now able to access the room. 

“And you’re set, sir! Here’s the card and that will be on the 40th floor.”You then thank him as he gestures a bow, uttering the words Enjoy, sir as you take the elevator hurriedly, tapping the buttons and getting in it as soon as they open.

You’re not going to sugarcoat it—you’re nervous. Feeling it onto an extent underlying anticipation more than the deterioration of confidence. It was a natural instinct when discovering new heights, and you reassure yourself with that given fact within the second you’re a floor higher. It was quick, less than a minute since there wasn’t a stop and you could only sigh as the elevator dings and opens.

You traverse down the corridor as the signs help in which way the rooms are. Left then right, walk a couple of steps and there meets the lair of the vixen—the room where anything could possibly happen, every achievable outcome that could possibly come into life.

You knock at the door, signaling your presence as you unlock the door with the card the concierge gave you, and there she is, at the other end, in all black of an outfit, facing opposite from you as the dark bob accentuates elegance and sophistication, before spinning her chair and welcoming you. 

Chaewon looks at the time on her phone, raising an eyebrow as she leisurely nodded. “Not too bad for you, hm? Take a seat, please.”

You then walked your way inside, aiming to sit on the couch as soon as she glared with a subtle gesture of her head, uttering something, “No, sit here—beside me.” Her index finger points onto the tall stool at the center table besides hers and you advance towards it, then facing her, your eyes scanning every inch of her impeccable features.

This kind of wardrobe is new to your eyes, and it’s a sight to see a refreshing set of fashion that was clearly unfamiliar at most times—you’d say she’ll almost let a skin on her exposed whenever she dresses up and will almost make herself look hotter than hell. You’re always vocal when complimenting her and you wouldn’t impede such flowery words from spilling out of your mouth. “God, Chaewon, this fit looks great on you—it truly is.”

She smiles with your words, you eyes telling the truth as she stares at them and of course, this is the best way to start the day with her. “Of course I do—” She proceeds to make a move, standing up, drawing herself closer to you as her eyes dart towards your chest and onto your eyes, letting you know how much she appreciates you being here even though it’s barely vocalized. “You look great too, honestly.” 

Chaewon’s close—dangerously close, inches away as you drown onto those alluring eyes of hers, getting lost into the dark abyss it holds and your next move wasn’t surprising to say the least: your hands making its way towards the hem of her blazer, and onto her slender, tight waist as her hands stop you, lips parted as she shook her head lightly, enough to bring you the message. “Well, that’s reserved for later—”

“How so? We’re already here—”

She interrupts you with an audible shh, smirking enticingly as her disposition is clearly ambiguous, and you can’t quite tell where she’ll indulge you. “You’re still up to my test—we’re still not done and you’ll have your reward when you’ve proven yourself.”

“Prove myself? Aren’t those enough of a statement?” You’re in little disbelief, shaking your head as you feel your efforts yesterday weren't enough and she knows it. 

Speaking of that, you should probably ask her about what you’ve done yesterday, assuming she might have eyes on you secretly that you weren’t aware of. You’re probably deluded to think about how she could do that to you but yet again, Chaewon’s that kind of girl.

Possibly set aside these thoughts and snap yourself into reality with her words. “I’ll just say it again—we’re still not done, am I right?”

You sigh, embracing defeat as her point is valid and true, and you won’t break the rules nor a promise between both parties. “You’re right, Chaewon, okay?”

“Of course I am.” Hubristically speaking, she knows she is right, even if you admit her confidence was doing the talking. She then distances herself from you, seating on her stool, picking some grapes for her plate as she munches on them, then inviting you to join her. “Help yourself here; grapes, juices, water or some biscuits—anything that can treat your hunger.”

You’re in little disbelief and hypocrisy, unsure on what she’s implying “What? I’m not that hungr—”

“Hey—” Chaewon shows a discontented demeanor, knowing lying through your teeth wouldn’t help you nor defend anything. “—if your stomach ain’t yearning, screaming for it to be fed then I wouldn’t say that otherwise.”

She draws the plate of grapes towards you with her hands, raising an eyebrow, signaling you to get some and help yourself. You wouldn't say another no because she knows you’ll be lying again, so you picked a couple and tossed one in your mouth, feeling the sour and sugary essence of the fruit revitalizing you, little by little.

“You’ll need energy for later—” Chaewon says, as she takes a sip from her glass full of some blueberry juice, looking at you with a seductive intent. “—and this—this will be a long day, for both of us.”

You’re clearly in the mood to set up a fire between the both of you, imagining the possible futures within both your accords—mostly Chaewon’s, but you won’t be bothered by that. “For now, you gotta help me shop for a—”

“Wait, Chaewon—” With all the introductory endeavors set for the both of you, you interrupt her with simple words that have been ringing in your brain since yesterday. “—may I ask you a question?”

Chaewon scoffs a breath, eyes interested with what you’re going to ask her. “Go on.”

“According to the text yesterday, how did you know?” It was straightforward, a little vague but she got what you’re asking her. It’s flummoxing knowing how she can act like a prophet but in reality, it wasn’t, and you’d like to know the reason behind such an act.

“Ahh—that?” She sips again, exhaling a fresh, fruity breath as her tone is more vibrant but still laced with her usual elegance. “Well, it’s a simple trick up my sleeve and I know you wouldn’t find suspicion through it.”

You scrunch your eyebrows by a little, a little confused on what she’s implying but you thought of a concept. “Did you just wait for me outside? What does this me—”

“Well, here’s the thing: I pretend to leave the bar and you didn't even notice if my figure was behind the door as soon as your eyes darted for someone. I watched from a distance, disguising myself against the flickering lights the stage provides and the dimness of the surroundings—” Chaewon leans into you, closer as your lips are inches against your ear. “—and I watched the both of you.” And then after that voice of her tickling you slightly, sending shivers down your spine, she leans onto her stool, but not enough for her to fall—just balanced. 

“That’s all? Could never know you can be such a voyeur—”

“Not really and yes, I like watching people go all out while I just sit there and let them unveil their true nature. Well—” Chaewon clears her throat, fixing her blazer and she isn’t done, her doe eyes hypnotizing you, making you listen under her dulcet voice. “—I saw the way you talked to her, those subtle glances and fun between your words was enough to make a conclusion—you passed the test. As soon as the both of you got up to your seats, went up to the balcony with god knowing what you'll do to her—oh…” She gets up again from her seat, facing you closer with her head slightly raised and there her breath tingling against your lips, brushing against your nose. “I know exactly what you would be up to. I wouldn’t waste my precious time watching you even from afar and let yourself be redeemed with what you can do.”

Your eyes are just fixated towards her, earning a little gulp from your throat due to her intimidating demeanor. “You’ve impressed me ever so slightly… And let me ask a question in return.”

Still inches away from her, you would just embrace what she’ll ask as you’re not in any authority to decline what her lips may escape. “What is it?”

“Did you fuck her?”

A question enough to stun you, reek fear within your skin as you can’t decipher her—it’s your kryptonite: her nuanced emotions unable to make your wonders be applied in certain situations. Was this still part of a test? Did she read your brain easily to come up with an assumption too right? It is an aligned possibility, these questions will be answered by her, and it’s for you to embrace it.

“Fuck… her? Why would you think I f—”

“I asked you a question—” Chaewon sips another desirable amount of that liquid, before smashing the glass a little too hard on the marbled table that made you feel a little nervous. “—didn’t I?”

Yes. Chaewon asked a question and all you need to do is answer it, plain and simple. You can’t dodge the mere thought of detouring the topic or even at least acting oblivious—the little shivers on your bottom lip says otherwise, and the defensiveness of your tone doesn't help with your persuasion. “But h-how are you even sur—”

“Okay, you don’t need to tell me anything anymore and don’t worry—” Chaewon’s hands caresses your waist, feeling a little tingle up onto your groin as her touch enables you into a reassuring plane, fending off the stress out of your body as the latter words falls right onto your ears. “—I won’t even be mad if you did it because I know you did and god, she’s pretty and sexy. Sometimes, you gotta be studied, y’know?”

Chaewon is steps ahead of you, as lying was too obvious to be kept shackled. You’re still unsure, feeling a little tick in your brain saying that she’s maybe just playing games with you and her emotions aren’t as sincere as you thought it would be as soon as she said those words.

“You’re not mad? Or anything?”

Chaewon sighs, a stoic expression paints her face as you find her deceiving and confusing. “So you admit that you fucked her, hm?”

“I didn’t say that I—” Chaewon’s fed up with your lies and she had to do something if she wanted to make a word for herself. Shutting you up with her hand, your eyes widen as you try to writhe, but you know that’s putting a nail to your coffin, and just being immobilized is the way to brush this off. Her disappointed and infuriated stare towards you earns another struggling gulp from you, which she took it down as a sign of asserting her dominance. 

“Another lie, I’ll make you see who the fuck I am.” It was churlish and candid, and you just nod in response, fearful that another volcano may spew out its anger. She smirks in total control, as she releases her hand onto your mouth and impressively, she returns onto her intimidatingly stoic and sophisticated demeanor, then continuing what you interrupted earlier. “Shall we explore and shop, hm? I’ll even treat you if you want…”

Of course, all you can do is nod and utter, “How could I resist that?” in which she likes and it’s genuine with her smile.

She’s right in every way—this day would be long for the both of you and you’re ready for what's about to come.

---

Expensive bags, new shoes, fashionable clothes, exquisite dinners and kilometer-long walks around the malls could never go wrong and all so right. It was a time well-spent between the both of you as it’s been a while since you’ve had some wholesome moments with her, even just in the slightest bits of it. 

This was just the tip of the iceberg because she has more in store for you, and a great way to end the night is in another place where it concludes down into madness, and it’s just the best of both worlds. 

“Really? In another club, Chaewon? We’ve been onto something like this yesterday…” You’re a bit disappointed it will all end up on this note, probably walking out with a drunk-dazed state and the absolute predicament: you having to carry Chaewon out because of such a drunken state you can’t tell.

Let’s just hope this thing of hers never meets that fate.

“Hey! It’s pretty great here honestly—I heard their snacks are top-tier, so I wanted to try it and let me tell you, yesterday was a bar, not that.” Chaewon corrects you and persuades you with all her might and you, a puppet, can merely do anything to reject her advances and honestly, she’s maybe up to something you can’t quite tell. 

“Same thing, Chaewon—”

“Hey it’s not! Also—” Chaewon tiptoes a little, brushing her lips oh-so close onto your earlobes as her breath whispers, “—I wanted to try something, in correlation to my final verdict.”

Well, if this is what it takes to prove yourself, then maybe you just need to embrace it.just need to ride with her highs.

“Let’s get in—I already reserved a seat for us both.” You then follow Chaewon, showing an actual identification card to the bouncer and traversing towards the dim hallway where the fun begins, and it’s already lingering within your eardrums with the ebullient sounds of such music. 

You anticipate with what she has in store, in full trust under her own accord as here it goes, an adventure of a lifetime.

---

You wouldn’t say an adventure, moreso, a memory but this one is audacious, risky and adventurous. Chaewon’s advancements towards elevating an experience is merely a branch in boredom, but rather, a connection towards amusement—her brain somewhat makes up such exhilarating events to be experienced, most likely in ways unorthodox to others.

The common noise didn’t get your sense preoccupied, taking onto the mouthwatering cheese-flavored nachos, crushing two pieces of it and licking your fingers due to its flavorful taste, then averting your eyes towards Chaewon as she calls your name. “What is it this time?”

“Enjoying the food, hm?”

“You know, Chaewon?” You fix your seat as the boisterous music distracts you slightly, a little bothered but that doesn’t faze the fact that she’s heard things right. “You’re right as I think about it—the food here is delicious. You seem to be enjoying your drink a lot, huh?”

Chaewon chuckles a little as she covers her mouth, flipping her hair as her features astound you, elegant even with her subtle actions. “Of course, a tangy and sweet cocktail could always go right—no doubts.” She then takes a hurried sip, the concoction hitting just right as she feels refreshed and satisfied. As the both of you are comfortable eating, a thought in your brain ignites, a shard from the earlier remarks that was left unattended until this very second.

“You said you wanted to try something, right, Chaewon?”

Her pupils dilate, lips slightly parted as she places down the glass down the table, and piques her total attention. “Oh well, about that…” She places down her purse on the table, crossing her legs as she shifts onto her smug behavior, confidence seeping out in every breath she exhales. “We gotta take this somewhere else—somewhere no one can see us.”

Those words alone were a fragment of utter lust and anticipation and you can’t miss that out. Her aphrodisiac tone was enough to invite, moreso her gestures that concluded the start of an act. 

You smile, a slight one laced with expectations defying heights. “Lead the way then and I’ll show you something too.”

You’ll let her but you’d like to finish anything first so you’ll have enough energy left in the tank, if it goes the other way you’ll expect.

---

It’s probably the climax of the music that was faint on both your ears, the room sequestering the background noise enough to avert your attention towards her. You take a moment to scrutinize her features, every inch a candy to your own liking.

Your hands finally ran onto her waist, caressing it a little as you eye on her with such admiration. “This outfit is just too good for you, Chaewon.”

Chaewon chuckles, and the both of you meet eyes as she replies with your piece of a broken eulogy. “You’ve said it for like ten times—you really liked it, huh?”

You shook your head, letting her know there’s more for her to be aware of. “No, Chaewon—I fucking loved it—everything—I won’t shut up about this.”

“But you can make me.” Her breath shudders once you hold your other hand onto the hem of her pants, feeling the curve of her butt inviting you to fondle it deeper but you resist, just how she wanted for now. 

“I’ve always wanted to say this for a long time now and for your final test…” Your eyes scintillate in lust and excitement, feeling her words will line up to the thoughts you’re thinking. “Break me.”

Break her. 

Seven letters, two words, numerous implications that can underlie an ambiguous approach that could always defy expectations. Here’s the thoughts you managed to come up with: either she wants you to break her in half (metaphorically) with your cock or break her usual classy, sophisticated demeanor.

Both can be applied, and it’s up to your own accord since you know you’re in control right now, Chaewon slowly submitting to you.

And it wasn’t even a second before she couldn't resist herself—you’d just feel her swollen lips meeting yours, entangling into such fervor no one can match. The taste of her lips is succulent and you're addicted to it—the apple-flavored does wonders, but it’s mostly the fact about the delightful chemicals messing up with your brain, optimistic and yearning for more.

Her arms rest on your shoulders, as yours caresses her waist, feeling every inch of her porcelain skin and how smooth it is everytime you caress it. It was a little platonic at first, but when you reciprocated deeply, you know there’s more than that and she knows it.

It hurts, but she needs to pull out to catch her breath and to clear her headspace because this wasn’t part of her plan—it was evident she got carried away, her actions tell those otherwise.

“Why the fuck do you always kiss me so good?”

You laugh, an evident hubris on your face that she found slightly annoying but there’s nothing she can do. “Maybe I just can’t help it that I’m kissing the Kim Chaewon. ”

A name worth remembering, and you absolutely will as she’s a remarkable and paramount part of your life now. 

“Shut up—can’t fucking wait to feel you inside me—” She’s impatient, vocally frustrated as you’re not fulfilling her desires. You always know how she always gets what she wants, having authority to make everyone her puppet but this time, the tables will be turned in your favor and you’d be smiling standing on your own ivory tower. “—what are you waiting for?”

“Patience, Chaewon—patience…”

“The hell do you mean patience—ow!” A harsh spank brings sting onto her, enough for her to feel and for anyone to hear but it’s muffled thanks to the clothing of her pants that you’re dying to undress. “Look at you—spanking me hard now, huh?”

“Yes.” You’re imperative and stern, gaining authority over her slowly as she’s starting to snap herself to reality. “And I wouldn’t hesitate to do so because I know you like this.”

You know she does, even loving it as it starts with her biting her lower lip with such a slap was enough for a conclusion.

“God, I always liked this, y’know?”

“Getting handled in a restroom?” 

“Not exactly that—” She inches closer towards you again, looking from left to right as her actions draws attention for you to be all ears. “—it’s mostly the fun of a risk—risking to be caught while I get pounded into oblivion.”

You sigh, a sinister smile curling your lips as this fetish of hers is somewhat amusing, to say the least. “You wouldn’t mind getting caught? Let the world know how much of a slut you can be?”

Here’s the thing: you’re trying to prove a point here, risking a reputation for the people who don't know you is somewhat important in a way, knowing how privacy can still be important so you’re skeptical of the repercussions of her own lustful nature.

“Don’t worry—” She tilts her head slightly, flashing a genuine countenance which reassures you slightly even with your venomous words that unleashed your other corrupted side. “—all of these fall down into a clandestine ending—just the both of us, nobody else, just us.”

Well, you’re pliant under her spell and you’d like to make her taste with your own medicine yet with all of these, you’re easily persuaded by her. There’s no other way to start such a spectacular act with her words of a green light. “At least getting your cock wet would do such a wonderful thing, won’t it?”

You hitch a breath, agreeing on what she’s about to show as you trust her expertise. “Of course, now do your wonders, Chaewon.”

She pauses, raising an eyebrow as she is probably hesitant with your profounded commanding nature. Of course she’s not used to this, but you’ll love to make a blissful introduction that lets you know that you’re deserving. 

“At least undress yourself for m—ow, ahh, what was that?” It wasn’t a spank this time, rather an aggressive grab onto her wrists, which caught her off-guard. She didn’t retaliate nor glare at you and it was surprising, since her expressions were far from what you expected: showing a faux class, eyes glistening in lust and fading of her so-called sophisticated demeanor. 

“You do it, Chaewon, but not here…” You point to the vacant bathroom stall for further privacy, and as much as she doesn’t care about it, you wouldn’t agree to her terms and had no choice but to follow your own accord.

She looks onto her shoulder, smirking as she knows where this can end. “Want it tight and confined, huh?”

“Hah—of course—” It's probably your guilty pleasure, a thing that should be addressed more often with her as it has its own advantage in favor of you, and you’ll enlighten her about it. “—so it won’t be much of an effort to handle you.”

Chaewon’s apparent shock at your shift of attitude impresses her, and she can’t wait to see what you can show her. “Oho—then let's get started.”

---

It’s rightfully confined, still enough for the both of you to move and her dexterous hands never fails you, undressing the clothing hastily and onto the cold floor. As her hands traverse its way onto your boxers, she asks for a favor in which you find bold considering the given circumstances. “Please hold my purse—”

“No.”

“No?”

“No—you find a way.” She looks up, annoyed with your own authority and the tone that’s laced with it—like you said, you'll get her used to her own doing, her own medicine. She reaches down to the floor to place her purse, only for her wrist to get caught up at the last second, informing her own what she should follow. “You’ll warm up my cock while holding that, is it clear?”

She rolls her eyes, finally grasping the situation as you get up off her nerves yet you didn’t care, not when she wanted that beast inside you for god knows how long. “Fine, whatever you want—yes…”

With only a single defense ready to be worn out, you fix your posture and prepare yourself for the inevitable. The tent only grew larger as she caresses it with care, dainty fingers tracing the outline as you voice out your frustration immediately. “Fucking undress me, Chaewon.”

It’s probably the first she’s been treated like this and this wouldn’t be the last—you’ll let her know how you work your expertise, wonders in the highest of ceilings. 

She complies, nodding as her hands yanks your boxers off and god, the sight—it’s possibly imprinted in her brain even though the mental image of your length is deeply buried within the depths of her mind. 

You moan, the swollen head meeting the cool air permeating in every corner as her hands made your breath shudder in response. “Now suck it.”

You have the vaguest of clues to open up a reliable reasoning—how is she this obedient under your accord when her touch falls you weak on your knees? It’s contradictory and it’s wonderful, a sight worth remembering as your spell falls effective at her end, parting her lips onto your leaking head that would matter at any given moment.

It’s agonizing, torturous and whatever-the-fuck of an abundance of euphemisms you can come up with and it’s gratifying, up your deepest nerves. Her tongue darts and swirls around the mushroom tip, earning moans that you won’t bother shackling and with a given encouragement, she dives deeper as her pace is more evident. She’s talented and gifted, like what she always said between a sexual tension and she doesn’t lie—her lips enough can make a statement, what more about the set of lips—

That’s stored for later but for now, you need to savor the moment until it lasts.

A talented mouth paired with a dancing tongue is almost lethal, making you unable to think straight as she’s way ahead of your league—possibly in a good way, and you’d like to adapt with her skillful oral intermission. 

Yeji and Chaewon could rival each other in terms of technique and pacing, and clearly, Chaewon’s sets of skills was far from the rest and it doesn’t help that she’s taking you deeper, spit covering all over your length as she pulls out, feeling the hint of repugnance that she most likely despises.

“God—fuck, it’s so messy—” Her hurried slurps marks her apparent modesty even in the engagement of such a sinful act and you didn’t care about it—as selfish as you sound, the pleasure your experience should come out in priority. “—you’re ruining my lipstick mar—gwah!”

It wasn’t a struggle fulfilling your desires, not when she’s talking as your cockhead rests between the muscle of her tongue—she gags a little with your profound harshness as she’s evidently caught off-guard with it. She glares and you don't care (again), not when she ups the ante, pace driven with unbridled lust and little-to-no care about the mess she makes.

“What a fucking mouth you have, Chae—” Grunts, moans and subsequent groans leaves your lips as the pace was just right, swirling her tongue as she thrusts herself deeper. The inevitable drool seeping out of her mouth and it dripping onto her pants is the cherry on top—her mouth is just heavenly and perfectly soiled, just how you liked it.

This wasn’t part of the show, on how messy she is—no, this was a pleasurable accident, clearly written thanks to your own accord. She locked her eyes on you, hollowing her cheeks, bobbing frantically and god, the sight is immaculately sinful as every second that passes feels surreal. 

Possibly, you’re thinking selfishly right now and unable to register some sort of concern and why would you be? This is what she wanted anyways, and you won’t stop her until she’s an indistinguishable, sullied mess of a woman between your legs.

She grips your thigh harshly with her right hand, a leverage as she impale her throat with more of you throbbing length. She’s hungry and slobbering over it and the sight was enough for you to meet an unparalleled demise which you would love to happen in the latter stages. Her technique sets up the standard of a spectacular blowjob and you would reckon she’s the best of them all—she could totally rival Yeji, and your judgment couldn’t be reliable since it’s too biased with her mouth hugging your cock tightly.

