#and yet I'm afraid I have to say that... to me you're wrong; wrong in concrete ways | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

reinainaric · 3 months

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HATE THAT I LOVE YOU || part 2.

mean!ryomen sukuna x fem!reader

It's already a part of Sukuna's personality to be mean, always throwing insults at every person he finds annoying here and there. And you were no exception. You ran after him like a lovesick puppy, happily smiling at his rejections, confessing to him multiple times how much you like him, and Sukuna wanted so much to strangle you for your persistence.

But when you stopped showing interest, maybe... just maybe, Sukuna didn't like the sound of it.

contents: sukuna x reader, soft!reader, reader is oblivious to sukuna's insults, mean!sukuna, golden retriever x black cat trope, reader is a happy pill (not to sukuna tho, yet), hurt/slight angst, modern college AU, sukuna is in a band, bassist!sukuna, not proofread, jjk characters in a band, siblings yuji and sukuna

warning: cursing

links: < part 1 > > < part 3 >

Note: This is turning into a series help 😭

***

It didn't sit right with Sukuna how you became so quiet throughout their band practice.

Not a word of appreciation. Not one compliment whenever the band finishes a song. On top of that, you wouldn't even look at him.

That pissed him more. He's been glancing at you several times, thinking about how he's supposed to say sorry about what happened, when he himself is not even an apologetic person.

He watched you look at Nanami, looked at Suguru and Choso, even smiled at Yuji at one point. But not to him.

Did it bother Sukuna so much how your eyes looked tired? How your eyes were so red from crying? How your silence was killing him? Two days have already passed since the incident, and you're still crying over it?

It was definitely affecting not just him, but also the whole band. Their own manager, who's always so happy and full of sunshine, was just looking down at her feet, biting her lip as she watched everyone do their thing. Everyone looked at Sukuna like he should do something, and it annoyed him how he knows that he really should, but it wasn't the right time yet.

So when the band finally bid their goodbyes and left the room, he was quick to his feet to close the door, locking the two of you inside.

Your eyes widened as you watched as his back tensed, before he turned to you with fire in his eyes.

"What's wrong with you?"

You gulped at his question.

What is he talking about anyway? What 'wrong' did he mean? Did he mean your behaviour for always being a nuisance with him? Or did he mean it somewhere between the lines of 'what's bothering you'?

You purse your lips, looking away from him in confusion. You couldn't even look at his face. You're just so afraid you'll give in. "What do you mean?"

"Don't act all innocent with me, brat." He spat, taking slow steps towards you, making you walk backwards until you felt your back hit the wall. "You've been silent all day, and everyone seemed to be affected. Stop being a fucking baby."

If you didn't know what he was talking about minutes ago, you definitely knew now. Of course, you're not that dumb to not see how the band had an awkward atmosphere moments ago, but you didn't know that it was because of you.

"I'm sorry-”

You stopped when he held your chin with his fingers, his other hand leaned on the wall behind you, locking you in. "Better keep your mouth shut if you're only going to apologize again. I'm so sick of your sorries."

Your mouth parted to speak, and you swear you saw Sukuna's eyes looking at them before returning back to look at your eyes. Your face started to heat up, and your hands were trembling at your sides.

His face leaned in closer, his breath practically fanning over the skin of your neck. "If it's about what happened, then..." He took a strand of your hair between his fingers, twirling it. "I'm... sorry... princess… Is that… what you wanted to hear?" He said it so slow, and so taunting. Like he was teasing you for your vulnerability.

His thumb brushed your lower lip for a moment, and it made you shiver as he straightened his composure, taking a step backward with a smirk.

"Don't expect me to repeat what I said, brat. I better not see you crying tomorrow."

•

Did his apology make you feel better? It definitely didn't.

But did it mess with your head? Yes, it did.

You were restless the whole night, the scene replaying in your head over and over again. And it's not helping you to move on from Sukuna.

In fact, it only made your feelings worse. When you remember how he got so close to you, his face almost touching yours, it's like your heart was about to burst from your chest.

The next day, you were definitely back to your jolly self though. But the difference? You are avoiding Sukuna now.

As Sukuna pulled up in the school parking lot, his eyes roamed around to look for a certain person who he expected to be waiting for him. But no. You were not there. He thought that maybe you just came in late, but when he saw you at the school corridors, walking right past him, his heart drums on his chest nervously like a wake-up call.