She takes you in, whole, nose buried onto your abdomen as gags are apparent and to her own experience, she managed to tame it as she displayed her talent once more. Tears flow down her cheek with her own actions, ruining the makeup she probably spent an hour on but it didn’t matter because it’s gradually turning you on.

“God—f-fuck, that’s just great there, Chaewon.” Her patterns of pleasuring you are somewhat predictable and audacious, clearly deprived of your taste as she alternates from taking you all in and her oral expertise.

All great things must come to an inevitable end, despite how successful it became and you can feel it within you.

Chaewon releases her mouth out of your succulent cock, panting as her face is flushed red, the vicinity of her mouth a seeping mess that compliments her pretty visage. “Fuck—I can’t get enough of your cock, y’know that?” Of course it’s rhetorical as she repeatedly slurps on your shaft, standing up to the words she spilled. 

As much as it hurts to put an end to this show of hers, it would be a great decision as you’re dying to live up to the main climax of events that would be surely worth both of your time.

Well, you guess she likes to dance while she party, but this would be the last dance for the day, for now.

“Chaewon…” You call out her name, falling deaf on her ears as the music of her slurps and slobbering outpowers it. You’d like to make her hear the message loud and coherently, clearing your throat and raising your voice. “Chaewon!”

Her pace gradually slows down, hindered with your voice as she pulls out and meets eyes with you again, back to her unbothered demeanor even though it’s all sullied with her spit and her makeup due to the tears she made. “Dying to fuck me, hm?”

“Get up.” Not even acknowledging her question, you’re straightforward with it, your words enough to build up an answer because she made you feel this way. “Hands against the wall, bend over and don't do anything stupid.”

She’s ready to comply even though there’s doubt permeating all over her—she hates being commanded yet this is her guilty pleasure and you’re glad being on the front row of such a rare find. Rhapsodies of anticipation glisten on her eyes as soon as you meet them into a distant contact, and you just know how much she’s liking this. You detest the confined spaces, the limited movement impossible to experiment on things but this an exhilarating challenge and you can’t wait to start it.

“That should be my line—ow!” Her voluptuous butt gets another spank in which she deeply appreciates despite her glare towards you as she looks back, onto her shoulder. You drool with a magnificent sight of her backside accentuated thanks to the tight, black pants she wore, caressing each side of each which earned a moan coming out of Chaewon’s mouth.

“Strip it out, p-please.” She’s pleading now, desperate for your touch and clearly breaking that class that’s in her. There’s no class in such a sinful circumstance, and Chaewon knows it well, not giving any fuck is she got to be the messiest she’s ever been.

You tease her, darting your fingers slowly to the edge of her ass, tugging the clothing that made her elicit a small whimper, and then teasing your index finger near her nether region. The heat it emanates makes your cock throb, imagining how spoiled she’s been under her garments.

She’s utterly frustrated, gritting her teeth and losing her patience by the second. “What the fuck are you doing—ow!”

“I’m in control here, Chaewon—” You lean on her after another spank, letting her know that all she needs to do is obey as she’s powerless against your own control. “—and I’ll do whatever the fuck I want.”

Her breath quivers, a sigh right after as she’s enlightened enough to shut herself from complaints for the time being. “Okay, j-just fucking strip me please—god, please—ow!”

Another one, striking her twice as hard within your own volition—a choice to punish her repeated protests. She whimpers with your roughness, feeding pleasure through the pain and as much as you don’t want to agree with her, you need to have a sight of those delectable ass and thighs of hers that’s been dying to be touched by you (possibly).

Finding the zipper of her pants, she yelps with your cold touch meeting her skin and as much as she wants to help you, she rests her hands completely onto the wall because there’s nothing that she can do but to embrace the unstoppable force. 

You could only think of the numerous complains she has on her mind right now, and you’re going to fuck it out of her—you live up to a promise, marking your words.

Finally, you peel the clothing off, smoothly undressing it and down to her ankles as you mentally drool over the meal that’s served in front of you. 

Your fingers course its way onto her radiating heat, earning an inviting moan as she’s too easy to read now. “Fucking wet, huh? I knew you’d always be like this around me.”

Chaewon struggles a little due to the pleasure streaming down within her but manages to articulate words with even the hint of elegance and vulgarity. “Who wouldn’t be this fucking wet if it weren’t for that big dick of yours, hm?”

You feed your ego—she’s right, factual as it's evident whenever she sees your promised treasure being savored by her.

You peel off that black-laced thong of hers as the sight of something unexpected surprises you: you could see a black-colored buttplug buried into her ass, the crystalized tip just hanging out nicely and this sight just made everything worse for the better.

You push down onto it, slightly earning a guttural moan from her as the amalgamation of pain and pleasure mix harmoniously, derived and taken wholeheartedly. “Feeling kinky, huh, Chaewon?”

“You k-know me—ahh, fuck, that’s great!” You continue teasing her with the plug, and the other doing an exquisite job between her folds which just puts her in a position of no-return. Clearly there’s no return in her current state: desperate, horny and weak, something that no one could ever take a sight of except you—maybe, only you can make her shift into this kind of façade and it’s outstanding.

“Just put it in, please—ow! Hmph…” Her body fully recoils with your strike, feeling more of that pain because of her exposed white, pristine skin that you’ll love to spoil. 

You would warn her but you know that she knows that she’s making these pleas and a disturbance to your authority intentionally to draw more spanks that just makes her folds wetter, and you can feel it with its constant squelches. 

You can’t tease her long enough because of your growing deprivation and frustration on your side, so with a single hindrance towards a climactic turn, you open your lips to mutter a consent. “You ready, Chaewon?”

“Of course I’m fucking ready for you—ahh—ah, god, oh!” The green light was said sooner, and you waste no time with the given opportunity. Albeit, this wasn’t more of an opportunity, but rather a necessity as this was planned beforehand and there’s no surprise with that.

No surprises but you just had it earlier—what a woman you are Kim Chaewon.

You plunge it deeper, almost up to the hilt as you draw back and slam again, the sounds resonate around the stall which nobody would probably care about. You grip her hips, stabilizing control as you continue your pace. “Chae—this pussy is something else.”

She moans in response, unable to think coherently yet she manages to still come up on an articulate response. “It shouldn’t be surprising a-anymore—you always love the way my walls hug around that big cock of yours.”

It’s mesmerizing to say the least—her words feel like a switch in you, flicking and activating something when the time comes and you love every second of it. You continue your pace, ramping up as time ticks and so is your harshness. You tend to alternate between spanks and thrusts, making her clench tightly around you and wince in pain, biting her lower lip to fight the sudden surge of emotions.

Her repeated cries and encouragement go well together to cook up a fuel that’s raging you to display your fullest potential—each thrust makes her yelp and moan uncontrollably, concerned with the fact that someone may come in and suspect such an activity inside the restroom. 

That didn’t stop you though, hammering her tight cunt like it’s your last and slapping those cheeks to ignite her masochistic side—you love the sight of a reddish mark imprinted on her skin, signifying your rapid harshness that will mark until the end of the day.

“Fuck me just like that—just—fucking—that, oh, oh!”

“Have I proven myself enough, Chaewon?” You need that answer out of her, let her know how worthy you are and how she can find nobody like you and possibly, you probably need to rail her harder than usual with a flabbergasting response. 

“You haven’t make me cum yet—it’s n-not even close yet—”

“Then why are you leaking like a faucet right now? Care to explain?” She can’t grasp the fact that she’s head over heels on you right now, and her denial is soon going to punish her for the time being, but for now, barrage of spanks will do, resulting in a rosy-pink hue imprinted on her porcelain skin that favors up to her own liking.

She continued to moan with your repetitive thrusts, aiming to fuck that egotistic and hypocrisy out of her and let her mind think of you and you only—maybe it’s working, ever so slightly with the constant submission she’s indulging in. You grasp her hips hard enough to probably bruise her, gripping on it in every thrust you do as she orchestrates such a symphony of moans that fuels you to go further.

You’re remarkable with your performance, she knows it and with her defenses crumbling down one by one, she would voice how much she loves this.

“Your—cock, fuck! So good!”

It wasn’t surprising, to say the least. She’s borderline screaming at this point as you hammer your length in her, up to hilt. The blazer probably doesn’t help with your concurrent thrusts, an annoying bit to your end and knowing how much better the sight is with most of her skin exposed, you pull her and command her to undress it and off on the floor, if she doesn't care.

“But w-why? This blazer is expe—”

“Do I look like I give a fuck?” You slap those red cheeks of hers, earning a whimper and a slight writhe on her end, whining about your wants and you’re utterly selfish to see more. She finds your hostile behavior attractive because deep inside, Chaewon waited for this for so long that she never would click her interests. “Fucking remove it—I want to see more of you.”

Chaewon sighs between her moans, placing her purse down to the tank of the toilet as she struggles a little bit due to your recklessness. “F-Fuck—whatever you say…”

She’s swift with her movements, effortlessly removing the nuisance of clothing and off to the floor. You marvel with those sharp shoulders of hers as you latch onto the visible skin, peppering it with kisses as you hiss onto her ear, “This cunt of yours, Chaewon—is perfectly tight.”

She’ll never get tired of your addiction to her tightness, vocally or physically because it’s all that you’ve ever wanted. You continue with your pace, slick covering your whole length and some dripping onto the floor until something unforeseen meets the both of you, and it’s surely a humiliating experience being exposed as one. 

The door creaks as the both of you hear multiple people laughing and singing along, and your reflexes work like a cat, quickly shutting up Chaewon’s mouth with your hands as you stop with your movements, burying your cock up to the hilt. 

Chaewon’s eyes are wide, flushed as your sudden movements make her retaliate a little and let out muffled moans. Her frame reels within your control and you didn’t like this, not when you’re in the edge of risky predicament—they are just a step closer to unveil how much of a slut Chaewon is and how you’re completely wrecking her, and you’d love to make it just exclusive between the both of you, behind closed doors.

Luckily, the lock says ‘occupied’ as the penultimate defense against a force worth intimidating. You grit your teeth, leaning in to her ear as you jeer, “You fucking slut—this is what I’m fucking afraid of—you better shut your mouth and not do anything stupid.”

Chaewon would want to fight you, complain or hurt you just to get what she wants but probably, the switch inside her flickers, only nodding as she struggles to breathe with your hand still covering her mouth. You move your hips leisurely as Chaewon lets out another set of muffled moans, feeling your length inside is enough to meet her own breaking point and you’d love to restrain her sinful sounds between the both of you. 

The ebullient sounds of the people inside the restroom sends your senses elevated, fully aware of how you can derive pleasure as silent as possible and you’re grateful that every noise reverberating around the vicinity of where you are at outpowers the sounds of sex happening inside this confined bathroom stall.

You’d never know such risk would make everything exhilarating.

“I may or may not like this place more now, Chaewon.” You whisper behind her ear with such unfathomable intent, ferocious about the situation as she desperately moves her hips in tandem with your slow thrusts, your hand handling her in place and making your hands as a makeshift cuff around her wrists.

You can feel her nostrils desperately blowing heat and air, aiming to get as much oxygen to release her emotions all throughout your manhandling. You wait for a bit as you stop, keeping your length buried inside her, observing the situation down to its last, minute details. They walked, laughed and seconds right after, the door creaked open and shut, releasing your grip on her mouth, Chaewon catching her breath as she gasped for air.

“Why—hah—why t-the fuck would you do that?” Chaewon angrily asks you, and you hold her in place with another slap on those reddened buttcheeks that just made her whine for the umpteenth time. 

“Because I want to? And also—” You moderately fuck her, then leaned onto her delectable back, licking the sweat off and peppering it with kisses as her walls grew wetter, knowing that she would be close. “—you’re dying to cum, aren’t you?”

Chaewon is silent but her moans, resonating as you didn’t like her inability to respond to you. “I asked you a question, didn’t I—”

“Yes! Yes, just—please, let me cum—”

You won’t stop her, not when you gradually thrusted deeper and hard, her velvety walls inviting you to do so as you can sense her nearing climax, giving everything you can within the last seconds and—

A blissful scream escapes her lips and god, this is a sight.

You pull out within the last second, only to see Chaewon spewing liquid after liquid, onto the floor, spoiling her pants a little and yours. It probably hit her like a train, feeling weaker as she pants in pleasure and sensitivity, her legs leaving her tight frame precarious yet your strength held her to stay still. 

“Gosh—you fucked me so well, huh?” Her pride still ensues even in an post-orgasmic state, and you wouldn’t break a sweat getting it off on her with your cock completely ravaging her again as she continues her words. “Aren’t you dying to cum, too?”

Of course you are, and it’s clearly mutual and rhetorical, but you’ll let her know your own gravitas. “Of course I am but I want it somewhere else.”

It was left behind, completely forgotten but not this time, as your fingers went onto her glistening buttplug, pushing it down as her legs shuddered in response. You thrust the given material deeper as she winces in pain and moans with pleasure. 

Chaewon knows the message well and it’s surely obvious—her little laugh of victory was enough of a statement, and you’ll live enough to fulfill that.

“Of course you always wanted to shove something deep in that hole—probably dreaming, drooling, manifesting—what words should I even u—ow, what the fuck?”

Her garrulous nature is a bug in your ear, clearly annoying yet you marvel with her ability to speak eloquently given the condition—maybe you haven’t fucked her enough to get her drunk with your cock and you can’t lie, she’s a tough woman to break.

As much as you don’t want her words to register through you, you can’t help but agree with her, reading you like a book and is aware of your eyes constantly eyeing her ass as you’re wrecking her folds into oblivion.

You carnally need her, primal instincts taking over you totally.

“Can you just shut your mouth for one second for fuck’s sake?” 

“No. Why would I—ow!” Another is what she gets as you point out something straightforward, clearly yearning for more of her.

Your hands caress that bent plane of her body and then her scrumptious ass, uttering words that are ultimately ravenous. “Do you have any lube? I’m dying to fuck this tight ass of yours right now.”

You’re feral and she knows it all too well. She opens up her purse, and you’re shocked to see a small bottle that contains what you think is pivotal for the latter stages. Chaewon looks over your shoulder, handing you the bottle as you grab it swiftly and immediately avert your eyes onto that plugged puckered hole desperate for such intimate action.

It would be cruel to hand such deprivation towards her just to tease her waiting butt, not when you’re corrupted mentally to do such things no one else would think of.

And you give in, wanting the awaited climax to be worth a memory imprinted in you and hers.

Chaewon wiggles her ass, inviting you to do the unspeakable as you tell her you’re going to remove that plug, easing her anal muscles and there goes the main event. She whines, needy and compliant for you and knowing the methods of yours is empirically derived onto experience (mostly just observing her), you immediately get onto work.

You squeeze a reasonable amount onto your fingers, lathering it onto your entire length, not leaving a single inch untouched and her waiting hole, clenching as soon as you inserted your fingers in and permeating those walls with aiding lubrication. 

Her moans are as pure as honey, sweet and tangy unlike her personality—a duality balancing her as a person and not going to lie, that dynamic is a guilty pleasure.

As you were about to insert your length, Chaewon uttered the words Stop as you ultimately did, piqued on what she had in mind and clearly in the mood to let this through.

“It’s getting uncomfortable here—want you to fuck me against the mirror—”

“Right outside this stall? What if someone barges in—” Interruptions, interruptions, interruptions. Of course, anything could be considered as a risk at this point as you feel your heart skip a beat, feeling this could be the worst and the best experience of your life—best of both worlds and utterly balanced, as someone may say.

“If you don’t want to, then I’ll call this as the end of a note.”

“Fuck no.” It was audacious coming from you as you don’t want this opportunity to be wasted, not when you’re just numerous steps ahead from your victory.

“Say it…” Chaewon’s voice is seductive and it’s making you pliant, akin to your nature earlier which made you think of a choice that’s obviously having an answer in her favor. “Say it to me…”

You lean and your words spit truth. “I’m going to fuck you against that mirror, gape this slutty, tight ass as I make you beg for more.”

Chaewon’s chuckle of triumph falls audible on your ears, and you’ll comply with her needs easily. “Good, now don’t get me waiting.”

---

It is euphoric to say the least, an ounce of energy equals surges of pleasure could never go wrong. This idea of hers can’t help just to aid you, making you even harder and your pace quickening as you pound her harsher against the sink. 

You’d watch her expressions of lust any day, alongside her frame getting railed with a vision on both sides.

“God—I—your cock! Oh fuck!” This is just one of the sentences she utters that isn’t anywhere near being coherent, and thankfully you can listen to her moans instead of her bratty blabberings that result into nothingness. She wants you to be rough onto her puckered hole and you’re entitled to do so, simply because you can easily control her frame right now with your arms in authority onto hers. 

You can sense her legs about to give out, enervated with your constant pounding that puts on a smile on your face, knowing your efforts are getting somewhere and she knows you’ll take advantage of this. The tightness of her snug hole provides is something remarkable—the way it hugs around your shaft hurts and wrings out pleasure, and it couldn’t be any better.

“So—fucking tight, Chae—god!”

“Stretch me out more, p-please—fuck me s-silly—ahh!” It revolves around those sets of words: continuous praises of her ass and your whole length inside it. You release your control of your arms onto her, now gripping her buttcheeks harshly enough for a leverage to opt for a better pace. You hiss as you withdraw and bury more, feeling that inevitable surge of gratification all over you as she aids you with her relaxation of her anal walls. 

You don't care if someone barges in, not even thinking to lock the door and if that does happen, let them have a seat for what will be the greatest performance you’re about to execute.

You can feel that it’s easing up and with her green light, it won’t be a difficult decision to wreak havoc onto that excruciatingly tight yet pleasurable asshole.

“God, please—fuck me until I can’t w-walk—oh shit—fuck!”

She’s a mess in distress, totally within the submergence of your astounding prowess as you bring out an onslaught of thrust, still wincing with her tightness and that didn’t stop you. She cries for you, arms almost giving out with how she grips the sink and with this state of hers, it’s a must to take this mental picture, her expressions shown onto the mirror as a cherry on top.

You throb persistently in every thrust you do and she can feel you getting near but there are words that strokes your ego, making you hubristically out of anyone’s league, matched with hers.

“Gosh—hah—hah, I—oh, l-love your cock so much—holy shit, I’m gonna cum so hard!”

You spank and her walls restrict in regards to your own actions, making you groan with her unparalleled tightness that surely rivaled her pussy. “Cum all over the floor—I’ll help you out, Chae.”

Removing your grip onto her hips, you didn’t waste time rubbing her clit, even inserting fingers onto that sullied cunt of hers and you can feel how wet and near her anticipated orgasm is.

It wasn’t going to take longer than what you expected—clearly close and to the point of no-return, you thrust your fingers in tandem with your thrusts, earning a guttural moan (mostly a scream at this point) from Chaewon and there she goes, fully sent onto the state of a blissful trance.

She’s tighter than earlier and you can feel it, clenching repeatedly as she pants and catches her breath because of such stimulation. Picture this: Chaewon extending her weak arms onto the edge of the sink, both holes clenching as she chases her orgasm and another fountain of that colorless liquid spurts onto the floor. She squirm under her climax, legs relentlessly shaking as you hold her in place, continuous with the extension of her high as she lets out cry after cry for more but to no avail, not all things lasts forever.

She rode the high and recovered quickly, pleading you to continue ramming your length into her and to constantly be rough on her, knowing she could take it well. “Don’t s-stop fucking me—fuck me until you paint my insides white.”

She’s struggling for a bit, groaning as you never backed down nor increased this pace—it is just right, ultimately filling her up to the brim and mixing up her insides, as someone would say.

Your cock is persistently throbbing for god knows how long, dying for an euphoric release as sweat drips down on her back, opting to lick in an inch yourself closer to your own high (maybe some praise onto that skin of hers would elevate you into an heavenly ascension). Knowing how dangerously close you are, you become a primal instrument of lust, relentless and selfish with your movements as every oscillating movement sends the both of you into overdrive.

You didn’t utter a word yet an audible moan as you bury deep inside her, painting her inside white as she clench with the warmth it brings, a stream of subsequent saccharine moans leaving her lips as after you’ve spilled everything inside her, you pull out slowly and you’ve probably broke her. 

The both of you exchanged breaths as you can see her snug hole drip some with your orgasm, completely lost in the trance as she snaps you back to reality, words invigorating you as a person and your senses.

“Oh s—shit… You’ve fucked me so well—” Chaewon’s legs shudders, sore from the fucking she took as she reaches for the buttplug and gave it to you. You know what to do with the plug you have in hand, inserting it inside her puckered hole that’s probably stretched out thanks to you, and she can’t help by gleefully smile, her blissful visage clearly a sunshine between the darkness you’ve unveiled and the dim lights the restroom provides.

“It would be a waste if I’ll just let your load drip on and spoil my pants, y’know?”

You’re mute and clearly exasperated, leaning against the wall of the bathroom stall as Chaewon turns around, facing you as she’s evidently limp and your eyes quickly lock onto hers. “Got nothing to say?”

You part your lips, a breath escapes as you utter, “I never knew this idea would work—you’re crazy for this.”

Chaewon laughs as she lifts her pants up on her waist, wearing and then fixing her blazer as she faces you close, “Of course I am—now let me clean you off.”

She did her wonders and you let her take over. You’d mentally imprint this onto your brain (you’ve said this for like umpteenth times) and will never forget this moment.

But a single question arises in the midst of all of these highs: Did you earn your spot?

Only she can answer that but you’re confident you’ve passed, her holes clearly being spent locks the supposed deserving final decision.

—

It’s crazy how all of these events unfolded probably in less than a day, unable to fully register these and assess every detail because it felt surreal and too fast. You stand by it, feeling these were too good to be true but as much as you want to snap back to reality, you are walking down victorious, all within your hand’s reach and that’s all that matters.

It’s deep of a night, you’re just driving towards the hotel now after such an exhilarating day and your focus is averted onto two things: reminiscence and the road ahead.

You’re playing with the risk of death but that would be slimmer than zero—driving is just in your blood right now, and this wouldn’t be much of a sweat. Chaewon and you are in an awkward silence, looking at your peripherals to see her on her crossed legs, looking at the distance.

You’re utterly curious about her final conclusion and it’s looking like she won’t say anything so you’ll take matters into your own hands.

“Did I do well, Chaewon?”