He shouldn't be affected. No, he shouldn't be feeling that strange feeling tugging at his chest. Maybe he just needs a cup of coffee to ease them.

He didn't like this feeling.

Band practice came, and of course, you two are bound to be in the same room. Everyone went in, all feeling better than yesterday to see you back with your usual energy. The mood felt lighter as you conversed with everyone, and still not to him.

As you walked around the room, you felt someone's eyes following you, but you paid it no mind.

•

Why do you always have to see Sukuna in the practice room when everyone still hasn't arrived?

You found Sukuna once again, in his usual spot in the corner of the room. His hands were busy playing his guitar, but stopped when both your eyes darted at each other.

You blinked a few times, before muttering in a low voice, "H-hi."

It was just for formality anyway. Even though you can't look him straight in the eye anymore, you still have to keep some kind of professionalism as the manager of the band.

You sat at a chair on the other side of the room, keeping a wide distance.

Sukuna stared at you, almost piercing a hole in your head as you pulled out your phone to distract yourself.

Usually, Sukuna wouldn't even care if people watch him play with his guitar. However, it was a little different with you now, and he's not able to think straight anymore, so that made him stop doing whatever he was doing.

It was so strange for Sukuna. How you wouldn't even say some nonsense to him, like you usually do.

He wanted to ask, what is really wrong with you this time?

Why aren't you bothering him? You weren't blabbering anymore. You don't wait for him outside school. You don't give him chocolates or any snacks. You don't tell him how much you like him in front of everyone. You don't compliment his talents even though he was just playing a guitar.

The things you used to do, in which you're not doing anymore, was clenching something in his guts.

You weren't trying to get his attention, and he was wanting to get yours.

“Brat.”

It was like an automatic response for you to look, and it almost made him chuckle at your flushed face. It was a nickname that he always called you, insulting you yet you got used to it.

Your face heated up as your back straightened on your seat. “Y-yes?”

Sukuna stared at you long enough, his brows meeting each other. He was trying to read you, but it was already obvious to him how you're putting a wall between you two.

And he didn't really like it.

“Finally given up, huh?”

His tone was sour, like he disapproves of the idea of what he's trying to say.

You only looked at him confused as he didn't care to explain his words any further when his eyes darted back to his guitar, and continued to busy himself.

The silence had never felt so suffocating before until now.

•

The school fest came by quickly, and the band was busy rehearsing backstage.

Sukuna was busy, and so were you as you ordered people around where to place some equipment. It was a public show anyway, the school allowed outsiders since it was their big founding anniversary that they celebrate every year.

Of course, you're not only busying yourself with handling the show, you have to keep the members on track as well.

You were holding bottles of water for the band members in your small hands, since the cafeteria said they ran out of bags, you were forced to carry them in your arms.

As you pushed the door where the members were staying out, a figure was also about to exit, making you crash into his chest.

Almost.

You almost dropped the bottles if the man in front of you didn't hold your waist to steady your body, his body pressing against the bottles in your arms between the two of you just so they wouldn't fall.

You sucked in a breath as you lifted your eyes, meeting Sukuna's.

“Careful.” He whispered. He took the bottles from your hand with ease, opening the door for you as he placed them on the table for everyone to see.

But you couldn't even move in your spot.

You felt some kind of electric shock lingering in your waist, your heart beating rapidly.

•

The school fest ended well with cheers and shouting. Everyone was pleased at the performance, and it was finally time to rest.

You slumped on the couch, while everyone was organising their bags, and placing their guitars on its case.

You were breathing heavily since you've been running around backstage the whole performance, since you had to make sure there were no technical errors happening around.

You were so busy with yourself that you didn't even notice Sukuna taking a seat beside you.

He grabbed one bottle of water, opening it easily, and then, surprisingly, handed it to you.

He didn't even know what he was doing.

You were surprised, and it didn't even look like he was aware of what he did.

With shaky hands, you accepted the water, muttering a small thanks to him as you drank.

But even the water couldn't calm your beating heart.

•

The week ended, and the band decided to go to a bar to party for their successful show. Everyone was there–Nanami, Suguru, Choso, Yuji, and Sukuna–they all gathered at a table drinking some shots when you saw them.

Yuji already looked tipsy, Nanami was watching over everyone while still drinking himself, Suguru was chatting with Choso and Sukuna. You were also feeling the alcohol getting into your system as you talked with Nanami.

“Manager! Let's dance!” Yuji called you. He was smiling from ear to ear, his face red from the alcohol.

“Of course, Yuji.”

Yuji pulled your wrist as you two walked to the dance floor. He was jumping around and moving his body to the rhythm of an upbeat song, and you did the same to synchronise his movements. You both were laughing and talking despite the blaring music that played so loudly. As Yuji kept handing you glasses after glasses of liquor, it was pretty clear that you two were getting drunk already.

You stopped your movements as you held Yuji’s shoulder, shouting closely to his ear. “I'm going to the bathroom!”

Yuji nodded, giving you a two thumbs up, his eyes sparkling because of the lights illuminating the bar.

Believe it or not, Sukuna was watching over the two of you the whole time, the alcohol also clouding his system at one point. He's just lucky that he had a high alcohol tolerance, so he was still sane when he followed your disappearing figure from the crowd.

You stumbled outside the bathroom after you were done. Your throat was burning from all the alcohol you consumed, and your feet were hurting because of the heels you wore after jumping and dancing around like a maniac. You were drunk, and it was so obvious by the way that you walked as you struggled to keep your balance.

You should thank your guardian angels that Sukuna followed you, quickly holding you in place by the waist before you can even face palm on the floor.

“You're drunk,” he grunted, looking down at you.

You mumbled incoherent words, your hands touched his wrist that was touching your waist. His body was pressed against you as you tried to keep standing on your feet, but you were feeling weak. There was a radiating sensual heat between you, and it was making your cheeks heat up.

“Sukuna…” Your words were slurred, and even sounded sleepy. “Sukuna… why are there… two Sukuna in my eyes?”

Sukuna's gripped on you tighten, knowing how much you've gotten pretty drunk, he was pretty sure you wouldn't be able to get home properly in this state.

“Come on,” he held your arms, steadying you. “I should take you home.”

“But the party's not over–”

“Shut up."

You frowned, letting yourself be pulled by Sukuna as he led you out of the bar. With one hand, he quickly got his keys from his pocket and clicked something in it as you two walked at the quiet parking lot. The car made a sound, and you two walked towards his car, with you almost tripping on your feet.

“‘Kuna…” You whined softly, your hands pulling him to stop. “W-where are you… hic… t-taking me?”

“Shut up and just stay still, would ya?” He hissed as he pushed your back against his car.

Your vision was blurry, but you still somehow saw Sukuna knelt down in front of you as his hands grazed your ankle. Your eyes are half-closed as you feel Sukuna taking the straps off of your heels, lifting your feet up to take off your heels on both your feet.

You breathed heavily as he stood up, your head tilting to the side as you stared up at him. “What are you doing to me…” You whispered, lips pouting.

He raised an eyebrow, his one hand was carrying your heels and the other was placed on your waist. “Get in the car. Now.”

You faked a gasped, head falling on his chest. “Why are you always so mean to me?” You slurred, your weak fists punching his chest.

Sukuna took a heavy breath as he caught your fists in his hands, unclasping them, and then lifting your chin up with the same hand that was holding yours. “You're such a pain in the ass, you know that?”

Your lips pouted even more as you stole your hand from his grasp, and then poking his cheek with your pointer finger. “Ha! You're the one who's always stubborn! I don't like you! No, no… I don't like you! You're bad!” You poked his cheek after each word.

Sukuna's jaw clenched as he caught your wrist once again. He leaned in closer, making you move your head backward,

“You don't like me anymore, doll?” He chuckled devilishly.

“Yes… n-no… yes…”

Sukuna's grin grew wider as he watched your drunk and fragile state. You looked so small beneath him he could crush you so easily. And it fascinates him, entertains him even as he sees another side of you that looked so weak for him.

He let out a hum, his face a few inches from your ear. "Should I change that?"

***

So... come back for part 3!