She’s the one who’s dead silent—you know it felt ringing onto her eardrums, so when she hasn’t responded for at least five seconds you know she’s ignoring you.

“Hey, Chaewon—”

“What?” Her tone is raised up, sulking and sharp, oblivious to where her newly profound attitude is coming from. A speculation is probably because she’s incredibly tired and her usual grumpy attitude is now being a part of her mood swings. You can’t blame her if that’s the reason behind her demeanor—who wouldn’t be tired when you’ve walked for like kilometers, shopped and had the filthiest sex in a public environment known to man so you empathize.

Guess the speculation is deemed incorrect.

“What’s up with you?” 

“Nothing, I just hate how you fucked me so good earlier…” She’s brutally honest and upon that conclusion, you derived a concrete reasoning and that was the shattering of her ego.

“Well, thank you I guess—but how about—” Chaewon wails as you advance with your words and she knows she accepted defeat and handed the crown onto you—you clearly broke her apart, even got her real feeling hidden as she acts unorthodox to her natural self.

“Okay, you earned it! You did a great job with that, okay, happy?” Even though her words laces as a mock and truly insincere, you can tell she clearly enjoyed that session of yours and you don’t need to wring it out on her and would inadvertently tell how much she loved every second of that.

“Woah—Ms. Kim Chaewon is getting grumpy again, huh—ow!” She slapped your thigh as luckily, it wasn't enough for you to lose control on the wheel or something worse. You chuckle with her sulking attitude and you can’t help but find it adorable (even though she is) and even if it means to tease her rapidly.

“Yah, shut up! But honestly though…” Chaewon fixes herself, eyes onto you as she speaks up with sincerity and none of that bitchy attitude because she knows how you deserved it. “You clearly passed this test and it shows—I could never scream like that if it weren’t for that big dick of yours.”

She’s brutally honest and you love it, everything is factual and earns that little smile curling up on your lips. You smirk as your other hand finds itself towards her clothed thighs, caressing it and earning a yelp coming from her. Thankfully, she did acknowledge your actions, holding you hand as your hubris grows exponential by the second. “I’ll be grateful to fuck you that hard, anytime, anywhere.”

Chaewon’s mouth lets out a gasp, a little shocked by your latter words. “Anytime?”

“Anytime.”

“Anywhere?”

“Anywhere.”

You’re clear with your words and you’d let her know your commitment.

You traverse down the streets, swift with it as you stop once you get near the hotel the both of you are staying in possibly for a night or two, and she takes this opportunity to lock her gaze onto yours and it feels magnetic. Chaewon sighs deeply, and this time, with a smile imprinted on her lips and then the verdict comes after. “Well, I guess it’s official—you’re mine now.”

You don’t know where this will end and you’re playing a cat and mouse game here: what if Yeji knows about this? Regarding that, would you even confess if given the chance when Chaewon’s all over your place? Does Chaewon really consider the facts about yesterday’s circumstances and knows how this will play out?

Behind all of these questions, the truth is what follows: you’ve made this mess by yourself and you’d just know what the future may hold onto you—the angel and the devil clashing into you will tell the tales and build the roads you step on.

But right now, you’ll savor this euphoric night and it’s probably going to be better with her corresponding words sealing the final deal. “Welcome to our world—my world. We’ll have fun—so much fun...”

Fuck, what have you done, and not going to lie, you’re excited on what may happen next as this was just the tip of the iceberg—and this iceberg is a deep one, in all likelihood.

[nino-rox]

ADDICTED | BYEON WOO SEOK X MALE READER | M.A

Content Warning : Sexual themes, Top Wooseok and Bottom Male Reader, Angst, Mature, Use of Drugs (Marijuana), Trigger Warning - emotional /mental abuse, college AU.

Disclaimer : This is a Fan-fiction story written for entertainment purposes only, no part of the story implies or affirms anything regarding real world events or individuals. Please be of the appropriate age ( i.e, Adult as per your country’s stipulations and regulations) before interacting with this post

I woke up feeling cold and lonely in our bed.

When I opened my eyes and saw the empty side of the bed where Woo Seok was supposed to be sleeping I remembered last night and how he just left.

I turned to the side and stared at the empty space where his face would usually rest. It felt so lonely, I almost wanted to cry. I reached over to his side of the bed and touched his pillow, hugging it to my chest and trying to catch any last lingering scent of him.

The scent of him comforted me as I sat in silence for a while, hugging his pillow close.

After a while I got out of bed, I felt so drained, both mentally and physically.

I had hoped last night was just a dream. That maybe he was still here somewhere.

I walked into the kitchen, hoping he'd be there with breakfast and his charming smile. I hoped he would greet me with his arms wide open and tell me he was sorry and that everything was going to be okay. But there was no one in the kitchen. Just an empty table and a lonely chair.

It made me sad. I thought we were finally getting better. That maybe things were looking up for us. We had been fighting a lot lately and things between us had been really rocky. Last night was the last straw for me. I had decided when he get’s back….if…. He gets back…. I need a break.

We hadn't gone on a proper date in months. It seemed like all he wanted to do was stay home, sit on the couch and drink. I tried talking to him about it but he kept avoiding it. I tried bringing up the topic, but every time we would end up in another fight.

We were fighting over such small things lately, things that never used to be a problem, over a towel on the bed, over lights, food, sex, everything.

I couldn’t take it anymore, it felt like we were falling apart and no matter what I did he wouldn't talk to me, he was shutting me out and I was sick of it.

"Why are you making a big deal out of this? Why don't you go out with your stupid friends!" He yelled.

"Because I want to spend time with you!"

“ I can’t with you right now. I need a fucking break. I am so sick and tired of this! Just go, please! I need some fucking air. I am sick of being in this house, with you, all day long. I need to clear my mind. Please just leave me alone." He said and walked away.

"Wait, Wooseok." I ran after him, grabbing him by the arm and turning him around to face me.

"I don't want to be in this house alone right now, if you walk out right now, I WILL hold it against you…I mean it."

He looked at me and for a second I saw a glimpse of the old him. My sweet and kind Woo. He was there. Behind those dark eyes, I saw the same man that I fell in love with. The man that brought me coffee in the morning, and made me laugh so hard, I could barely breathe. Always hung out with me in every class break. The man that always asked how my day was and would bring me a single flower just because. He was there, I knew it.

But as soon as the glimmer came, it disappeared and all that was left was anger and darkness.

"Let go of me."

"NO, Woo Seok, I will NOT let go. Please, talk to me, what's wrong, what is bothering you?"

"You. You are bothering me." He said and snatched his arm from my grasp, walking out and slamming the door behind him.

I was snapped back to reality, realizing that the last words we had exchanged were hateful ones.

I looked down at my hands, the hands that were holding him, and realized I was still clutching his pillow.

I sighed, dropping the pillow to the floor, getting into the bathroom for a shower.

I had to stop thinking about it. It was all in the past, and right now I had a day off from school and no plans...not any more … at least.

I needed to distract myself, I quickly showered, putting on my favorite outfit, the one that I had picked for the date that wasn't going to happen and headed out the door. If he didn’t wanna go to the beach … FINE, I can go.

The sun was setting as I got to the beach, there were a lot of people…and couples… enjoying the weather and the ocean view. It was a beautiful place. The waves crashed onto the shore and the sound was like music to my ears. It calmed me, and made me feel free and happy and since this day is such a bust, I might as well try and enjoy this by getting high.

I walked around a little as the sky grew slightly darker, finding a good spot, laying my towel on the sand, putting my bag and stuff next to me, before lighting up. I was taking in the scenery, the sky was growing darker and the beach was almost empty, most people were leaving, and as the smoke was leaving my lungs, I was already feeling lighter and happier excited about the high to come which would make me forget about all the drama - it was also kinda cold, pretty cold.

As I took another large drag from the joint, I felt the high starting, I was more “aware” of myself and my surroundings, I felt at ease, and it felt like i had let out a breath i dint know i was holding in. Suddenly the stress of the situation began to reduce as my body felt lighter, more fluid and ‘fun’.

I was lost in the sensations of the high, I put on some music, took off my t-shirt and laid down, shut my eyes for a moment, getting comfy in my plush soft blanket.

Suddenly I heard a chuckle, a chuckle full of snark.

"Well, that's certainly a sight, I guess your dates are more fun without me"

I opened my eyes, and was met with his.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" I mumbled closing my eyes immediately, not wanting to accept that this was happening.

"Nice way to greet your boyfriend" he replied, and snatched the joint from my hand, taking a long drag.

"You can't just show up here like that, we're supposed to be taking a break, remember? You didn't want me, you made that very clear. I don't have to put up with this, fuck off. Go back to whatever hole you crawled out of"

"Aww Ouchie. That hurt." He said tauntingly, and then continued, "you look really good in those shorts, you know"

"Fuck off, Wooseok" I replied, sitting up and reaching for the joint, which he immediately raised above his head, out of reach from my height, as he chuckled.

His playful and casual mood was starting to throw me into a rage, why was he acting like nothing was wrong? After everything he said? Why was he now fucking with your high when you weren’t even dating anymore?

"You can't just leave and come back, whenever the fuck you feel like it."

"Watch me" He replied, taking another drag, and smiling.

"What's gotten into you? Are you drunk or something?"

"No" He laughed and handed the joint back to you - you didn’t accept it from him.

"Why are you acting like nothing's wrong, like you didn't walk out last night? Like you didn't tell me, and I quote "I am sick and tired of you"

"Oh come on, don't be a bitch!"

"Don't call me a bitch, Wooseok."

“You taking a hit or no?? It’s getting wasted over here. "

"Are you actually fucking with me right now???"

"Okay fine…Don't want it, you don't get it.." He said taking a massive drag and putting out the joint with his foot.

I stood up angrily and yelled, "Are you crazy?! That was a perfectly good joint, you just wasted it!!"

Suddenly Wooseok roughly grabbed my waist pulling me closer as he harshly held my face with one hand keeping my mouth open - he immediately pressed his lips onto mine, shotgunning his last massive drag into your mouth.

One was breathing out pushing the smoke, while the other was taking it all in.

His lips were on mine, his tongue was inside of me. It was intense. I hated that I loved it.

The kiss felt heavy and intoxicating, Wooseok slowly pushing his body’s weight onto you, both getting on our knees, lips still intact.

Wooseok slowly pulled away from me and looked at me, his gaze was hungry.

He was so beautiful, the sunset illuminating his face, and his eyes. I loved his eyes, and his smile, and the way he looked at me.

My eyes were fixed on his as I tried to catch my breath, my mind feeling shocked, angry and very much seduced at the same time.

“Tell me that wasn’t a better hit than the joint,” He whispered into my ear, his breath warm and seductive as he smirked, his gaze locked with mine, not breaking eye contact for a second. I had missed his voice, and the way his lips brushed against my skin as he spoke. I missed the way he was looking at me, and how his touch set my entire body on fire. I missed him.

I tried to say something but the words wouldn't come out.

Loosening his grip on my face he slowly moved his hand down to my hip, gripping it, and slowly pushing his leg between my thighs, as he pushed me onto my back.

He towered over me - "Now, where were we?" He whispered again, his lips grazing mine and his breath hitting my face.

His lips were so close, it was driving me crazy. I didn't know if I should push him away or pull him closer, but what about everything he said? Did I forgive him just like that? Was I really this easy?

He leaned down and kissed me, softly at first, but quickly grew more heated and passionate, his tongue exploring my mouth. His hands roaming all over my body, pulling my hips closer, pushing his knee against my crotch.

My brain was screaming at me to push him off, but my body was betraying me, wanting his touch, and craving more - addicted - addicted to him.

He slowly started kissing down my neck, his hands caressing my chest, his thumb brushing against my nipple, making me moan. He smiled and started kissing my neck, sucking hard, biting me, making me whimper and moan.

My head was spinning, it was all too much, and not enough at the same time. At some point I just had a silent stream of tears, running down my cheeks as the emotions hit me.

"I missed this so much" Wooseok whispered, kissing his way down my chest, and biting and licking my nipples.

"So much."

- I didn’t react

"Please, let's go home, okay? Come on."

- No response

"Y/N, come on. Let's go home."

"Look, I'm sorry okay? Can we please go home and talk about this?"

"No, Wooseok, you had your chance, you said it yourself, I bother you, remember? You don't need to pretend like everything is okay."

"Baby, please. Don't be like that. I didn't mean it."

"Yes you did."

"No, baby, please, it’s getting dark can we just talk inside.”

“ baby, I just wanna go home, and talk. It's so cold, and it's getting late."

- I turned around laying on my other side, my back facing him.

He sighed and then got up, packing our things, and putting everything back into my bag.

He walked over, and reached out his hand for me.

"Let's go, it's getting late.”

-I refused his hand and got up on my own, brushing off the sand.

"Come on, let's go" He said again, his voice impatient, as he grabbed my wrist and tried to drag me along.

"Stop it!" I protested, but he was still dragging me.

"LET GO OF ME!"

- I yelled, and pulled my arm away from him.

He turned to look at me, a hint of anger flashing in his eyes.

"What the fuck is your problem?" He yelled.

"You're my problem. You keep hurting me and then acting like nothing's wrong!”

"It's not like you never hurt me!,” he shot back.

"When? When did I ever do that to you?"

"You didn’t even run behind me in the morning when I said we needed a Break, you didn’t even care! You couldn’t care less about fighting for this relationship!."

"OFCOURSE I CARE! Maybe I would've chased you if you didn't leave after yelling at me and telling me to leave you alone!, and as for FIGHTING for the relationship, ALL I HAVE DONE is fight for it! - Chase after you ??? For What ???? You and I NEVER make it fucking work, has anything we’ve had for so long even barely qualify as a relationship?,” I snapped back in rage, only realising what I had just said after his expression fell dark and cold. Before I could Tell him I would never mean that -

"JUST WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT Y/N” He shouted at me, his voice was harsh and his eyes were dark and cold, there was no trace of the Wooseok I had just been kissing.

I didn't respond, my heart was beating fast, and I felt like I couldn't breathe.

"WELL ?" He shouted again, stepping closer to me.

"W-what?"

"What do you want from me, hm? What can I possibly do to fix this? You are always complaining, about something, and nothing I ever do is good enough for you, it's never enough, and you're always mad at me, what the hell do you want from me?!

“ I JUST WANT YOU, OKAY !! I WANT YOUR LOVE AND ATTENTION AND PRESENCE I WANT YOU TO HOLD ME I WANT YOU TO BE THERE! “

I paused for a second and then continued, my voice cracking. - "And you weren't. You aren’t.

It was like I could see the person I love crumble, his expression changed and I saw his eyes start to water.

"Will you give me.." he hesitated for a moment, and then continued, his voice shaking.

"will you give me another chance?, Please."

- The last word came out almost like a whisper.

I didn't say anything. My eyes were filled with tears.

He stepped closer to me, his eyes fixed on mine.

"Please" He whispered.

"Just one more chance. Please."

-I still didn't say anything.

"Please, Baby."

-I nodded.

"Say it, say you'll give me another chance."

-He pleaded, his voice barely audible.

"I will"

-His expression changed.

-His eyes lit up as a smile spread across his face, tears still streaming.

"Thank you" He said, before wrapping his arms around my waist and burying his face in my shoulder.

I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, holding him tightly, my face pressed against his neck.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Y/N" He said, his voice shaking.

"it's… okay"

"no it's not. I was such an asshole to you. I'm so sorry"

"It's okay.”

"No, It's not. You don't deserve that. You deserve so much better than me. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. And I've been such an asshole."

"You have"

-He looked up at me, his eyes watery, and his expression full of regret.

"I'm sorry, Baby. I'm so sorry" He repeated.

-He hugged me tightly, his arms wrapped around my waist strongly, almost as if they were desperate to be embraced.

"I'm sorry too"

"you don't have to apologise, none of this was your fault. It was all mine. I fucked up." - “Let me make it up to you at home?” he asked smirking and grinning like an idiot while crying, which was honestly kinda cute.

"Okay, you can try, and the “I’m sorry sex” better be Earth Shattering,” - I added on, pouting…. as our lips collided.

PART 1 COMPLETE {Please Request For PART 2}

Author’s Note: Hey Everyone, This story was based on an anonymous request. This is the first time I’ve written such an argument scene in an informal/ non-academic way, so I really hope you guys like it. Please leave any feedback !!! It is always greatly appreciated. P.S - STORY IS NOT PROOF READ.

[willowrites]

𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐞 ✦ 𝐬𝐚𝐦 𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐡

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬. where sam was there to help y/n when she had a rough day and resorted to unwinding in a not-so-healthy way.

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭. okay so i was just thinking for a sam golbach fic reader relapses (self harm) cuz their mind has been getting too much lately, and maybe sam helps them clean up and then helps take care of them and makes them feel loved nd just like lets them know that they don't need to do that because he's there from now on?? if that makes sense. also maybe not an established romantic relationship but maybe it ends up that way? like sam tells reader he doesn't know what he'd do with himself if anything happened to them he just cares a lot about them and yeah

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬. ANGST ! third person pov, talks of self harm, relapsing, descriptive literature, friend!sam, friends to lovers.

𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬. if anybody needs anyone to talk to i’m here! 🤍 sorry this took so long to post & write! this one hit really personal for me but id okay to say ive healed & im continuing to heal from my past. if anyone is going through similar hardships, you can get through it! i believe, love, & support you always.

y/n told herself she wouldn’t put herself in this position again. she wouldn’t.. but sometimes things don’t go as planned.

she had tried to stay strong, to stop letting her mind control every action she took; it just became too much. she sat on the cold tile floor of her bathroom, tears making their way down her flushed face. she gripped the item as she took the first swipe, lightly but firm enough.

just stop. she told herself. her hand shook as she went to repeat the action. she looked at her skin i just need to feel something, she thought. something other than what im feeling now.

she had been doing so good but somehow found herself back at square one. all that work that she had done was all gone. she felt hopeless, as if this never ending black hole of despair would stay with her for the rest of her life.

she took a minute to think on her life and what could have went wrong to cause her to relapse. all those thoughts had no specific effect on relapsing, its just her brain had begun to spin a web that caused her to get stuck in her head all day. what else can i do? she thought as she took another swipe at her skin. she planned on continuing until she heard her bedroom door open.

her heart dropped to her ass. “y/n..?” the voice had confusion laced in their voice.

sam.

it was sam.

the blonde boy was one of the things that y/n had in her life that truly made her happy. he was her best friend. she never told him that but she truly meant that with every fiber of her being.

y/n quickly wiped her tears when she heard the footsteps come closer to the bathroom. wiping the tears would make the tear stains disappear but the thing about breaking down, you’re left with that struggle of trying to catch your breath.

she couldn’t stop gasping, trying to breathe calm and collectively. that’s why as sam stopped right beside the bathroom. he heard a small gasp escape her lips that caught his attention.

his eyebrows raised in confusion. he put his head beside the door trying to hear something else. “uh.. y/n? you in there?” he knocked. he received no answer. multiple questions and thoughts ran through his mind before he opened the door.

sam had seen many things in his life, traumatic even, but this — it was like his heart had jumped, dropped, did a tumble, and self destructed all in the span of 3 seconds. he instantly became nauseous at the sight of y/n holding a blade to her forearm. the small cuts that had caught his eye before she covered her arm and hid the blade had his blood run cold.!

the second y/n had been caught she felt guilty and embarrassed. she felt pathetic, like she wasn’t strong enough to handle the hard reality of the real world. immediately, she stood up and faced sam. “i-im sorry you weren’t supposed to see that.. it’s not what it looks like.” she sniffled trying to contain her tears. “i… it just, lately everything has been so crazy and i haven’t … i haven’t done this in a while but… but everything has just been… too much.” she rambled out, trying to explain herself.

sam’s face of confusion faltered. he thought about her words. the way she mentioned in a while had him wondering what caused her to relapse and fall back into this situation. he scanned her face. she’s too pure to be suffering like this. he paused thinking of what to say but truly all that he wanted to do was give her a hug. so that’s what he did.

he pulled her in, wrapping his arms around her protectively. she melted into his touch. her lip quivered as she wrapped her own arms around him. her body shook as more tears cascaded down her face.

sam felt his own eyes sting with tears. “i’m sorry.” he choked up. “i’m sorry you’ve been going through all of this alone.” he rested his cheek on her head closing his eyes trying to stay strong for her.

y/n hasn’t said anything, still feeling guilty. sam pulled away and looked down at the floor seeing the blade and a tissue beside it. he picked them up and threw both away.

he turned back to y/n who had a tired look on her face. “as long as i’m here nothing will hurt you, okay? i will be here for you. you can depend on me. you don’t need to do this anymore to yourself y/n, i won’t let you.” he took her face into his hands. “i promise, i love you and im always here for you no matter what.”

y/n’s heart raced as sam’s words really effected her. she nodded pursing her lips and biting her cheek.

he brought her head to his mouth and pressed a light kiss on her forehead. “i mean it y/n. i don’t know what i’d do with myself without you. you complete me.”

y/n’s eyes scanned sam’s face noticing how his own eyes began to water and become puffy. the scene before her causing her throat to close. “m’sorry i promise i wont do it anymore. i love you sam and… fuck — i know i shouldn’t be doing that. i just didn’t know what else to do.” she leaned against his chest.

“i know, i know baby but from now on you can talk to me about it. about anything. i care so much about you. you truly have no idea how much i…” he stopped himself not wanting to overwhelm her. “just know you mean the world to me. you are and have been my priority since we met and that’s never going to change.” the reassuring words causing y/n to relax.

y/n started to get inside her head, wondering what if he got tired of her, if he’d leave her, what she’d do or how she’d feel if that happened — or even worse; if she would be a burden to sam.

sam noticed y/n zoning out. “hey, tell me what you’re thinking please.” his hands reached down to grab her own.

she took a deep breath. c’mon y/n. she blinked a couple times trying to sort her thoughts. “don’t wanna be a burden to you.” she admitted to which sam immediately shook his head.

sam brought her hands to his mouth kissing her knuckles. “you could never ever be a burden to me. you keep me pushing through every day because i want to be the best for you. to be the best friend you deserve and… and whatever the future may hold for us — i want you there always, okay? don’t ever forget that.”

his words wavered through the air and stood there so you could process what he truly meant. you thought on it, picking up some hidden message that you’d both communicate about later but as of now, he truly helped you feel understood and seen. as long as you had him you’d feel physically, mentally, and emotionally secure and protected.

[pickletrip]

Sailom daydreaming about his lover.

Such a cutie.

[renard-dartigue]

Hi now i'm curious what is the beef with the rappers

Man this is going to be long so I'll try to keep this simple and entertaining. I hope this comes across as clear cause I'm shook right now.

Here is a glossarie to break thing up:

Prologue (The Spark 🔥)

Round 1.1 (Physical Education 💪🏾)

Interlude part 1 (Roots 🏠)

Round 1.2 (2 Warning Shots 🔫)

Interlude part 2 (Pusha the Seer 👁)

Round 2.1 (Knifes Out 🔪 )

Round 2.2 (The Nuke 💥)

Epilogue (All eyes on him 👀)

My Theory 🤷🏾‍♂️

Highly recommend checking out the tracks yourself while you read along.

Prologue (The Spark)

Let it be known that I am a neutral party and that I don't take sides when it comes to rap beef. I was here for the music and creativity. I am just trying to recount events to the best of my knowledge. Sorry if some details are inaccurate.

Okay so basically, Drake, J Cole, and Kendrick Lamar are the Big 3 of the rap world right now.

A month ago, Future and Metro Boomin (two rapper who supposedly don't fuck with Drake anymore) released a song with Kendrick Lamar called "Like That". In the song Kendrick took a shot at Drake and J Cole, saying there isn't a big 3, its only him on top.

4 weeks ago J Cole dropped a track called "7 Minute Drill" that is dissing Kendrick. However, in a move that is very uncharacteristic of J, he took down the official track and formally apologized to Kendrick. Thus signaling his exit from the rap battle.

ROUND 1.1 (Physical Ed)

Drake on the other hand dropped "Push Ups" 2 weeks ago, a diss track that went after other rappers he doesn't like but mainly Kendrick. In it, he made fun of Kendrick's height and his contracts. He then ends the song with "I was really try'n keep it PG" meaning he has a nuke on Kendrick that people don't know.

Not long later, Drake dropped ANOTHER diss track "Taylor Made Freestyle" with Ai voices of Snoop Dog and fucking 2PAC! Kendrick has stated before that 2pac is one of his idols so this must have been a deep cut. In the song Drake claims Kendrick doesn't write his own music and uses the writers of Taylor Swift. Relating a rapper to pop music is seen as disrespectful.

INTERLUDE PART 1 (Roots)

Before I continue, I want to give a brief run down on how the public perceives these two rappers.

Drake portrays himself as a superstar, he's always on social media flaunting his success and partying with other celebrities, seeing alot of women and living a lavish lifestyle. His music is catchy, something you put on in the club. Most of his fan base praise him for his sick beats and witty lyrics. He's been in the music industry for a while and is no push over.

Kendrick Lamar is a very private person, doesn't expose anything about his personal life unless its on a track. He almost never gets into fights with anyone. He is a family man, stressing the importance of being there for his wife and son and encourages other fathers to do the same. His fan base praise him for his creative lyrics and highlighting the black American condition.

ROUND 1.2 (2 Warning Shots)

2 Day ago, Kendrick Lamar came back with his first official diss track on Drake called "Euphoria". In this song, Kendrick goes in on Drakes fake personality. Drake has always been known around the community as a bit of a poser, he grew up in Canada and was raised by his white mother, a relatively comfortable childhood. He was a star on the popular show Degassi when he was young. garnering him a fan base early in his career. Kendrick doesn't approve of Drake appropriating black American culture and acting like he some tough guy. When in reality he is a Canadian nerd thats disrespectful to 2pac. All throughout the song, Kendrick hits at things that many people have know about Drake, such as his behavior around underage girls. He also called Drake a deadbeat father who isn't in his son's life, even referencing his lost battle to Pusha T. Then Kendrick finally warns him that he has more dirt that he is willing to share if Drake takes things further.

Similar to Drake, Kendrick dropped another track called "6:16 in LA" later that day. This song focuses on Drake's environment, specifically the people he hangs with. Kendrick implies that Drake paid people to dig into his background and when they didn't find anything, Drake made up stuff instead. Kendrick then says that someone in Drakes group is leaking information to him about something even more serious. Also planting a seed in Drake's mind that his supposed friends don't actually like him, just like the clout from hanging around him.

INTERLUDE PART 2 (Pusha the Seer)

Taking a quick break again, we need to discuss something that occurred long before Drake's battle with Kendrick.

5 years ago, Drake was in a rap battle with rapper Pusha T, someone who was smaller than Drake at the time in terms of popularity. Pusha dropped a song called "The Story of Adidon" where he dropped a bomb that Drake had a kid and wasn't taking care of him. Drake initially denied it but it was later revealed to be true.

Since then Drake has never responded to Pusha T's diss track, making Pusha the current winner. And Kendrick is bringing it back into the light.

Round 2.1 (Knifes Out)

Around 2 am EST time of May 4th, Drake drops his diss track, "Family Matters" one of his strongest songs, switching his flow 3 times in the span of 7 minutes. In true Drake fashion, its a club song with a catchy beat. Like his previous diss, its aimed at multiple people but the main focus is on Kendrick, even bring up "I was really try'n keep this PG".

Drake doubles down on his black identity and mocks the fact that Kendrick and other rappers are saying he isn't black, (incorrectly assuming that they are coming at him for being mixed when the real issue is that he is appropriating black American rap culture as a Canadian mixed man who grew up in a safe environment) Drake not only calls Kendrick a fraud who only raps about black issues for attention, Or that his activism is performative. He makes a shocking claims that Kendrick is a wife beater. Then Drake says that Kendrick's son doesn't belong to him and implies Kendrick's producer was the real father.

The track caused an uproar. But only for the span of 15 minutes. Because Kendrick did the unthinkable.

ROUND 2.2 (THE NUKE)

Almost as if expecting Drake's move, Kendrick Lamar did what no one saw coming. He dropped his diss track "Meet The Grahams" about 15 minutes after Drake released "Family Matters".

This time around, in a fashion almost unheard of from him, Kendrick strips all the usual metaphors from his lyricism and structures his track like he is speaking to Drake and his family, 4 parts per individual.

Kendrick begins by speaking to Drakes Son, Adonis, the same son Pusha T exposed Drake for neglecting 5 years ago. He's apologizing to him for his father's behavior. Kendrick speaks to him softly but sternly like a mentor, telling him not to be like his father. Kendrick tells Adonis all the things Drake did and warns him not to do them too: involved with escorts, plastic surgery to appear more black, surgery to look more muscular, hiding a kid. (Kendrick stresses that Adonis is black regardless of being mixed, further highlighting that he isn't discrediting Drake's blackness because he's mixed but because he isn't being himself.) Finishing of by telling the kid to be proud of who he is.

The second half is Kendrick addressing Drake's mother and father, Sandra and Denise. Kendrick speaks to her like he's revealing tragic news, explaining to her that her son is involved in disgusting things. He goes down a list of things, his tone growing more intense and angry. Kendrick then claimed that Drake is employing and enabling pedos in his group, and hopes they die. Even implying that his group is going to be raided by the feds some day.

The third half is the MOST shocking of all. Kendrick begins talking to an unnamed individual, simply calls her babygirl. Similar to Adonis, Kendrick takes on a somber tone and apologizes to her for Drakes behavior. He says its not her fault Drake abandoned her, says that she is deserving of love. He warns her not to become a target for people like Drake to pray on and says she has so much to offer the world.

Kendrick revealed Drake has ANOTHER kid and isn't in their life! (Allegedly)

To close of, the fourth half is Kendrick speaking directly to Drake, his tone tired. He tries to reiterate that he doesn't have hate for him. However, Kendrick says Drake was the first one to go after his family and he couldn't let it slide. He once again calls for Drake to take the mask off. Then says this isn't a rap battle anymore, tells Drake he is fighting himself.

Epilogue (All eyes on him)

And so here we are, waiting for what will happen next.

Drake posted an Instagram story denying the claim he has another kid. But given what happened with Pusha T, we can't quite take his word for it yet. We should wait a bit to see if anything comes out.

Kendrick hasn't put out a statement on Drake's claims about him but given the recurring theme of Drake being a manipulative lier, Kendrick clearly denies it. Given how private he is, its difficult to prove or disprove it. Much like Drake's claims, we will have to wait and see if any evidence comes out about it.

Drake and Kendrick stans are at eachothers throats right now, arguing over who one and whats real or fake.

Right now everyone is looking to see if Drake is going to continue the battle or stay silent like he did with Pusha.

My Theory

Personally as an outside observer who only followed the beef for good music. I think this goes beyond a simple rap battle.

Here is my theory: Someone from Drake's clique told Kendrick that Drake and his producers were writing something about him. Real or fake, Kendrick was pissed. And so he drafted 3 tracks, dumping everything he hates about Drake into them. And then, with the leaker's help, Kendrick baited Drake into a battle, goading Drake to drop the "Family Matters" track so he can shut the battle down with "Meet the Grahams". Or maybe his first 2 tracks were a warning to Drake that if he released a track with lies on him he would reveal he has another kid.

I do think Kendrick initially had good intentions in trying to help Drake be a better person. But maybe the more he learned about Drake the less sympathetic he felt.

But I don't know thats just how I see it.

Thanks for reading my essay. I hope it made sense heh. I encourage healthy discussions in the comments and reblogs please. But everyone agrees that Drake is inappropriate with young girls. We won't argue over that.

[actual-changeling]

we do not talk enough about the moment right before crowley puts his sunglasses back on. the "nothing lasts forever" is devastating and if you're like me your eyes were so full of tears you couldn't see the screen the first time you watched it (just like crowley, look at us all twinning in sadness!).

there is a shift that happens in his eyes and i think it is absolutely fascinating and heartbreaking at the same time.

we begin with crowley averting his gaze from aziraphale's face and staring off into the distance instead, and you can see his spirit break. that crowley just lost the one thing in the world he cannot live without and we can see it written across his face like a neon sign.

then, as you'd expect, he gives into the need to cover up his pain, to try and make himself less vulnerable, and even before he lifts his glasses he looks down so aziraphale can no longer see his eyes.

now, the next part is what would not let me out of its grasp all day. we know it happens because of his demeanour afterwards and up until the kiss, but you can actually watch as crowley makes himself numb to the world.

i am intimately familiar with dissociation as a trauma and stress response, and while you can never fully control it, you do eventually find the switch in your mind that makes you snap back into the haze. crowley has had six thousand years to get really, really good at leaving reality behind when he needs and/or wants to.

that's exactly what he does.

he still looks sad, and yet there's just something distinctly distant in his eyes, the shift from openly heartbroken to "i don't want to feel any of this let me leave".

glasses? on

emotions? off

hotel? trivago

i have stared at those four frames more than any person probably should and i don't know if it's the light, if i am going insane, or if there is a single tear sliding out of his right (our left) eye. i'm probably insane and the light is a bitch so if anyone has some high resolution shots or anything that could answer that question without a doubt PLEASE do add it.

by now you are probably ready to threaten me with a knife in a dark alley but before you do that or drive your car off a cliff, let me tell you the best part:

aziraphale notices.

they might be communicating on two different frequencies but aziraphale knows crowley. he knows and loves him, and, most importantly, over the last few years he has gotten used to seeing crowley without his glasses. aziraphale could probably write a book on the expressions in his eyes alone and watches that shift happen and is devastated.

look.

he tries to make himself hope the same second, tries to convince himself crowley is putting on his glasses so they can leave together, but he knows.

aziraphale sees the light leave crowley's eyes, sees crowley leave, knowing that he is quite literally running away from him. you and me against the world, angel, but in that moment crowley firmly pushes him back to "the world" (or tries to, anyway).

the entire season we see crowley take off his glasses whenever he enters the bookshop to the point where he's running around without them on in broad daylight with jimbriel right there.

can you imagine how hurt and confused aziraphale must be?

because what crowley is telling him, if we really, really break it down, is that aziraphale is no longer a safe person for him. and repairing that trust is going to take time and work, no matter how much crowley loves him, how badly they love and need each other.

anyway to seal this off and really rub in the pain - how it started vs. how it ended. <3

oh one last thing: now crowley no longer has a single person he can be himself around, no one that knows him, no one he trusts. no one in whose presence he can take his glasses off.

and outside of the bentley and his own flat, he no longer has a place to do so either. the bookshop was theirs. with aziraphale gone, is it really a safe place anymore? is it somewhere he can just let himself be knowing he will be looked after and protected?

easy answer: no.

alright, off i go. see y'all on the next angst post or in the tags.

[3lisorahh]

creating your own heaven in your mind is the goal

I have seen a lot of people being bothered by the 3D, when manifesting or shifting. Y'all want your desires to show up in your 3D sooo bad, but don't notice how the only thing you need to change is self.

"but I already have this in imagination!" if you really had your desires in your 4D, you would not be eager to get your desires in your outer world.

in Edward Art's words: "creating my own heaven in my mind is the goal"

don't be discouraged when you don't see your manifestations in your 3D. circumstances don't fucking matter!!! the only thing that matters, is what's going on inside your mind. dare to assume you have your desires! and so what if you don't have your manifestations in your outer world??? you have it in your mind! live inside your head to the point where you only think about how you have your desire (even though it's not a desire anymore, because you have it). let go of controling the 3D and control yourself.

a lot of loassumption bloggers say "imagination is the real reality", but some of you don't seem to actually understand that. so let me try and break it down for you. once you imagine something, it is already there. it has already been created.the 3D is just a physical world, that shows you your imagination and assumptions (which you persisted in) in physical form! let's say you're in your room right now. look at your bed - you once imagined of actually getting it. whether it was bought for you, or you bought it yourself. you imagined of getting a bed, and since you decided that you were getting a bed, the 3D conformed to your decision and you got it in the physical world as well, not only in imagination. you are in your dr, because once you imagined yourself there, you were there. you have your desire, because once you imagined it- IT WAS ALREADY THERE.

create your own heaven and own that feeling.

[cutielando]

summer love | t.n.

synopsis: in which you spend your summer with your boyfriend in his home country

my masterlist

“Amore” Theo called to you as you were resting on the sofa in the common room, a couple of days away from the end of the school year.

“Yes, amore?” you mumbled, not moving your face from where it was buried in the comfy jumper Theo was wearing.

Despite it being summer, the dungeons were void of any warmth, the burning fireplace doing little as to heating up the spacious common room.

“What are your plans for the summer?” his voice was like a melody to your ears, being able to calm you down and soothe you in any situation needed.

“Don’t really have anything planned. Why?”

“I was thinking the other day, would you want to come spend the holidays with me in Italy?" his voice was soft, but it still made you tense up.

You knew about Theo's tumultuous relationship with his father and you knew how much his mother's death had affected him. You didn't think he would want to take you to his home, given that most of his happy memories and moments were spent anywhere but there.

"Are you sure? I don't want to be a bother or anything, especially not to your father" you explained, hesitant about his request.

He nodded, sitting up to hold you better so he can also see your face.

"Amore, don't worry about my father. He's never around the house that much, you probably won't even see him at all" he explained, curling strands of your hair through his fingers.

You hummed, staring at the crackling fire while deep in thought. Spending the entire summer with Theo sounded like a complete dream, and you knew your parents would be more than happy to let you spend your summer with your boyfriend.

Theo had met your parents very early into the relationship. Due to the fact that your families were part of the same circle in the wizarding world, you all knew of each other. But the first time Theo met them as your official boyfriend, he immediately won them over.

Your father was particularly thrilled to have Theo in the family. He almost always stole him away from you when he would visit for the holidays, talking to him about God knows what.

Absentmindedly, you found yourself lifting your head from Theo's chest, gazing into his eyes.

"If I do decide to come, what would we do?" you asked, brushing a strand of hair that had fallen in his eyes.

A smile threatened to break out on his face, but he managed to keep it hidden for now, apprehensive that you would change your mind and refuse his offer.

"Well, we would stay at our vacation house right by the beach, we would travel to the most beautiful and history-rich places in the country, spend quality time together undisturbed, have amazing and constant uninterrupted sex..." you hit his chest at his last remark, making him chuckle and quickly kiss your forehead.

You giggled, nuzzling your face deeper into his warm neck.

As you laid there wrapped up in his arms, you couldn’t think of anything better than spending the whole summer with the person you loved the most.

“I’ll spend the summer with you” you spoke softly, kissing his collarbone.

Theo smiled to himself, squeezing you closer to his chest and burying his face into your hair.

A long summer awaited you both. A summer spent basking in love and happiness, away from the troubled realities of your lives.

♡♡♡♡♡

You knew that spending the break with Theo was going to be the time of your life, but you never thought it would be this perfect.

At the beginning of the summer, you had traveled all throughout the beautiful country that is Italy, visiting the most beautiful villages and cities, full of history and beauties to discover.

At first, you were a little reserved, not wanting to go overboard and make Theo regret that he brought you along. Only after he reassured you that he loved seeing you excited about traveling with him did you completely let loose and enjoy everything that Italy had to offer.

Of course, Theo being Theo, you would never leave a place without him buying you a couple of souvenirs. You almost ran out of place to carry them in your bag, but then he came to the rescue and purchased you an Extendable Bag, mainly to make sure he could continue showering you with gifts.

"I feel bad" you had told Theo after you were done visiting Florence and he had surprised you with yet 4 new gifts.

"Why?" Theo asked, genuinely confused.

"You're buying me so much stuff and you won't let me return the favor. I don't want you to feel like I'm using you or that you have to buy everything for me" you explained, fiddling with your fingers.

Theo couldn't believe his ears. How could he ever think that you, his innocent, soft and perfect little girlfriend, would ever think about using him for money? That thought was just simply not possible.

"Amore, I could never think that. I love buying things for you, your happiness and excitement make me happy. Your presence here with me is the best gift I could ask for" he sealed that promise with a kiss, and you didn't have any choice but to listen to him.

Once you had checked every single place you had wanted to visit off the list, it was finally time to retreat to his beautiful vacation house, where you would spend the remaining couple of weeks of summer break before school started up again.

If you thought his house was impressive, this one was straight out of a fairytale.

A gorgeous abode welcomes you both with a grand and gleaming door, poised to impress.

Within, a spacious living room bathes in natural light from floor-to-ceiling windows. Furnishings are arranged for cozy chats around a crackling fireplace. The kitchen gleams with polished counters, stainless steel appliances, and a meal-prep island. A formal dining room, with a dazzling chandelier, awaits culinary creations. Upstairs, bedrooms boast plush bedding and ample storage. Each room showcases a distinct decor. The master suite indulges with a spacious bath, including a soothing soak tub, separate shower, and dual vanities.

From the balcony, the fresh smell of the sea lingered in the air, the sand glowing under the hot Italian sun.

"I can't believe this is all ours" you whispered at Theo once you had taken everything in.

He smiled, walking over and enveloping you in his arms. "We have the whole place to ourselves. The maids have been instructed not to bother us, you have clothes here that I specifically picked for you, swimsuits so we can go swimming every day, dresses of every sort. I want you to feel at home here"

"Theo, my home is wherever you are" you cupped his face in your hands, leaning up and sealing your lips in a kiss.

Theo felt like he could cry in that moment. He had never felt a love like this since his mother had passed. He never believed someone could love him, someone as damaged as he was. But you did.

You saw past all of his anger issues, past the facade he tried to hold up and past all the walls he had built around himself for protection. You saw him for who he was, a boy who needed love, who needed someone to show him that he mattered, that he was important, that he deserved to be loved.

And you had vowed to be that person for the rest of your days, to make sure he would never go another day feeling unworthy.

♡♡♡♡♡

"Do you want to go swimming for a little while?" Theo asked, after you had spent the better half of the day in his bed, just enjoying each other's presence.

"Yes" you squealed, kissing his cheek before rushing to the closet in order to pick a swimsuit.

Theo chuckled and got out of bed himself, kissing your head on his way to the bathroom.

Once the both of you were ready, you started the small walk towards the beach, setting down your towels near the water.

As you discarded Theo's shirt that you had stolen, your boyfriend eyed you up and down and whistled, making you blush heavily.

"Stop embarrassing me" you mumbled, but Theo knew you secretly loved it when he complimented your body.

"I'm just admiring what's mine" he said, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing your neck.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, your hands immediately tangling themselves in his curly hair. His hands slowly traveled down to your ass, giving it a light squeeze.

"Let's go" you took his hand and led him towards the water, enjoying the hot sea enveloping your bodies.

You spent more than an hour just splashing around in the water, enjoying the warm weather.

After you decided to get out, you both laid together on your towel, enjoying the sunset together. You were laying with your head on his chest, his fingers drawing shapes on your back.

"Thank you for bringing me here" you spoke up softly, not wanting to disturb the tranquil atmosphere.

"You don't have to thank me, I wanted nothing more than to spend my summer with you. Thank you for agreeing to come with me" he kissed your forehead, making you nuzzle even closer to his chest.

"I love you, you know that, right?" you spoke after a moment of silence, temporarily lifting your head from his chest to look at him.

He nodded. "I love you too, so much" he leaned down and captured your lips in a kiss.

Best summer of your life.

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[noxtivagus]

hmmm this uh. vent in tags doesn't pertain to anyone here though okay, it's really just a Me problem bcs i rlly appreciate you all so much but i can't help but be like this :<< (working on it though)

[kamaluhkhan]

anti-curse

pairing: percy jackson x daughter of apollo!reader

summary: whether he knew it or not, percy jackson made the world a better, brighter place — and you intend to protect him, no matter what path the fates leads you down. fuck prophetic dreams. the future wasn't written in stone.

warnings/disclaimers: mentions of typical demigod things (battles, weapons, etc.); this is set during the heroes of olympus series so roughly follows that plot + features the seven demigods; mainly inspired by book!percy (dark hair, sea green eyes) bc that's the one i fell in love w growing up; characters are aged up from the book (reader + percy are meant to be 21-22 y/o) bc i imagine there was more time between prophecies/series....anyways, please enjoy <3

when you first met percy jackson, he almost shot you through the chest with an arrow.

given that apollo is your godly parent, you often found yourself at the archery field, which happened to be one of the first stops on percy’s tour of camp half-blood. after that first mishap, your other half-siblings were, understandably, too scared to let percy try again — frankly chiron seemed a bit hesitant as well — and you could sense that percy felt disheartened. so, you flashed the boy a reassuring smile before giving him a few pointers and a second chance. when he smiled back at you, you felt a fluttering in your stomach that told you percy jackson would be more than a little important in your life.

archery still wasn't percy's strong suit, but your gut feeling turned out to be true. you and percy had dealt with a lot since then — a handful of quests, several prophecies, more than a few near-death experiences, a titan war, and, maybe worst of all, high school. you couldn't imagine getting through any of it without him by your side, and you knew the feeling was mutual.

so, you were entirely anticipating that percy would be hurt by your announcement during dinner. 