• Part 1

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churipu · 4 months

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I love you so so much omg ur posts, ur content, un vibe everything. you’re so so nice and yet you have me crying over every single post because of how good this is. Like yesterday i had a whole debate talking to myself abt how good of a person you were and how the likes were not doing you justice.. usually I never send requests mostly because i’m scared they take a look at it and be like “you cannot be srs”. Idk if it makes sense but oh well😭😭

can i request u make a scenario where the reader is insecure and worried their partner is going to leave them for someone prettier but they dont say anything and just start to distance themselves from them from how big of a toll it was taking on the reader? thank you sm😭🫶🏽

YOU BEING INSECURE + JJK MEN

featuring. gojo satoru, nanami kento, sukuna ryomen x reader

warning. cursing

note. ANON YOU'RE SO SWEET OMG BRB SOBBING HAVE ABIG FAT KISS, and i love this request so much, you don't have to worry <33 thank you for requesting my love, sorry it took so long :')

GOJO SATORU. even if gojo didn't seem like the type to be aware of his surroundings — he is very much aware. behind those blindfolds and dark glasses, his eyes darts everywhere, making sure everything is fine. even if one small thing is different to his eyes, he'll notice.

so when you began distancing yourself from him, he notices off the bat. but decided to say nothing just to make sure of it, gojo did not want to jump into conclusions. it started off as you telling him that you're busy to go on dates, or even declining his offers when he wanted to come over to your place.

he didn't think much of it until it visibly worsened, you looked miserable. when he sees you, it was like the shine in your eyes have gone away — gojo didn't know what happened, but he automatically assumed that he was behind the disappearance of it. when he asks you if you were okay, you brushed him off with a forced out smile, and he was dying to push you to just tell him everything.

but he didn't. he was afraid that if he'd push you, it would spiral an argument. for a while, he was walking on eggshells around you, you were like a ticking time bomb ready to blow up at any minute.

it was gnawing internally in gojo's mind, what did he do? what happened to you? what happened to y/n?

his y/n.

so when shoko drops the bomb on him, asking if he had broken up with you. gojo was mortified, is that what it looks like to other people? him and you calling it off? he was terrified, scared, nervous. the strongest sorcerer. yeah — he was scared.

and so he felt like it was a now or never situation.

"y/n, can we talk?"

you grimaced at his soft voice, wondering if this is the part where he's had enough and decided he'd leave you. but you nodded your head, your mind was ready, you were ready to hear it, those words: "i want to break up with you."

"please talk to me. i can't do this whole...you avoiding me, tell me what's bothering you...please." the desperation in his voice was visible, almost as if he was in the verge of tears.

his cerulean eyes were filled with such hopelessness, one you've never seen even when he was fighting a curse. you widened your eyes and inhaled sharply, "i...i'm sorry, satoru."

that was all you managed to muster up and gojo was clueless, he needed more answers, he needed answers to why you were like this, "baby, i don't... is it me? did i do anything wrong to you? please tell me, don't run away.. let me make it up to you."

it pained you to see that he thinks it was him, when it was you behind this. you shook your head, "'s not you 'ts me."

and that made gojo even more terrified than he already is, a lot of questions spiraling in his mind, did you find someone else? did you get bored of him? were you finally breaking up with him because of his constant bothering? so many questions.

"i just...there're so many more people prettier than i am. i just can't stop thinking about it. you leaving and all. 'm sorry i distanced myself from you." when you said that, gojo felt like half of his questions were all useless and he felt a bit relieved to finally get an answer to his speculations.

gojo wasted no time pulling you into his embrace, he needed it, you needed it. both of you needed it just as much, you felt so small in his embrace, head buried into his chest. gojo didn't move a bit, fearing if he moved at all — you'd break, you looked so fragile and so dainty, it scares him.

"i..love you so much." was all he could say,

"'ts you, 'ts you that i love. it hurts me to hear you talk like that." you felt like shit, you really do — so you said nothing back, you kept your face hidden in his chest.

and gojo didn't pry you away, he just needed to be close to you, "sorry."

that was when he pulled away, "you don't have to be sorry, but please talk to me, 'ts not fair if we're happy together and you have to be sad alone.." you hated crying in front of people, especially gojo, and he knew that about you.

so when you cried in that moment, gojo knew this wasn't something light — he didn't need any more explaining from you, he was just there by your side the whole night. and the next day. the next week. month. year. both of you never spoke of it again.

he's in love with you and nobody could change that, he thinks you're the prettiest anyways.