“no way that’s happening.” percy laughs, as if he can’t believe you’d suggest something as ridiculous as not having him accompany you on your quest. he remains unfazed, takes a sip of his electric blue coke before gesturing to the empty seat next to him. “come on, sunshine. have something to eat.”

the nickname sends your heart into a frenzy as you sit next to him. you and percy had never been anything other than friends, but sometimes....sometimes you look at his dangerous ocean eyes and wind-swept dark hair and it makes you blush. sometimes you consider the way his laughter fills you with warmth and his smile holds a thousand memories, the way he teases and winks at you and you decide that he makes your world so much brighter. sometimes you remember how sarcastic and thoughtful and loyal and reckless he is, his heart of gold and unpredictability of the sea. and you start to think that maybe possibly you'd fallen in love with your best friend.

that was not the issue at hand, though. you summon your favourite food and drink, but don't particularly feel like having either. percy returns to his conversation with hazel about how the two of you would drive up to montauk after you finally got your license, any time either of you needed to escape your reality, even just for a night. you'd sit on the beach, stargazing and roasting stale marshmallows and wishing to stay there forever. hazel seems to think that sounds like a nice escape, and percy promises that once the eight of you fulfill this prophecy, you'll all go to the beach house together, which makes hazel break out into a grin.

you can't help but smile at percy who loves his friends, who has loved you for so long. that feeling is quickly replaced by a pang in your chest that reminds you what's at stake. from the corner of your eye, you notice annabeth across from you, who looks at you like you’re a puzzle she can’t quite solve. you're trying to hide it, but if anyone can read you better than percy, it's annabeth. she knows something is weighing on your mind. you briefly lock eyes with jason, who you had gone to earlier for help, from the other side of the room, where he sits between piper and frank. 

if you weren’t so distracted, you would have been able to enjoy dinner. the eight of you — all demigods of the current great prophecy — hadn’t been all together in a while, and it was nice to share a meal aboard the argo ii despite the reality of why you’d all been traveling together. leo had equipped the ship with magic plates and cups, and with the lively jokes and stories filling the air, you could almost imagine it was an ordinary summer evening at camp. you could almost forget that tomorrow, you had to go on a quest to rescue apollo and artemis from python, a monster so powerful your father barely defeated him thousands of years ago. you could almost ignore the impending war with gaea and the giants, and the doomed fate of the world if you were to fail. the one thing you could no longer ignore, however, is the gut feeling you have about the fate of the boy sitting next to you if your quest is to unfold the way you had first planned it. 

you clear your throat, an attempt to interrupt the group's conversations. 

“i was serious earlier,” you declare. “you’re not coming with me, percy. jason is.”

the smile percy had on his face fades. his eyes are filled with concern and disbelief, as he glances at you. “i – i don’t understand.”

"percy,” jason jumps in carefully, aware that he’s treading through dangerous waters like you had warned him. “y/n and i were strategizing earlier and it seems to make the most sense, given our powers combined." 

percy shakes his head. “but — but you can’t just make last minute changes. we’ve already got everything set. right, valdez?”

leo shrugs, swallowing a mouthful of chicken before responding. “i don’t know, man. i’m no expert in quests, but it seems like i’m not the one who should be deciding this.” leo looks at you, and you nod gratefully.

you've been on edge since last night, and to calm your nerves you fiddle with the gold chain around your neck. it was a gift from your father: a necklace with a music note charm that can transform into an electric guitar or a bow and quiver. thankfully, you hadn't had to need both at the same time.

“it's up to me. and i want leo and jason to come with me.”

“then i’ll come too,” percy's voice remains calm, but insistant.

“isn’t there that thing about quests usually being done in threes?”

“that is true, piper,” percy agrees. he tilts his head towards you, like he's calling on you to remember. "exceptions have been made, though. like that one time with zoe." that had been years ago, when demigods from camp half-blood and hunters of artemis joined forces. five had been sent out on a quest, but only three came back. you shiver at the thought.

"or my quest through the labyrinth," annabeth recalls.

"but won't that also change our other plans, though?" hazel asks.

"not necessarily," you pipe in, your voice more assertive. "if jason and percy just switch. no harm done."

"we're not interchangeable," percy grumbles.

"hera sure seemed to think so!" leo searches the room for positive responses to his joke, but the most he gets is a half-hearted laugh from frank. "too soon?"

you take a deep breath. "it's not a big deal, really."

"it kind of is," percy counters. "you've never gone on a quest without me."

"you've gone on quests without me," you point out.

"that's...that's different."

"why? because i'm so weak that i need the son of the sea god to protect me at all times?"

you're giving percy the coldest stare you ever have. he hesitates to hold your gaze.

"you know that's not what i meant," he sighs.

"then what did you mean?"

percy looks at you, his eyes and tone softer. “look, sunshine, let's just stick with the plan, alright? we can just —”

“gods, you never listen, do you?" you finally snap. "you're not coming! i don’t want you there, percy!”

percy stares at you, stunned. you look around the table, and everyone looks back at you, wide-eyed. they weren’t used to this side of you, your sudden outburst not fitting in with your usually sunny disposition. 

“well, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” leo jokes in an attempt to lighten the mood, with less than ideal results.

“you saw something in your dreams, didn’t you?” annabeth realizes. 

her conclusion makes you freeze.

demigod dreams are always significant, carrying vivid images of monsters, messages from friends or enemies. some children of apollo like you had visions of the future — pseudo prophecies that are supposedly set to unfold given the path you’re on. technically, you weren’t supposed to share your visions, something about messing with fate or destiny, but that didn’t mean you had to accept the way things were. 

what you saw in your dreams last night, what might happen to percy, made your blood run cold.

you would defy all the laws of the universe and divine rules if it meant you could protect him. so fuck the path the fates are attempting to lead you down, and fuck prophetic dreams. you refuse to let percy die. no matter how frustrated you’re acting towards him in this moment, you know he would still do the same for you.

you figure that the future isn't written in stone, right?

either way, you're willing to challenge destiny for percy jackson.

without answering annabeth, you get up from the table and take a deep breath, carefully avoiding percy’s gaze. 

“i go with leo and jason, or i go alone.” your voice is steady, fighting the heavy beating of your heart and tears caught in your throat. “either way, i leave in the morning.” you exit the mess hall before anyone — before percy — can protest.

[fvsm4x]

𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 - 𝟓

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠. ex! gojo s. x fem. reader

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭. Your boyfriend, who you loved more than anything, who was your will to live, broke up with you.

𝐜𝐰. angst / happy ending for reader but not gojo / wc. 4.1k / last chapter / kinda rushed

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5

But it wouldn‘t hurt to give him a second chance, right.?

But as much as you wanted to believe that a second chance could heal the wounds between you, doubt gnawed at the edges of your resolve. The pain he had caused was not something easily forgotten, and the memories of the betrayal still stung like fresh wounds. You had to consider what giving him another chance would mean—not just for your relationship with him, but for your own self-worth, your own sense of dignity.

"Gojo," you began, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside, "you say you want another chance, but can you honestly tell me why? Is it because you've realized what you lost, or because you're afraid of being alone now that she's gone?"

His eyes widened, as if the question had struck a chord deep within him. He struggled to find the right words, his expression a mix of desperation and confusion. "I... I just know that I don't want to lose you. I made a mistake, I see that now. I was stupid, selfish, but I swear, I’ve changed."

"You’ve changed?" you echoed, the skepticism clear in your tone. "How can I trust that? Last time, you promised me the world, only to break me apart when it suited you. How do I know this time won’t be the same?"

Gojo remained silent for a moment, the weight of your words sinking in. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the struggle between his desire to make things right and the reality of the pain he had caused.

"I don’t know how to prove it to you," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I want to try. I want to be the person you deserve, the one who won’t hurt you again."

You let out a soft sigh, the tension in your chest making it hard to breathe. His sincerity tugged at your heart, but the scars he had left made it difficult to simply accept his words at face value. You had to think about what was best for you, not just what he wanted.

"Gojo," you said slowly, choosing your words carefully, "I need to understand something. What would be different this time? How do you expect me to believe that you're not just saying these things because you're hurt and vulnerable right now? That you won't just fall back into old habits the moment things get tough?"

He looked down, his hands trembling slightly as they gripped yours tighter. "I’ve learned from my mistakes," he said, his voice laced with determination. "I know I hurt you, and I regret it more than anything. I took you for granted, and I was wrong. I can’t take back what I did, but I want to show you that I can be better—that I can love you the way you deserve to be loved."

The sincerity in his voice was almost enough to break down your defenses. Almost. But the reality of the situation loomed large in your mind. You had been here before, heard these promises before, only to be left shattered in the end.

"Do you really understand what you're asking of me?" you asked, your voice soft but firm. "You're asking me to put my heart on the line again, to risk everything for the chance that you might actually change this time. But what if you don't? What if I let you back in, only to find myself back in this same place a few months from now?"

Gojo's expression faltered, the weight of your words sinking in. He knew you were right—he was asking for a lot, maybe too much. But still, he refused to give up.

"I can't promise that everything will be perfect," he said, his voice raw with emotion. "But I can promise that I’ll fight for us, that I won’t make the same mistakes again. I’ll prove to you that I’m serious this time. Just... please, give me a chance to show you."

Your heart ached at the sight of him, so vulnerable and desperate for your forgiveness. You wanted to believe him, to believe that he could change, that he could become the man you needed him to be. But the fear of getting hurt again was a powerful force, one that you couldn't simply ignore.

"I don't know if I can do this, Gojo," you said, your voice trembling with the weight of the decision before you. "I don't know if I can put myself through this again, not after everything that's happened."

He looked at you with a mix of hope and despair, as if he knew he was teetering on the edge of losing you forever. "Please," he whispered, his voice breaking. "Just one more chance. Let me show you that I can be better."

You closed your eyes, the tears finally spilling over as the emotions you had been holding back crashed over you like a tidal wave. The love you had for him was still there, buried beneath the pain and betrayal, but it was overshadowed by the fear of being hurt again.

Finally, you opened your eyes and met his gaze, your heart heavy with the weight of your decision. "Gojo, I need time," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "I can't just jump back into this like nothing happened. I need time to think, to figure out what's best for me."

His face fell, but he nodded, understanding that this was as much as you could give him right now. "I’ll wait," he said, his voice filled with a mix of sadness and determination. "I’ll wait as long as it takes."

With that, you slowly pulled your hand away from his, the warmth of his touch lingering even as you stepped back. The distance between you felt like a chasm, one that might never be bridged again. But for now, it was what you needed—to find your own path, to heal in your own time.

As you turned to walk away, leaving him kneeling there in the cold, you couldn’t help but wonder if you had made the right choice. The future was uncertain, the path ahead filled with doubts and unanswered questions. But one thing was clear: you had to choose yourself this time, even if it meant walking away from the man you once loved.

As you walked away, the echoes of your footsteps reverberating through the quiet night, the weight of your decision settled heavily on your shoulders. Each step felt like an eternity, as if the very air around you was thick with the tension of what had just transpired. The distance between you and Gojo grew, but the connection, the history, and the unresolved emotions hung in the air, clinging to you like a shadow.

You couldn’t help but replay his words over and over in your mind. The desperation in his voice, the sincerity in his eyes—were they enough? Could a person truly change, or was it just wishful thinking? The memories of your time together flooded your mind, both the good and the bad, each moment tinged with the bittersweetness of what once was and what might never be again.

But as you walked further, a different voice began to whisper in the back of your mind, a voice that questioned your own choices, your own feelings. You had been hurt, yes, but was there a part of you that still longed for the love you once shared? Was there still a flicker of hope that things could be different this time, that the man you had loved was still in there, waiting to be rediscovered?

You stopped walking, standing there in the dim light of the streetlamp, your breath visible in the cold night air. The silence was deafening, your thoughts swirling like a storm inside your head. You had asked for time, but the truth was, you didn’t know how much time you would need. The wound was still fresh, the trust still shattered, and yet, beneath all that pain, there was a part of you that wanted to believe in second chances.

What if you were being too harsh? What if, in pushing him away, you were closing the door on something that could be beautiful again? The questions gnawed at you, each one more persistent than the last. Could you really walk away from him, from everything you had built together, without giving him the chance to prove himself? Was it fair to judge him solely on his past mistakes, without considering the possibility that he had learned from them?

As you stood there, lost in thought, the memories of the love you once shared began to resurface. The way he used to look at you, the way his laughter would fill the room, the warmth of his embrace on a cold night—it all felt so distant now, yet so painfully close. You remembered the moments of joy, the times when it felt like nothing in the world could come between you. Those memories were precious, and they weren’t so easily erased by the pain he had caused.

But then, there were the darker memories, the ones that cut deep into your soul. The lies, the betrayal, the feeling of being second best—those wounds were still raw, still bleeding, and the thought of reopening them was terrifying. You had worked so hard to rebuild yourself, to find strength in your own company, to remember who you were without him. Letting him back in meant risking all of that, risking everything you had fought so hard to regain.

A small voice inside you, however, urged you to reconsider. People could change, couldn’t they? Life wasn’t black and white, and relationships were messy, complicated. What if Gojo truly had realized the error of his ways? What if he was genuinely remorseful, ready to make amends and to be the partner you needed him to be?

You shook your head, trying to clear the confusion. You had to be sure, had to know that whatever decision you made, it was the right one for you. Turning around, you saw Gojo still kneeling where you had left him, his form barely visible in the distance. He hadn’t moved, hadn’t given up, even though you had walked away.

Was it really fair to expect him to change? Could you risk your heart again on the mere possibility that things might be different this time?

The truth was, you weren’t ready to forgive him. Not yet, and maybe not ever. The wounds were still too fresh, the scars too deep. Giving him another chance felt like inviting more pain into your life, a pain you weren’t sure you could endure again.

You took a deep breath and forced your feet to move, each step taking you further away from the man you once loved. The night was silent, the only sound was the soft crunch of gravel under your shoes as you walked down the empty street. The distance between you and Gojo grew, but so did the clarity in your mind. You deserved more than empty promises and second chances. You deserved someone who wouldn’t make you question your worth, someone who wouldn’t break your heart over and over again.

.

Gojo remained on his knees long after you had walked away, the chill of the night air seeping into his bones. He stared at the spot where you had stood just moments ago, as if by sheer force of will he could bring you back. But the empty space before him was a harsh reminder that you were gone, that he had lost you once again.

A dull ache settled in his chest, spreading through his entire body as he tried to process what had just happened. He had begged, pleaded, laid his heart bare before you, and yet it hadn’t been enough. You had looked at him with such pain in your eyes, a pain he knew he had caused, and that knowledge cut deeper than any rejection.

He slowly rose to his feet, his legs unsteady beneath him as he tried to regain his composure. The night felt colder now, the darkness more oppressive as he realized how truly alone he was. He had gambled everything on the hope that you might still care, that you might still see the man he was trying to become, but the truth was undeniable—you were done with him. And maybe you were right to be.

As he started walking, his mind replayed every word you had said, every look you had given him. Your voice, so full of hurt and doubt, echoed in his ears, a constant reminder of the mistakes he had made. He had taken you for granted, convinced himself that you would always be there, waiting for him to get his act together. But now, standing in the aftermath of his own selfishness, he realized just how badly he had miscalculated.

Gojo’s footsteps were heavy as he walked back to his own place, the streets eerily quiet. For the first time, he felt the full weight of his actions, the depth of the hurt he had caused not only to you but to himself. He had ruined something beautiful, something that might never be repaired, and the regret was almost too much to bear.

He reached his apartment and fumbled with his keys, his hands shaking slightly as he unlocked the door. The silence inside was deafening, the emptiness of the space mirroring the emptiness he felt within. He collapsed onto the couch, burying his face in his hands as the reality of the situation washed over him.

He had wanted so desperately to make things right, to prove to you that he had changed, but deep down, he knew it wasn’t that simple. Change wasn’t just about saying the right words or making promises—it was about action, about becoming a better person, and that was something he hadn’t truly grasped until now. He had hurt you, deeply, and no amount of pleading could erase that.

The truth settled heavily on his shoulders: he had lost you, maybe for good this time. And the worst part was, he had no one to blame but himself. He had played with your heart, made you question your worth, and now he was paying the price. The realization that he might never have another chance with you, that you might move on and find someone who would treat you the way you deserved, was almost too painful to bear.

But as he sat there in the darkness, Gojo knew that this was his moment of reckoning. He could no longer hide from the consequences of his actions. If he truly wanted to change, it had to start now—with or without you. He had to learn to be a better person, not just for you, but for himself. And if that meant letting you go, if that meant accepting that you might never forgive him, then so be it.

.

Weeks had passed since that night, but for Gojo, it felt like a lifetime. The days blurred together, a monotonous cycle of work, training, and sleepless nights. He threw himself into his duties, trying to drown out the memories of you, but nothing seemed to work. Every quiet moment was filled with thoughts of you—your laughter, your smile, the way your eyes had softened when you looked at him, before everything had fallen apart.

He hadn’t tried to contact you since that night. He knew better than to push, to force himself back into your life when you had made it clear that you needed space. Instead, he focused on himself, trying to understand where he had gone wrong, trying to become the man he had promised he would be. But no matter how much he tried to move forward, the emptiness where you used to be haunted him.

One chilly afternoon, Gojo found himself wandering aimlessly through the city streets, his hands shoved deep into his pockets as he watched the world go by. It was one of those rare days when he had no obligations, no missions or responsibilities to distract him from his thoughts. The city was bustling with life, people rushing past him with purpose, but he felt disconnected from it all, as if he were watching from a distance.

As he walked, he turned a corner and stopped in his tracks. There you were, just a few steps ahead, standing at the entrance of a cozy little café. For a moment, his heart leapt at the sight of you, his mind racing with the possibility of speaking to you, of seeing how you were doing after all this time. But before he could take a step, he noticed that you weren’t alone.

Standing beside you was a man—tall, with dark hair and a warm smile that reached his eyes. He was holding your hand, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles as you both laughed at something he had said. The sound of your laughter, so light and carefree, pierced through Gojo’s chest like a dagger. It was the same laugh he had fallen in love with, the one he had thought he might never hear again.

Gojo’s breath caught in his throat as he watched the two of you. There was an ease between you and the man, a comfort that spoke of familiarity, of something more than just a passing connection. The man leaned in closer, and you responded with a soft smile, one that Gojo knew all too well. It was the kind of smile that came from genuine happiness, from feeling safe and cherished.

He felt his heart constrict, a mix of emotions swirling inside him—regret, jealousy, sadness. But most of all, there was a deep, aching sense of loss. He had known this day might come, that you would eventually move on and find someone who could give you the love and security you deserved. But knowing it and seeing it were two different things, and the reality of it hit him harder than he had expected.

Gojo stood there, rooted to the spot, unable to tear his eyes away from you. He knew he should leave, walk away before you noticed him, but something kept him there, some part of him that needed to see this, to accept that you were no longer his.

As you and the man turned to enter the café, Gojo’s eyes met yours for the briefest of moments. Time seemed to freeze as recognition flickered in your gaze. There was a flash of surprise, quickly followed by something else—something softer, perhaps understanding or even sympathy. But you didn’t stop, didn’t call out to him. You simply gave him a small, polite nod before turning away,

As the door of the café closed behind you, Gojo hesitated for a moment, debating whether to follow you inside. He knew he should just walk away, let you enjoy your time with the man who clearly made you happy. But something stronger than reason pushed him forward. The unresolved tension between you gnawed at him, a silent torment that demanded closure.

With a deep breath, Gojo pushed open the door to the café, the small bell above it chiming softly as he stepped inside. The warm scent of coffee and baked goods filled the air, and the soft hum of conversation surrounded him. He quickly scanned the room, spotting you at a table near the window, the man still by your side.

You noticed him immediately, your eyes widening slightly in surprise as he approached. The man beside you looked up, clearly sensing the change in your demeanor, but remained silent, his expression polite but questioning.

Gojo stopped a few feet from your table, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides as he struggled to find the right words. He felt the weight of the moment pressing down on him, the significance of what he was about to say looming large in his mind.

"Can we talk for a minute?" he asked, his voice low and tentative, trying not to intrude too much on your moment with the other man.

You hesitated, glancing at the man beside you. He gave you a small, understanding nod, standing up to give you space. "I'll be right over there," he said softly, before stepping away to another part of the café.

Once he was out of earshot, you turned your attention back to Gojo, your expression guarded but not unkind. "Gojo, what do you want?" you asked quietly, your tone not accusatory but rather cautious, as if you were bracing yourself for whatever he might say.

He took a deep breath, struggling to meet your eyes. "I just... I just wanted to say I'm sorry. For everything. For the way I treated you, for the way I made you feel. I know I can’t undo the past, but I need you to know that I regret it all, deeply."

You looked at him, your expression softening slightly at his words, but there was still a distance in your gaze, a wall that hadn’t been there before. "Gojo," you began, your voice gentle but firm, "I appreciate you saying that. I really do. But what’s done is done. We can’t go back and change what happened. We both know that."

He nodded, swallowing hard against the lump forming in his throat. "I know," he said, his voice cracking slightly. "I just… I wish things could have been different. That I could’ve been better for you."

A small, sad smile tugged at the corners of your lips. "Maybe in another life," you said softly, your words like a bittersweet melody that hung in the air between you. "Maybe in another life, we were meant to be. But in this one…"

You trailed off, your eyes shimmering with unshed tears. The unspoken truth between you was palpable—no matter how much either of you wished it could be different, the damage had been done. The love you once shared was irreparably broken, and no amount of apologies could fix it.

Gojo felt a sharp pain in his chest, the finality of your words cutting through him like a blade. He had known, deep down, that this was how it would end, but hearing it from you made it all the more real.

"I understand," he murmured, his voice barely audible as he looked down at the floor. "I just… I hope you find the happiness you deserve."

You reached out then, gently touching his arm, the gesture both comforting and heartbreaking. "I hope you do too, Gojo," you whispered, your voice filled with a kind of tenderness that he hadn’t heard from you in a long time. "Take care of yourself."

He looked up at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of sorrow and acceptance. He knew this was goodbye—not just for now, but for the life you might have had together. It was the kind of parting that left an indelible mark on his soul, a reminder of what could have been.

With a heavy heart, Gojo nodded, turning to leave the café. As he walked away, he didn’t look back, knowing that doing so would only make it harder to let go. The door closed behind him, the cool air outside hitting him like a wake-up call. He stood there for a moment, trying to steady his breathing, trying to process the finality of what had just happened.

Inside, you watched him leave, your heart heavy but resolute. There was a part of you that would always care for Gojo, that would always wonder what might have been. But you knew, deep down, that you had made the right choice. Sometimes, love wasn’t enough to bridge the gap that had grown between two people. Sometimes, the kindest thing you could do was let go.

As you turned back to your table, the man who had been with you returned, concern etched on his face. He didn’t ask what had happened—he didn’t need to. He simply took your hand in his, offering silent support as you both sat down together.

Gojo walked down the street, the sun beginning to set, casting long shadows on the pavement. The ache in his chest was still there, but so was a strange sense of peace. You had found your path, and now, he had to find his own. And maybe, just maybe, in another life, things would have been different. But in this one, it was time to move on.

End

© fvsm4x 2023/4 : do not translate, plagiarise or steal my work.

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THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR STICKING WITH THIS STORY\(^ヮ^)/ new gojo series soon<33

[keyotos]

eyes on you

summary: when do the hsr men have their eyes on you?

includes ⎯ dan heng, gepard, blade, sampo & jing yuan

tana's words ⎯ i am OBSESSED w the sound "all these girls look good but i got my eyes on you." so that's what inspired me to write this. this is sickenly sweet btw.

dan heng

⎯ let’s be real this man always has his eyes on you. he is probably watching you to look out for you. but that’s just in a romantic sense.

⎯ dan heng is the observer type. he watches and he learns.

⎯ he watches you quite a lot. he always tries to brush it off as trying to make sure you don't break anything, but march & stelle know better. even you aren't that klutzy.

⎯ dan heng watches what you eat to find out what you enjoy. he watches how you react to certain things to see if you dislike them or not. in short, he observes (watches) you to find out how to be better for you. he wants to be the best version of himself, and that includes knowing what all your favorite things are.

⎯ he definitely logs all the information he knows about you in his little data base. it's like his notes app, but a notes app for nerds.

⎯ march & stelle insist he just ask you, but nooooooo, because that would seem like he doesn't know anything about you. in reality, he knows plenty.

⎯ you would think that, judging on how much he stares at you, he would know how to not get caught. WRONG. you've caught him on multiple occasions.

one time, when the world around you was surprisingly peaceful, you and dan heng went to go get food for march & stelle. after you ordered their food you guys sat down at a table (bc you all were meeting up) with their food. you eyed the food carefully before stealing a sip of stelle's drink.

⎯ "she won't mind!" she did. but that's okay.

when you took a sip out of stelle's drink, dan heng was watching you closely to see if you would enjoy it. if you enjoyed it, he'd get one for you the next time you guys come. while he's staring, he loses track of his original goal and begins noting other things. the crinkle of your eyes when you smile at the taste of the drink. the way your whole face lights up.

⎯ "take a picture, it'll last longer," you caught him and smiled. dan heng leaves his trance and begins to blush.

⎯ "that is such a ridiculous line," he shakes his head, trying to deflect the fact that he's been caught. he has his eyes on you one more time to see you smirking at him.

⎯ he now takes candid photos of you because of that line.

gepard

⎯ due to his captain position, you guys never got to see each other often. any free time you had was treated with utmost importance and no time could be spared. gepard barely had any time to set any eyes on you.

⎯ when bronya became the supreme guardian and when the fragmentum dispelled, everything changed. gepard now had more free time, which meant he had more time with you. time that could be spent doing nothing but just admiring the way you look.

gepard hasn't seen you in weeks. with the final clearance of the fragmentum monsters, he was gifted a few weeks of clarity with you. when he got home, he immediately showered and tried his best to look good for you.

when he saw you for the first time, you literally took his breath away. it was as if you glowed; you were nearly as radiant as the bright sun that was shining down on your face. gepard's eyes and his attention were only on you.

⎯ you and the guy that was standing next to you.

⎯ WHO IS THIS MAN????? did you finally get tired of endless waiting? did you feel lonely? does he treat you well? is he nice? does he listen to all your rants? is he there to kiss you goodnight?

⎯ gepard's thoughts are interrupted when he hears your voice. he sees you running over to him and then you're pulling him.

you grab his arm, pulling him towards the new guy. gepard was initially worried about what was going to happen next, but all was forgotten when he felt your arm tangled around his once again; he immediately leaned into your warm touch. instead of looking at the new guy, his eyes follow you at all times. gepard's fond expression is seen by all except himself.

his absence from your grace allowed him to forget every small detail about you. the way your smile grew as you spoke about your relationship (gepard blushed). the way you got all excited when you were introducing people. the way your voice goes up an octave when you get excited.

every time you pull yourself closer to his body, gepard is on the verge of combustion. he’s been touch starved for so long, he couldn’t wait for until you guys went home. he just wanted to be in bed or on the couch with you, simply relaxing in sweet nothing.

for now though, gepard waited for the conversation to end.

⎯ when the conversation is over, you and gepard have a small conversation.

"sooo, were you listening to me or staring at me during that whole thing?" you smirked. when gepard's face blushed, you couldn't help but smile. "i wasn't cheating on you if that's what you were worried about," you pulled him closer using the collar of his shirt, "i missed you too, by the way," and pulled him in for a kiss.

blade

⎯ blade doesn't consider himself to be the staring type. he's more, less talking (staring), more action (i'll let you guys interpret).

⎯ but how could he not stare at you when you look so peaceful. you're sleeping in his bed, wrapping in his blankets, and snoring without a care in the world.

⎯ had the snoring not been so loud, blade wouldn't have woken up to find such an endearing moment.

⎯ now, blade has been staring at your sleeping figure for longer than he would like to admit. he's been watching the rise and fall of your chest. listening to the snores getting quieter and then louder once more. he cannot tear his eyes off of your peaceful state.

blade brushes pieces of stray hair away from your face. he puts his hand over your sleeping figure, as if he was trying to protect you from the evils in the night. at this moment, however, there were no evils. just you and him in the moonlight. maybe it was the domesticity of the whole situation that made him continue his one-sided staring contest. with all the fighting and destruction going on in the universe right now, you are still next to him. you are here, and he is listening to you snore.

⎯ it's when you shuffle around the best, blade gets scared. he's scared he woke you up and ruined this domestic moment. his hand recoils away from your body.

⎯ when you turn, you are still asleep. it seems you were just readjusting yourself. readjusting yourself closer to him, that is. you went from back facing him to your front facing him.

⎯ blade watched your face as you slept. you looked so beautiful with the pale moonlight shining down on your face. normally, you complained that you couldn't sleep with the moon shining on your face, so that's why you slept with your back facing towards blade.

⎯ but tonight, blade has never gotten a chance to admire how the moonlight reflects on the shapes of your faces. your eyes, your lips, your nose.

⎯ it's when you put a hand on his knee, blade nearly jumps back. not out of fear (slightly out of fear), but because he thought he woke you up by breathing. he was confused.

you put your hand on his knee, in a sleeping daze. usually, at night, you are always physically touching your boyfriend somehow. but tonight, he is awake, watching you. your small act of physical touch was a beckoning for him to go to sleep and be with you.

⎯ blade grabbed your hand and slipped back under the covers with you. this time, after admiring one last glimpse of your sleeping face, he tugged you closer to him and you both fell asleep.

sampo

⎯ there are many formidable fighters in boulder city. that's a fact. fighting is the way of many in the underworld. sampo has seen it first hand.

⎯ sampo had not, however, seen a fighter as formidable as you.

⎯ he stumbled upon one of dig's matches at the right time. there was a crowd leading out to the door; it peaked sampo's curiosity. he had intentions of selling items at first, which is why he was shuffling through the crowd to get into the center. but when he saw you in the ring, beating everyone in your path, his beginning intentions were forgotten.

⎯ his eyes were glued to you: he was obsessed with the way you moved, the way you glided across the ring, the way you confidently destroyed all your enemies. he found you entrancing, and he had to see you after the match.

⎯ you’re no underground idiot. you’re aware of sampo koski and his costly scams. when he comes up to you after your match, you were about to run away. still, something about his presence made you want to stay.

when you turned around, you were faced with sampo koski hovering over you. “can i help you?” you asked in a raised tone.

“yes,” sampo smiled. you were interested in where this conversation was going, and you were curious on why sampo chose you to be his next victim. “mind teaching me some moves?”

⎯ you expected a lot of things in this situation. scamming, coy flirtation, winks, etc. you did not expect this.

⎯ you almost stumble back in shock. why does he want to know self-defense tips?? who are the people he’s scamming??????

you’re silent for several beats before sampo begins again, “you’re the best fighter in the underground, honest. and,” he dragged on the word to drag out the conversation, “that means you can help me!”

⎯ if sampo was really being honest with himself, he could’ve asked any other person in the ring. anyone else would’ve shown him self-defense; they liked him. you probably did not (judging by your expression).

⎯ instead, he wanted you. he told himself it was because you were the best fighter in the ring and you were talented. but deep down, it’s because he couldn’t keep his eyes off your performance the entire time; he was encapsulated by you.

“flattery will get you nowhere,” you patted his shoulder and started to walk away; however, sampo’s hand lightly grabs onto your arm, urging you to stay. and for some reason, you don’t let go.

“cmon,” he smirked, and it was weirdly attractive, “what if i need a bodyguard?”

⎯ maybe it was the tone of his voice. maybe it was the way he looked at you. maybe it was the way he held onto you, but he didn’t hold on too tight. whatever it was that night, it convinced you to stay by his side for a long time.

jing yuan

⎯ he can’t take his eyes off of you when he sees you in the courtyard playing chess with yanqing.

⎯ it's a sight for sore eyes, seeing you and yanqing together. the way you two got along so well made jing yuan's heart swell. seeing you two was like feeling the warm sun after a chilly day.

⎯ jing yuan has never expected you to stay for so long. his life has been full of troubles: intense training at a young age, the death of his master, taking on yanqing as his apprentice, and probably more to come. and yet, you've stayed by his side.

⎯ you are here. and you are alive and you are well. with a life full of loss, jing yuan is happy you are still here. he’s happy that you are smiling and laughing and you are doing mundane things such as playing chess.

⎯ it’s a simple activity. it’s calm and it’s peaceful and there’s no harm coming your way. life seems good for once, and jing yuan thinks he can get used to this as long as you were around him. he finds that peace comes along when you are around anyway.

“darn it! how did you see that?!” yanqing exclaimed, shocked by your recent move in chess. you simply smiled in retaliation, “dunno. face it kid, i am just that good.”

“hey! i was close to getting you though,” the boy reminded you. jing yuan was getting closer now to eavesdrop on your conversation. “key word being close,” you snickered.

⎯ who knew the way into jing yuan’s heart was banter and chess? the more he listened to your conversation, the more his heart swelled. the way you got along so easily with yanqing made him all warm and happy inside; it was such a domestic sight to see.

jing yuan approached your battle with yanqing and sat down next to you. like a moth to a light, you immediately leaned into his body, and jing yuan had to fight off the urge to pull you closer to him.

⎯ yanqing didn’t notice anything, as he was too focused on the chess game. he moved one of his pieces that were then followed by one of your chess pieces.

“you know i was the one who taught your master how to play chess?” you blurted out to yanqing as you followed his pieces around the board. jing yuan looked at you fondly, eyes never leaving your face.

“that’s why i’m so good,” you smirked, “and that’s also why i’m smart enough to do this,” you somehow managed to trap all of yanqing’s pieces, and one by one you started to take them all.

⎯ jing yuan had to hold in his laughter as he watched yanqing’s jaw drop to the floor as you give a low chuckle. jing yuan’s eyes went back to your face, and he thinks that this is nice. he could get used to this.

um yk idk if this is good or not but hopefully u guys enjoy this lol

[starry-bi-sky]

i've mentioned in a few past posts about an au where Danny is a variant of Jason Todd. I haven't made a post about it yet because I need a good rhythm flowing however i've been listening to Gladiator by Jann and I have been having thoughts.

but first, let me set the au:

Danny Fenton is Jason Todd, or at least, a variant of him. A him from a universe separate to the major Batman timeline - but still Jason Todd, down to the structure of his face and his name itself. The only thing that changes, is who picks him up - and, that he follows old Batman canon, and was an orphan. Jason Todd steals the tires off the batmobile and wallops Batman with his tirejack, and then runs off. Shortly after, he gets picked up by the Fentons.

(Customary line break,,,, word count check: 5k)

And his name changes from Jason Todd to Danny Fenton. He doesn't care much for the new name change, it stems from his mute refusal to share his name to the people that picked him up; an attempt to make him untraceable should he get away from them, and to keep something of his to himself. So they name him something new. He grows to like it enough as he acclimates to his new family.

(He hangs onto the name Jason Todd like a secret - he may be 'Danny Fenton' now, but he'll never forget his time on Gotham's streets. He'll always be Jason Todd.)

(Jazz is the only one who he tells his name to in the family - she affectionately calls him Jay whenever she wants.)

He becomes friends with Sam and Tucker and deals with Dash and his bullying. And when Danny steps in during a fight between Dash and another student, Dash gives him a bleeding nose and mockingly says, "Do you think you're Robin just because you're from Gotham, Fenton?"

Jason looks him in the eyes and he bares his teeth, "Why not?" he asks, spitting blood, "being Robin gives me magic."

The nickname sticks. It's supposed to be an insult; Daniel Fenton is not Robin, he'll never be Robin. Not now, not in a million years. Jason Todd has always wanted to be Robin, so he takes the insult and wears it proudly. He buys a school varsity jacket and painstakingly undos the stitching of all the school's motif on it. On the breast of it, he embroiders in a black circle with the Boy Wonder "R" on it instead. It's not good stitching, but the next day Danny wears it down to breakfast and into school.

In normal au canon, Daniel Jason Todd-Fenton (its a mouthful, just call him Danny) only meets the Waynes after he becomes Phantom - an event that leans more towards Daniel Fenton's accident than Jason Todd's death, but traumatizes him all the same. (Is it too much to want to be mourned? His best friends like to deny that he died - and Danny - Jason? - wishes they wouldn't, even if he did come back.)

(The accident embitters him, even more when his parents don't seem to pick up on it. He stops calling himself Danny Fenton - he's always been Jason Todd. It shows itself in his ghostly form. He doesn't want to wear the thing he died in, not in something that belongs to the Fentons, and his suit reflects that.)

In this timeline, Daniel Jason Todd-Fenton, aged 13, meets Dick Grayson and Bruce Wayne after a mishap with magic on the other end of the reality sends the three of them careening through time and space, and spat back out on the other end, in a world not their own. And together.

Danny is paired with a very confused Bruce Wayne and Richard Grayson. Luckily, there's a few heroes there to help them. Danny can hardly comprehend the idea that he's in another universe - he doesn't know why Dick Grayson and Bruce Wayne are seemingly handling it well.

On their way to a secondary base with the heroes, Danny turns to Bruce Wayne and asks, "So, is it part of rich-person training that you're just totally chill with being sent into another universe, or are you just weird?"

Bruce Wayne huffs at him, rather than get offended, and he smiles that dumb lopsided billionaire smile that Danny's seen on every vogue magazine he's been in. "I'm not so worried with these skilled heroes here to help us get home."

Danny silently concludes that he's just weird. At least Dick Grayson is biting back a smile behind him. "Riiiight..." He says, dragging the vowel out dryly.

When they get to that secondary location -- a safehouse that one of the heroes had set up -- the three of them are sat in a living room-like room while one hero, Zatanna, goes and calls someone from the Justice League. The other two heroes stay with the three of them.

Within a few hours, Danny is face to face with Batman - someone who he hasn't seen since he whacked him in the stomach with a tire iron - and Nightwing. For a moment, Danny swears that the both of them look almost spooked by him.

Batman stares at him for a moment when he enters, and then he goes to speak with Bruce Wayne. Danny doesn't care enough to hear what they're talking about, he pulls out his phone as Nightwing goes to speak with Dick Grayson.

"Are you a fan of Robin, little man?" Someone says, and when Danny looks up he locks eyes with Dick Grayson -- who is leaning around Nightwing to talk to him, the both of them are smiling. And considering who Nightwing was, Danny finds himself turning pink to the ears.

But he will not hide his jacket. He forces a grin through his embarrassment, "Hell yeah, man, Robin's cool." He says, and pushes his arms down to pull out the hem of his letterman, showing off the emblem. "I made it m'self out of a school varsity after the A-Listers started callin' me Robin."

"A-Listers?"

"Popular kids," Danny corrects, loosing his hold on the hem and brushing invisible wrinkles out of the embroidery. "They didn't like that I kept stepping in when they were bullying. Dash asked me if i thought I was Robin because I was from Gotham."

Dick Grayson looks intrigued -- and concerned, and he leans forward onto his knees and raises an eyebrow. "What did you say?"

And Danny grins a shark-like thing, straightening back his shoulders with a burning sort of smug pride and all the sharpness of broken glass left in Crime Alley. "I told him being Robin gave me magic, and then I punched him."

Dick Grayson's smile widens, splitting into showing teeth as he leans back into his seat. Danny isn't sure why he's so delighted - but Nightwing looks incredibly amused, and he suddenly remembers that the Robin himself was there in front of him.

Danny's face burns anew and his arms fold themselves in front of him once again.

"I don't think I ever caught your name, Robin." Dick Grayson goes, his voice thick with laughter, and Nightwing steps off to the side as Batman and Bruce Wayne walk over to join them both. They're just close enough that Danny can see Bruce Wayne raise an eyebrow at them both.

"It's Jason." Danny says before he can think about it, and barely stops himself from frowning at himself for the slip. He amends himself, glancing over at Batman and Bruce as they get closer. "But everyone calls me Danny."

Dick Grayson's head recoils slightly, and he looks a little surprised. "Why Danny?" He asks.

"Why Dick?" He shoots back, and Bruce and Dick both smile at him, with Dick Grayson shrugging with an expression that looks like 'you've got a point.'

In the end, the three of them - yes, three - get sent to this world's Wayne Manor, and Danny is bewildered by that decision to include himself -- he's not a Wayne. Why not just send him to the Fentons?

Batman tells him that the Fentons don't exist in this world, and Danny falls silent. "Oh." He says quietly, a pit growing in his stomach with an ill-kind of dread. He can't keep Batman's gaze, looking away with unease.

No Fentons in this world. No Fentons. Where was he then, in the grand scheme of things? Where was he in this world? What happened to Jason Todd? Was he even alive? He can't keep the worry off his face, and he jumps when a hand lands on his shoulder. When he looks up, Dick Grayson squeezes him gently.

Dick Grayson is steadily beginning to remind him of his sister.

-

They end up driving back in the Batmobile. It's such a shock to Danny that he momentarily forgets the lack of Fentons. He makes a laugh sound, actually, and immediately he covers his hand with his mouth and stares at the car -- tank? with his teeth sunk into his lower lip.

"Jason?" Dick says, and hearing his name being spoken feels like someone touched him with a livewire. It's weird, it's foreign - he hates, in some way, that it's foreign - and it's so nice. Yes, that's me.

He drops his hand immediately. "Sorry." He says, realizing he'd stopped in his tracks, "I -uh, was just surprised."

"It's not every day someone sees the Batmobile." Dick agrees. Nightwing has his back to them but Danny swears he sees his shoulders shaking a little.

"Yeah," Danny nods slowly, dragging his eyes over the batmobile as Batman opens the driver's side and gets in. He thinks for a moment, of what he should say next - whether to admit that he's seen it before, or to pretend that he's seeing it for the first time. Snd as Nightwing opens the door for him, Bruce, and Dick, he chooses the funnier option; "The last time I saw it, I was stealing its tires."

To his surprise and unsurprise, Danny only gets two pairs of eyes on him. Nightwing gets into the passenger seat as both Bruce and Dick turn their gaze onto him; Dick's eyes big like they were going to bulge out of his head.

"You what!?"

So Danny tells an amazed Dick Grayson that he hit Batman with a tire iron after he stole his tires - something he is very proud about and also incredibly embarrassed about when he retells what happened in the backseat of the batmobile, with Batman and Nightwing listening in from the front seat.

(Bruce Wayne doesn't ever tell Dick shit, he's going to lord this over Bruce's head the moment they are alone.)

"Please tell me this didn't happen in this world." Danny groans behind his palms as he sinks into his seat. Dick Grayson is killing himself laughing on his left, and he saw Bruce Wayne stifling a smile before he obscured his vision with his hands.

Much to his luck, its Batman himself who speaks next, (Danny was being mostly rhetorical). "It did." He says, and his voice sounds like the rumble of the earth before a stampede. It will never not throw Danny off every time he hears it. "It takes quite a lot of spunk to steal the tires off the batmobile."

He can't believe it. Batman is making fun of him. Fucking, Batman.

He wants to die with embarrassment. He groans even louder as Dick Grayson's laughter crescendoes. Danny risks a peak through his fingers, he doesn't know whether to regret it or not because he can just barely see Batman smirk very faintly from his position in the middle.

(His world axis tilts five degree leftways seeing it; like someone dunked a bucket of ice water on him.)

"He ended up being adopted by the Bruce Wayne of this world."

Danny's hands drop with his jaw into his lap. Dick Grayson on his left chokes on his laughter and careens into a coughing fit. Bruce Wayne on his right chokes on air, and quickly recovers himself with a cough behind a closed fist.

"What?" Danny croaks.

-

Apparently, Bruce Wayne's family is much larger in this world than it is in his. Danny can barely wrap his head around the idea that he ends up adopted by the man, but now he has to learn that Wayne had several children in this world?

He's still not wrapped his head around it when the three of them wind up at Wayne Manor, finally, or even when he's standing in front of him himself. For his effort, Bruce Wayne does a good job at looking unruffled by it.