NANAMI KENTO. nanami's eyes are always on you. nobody else. and everyone knows that.

everyone except for you, unfortunately.

usually he comes home and you were always there to greet him, with a hug and kiss. it was an inseparable combo he made a routine, but for the past couple of days — he hasn't been getting that.

instead, he was greeted with silence. and just from the second time, he knew that something was definitely wrong with you. he'll find you curled up in bed, under the covers like it was the only thing that mattered in the world; but he tries to see it as a sign of exhaustion.

nanami watches your every move, for the past couple of days. you have been out of it. to the point where it was plain obvious and nanami tries asking about it, but you tell him it was just because of the stress. a sweetheart he is, he tries telling you to get some rest from work — he'd even excuse you if it's needed, but you tell him that wasn't needed and that you were fine.

obviously lying. he could see it, smell it, hear it.

it was suffocating. everything was suffocating to you, it's like everything was slowly masticating on every fiber in your body. you wanted to just, drop down and cry but whenever you try to, you just end up sitting on the floor blankly staring at nothing.

it scares yourself sometimes how empty your eyes look.

you wouldn't be surprised if nanami didn't come back home one day because he's so fed up — that's what you've been planting in you. that nanami would leave you for prettier people, for people who don't overthink, people who are generally better than you.

"y/n?"

oh. you didn't even hear him come home, you sat on the bedroom floor trying to push yourself up. and you couldn't even do that, so when nanami opens the bedroom door, seeing you on the floor — he said nothing, not even a hello.

nanami just scoops you into his arms and lays you down on the bed mutely, his slender fingers brushing your hair, "i love you," he murmurs quietly.

that was enough to make tears dwell up at the corner of your eyes, and he said nothing, grazing your tears away, "'m sorry. 'm so sorry, kento."

nanami didn't understand why you were apologizing, he hushed you, cradling you in his embrace as you let your tears free fall, "why are you sorry?"

that's when it struck you, why were you apologizing?

nanami didn't question you any further but he held you close, pressing chaste kisses onto your forehead, "is something in your mind?" you nodded slowly, "do you want to tell me about it?"

you nodded, inhaling sharply, "i just don't feel pretty enough...i feel like you deserve better than me, ken."

nanami laced your fingers with his, kissing your knuckles, "why do you say such things?" you didn't answer him, and it just breaks his heart even more, "you're perfect for me."

his words fall into deaf ears, but you didn't continue saying your worries, you just feel like nanami gets a gist of it. nanami didn't leave your side, cradling you in his arms like you're the most fragile being, "i love you," he kissed your forehead, "so much," and he kisses your lips.

nanami makes sure to spend every second telling you how much he loves you, telling you how beautiful you are, and how you're the most perfect for him.

SUKUNA RYOMEN. he hates it when you ignore him without any explanations, he's told you before, "if you have anything to say, say it to my face, don't ignore me."

but this feels like something you couldn't tell him, how you feel. it's obvious that you were distancing yourself from him, when he calls you, you sometimes pretend like you didn't hear him — and when he confronts you later, you tell him that you just didn't hear his calls.

"you're ignoring me, hm?"

"what? no— i just didn't hear you calling out to me."

don't even try to lie to him because he will always confront you about it, he sees right through you and your lies. the second time you try to run away from him when he calls out to you, he wastes no time holding you in place; confronting you right at that moment.

"why're you running away, brat?"

"i...oh, i didn't realize you were here, ryo." sukuna clicks his tongue in mere annoyance — what a bad actor you are, it's so ridiculous sukuna wanted to just burst out into laughter.

"bullshit. why're you avoiding me?"

that was it. you were cornered just like that. sighing, there isn't any way out unless you tell him — sukuna just won't let you go unless you tell him everything behind your recent behaviors.

"just don't feel pretty enough for you," you mutter out, avoiding his sharp gaze, "i feel like you can do much better than me. you deserve better than me."

sukuna gave you nothing but a mere smirk, pushing his lips onto yours. god, he didn't want to admit it — but he hates the way you talk shit about yourself, if he could tell you everything that he loves about you, he would. but he didn't because he's a jackass (and he's too shy to tell you that).