God, he's weird. Danny's starting to quite like it, actually. How human of him.

He still can't wrap his head around it when he meets the rest of Bruce Wayne's children, all of whom are already aware of the three of them. Danny thinks that someone from the Justice League might've alerted them before they got here.

It makes sense, he supposes.

It helps that they are just as weirded out as he is. A boy named Tim Drake sees him for the first time and blurts out; "Oh wow, you're tiny." In a tone like he's just seen a two-headed snake burst out of the ground.

Danny is still offended. He's still growing. It's not his fault he spent twelve years of his life malnourished. "I'm gonna be taller than you," he tells him seriously, "and when I do I'm gonna kick your ass."

Tim snorts at him.

The other Bruce Wayne -- Mr. Wayne's -- youngest looks at him up and down with a face of carefully controlled judgement. His name is Damian, he's Bruce Wayne's only biological son. Danny can't believe that there's only one.

If anything, Bruce Wayne himself looks surprised too.

"Todd, yes?" Damian says, his green eyes narrowed at him.

Danny feels like the specimen under his parents' microscope, he feels like he's standing on a platform that's being slowly spun by scientists. He looks over at Bruce Wayne in confusion, and then back at Damian. "I- yes?"

Damian Wayne nods, and then leaves.

Danny does not once see himself. That is unsettling in and of itself - surely Jason Todd would have been told about another version of himself in this world, wouldn't he? How old is he here? An adult, probably. Danny doesn't know if he wants to see him. What does he look like when he's grown up? He pulls his Robin jacket around him a little tighter, like a cocoon, like a shield.

"It's weird to hear them call me Jason Todd." He says aloud to himself, and it leaves a weight behind in his chest that shouldn't hurt the way it does. It shouldn't be weird to be called your name. It shouldn't cobweb up your throat to hear your name being said. It was his name. It was his.

-

Danny acclimates to the manor slowly. The house is big, massive. He's never been in a house so large before, he feels like a stray cat being taken in for the first time, again. He and Bruce and Dick Grayson are all given their own separate rooms - one of many inside this mansion - and the sheer size of his bedroom is bigger than his living room and kitchen combined.

it's daunting. Danny sits outside on the balcony and stares at the stars he can see - Wayne Manor is far enough away from Gotham that its light pollution doesn't obscure the sky here like it did in the heart of it.

Danny finds the constellations he can find and wishes he had his books with him. He finds the library the next day and buries himself in the back, curling up into a comfy armchair next and inhaling each book he can get his hands on.

Tim Drake wanders past him at some point, Danny would have missed him if it weren't for the fact that Drake stared at him strangely when he saw him. He walks away when he realizes Danny was staring back.

It's a rinse and repeat for the next few days. Danny doesn't go to meals, he sneaks food from the kitchen afterwards, and then buries himself in hundreds of books in the library.

Dick Grayson, the one from his world, goes and finds him three days later. Danny's eyes hurt with strain by then, but he is furiously halfway through a Jane Austen novel when Dick sits down across from him.

"Have you been here all day?" Dick asks, he drapes himself across the side of his chair, contorting himself into a position that Danny doesn't think is comfortable when he looks up at him.

Not that he looks up at him long - he hums absently and goes back to reading. Frowning when he realizes he lost his place on the page.

Dick Grayson raises an eyebrow, "Have you at least eaten anything?"

Danny hums. No, he hasn't, and he hadn't thought about eating all day. Until now that is, his frown ever deepening as his stomach pangs with a deep hunger.

"That's not healthy."

"Mhm."

"Are you going to eat something?"

"Mhhh."

And this gets Dick to frown. He straightens himself up, propping onto his elbows to stare at Danny. "Jason." He says strongly. And it's that that gets Danny to finally look up from his page, jumping like he'd again been poked with a live wire as he stares at Dick with wide eyes.

"Yes?"

"Put the book down." Dick orders, gesturing towards the side table next to Danny with a nod. "And come eat something." There's very little room for argument in his voice, he sounds like Jazz when she's trying to parent him, but instead he actually sounds authoritative. Not bossy.

Danny still frowns at him. "You're not the boss of me." He says, sinking back into his chair with a thumb bookmarking his page.

Dick gives him a look and makes a decisive noise, swaggling his head side to side while he does. "I'm pretty sure that for as long as we're here, me and B actually are the boss of you."

He's never really liked authority figures, not ones that tried to boss him around, that is. Danny doubles down, his lips curling into a shadow of a scowl. "Just because you're my brother in another world doesn't mean you can act like it."

"That's not what I mean and you know it."

"I don't want to go eat."

"It's not good for you to skip meals."

"Quit talking like Jazz."

"Danny."

Danny sinks his teeth into his lip and scowls darkly at him, shrinking into the back of his armchair in hopes that it'll swallow him whole. The idea of going into that large fucking dining room fills him with a dread that makes him completely forget his appetite.

"Your fucking- dining room is- it's too big." He grits out, finally closing his book and hugging it tightly to his chest.

Dick blinks at him. "What?"

"You heard me! It's too big. This whole place is too big. It's- what do you even do with this much space? I don't know how this- other me ever lived here."

Dick Grayson surprises him, and his expression softens. "Oh," he says, "I get it."

"You do?" The tension bleeds slowly out of Danny's shoulders

"Yeah, I felt the same way when I first moved in with Bruce. I lived with the circus for most of my life, but I slept in a trailer." He says. And he talks more.

The end result of their conversation ends with Dick Grayson offering to let Danny sit across or next to him during mealtimes, and that he can talk to him if he starts getting uneasy. But he can't keep skipping meals - it was making them all worried.

Danny agrees, and Dick takes him down to the kitchens for food.

"They look at me weirdly too." He grumbles as they leave the library, Danny's book returned to the shelf where it belonged. When Dick looks at him curiously, he scrunches his nose up. "The - your other siblings. They look at me like I'm- I'm someone else. S'weird."

"Isn't that a good thing?" Dick asks, "You are someone else."

Dany shrugs, staring at the ground with a heavy frown. "I don't know."

-

Danny seeks out Dick more after that. And vice versa. Dick reminds Danny of Jazz, and he latches onto the familiarity like a leech. If Dick is bothered by it, he doesn't show it, whether he's talking to his other world's self, to the Bruce's, or to one of the other Wayne kids.

Damian Wayne seems particularly keen to seek him out, Danny finds. He thinks it means that they're close in this world, and that Damian wants to see more of what a young Dick is like. That's what he would do, at least.

He takes up on Dick's offer of seating near him during dinner, and finds an open spot across from him. Unless he has something to show him, then he sits next to him.

("You can call me Jason." He tells him one day when they're in the Wayne's massive, fuck-off gym and they're both climbing over the jungle gym. Dick's showing him how to be more flexible. It's the most Danny's worked out ever, he likes the burn it gives him.

Dick looks at him in surprise, "Really?" he's doing a handstand on the bars and Danny's more than a little jealous at his balance.

"Yeah, dipshit," he says, rolling his eyes, "I'll even let you call me Jay, it's my nickname."

Dick happily takes him up on that offer, and much to Danny's embarrassment, starts calling him Jaybird. All because of his stupid Robin jacket.)

Danny has yet to meet his other self still, it's scaring him a little. Where was he? And matter of fact, how long until he could go back to his home dimension? The three of them hadn't gotten any updates since they arrived.

Speaking of, he was starting to talk to Bruce more, it was just... strange. Even stranger than talking to Dick. Bruce Wayne in another life would have been his adoptive father, Danny can't wrap his head around it for the life of him.

Whatever did Bruce Wayne see in Jason Todd that made him worth adopting? He's too afraid of the answer to ask. They start talking more after they run into each other late at night. Danny had been hit with a bout of insomnia and was going to the library.

He ran into Bruce on the way. He was just.. staring, out the window, with a faraway look in his eye. He didn't even look startled to see Danny standing there.

Danny asks him if he wants to go to the library with him. It was out of panic. He isn't expecting Bruce Wayne to agree, and they walk there in suffocating silence. Danny keeps looking at him from the corner of his eye.

("You're staring?" Bruce doesn't sound upset, Danny jumps anyway.

"Yeah, sorry." his voice sounds stilted, "it's just..." his jaw wires itself shut for a spell, "...you looked like you were about to disappear."

"Ah.")

When they reach the library, Danny leads Bruce Wayne into the science section and takes out books upon books about stars. He leads him over to the armchair and fire and they both sit down on the ground.

"When I lived in Gotham I would stargaze." Danny says, it's the first thing he can think of. Bruce Wayne looks at him quizzically. "Well, I would try to. The sky's too polluted for that. Mostly I would just watch the skyline and try and spot Batman and Robin, was the same thing."

That cracks a smile out of Bruce. It's a small one, barely there. "I hardly think the two are comparable."

Danny is still serious. "Not to me."

He goes on, talking about how after he was adopted he got his hands on every star book he could find. He loves english and he loves to read, but something about the stars drew him in like a song. He rambles about every star fact he knows with Bruce Wayne.

Bruce Wayne surprises him by telling him facts he didn't know. Danny soaks it up like a sponge, listening intently to him speak. And when they run out of star books to talk about, Danny tells Bruce that it was his turn to find something for them to talk about.

Bruce Wayne smiles again at him, a sly little thing like Danny's challenged him, and gets up. He comes back with a stack of film books, and they spend the next few hours going through them. Bruce Wayne rattles off every single movie fun fact he knows, and there is so much that he knows.

Danny is in awe, and moves to press against Bruce's side to see the stuff he points at in his books.

"You're smarter than people give you credit for." He says at some point, when his eyes hurt from being open for too long and his head leans against Bruce's arm for support. It follows with a jaw-cracking yawn that he tries and fails to stifle.

"Thank you, Danny." Bruce says, his voice soft and soothing and not helping with Danny's weighing exhaustion. His eyes drift, and then jerk open. "Do you want to go back to your room? You look tired, chum."

He bites back a smile at the nickname, and fails to keep it bitten. "No, no, I'm awake." He mumbles, shaking his head slowly. "I wanna hear-" he yawns again, "-hear you talking."

Danny swears he can hear the smile in Bruce's voice as he speaks; "Alright. Now, where was I?"

In the end, Danny falls asleep on the floor of the library next to Bruce Wayne. He doesn't even realize it until he wakes up the next morning. But it's not to worry, Bruce Wayne fell asleep too, an arm thrown around Danny protectively like he was his own kid.

This becomes a thing for them soon enough. When neither of them can sleep, they go to the library and talk and talk about whatever comes to mind.

There comes the dreaded night after they've finished whatever book they were looking at when Bruce, the little shit, turns to Danny and goes; "You never mentioned what happened after you hit Batman with a tire iron."

Danny groans, big and dramatic, burying his head in his arms, and ignores the low chuckle. "I thought he was gonna chase me down for sure." He complains, his voice muffled by his arms.

"Why did you hit him with a tire iron?"

The look Bruce gets is one of pure disbelief. "If Mothman suddenly showed up behind you while you were taking the wheels off his ride, you'd hit him too!"

"Last time I checked, Mothman isn't real." Bruce told him amusedly, and Danny flops over onto his back to stare him down. His arms sprawl out like a starfish, intentionally hitting Bruce in the shoulder.

"You don't know that, Batman's a cryptid and he's real."

Bruce roars with laughter, and Danny preens like a bird.

That next morning when Bruce passes by him for breakfast, he reaches over and ruffles his hair. It's the same thing he does for Dick every morning. It's the first of many, and it gets many stares from the surrounding family.

Bruce has a newspaper tucked under his arm, and when he sits down Danny stands up and skedaddles over to him, leaning over the side of his chair to peer at the paper.

"Any cryptids spotted, Buzz?" He asks, getting a startled laugh out of Bruce, who looks up at him.

"Buzz?"

"Well, yeah," and Danny states it as matter-of-fact. He gestures his head at Dick Grayson. "Dick calls you 'B', and B is for bees, and I can't just call you Bees, that's dumb. So; Buzz."

He grins triumphantly when Bruce laughs quietly, his shoulders shaking imperceptibly. "I know," he tilts his head up proudly, "I'm a genius."

Now he's actually laughing, dropping his head into one of his hands and trying to quiet himself as much as possible. Danny is positively beaming, ignoring the stares of the other Waynes as he flounces back to his seat just as the other Mister Wayne enters the room.

-

When Jason Daniel Fenton Todd meets Jason Todd for the first time, they both just stare at each other.

Danny recognizes himself immediately in the library, and he freezes up. His tongue ties to the roof of his mouth, and he's unsure of what to say.

He doesn't need to say anything at all, because when Jason Todd looks up and they lock eyes, they both just stare. And stare. Jason Todd is a large, hulk of a man, built like a brick shithouse, with a tired, traumatized look in his eyes and a white streak in his black curls. The same black curls that Danny himself has.

He has no idea what to say. Or if he should turn back around and leave.

Jason Todd sighs at him, "I know they told me you and another world's Bruce and Dickie were here," he says, but it sounds like he's talking to himself. Even moreso when he mutters half-heartedly, "-but I was hoping I wouldn't run into you."

Danny feels small next to him. He doesn't know why. "Sorry." He says lamely, his one foot skips back, "I can leave if you want." It's unlike him to be meek, he thinks. Not after years of Gotham living and dealing with the likes of Dash and his Jerk Jocks.

But this also isn't the streets, and this isn't other kids being dicks. Jason Todd shakes his head, and gestures with one large arm for Danny to come over. "You don't need to do that, you were coming to read, right?"

He nods, and tentatively makes his way over. When Jason looks at him, he sees him cast his eyes over his Robin jacket - he wears it everyday. Danny sees him narrow his eyes, just slightly. But he says nothing.

It's... a strange conversation. Interaction. Jason Todd doesn't talk to him much, and if he does it's stilted and awkward, like he doesn't know how to treat him. Like he's holding him at arm's length.

Jason's getting tired of being treated like a ghost.

They talk about their books. They compare lives. Jason Todd was picked up a few days after he stole the wheels of the batmobile. He wasn't an orphan, he lived with his mom and his stepdad before he lived with Bruce. They both like to read, only Danny has an interest in the stars.

("What do your adoptive parents do?" Jason Todd asks him, one arm slung over the back of the armchair, he looks relaxed. He looks tense. Danny feels like he's back in Crime Alley again.

"They're 'ectologists'." He says, making air quotes over the word. He rolls his eyes, "Ghost hunters. They study the dead and all things afterlife."

Jason Todd makes a dry laugh huff, a sarcastic half-smile on his face. He doesn't explain why he does, Danny doesn't ask why. It doesn't seem like his business.)

Danny wants to ask him where he got that white streak in his hair. It doesn't feel right. It feels like his parents' lab, and that isn't right. Nothing ever feels like his parents' lab.

Jason Todd leaves first after giving him a few book recommendations. Danny isn't sure how to rate the experience. Being in Jason Todd's presence was like standing in a liminal space. An empty parking lot at night. When he leaves it feels like much the same thing.

He struggles to read his books afterwards, unable to shake the feeling of being haunted.

[youryanderedaddy]

tw: gn reader, non - con, kidnapping (hinted)

He's awfully gentle - and perhaps that's what you hate about him the most. The way your tears reduce him to a shell of a man, the way he holds you tenderly, like glass about to shatter from the wind. The way he looks at you - like you're the only person in his small grey world that's made of moving, breathing flesh and fragile breakable bones and splash of incoherent colour all over your cheeks. The way his irises move with feral speed when the ring on your sharp, barking laugh fills the stuffy mold - infested air with life, and his heart all but throbs out of his chest when you push him away.

He holds you at night through the nightmares and the screams, refusing to let go as you fight with all your might to break free, but it's pointless. He knows you - he's studied you, every creek and curve, every dream and fright, every single thing that makes your being tick and purr and surrender. He speaks your language, despite your best efforts to remain hidden, to remain a mystery, he's managed to slice through the protective shield of your psyche, of your most intimate fears, and he's made himself at home in your arms.

It's odd - perverse even, you realize in rare moments of rationale, how used you are now to waking up with his warmth inside of you, nested neatly between your folds; whispering soft little nothings in your flushed ear. Keeping you at the realm between sweet dreams and bitter reality, making you question every fluttering touch, every butterfly kiss against your throat. You're not sure what's real anymore, hot, throbbing pressure pulsating in the middle of your core, the honey nectar dripping down your thighs, back arching in a pleasure - fueled spasm so erratic you're left breathless. Overwhelmed by ecstasy, followed by guilt - ridden shame in a ruthless cycle you have no hope of escaping anymore.

To think it used to be different all those months ago when he first took you in. You would scratch and bite, kicking at will - acting as crazy as possible in hopes he'd find you too difficult to keep. But alas, his gaze never hardened, lips mouthing words of adoration in respond to your countless insults.

"I hate you. I fucking hate you, y-you - you maniac!" You'd hiss through clenched teeth, sweat forming under your brows as your whole body stiffened before his naked figure hovering over you, strong muscled arms keeping you close to his chest in an awkward mockery of a hug.

"Shh, I know you're scared, my love." He'd caress your hair softly, running his fingers through your wet messy locks, cooing as if you're a cornered animal. "I know you're frightened, but I am not going to hurt you, precious. I love you more than you could possibly imagine. You don't know how long I've dreamt of embracing you." He'd press hot, feverish kisses down your collarbone, stroking your numb fingers until you eventually unclenched your fists. "Just like that, you're doing so good for me, angel, so fucking beatiful for me, just lay back and let me show how much I adore you."

You'd relax your hips slowly, keeping your eyes fixed to the ceiling - yielding to the inevitable, yet making a last pitiful attempt to hide the growing heat between your legs.

"You're so perfect, angel." He'd say, slowly undressing you. "I need to feel you against me. I hope you can forgive me one day - but here, before you, I am just a man. Without you my life would lose all meaning, I can't let you go. Forgive me. Love me, please."

And somehow deep within your heart, you wonder if you truly can.

[penkura]

Zoro has come to want nothing more than for you and your children to be safe. He believes for the longest time that the three of you being on the Sunny, where he can protect you, is the safest place in the world, no village or city could be safer. Zoro believes that fully, up until your ship is attacked by enemy Pirates. No one is surprised when you take your children, who are barely two years old and nearly four months old, below deck for safety, even as they both cry from the sounds and you try to calm them down.

When it's all over and he goes to retrieve the three of you, there's a strange feeling in his chest and a thought in the back of his mind that hits him when he sees you coddling your toddler and infant, both of whom are still fussy and upset, but your son starts to relax when he sees Zoro there and knows everything is okay, quickly running to be held in his dad's arms. He lifts him easily, your two year old burying his face in his neck, still crying just a bit, and the face you give him tells Zoro you have the same thought.

This isn't a safe place for children.

The two of you have several discussions the days after, on what to do now that your two little ones have had to experience the reality of living on a pirate ship so early on. Eventually you decide that it's best if, at the next island you dock at, you take your children and leave for some time, to give them a chance to grow up without fearing for their lives. Most places you visit are receptive to your crew, they welcome you all happily, and you fully believe the next island will too, based on things you've heard about it. Zoro only agrees because he wants you to be safe, you and your babies, he doesn't want anything to happen to any of you, not now not ever.

He doesn't fully accept that idea until a few weeks later, when you've left the ship with Nami and Jinbei, and have Zoro stay with your napping babies. The thought has been nagging him ever since that last attack against your crew, since he's been watching your kids grow a little more. Your son has been attached to Zoro ever since, especially when he wakes in the night, calling for him like he's had a nightmare (he probably has, Zoro realizes), while your daughter has been fully calm ever since, sleeping and nursing normally, she doesn't understand what happened and won't for several more years.

When you get back later, you find Zoro still watching them sleep, like he hasn't moved at all, lost in thought as you sit beside him. You lean against his arm, and he acknowledges you with a slight grunt and nod, before you start talking.

"I found a place we can stay."

"Yeah?"

"A small house right inside the town, the landowner is willing to let us rent it."

"That's good..."

The rest of the crew helps you pack that night, Luffy has agreed to letting you and your children leave for a time, at least until they're old enough to defend themselves, though you aren't sure you'll return. He understands that too, saying they'll always come by no matter what, as often as they can, with a grin on his face that eases you. Zoro plans to stay with you a few days more, while the Sunny is docked, and even tells you he'll take leave until you're comfortable, but you don't want him to waste time. It's not fair to him, or the rest of your crew, so you promise him that you'll be fine, the three of you will be okay.

But when those few days are up and it's time for everyone to go, you're starting to regret your decision, especially as your son cries and holds onto Zoro's leg, telling him to stay. It breaks both your hearts, and your daughter starts to whine while in her carrier on your chest.

"No go! Dada stay!"

When he finally looks down at your son, Zoro gives him a small smile as the toddler looks up at him, tears and snot running down his red face, before he picks him up and starts to wipe the tears away.

"Now that's enough. I'll be back."

"No...no go!"

"Hey now, you're a big boy, aren't ya?" Your son starts to quiet, nodding just a little, before Zoro sets his forehead against your son’s, "I need you to do something for me, all right? I need you to take care of your mama and baby sister until I get back, okay?"

He sniffles but nods again, before hugging Zoro around the neck.

"Miss you..."

"Yeah...I'll miss you too, buddy."

Zoro sets your son back on the ground after a few more minutes, before leaning down to your daughter and kissing the top of her head.

"Gonna miss you too, princess, be good for mama," you've been trying not to cry, for your children really, but you almost join in the tears when Zoro hugs you next, "I'll miss you the most. Be safe, all right?"

Nodding, you smile just a bit, leaning up to give him one more kiss before he leaves.

"I love you, we'll see you when you get back."

"I love you, too. I'll be back as soon as possible."

"I know you will."

Your son waves the whole time he can see Zoro leaving, only stopping when he's no longer visible, then looking up to you.

"Dada back..."

"Yeah," you smile and take his hand, starting to lead him back inside your rented home, "Dada will come back, just like he said."