"that's it?" that's it? that's it?

you were about to push him away when he gives you that glare of his, "which person has been making you think like that?"

"no one. me."

he flicks your forehead, "then stop."

if only it was that easy, you grumbled at his response, and said nothing else so you could just leave. but sukuna, despite his ignorant answers always makes sure that you never run away from him anymore, he's a lot more touchy than usual — and he (tries) to compliment you and your appearance.

keyword: tries

he fails at it though. but you gave him kudos for trying, that's all that matters, really. that he makes you feel loved.

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dark-night-hero · 6 months

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Imagine a Yandere Kamisato Ayato who would do anything to make you his.

Imagine a meticulous Yandere Ayato who would slowly but surely isolate you from the rest of the world, would make sure you have no one to run into but him and only him. He did not even know when it start, was it the first time he have met you? Or was it during the times in his lowest and you were there to comfort him? He don't know, but if there was something he knew other than to make his clan prosperous again, that is to make you his and only his.

Imagine it started with rumors. It started with nonsense rumors into harmful rumors that surely affect you. The way people looks at you, the way you knew they were talking about you. You did not even do anything wrong and yet they kept talking about you. "What's wrong hmmm? Can you tell me what's wrong (First name)?" "... My lord..." He will make sure he would be the only person you could open up to. He thought as he felt a shiver down his spine as you pull him into an embrace, sniffing and holding on into him as you cried. Just like who you were there at his lowest, he would make sure he was there too, even if he was the cause of that downfall that you would never knew.

Imagine Yandere Ayato who would do anything to have you as his spouse despite the disapproval of his retainers. Be it means blackmailing or wiping them clean with all sorts of reasons of corruption. Yandere Ayato whom when he finally have you in the palm of his hands, would make sure to never let step outside the estate. Saying the world is to dangerous for you to venture. That as long as you stay by his side, you'll be safe and sound, away from the danger and humors going and might come into you. The truth is you've always been so kind, not only to him but also to others, and afraid that that kindness would be taken away from him. He would keep you by his only and only by his side.

Imagine knowing very well of what he was doing. Knowing he was the root of all the rumors that causes your reputation downfall in the lands of Inazuma. "Darling, what do you think of a simple marriage? Just the two of us uhm ugh, and maybe a few guests, my sister- thoma-" "Anything is fine, Ayato." You smile sweetly at him before taking his hand that was place on top of yours and pulling it close on your mouth before giving he back of his hand a kiss. "I'll be here by your side and only by your side, so do whatever you pleased."

Imagine a shiver down his spine, a crazy flustered look on his face, the way his eyes twitch in a bliss of happiness. "Ohhhh how I love you very much, darling." He laughs as he pull you into his arms. "I know Ayato, and I love you too, very, very much." You chuckle and embrace him back, a smirk making it's way on your lips.

Imagine, the thing about a crazy, love sick, manipulative, Yandere Ayato is that you don't mind. Because you were just as crazy and love sick when it comes to him. And knowing your love, loves you as much and as crazy as you were with him. It was trully a great pleasure. "I'm yours, but that means you're mine, okay?"

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2023°

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praisethesuuun · 1 year

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AAAHHHH. ANOTHER ROR FAN! It's so hard to find people who like it 😭

Anyways, if you take requests at the moment, what about headcanons Hades, Buddha, Loki and Posideon being just complete simps for reader? (If that's too many, just loki or Buddah is fine!)

Just met the person and suddenly, guess I'm in love now, oops!

Anyways, thanks a lot, hope you have a great day!

you're too kind😭😭❤️❤️ It's always so nice to receive such sweet words! Anyway, there you go hun<3 hope you like it

RoR characters headcanons: them being total simps for you!

POSEIDON

🌊This guy is hilarious: he refuses to admit that he's simping over someone. "Gods are perfect. They don't bond to anyone" Yeah...that's a lie-

🌊Hades was the first to notice that something was wrong with his brother, but he decided to stay silent and wait for him to talk about it. Needless to say, he bursted out laughing when Poseidon told him everything: from what he felt when you were near him, to the way your presence brings a breeze of happiness to the midst of the seedy Valhalla.

🌊Poseidon will try to approach you starting from very sneaky things. For example, his favorite thing to do is sit next to you during gods' meetings, scaring anyone in his way. Once he nearly got into a fight with Shiva, because he practically pushed him out of the seat next to you, nearly knocking him off the entire stairway.