[bi-writes]

the lies we tell

how far would you go for the person you love?

type: part one of the time rot collection pairing: simon "ghost" riley x tf141!fem!reader (x johnny "soap" mactavish) word count: 5k

cw: dark!simon, dark!reader, curvy!fem!reader, mature language and content, suggestive language and content, graphic depictions of murder + violence + extortion, mw3 spoilers, unprotected piv, oral (fem!receiving), cumplay (18+)

you don't believe in fate. you don't believe in god. you don't believe in anything at all, maybe, because luck disguises coincidences, and no good deed goes unpunished. everything you are and all that you have are products of a world that never stops spinning--and nothing about what has ended up in your way has ever been the selfish result of some higher power or some kind of entity that holds a grudge against you.

it's simple. in your world, if you don't think, you get your comrades hurt. if you hesitate for a second too long or take a step in the wrong direction, you compromise ops and let targets get away.

and if you're stupid, you die.

it only takes a second. one moment, your hands are steady, following careful instructions by a familiar lilt how to disable the ticking timer that counts dangerously low towards zero. the next, your vision blurs, and your head pounds, and you can feel the trickle of your own blood coming down the side of your face. you try and sit up, and when your eyes are able to focus just a little, you're staring down the barrel of a handgun.

you have never needed a knight in shining armor. the idea offends you, disgusts you, and it rips your heart out when you see johnny coming up behind him and pushing the gun out of your face just in time for the shot to hit the floor beside you.

and it takes only one more second for the next bullet to go through the side of his head.

you scream. it rattles the room, a horrifying sound, but you're too late. it happens so fast, it's ringing in your ears, but there's nothing you can do. you've never felt more incapable, more useless, and you crawl on your hands and knees to get to him. it hurts, your head pounds, but you will yourself to keep moving until you fall over his chest, gripping the edges of his vest, shaking him.

no. no, no, no, no.

"get up!" you cry. "get up, get up, get up!"

he's still warm when you bury your face into his neck. when you feel the scratch of his stubble, the softness of his neck, the dark skin that shows where you kissed him the night before and the scratches along his arms that are from your own blunt fingernails.

"get up!" you hiccup. "you can't--you--you're not..." you drag him into your arms, picking up his head, and your hands shake as you cradle him into your body. you press your lips to the hole in his head, and you will it to disappear, to go away, to close up and spit out the bullet that was meant for you. "johnny--johnny, you have to get up--" your vision goes hazy again. "you...y-you have to get up."

when it's quiet is when you notice the shadows that hover over you. you don't move--you clutch johnny close, your arms tight around him, and when a warm hand touches your shoulder, you cry out, shoving them off.

no. no. no.

"no! no--" they're firm now, kyle gripping one of your arms, your captain taking the other. they drag you off, getting you onto your feet, and you thrash. you kick your legs, scream, anything to get them off of you, so you can pick up johnny's head and show them his eyes, because he has to be alive, he isn't gone--"no! no! get off of me! johnny! johnny!"

reality only sinks when you see him. ghost shifts, until he stands between you and what had been, and when you meet his eyes, you stop moving, shaking your head.

"simon--" your voice breaks. "simon--tell them--" you gasp. "we need a medevac, we need--he needs--"

you fall into his chest, and he catches you. one big arm wraps around your waist, and he grunts, tossing his rifle over his shoulder and cradling the back of your head with his other hand.

"simon--" you sob. "simon, it's not--it's--" you shut your eyes when you feel his gloved hand tangle into your hair. "it's not true, he's still warm, please tell them--!"

he says your name, low and gentle, and you shake your head. you won't say it. you won't believe it. it isn't true, because if it's true, it's all your fault, and you won't accept that, you can't.

you only laughed with him hours ago. shared his bed. woke up tangled between his sheets, pressed skin to skin against his burly chest, whispering against his lips about all the hours you would spend being lazy and unproductive when you finally got home to the bed that was actually big enough to hold the both of you, not the cot in the barracks with no locks on the doors--

you jump when the door shuts behind you. time passes without notice when you are this alone. you look around the flat; it's cold, and it doesn't look lived in, not like before. he always liked to leave it neat and proper, because it felt nice to come home to a clean home, but this isn't home anymore.

you pick up your bag and leave. you weren't even able to make it a few steps inside. you don't have it in you to get your things, to pack your clothes or your shoes or anything that still is in there because it won't feel the same to wear them again if he isn't here to see you.

price's name graces your phone all too often. he calls mornings, he calls evenings, he calls from unknown phone numbers. he says he's worried about you, that you didn't show to an important briefing, that you are welcome to take your leave but you need to tell him that you're alright, but you don't answer. when the call comes, an official one, asking you to gear up because wheels are up in an hour, you don't show up, and there is nothing he can do except scratch your name off his list and declare you dishonorably discharged.

but the world still turns. it doesn't stop just because your own did. you find yourself in need of the things that people use to survive, superficial papers and coins that rattle in everyone's pockets that keep them satiated with roofs over their heads.

at first, you start small. a friend of a friend is crying, hiding her bruised face, and she confesses to you that everything would just be easier if her boyfriend was gone. you're not there to see her face when he never comes back from his gambling night.

it starts as something good. johns threatening their girls disappearing when they take a smoke break. following drunk girls home only to drag their stalkers into dark alleyways. until one day it's a suit sliding you an envelope thick with notes, and you don't even bat an eye when you slip it into your jacket.

this is all you are now. you don't have anything inside. you aren't happy, you aren't good, and despite covering your crimes in the veil of defending those who can't, you know that it is just an excuse to wet your hands in the blood of someone else so you can forget what his own feels like.

because you can't forget. everywhere you turn, you see him. in the blue of someone else's eyes. in the dark curls of someone else's hair. in the shadow of another man's beard, the sound of a scottish accent, the plaid of a kilt that looks like the one he had shown you once that he said would be yours when you married him, because ye will marry me, bonnie, ye will--he always said you would even though you protested that you won't be a military wife, you won't sit at home and cook his dinner and grow his fat babies. and maybe you wouldn't, but he was good at showing you that he would fuck you dumb like a good wife should be, and you never had a problem with that.

he lives in the dark weather. the bricks of the buildings you pass by, the scratch of them almost mimicking the callous of his big palms. when rain touches your lips, you think about the way he would kiss you breathless, the feel of his spit on your tongue and the way he seemed to bare your soul with nothing but his smile.

the silence, it chokes you. you liked arguing; it meant he was alive, it meant he cared. he was charming. outgoing. he exuded fun, and he never ran out of energy, and maybe that's why you hated your superior so much. because johnny's eyes wandered, and you hadn't been around as long, and sometimes you would catch him staring at the back of a big, broad lieutenant only for you to rear him back and stuff his face between your thighs to distract him.

ghost always kept you on your toes. you knew he was a problem as soon as you joined their team. johnny was not subtle; from the first moment you met his eyes, you knew you would end up naked and underneath him in a short while, but it wasn't until weeks later that you noticed how stiff your superior was with you. how short. how mean. how angry. you didn't realize you had stolen something from him, but it was hard to feel guilty because johnny never behaved as if he belonged--he sought you out, he chased after you, he fell to his knees and begged for your attention, a hungry, starved dog that pawed at your pants for just a lick of the sweetness that pooled between your legs.

but that was why. johnny was starved. he wanted to love, he wanted touch and reciprocation and for the person he loved to tell him they loved him back, and that wasn't ghost. ghost held up a wall, even to johnny, and it wasn't enough. you would give what he would not, and maybe that angered ghost to some degree, because you could do what he couldn't, you could give what he didn't possess, and maybe he was jealous of that. jealous of how easy it was for you, and how impossible it seemed for him.

but the world keeps spinning. because it doesn't care about what you can and can't do. it won't stop, and neither would you, and he couldn't prevent what happened to you. he couldn't save the heart he didn't have.

and he couldn't save johnny from the bullet he would take for you.

and you think you hate him for that. you hate yourself for it, but you hate ghost, too. johnny couldn't see what you could see. his attention span was too short, he never looked long enough, but you did, and you noticed, and you saw the way ghost behaved. the subtly, the quiet longing, the eyes that never left him and the way he closed his fists. the twitch of his arm as he fought reaching for him, the way the masked moved as he contemplated saying something to him.

it was pathetic. it was pitiful. but you loved johnny, and you weren't going to try and coddle a traumatized man into taking what you really wanted. he loved johnny, you think, but he didn't love him enough.

not enough to fight for him. and not enough to save his life.

you haven't been paid for this. no one told you to look for him. no one told you that he was your mark, no one told you that he was the next on your list, that he deserved to find the end of the line at the killing side of your chosen weapon.

but he does deserve it. because you hate him. because he loved him, and he hadn't done anything to stop what never should've happened.

when he flicks on the light in his kitchen, he doesn't even react when he sees you standing there.

he's wearing civilian clothes, but you know better than to underestimate him. a hoodie under his rain jacket with the hood pulled up over his head, dark jeans over heavy boots, fading eye-black around the dark of his eyes, the only part of him visible under the balaclava. he could never quite cover up how striking his eyes truly are, or the blonde of his lashes. and he could never hide how big of a man he really is underneath it all.

"knew ya'd come eventually," he says finally. you try not to show any emotion, keeping your face neutral as you stare at him. he takes a step further into the flat, and the click of your handgun sounds as you hold it up. he still doesn't react, making his way towards the fridge and pulling a bottle out. he uses the edge of the counter to pop the cap off, and he grunts as he takes a seat at his table, relaxing into it.

you pull the chamber back, loading a round into the gun, and ghost narrows his eyes. he is still calm, very unbothered for someone about to eat the bullet he should've swallowed all those months ago, and it angers you more, unnerves you.

why isn't he afraid of me?

"wot's the price?" he asks, tilting his head to the side. "how much t'rid y'of me?"

when you don't respond, he laughs, humorlessly. this angers you, too.

"oh, i see..." he sucks on his teeth. "doin' this all on y'r own, eh?"

your lip twitches, and his eyes flicker, as if he's happy to get some sort of reaction out of you.

"i hate you," you whisper finally, and all he does is shrug his shoulders. "don't deserve to be here. to lead that team. to still call yourself a fucking lieutenant when you don't have anyone's back except your own."

he stares, not moving, and you envy how still he can be.

"and i know you're not going to wherever he is," you laugh bitterly. "not you, not someone as fucked up as you. you'll never have him again."

but neither will i.

"tha' wot y'think?" ghost asks. "tha' i don't have y'r back?"

"he's dead, isn't he?"

he leans forward, pushing his mask up slightly, and you watch with a shaky hand as he takes a long sip of his beer. his adam's apple bobs as he swallows, and you follow the pale lines you see that litter his lower face and neck. drags left behind from dull blades, the pieces of his skin that have been carved out and haphazardly put back together.

he looks like what you imagine you would, if someone looked on the inside of you. if someone pulled back the softness you wear and peeked underneath--they'd see you just like this. carved up, mutilated, picked apart. the anger wanes, just a little. you hate it, because it feels so true, the reflection of yourself that you see in him.

"why didn't you save him?" your voice breaks. your hand is shaking violently, your eyes are blurry with tears, and your legs feel weak. you look at him accusingly, and he stares right back. you can see more of his face, just his lips, but it's enough that you can see the way he snarls slightly. "why weren't you there? why--"

"y' 'ave no fuckin' idea--"

"you didn't love him enough!" you snap. you use two hands now, trying to hold the gun steady. "you didn't love him enough! y-you gave up on him, you fucking--"

"y' 'ave no idea wot i felt," he says, and you quiet, because his voice is dark and deep and a warning for you because he won't be so calm for long. "'ave no idea wot he was t'me."

"he was mine," you whisper, and you taste the tears that are falling down your face.

"wasn't always yours," he growls, and your hand shakes too much for your own good, and when he stands, he's too quick. he knocks the gun out of your hand, and it skids across the floor, and you cry out when he has you up against the wall, one big forearm trapping you there as he presses it firmly against your throat. he towers over you, glaring down at you, and when you try and use your legs, he forces you flat against him as he puts one thigh between your legs and holds you easily.

he's too strong. too big. too much of everything you aren't, and all you can do is gasp for air and thrash as much as he lets you.

"listen 'ere," he mutters, pressing down harder against your throat, and your breath hitches as you stare up at him through your tears. "the fuck y'wanna fight about? want t'kill me? want t'hurt me? wot the fuck are y'gonna do t'me that someone else hasn't, huh?" he spits at you now, angry and unhinged. "been buried alive. gnawed at m'own fuckin' hands t'break free. split apart from the inside-out, so wot the fuck can y'do t'me tha' i'll be afraid of, eh? y'r just a sorry fuckin' git tha' can't fuckin' admit y'weren't lookin'--and he's dead, and tha's a fact, and the sooner y'wrap y'r head around tha', the sooner y'can stop right fuckin' feelin' sorry for y'rself. y'think i don't play it in m'head everyday? thinkin' about wot i could've done t'get t'him?"

you break, crack, the tears spilling free. ghost isn't capable of feeling what you feel. of loving the way you love, of holding onto something so tight that he can't let it go, it isn't in him. he's fucking dead on the inside, you know that much. he wears that skull because he wants everyone to know that death is his friend, not his enemy, and that when he finally succumbs to his mortality, he'll just fucking go home.

"thinkin' about wot i could've done t'get t'you?" he breathes, and you blink up at him, your lips parting, trembling, and you take in the deep breath that he allows, and you aren't angry anymore. you don't understand. it doesn't make sense. "he had ya--" ghost wraps a hand into your hair, tugging on it, bringing you closer. "he almost had ya..."

what?

your eyes flutter shut when he presses his forehead to yours. his grip is firm, he isn't letting you go.

oh.

"almost had ya," he echoes, in a deep whisper, and you nuzzle your face to his, subconsciously.

oh...

maybe you were just naïve. so egotistical, so selfish, that you misinterpreted everything that you saw. was it anger, or was it longing? was it jealousy, or was it lust? was it the shame of the way he felt, or the timidness of revealing the truth of it?

wherever johnny was, there was ghost. right behind him, in the dark, purposefully watching.

or was he just waiting?

you want to feel guilty. you want to feel angry, you want to fight for the gun that escaped you and press it to his chest and pull the trigger, but you don't have it in you. you spent so long hating him, you didn't realize it could've been someone else.

vying for the attention of someone unattainable, someone unavailable, untouchable. someone that can understand the way you feel unlike anyone else in the entire, unforgiving world that keeps fucking spinning--

"b-but--"

"was never jealous," he admits, and you swallow hard. you almost stop breathing when you feel the faint brush of his lips against yours. "y'were out of m'reach." he loosens his grip on your neck, but you don't move. "couldn't 'ave ya, couldn't--"

the kiss is messy. you lean forward just enough to swallow his words. your heart squeezes in your chest, it bursts, and you cradle the back of his head as you slide your tongue between his teeth and taste him hurriedly. you want to know him, you want to understand him, you want to crawl inside the warmth he emanates and pretend the world stopped moving right before it took away the thing you loved more than anything.

you hate him, don't you? you hate all that he is, you hate the man he isn't, you hate him because he loved what you loved, and he didn't do anything to save him, you hate him because he had what you had, and he wasn't selfish enough to not let him go.

you hate him because even though it is all your fault, he doesn't hate you, and you think that's what you hate most of all.

because i am not worthy of anything anymore.

you want him to hate you. you want him to kill you, you want him to blame you for everything you've done. you want him to remind you that you aren't worthy of any kind of affection, of love, because you were stupid, and so was johnny, but he won't do it--he won't. he slides his hands down your sides, he puts them around you, picks you up from under your thighs and carries you until you fall underneath him onto the cushions of his couch that you don't deserve to feel.

he feels too good. he bares his layers. he takes his jacket off, slips the hoodie over his head, and you stare speechless as he kicks his jeans low and strips the mask off of his face.

your hands shake as you cup his cheeks. he's so pretty, unfathomably so, and you think you're crying because you recognize him even though you've never seen his face before. there's something so familiar about the shape of his nose, the way his brow bone feels under your fingertips, and you cry because you loved johnny, but you might love ghost more.

fuck.

you don't know him, and you think you love him more, and it isn't because you love johnny less, it isn't, but while johnny loved unconditionally, ghost loves you because he isn't capable of not loving you. you love him more, and it hurts to love him more, because he sounds grateful that bullet took everything from him except for you.

when you look into his eyes, you wonder if he let it happen. if he saw johnny step in front, if he knew where the bullet would land, and let it happen so that it wouldn't happen to you.

fuck. fuck, fuck, fuck.

it's selfish. it's disgusting. it's cruel, he is so cruel, it's frightening to think about him hesitating just to keep you, but it's even more frightening that you are looking up at him, all this time later, and you're letting him have what he abandoned everything to take.

you're letting him slip the shirt over your head. the pants from your legs, steal the lace from between your thighs so he can settle himself there and bury his head in the warmth of all that he wants.

he's cruel about this, too. he eats like he has never eaten before, like he tastes what he has been searching for his whole life and will lose it if he doesn't consume it all. he barely breathes, arms hooked around your thighs as he yanks you close, tongue buried inside as he coats his mouth in everything that you are and swallows it just to take more. you arch your back, bow it tight as he devours. and devour he does, squeezing the thick of your thighs hard as he bobs his head and fucks you with the warm muscle of his mouth. it drags along your insides, slips between the puffy folds, swirls around your clit until he suckles on it viciously, until you are crying for a different reason and letting the terrifying thoughts spill out of your ears until there is nothing to think about but the man between your legs and the love you have for him more than another.

"simon--"

it spurs him on. his name, the one he doesn't use anymore. it clouds his own head, and he groans as he opens his mouth wide and tries to eat you whole, eat you wet, eat you entirely like he will die if he doesn't.

and it isn't enough. never enough. he snarls when you cum, using two fingers to slip inside of you and feel the clench of your walls, and then he slips them out and feeds those fingers to you. you choke on his hand slightly, the girth unfamiliar, and when he smiles, wickedly, you shiver, afraid.

his love is so visceral, he let johnny die. his love is so broken, so jagged-edged and terrible, that he let go of what was his to have it. he smiles because he knows what he wants is now his.

did he know? did he know what would happen to johnny all that time ago and let what we were manifest because he knew how it all would fucking end?

ghost is a sickness. ghost is poison. ghost is what lives under children's beds, he is the black hole that sucks in the glow of anything nearby, that swallows anything in its path because anything other than what he wants is in his fucking way.

was johnny in his way? he must've loved him, he must've. they were lovers, friends, comrades, they stood back to back and faced their makers with nothing but each other--he must've loved him, but now you are so afraid, because if he did love johnny, what do i call what he feels for me?

did he know that johnny's love would kill him? did he know, and he let him love me anyways, because he's so patiently twisted inside?

he grips your jaw tight, and your eyes sparkle, diamonds in the wasteland you must be drowning in, and he shakes his head. it's so dark, night blackening the room, but you can see his own eyes bright as day. there is nowhere else to look. this is the man you have resigned yourself to. this is the thing that feeds on what you have left, and you should run away, he has killed what you truly are, but you won't.

i can't. i'm not capable of it. i'm not strong enough to leave, he has me, he fucking has me--

and he does. he won't even have to tie you up, he knows you won't leave, you can tell that he knows. he kisses you, still holding onto your face, and you just sink more into the cushions as he uses his free hand to find your entrance and sink himself deep.

it takes one smooth grind of his hips to press himself against you. his hips meet yours, and you whine when he lets go of you, gripping you around the thighs and hoisting you underneath him so you're nestled right under him, knees up and pussy fluttering. he seals it, he's infected you, and you should tell him to go away, you should tell him to stop, but it feels so good, it feels so nice, he's so big, he's mine, mine, mine--

"all y'needed," he murmurs, staring down at you. "'s all y'needed, luv. somethin' to shut y'up."

your body betrays what you feel inside. it grips him tight; every time he drags his cock out, it fights to pull him back inside, and the grunt he lets out as he sinks deep again tells him he knows this, too. no matter what atrocities the two of you commit, this is where you will end up. staring each other in the eyes, knowing you are black inside, and fucking each other anyway because that is my reward, this is where i'm meant to be, this is where i'll end up in whatever fucking universe we end up in.

"y'feel me, swee'eart?" he asks, pressing his palm to your stomach. you rock with him as he grinds slow, hitting you deep and powerful every time, and you nod frantically, your lips parting as you rattle every time he hits his hips to yours. "feel me right 'ere...yeah..." he smooths his thumb over the stop his tip hits, and you whimper, sliding your own hand down and over his, keeping his touch there. he fucks so well, every move he makes draws the blood from your head and makes you feel stupidly wonderful, and he knows just when to angle his hips to touch the sensitive little clit that pulses in rhythm with his thrusts.

this is what you are. this is what you always were going to be, even if you fought it, and you want it to hurt that johnny was collateral damage, but it doesn't.

it doesn't.

your eyes meet his, and he has your face in a strong grip now, leaning down as he picks up the pace. he hits a gooey spot inside of you now, a wet squelch sounding out as you drip, as you wet his cock because he is every desire you didn't know you had, and he bares his teeth, smiles down at you, he has me, he fucking has me, he'll never let me go.

"all mine," he slurs, and you aren't coherent enough to read between the lines. you aren't lucid enough to understand what he means, that now that you don't belong to anyone, not even yourself, there is no logical place for you to be except for underneath him. for him to own you, from the light in your eyes to the very breaths that you share with him.

connected, one being, and if i do not obey, i don't know who he will take next from me.

but there isn't anyone left to take. not even yourself, because you think it has already been given.

you cry when he holds you by the throat and fucks you stupid. hips snapping, breathes short and heavy, the spill of your arousal and the need of the very oxygen to breathe. you claw at him, wanting more, your stomach clenching and a feeling catching in your chest because you are climbing a mountain so fucking tall, and please get me there--i'm so close--yes-yes-yes!

your eyes roll back into your head when he cums. he groans into your ear, fucking you through it, gripping your hips tight as he keeps his hips pressed to yours. you feel so full, a kind of euphoria that is beyond you, a hazy place of pleasure that you've never been to before. it clouds your vision and the thoughts you know you should have.

the thoughts that would make you run. the ones that would reach for the knife you see taped under the coffee table and use it to slit his pretty neck.

you blink up at ghost, trying to think, but he bends low to kiss you again. you whine as he settles down between your thighs, his weight heavy and solid above you, and you relax with both of your hands on his face.

he smiles, and it should scare you, but it doesn't. you want it to hurt, but it doesn't. you want him to kill you, but he won't, you want to kill him, but you can't. his eyes all but confess what he's really done. the secret he hides inside but reveals in what he holds in his very hands. the world keeps spinning. it doesn't care. and, you suppose, neither do you.

because all you do is smile back at him.