🌊During his fight, he will repeatedly make eye contact with you, boasting about his strength and hoping you can notice him... somehow. "Look at me, you fool"

🌊Tsundere mode: on. Poseidon will literally insult you everytime you'll try to talk to him. This dumbass will regret it later alone in his castle.

HADES

☠️Unlike his brother, Hades is more confident, courting you in front of all the gods and calling you "My queen" whenever he can.

☠️He's not sneaky at all and isn't afraid to hide his feelings for you. The only thing that could stop him it's the realization that he could ruin your reputation: it's not the best to hang out with the king of the Underworld, many despise him and he doesn't want you to be treated the same way.

☠️Expect to find your room flooded with various gifts and love letters, each accompanied by a black rose. You often feel sorry for Hermes and wonder how he can carry all that stuff. Yet, you get excited every time you see him arrive with a package, decorated with a delicate purple bow.

☠️Hades is jealous. He does not hesitate to scold and intimidate any deity who tries to approach you, even going against his own brothers (especially Zeus)

☠️When you're alone, Hades wastes no time in jumping on you and filling you with love. If, on the other hand, you are attending a dinner or a meeting, he will place his hand on your hips, refusing to remove it. Plus, he'll kiss you softly without anyone noticing.

LOKI

🐍He will be so annoying! Loki will stick to you like a tick, bothering you as a sign of affection (what a brat...)

🐍He will play jokes on you all the time, immediately bursting out laughing at your reaction. However, if you were to feel bad, telling him that he exaggerated, he will apologize instantly, hugging you and reassuring you. "I'm sorry, please look at me, bunny. I'm sorry... I promise"

🐍Loki is the type to put little flowers in your hair without you noticing, enjoying the view from afar and admiring your beauty. Daisies look so good on you! How could he not enjoy such a view?

🐍You'll likely get involved whenever he makes a mess, and don't be surprised when you're treated like some sort of human shield. Even so, you've never gotten into trouble. Deep down you like it when he suddenly enters your room to hide from Thor, who wouldn't dare to do the same.

🐍Loki loves to float around you, acting like the perfect watchdog. It makes him feel like a perfect partner: protecting you with dedication and love. But there are negative (or positive) sides, of course dirty jokes can't miss: "Look what a nice temper you have, it wasn't like this last night when I-" "SHUT UP"

BUDDHA

🍬He is the boldest lover that could ever happen to you. If he wants to do something, he won't hesitate to do it, everyone knows that. Yet, when it comes to you he becomes totally a servant, without hiding it from others. Do you need something? Well, give him just a second-

🍬Count yourself lucky, Buddha loves you so much that he shares his secret stash of sweets with you! The pocky challenge is a must, but he's favourite thing to do is kissing you indirectly making you suck on the lollipop that he already had in his mouth.

🍬Every once in a while, he lets you find a little love letter on your pillow with a chocolate next to it. He knows he looks like a detached person who thinks only of himself, so he does everything to make you feel his closeness.

🍬Buddha always calls you names. "Come here, sweetie!" "Aww honey, are you angry?" "Gimme one of your sugar kisses, would ya?" He loves the way you blush every time he does it, you're such a cutie!

🍬He trusts you blindly, in fact he doesn't hesitate to ask you for help when he needs it. You protect each other and for Buddha this is one of the most important things in your relationship. Please, tell him how much you love him and don't hesitate to talk about your feeling! You are too important to him, so feel free to tell him everything you want.

3K notes · View notes

mommypieck · 7 months

Text

𑄽୧ first time with jean 𔓘 ᰍ

kinktober day 1: cherry pop!!!

✯⁠ jean kirstein x reader

✯⁠ warnings: loss of virginity, brief oral, p in v

He's panicking, the thought of doing something wrong is basically eating him alive as he sits next to you in a cinema. You look so beautiful and innocent, but you know, what's going to happen tonight. You and Jean have been dating for about two months, but you never got past the 2nd base. You were scared, and he knew that. That's why Jean tried to make you comfortable by waiting. Hell, he would never turn to celibacy if it meant spending the rest of his life with you. But this morning, when you told him you're ready, Jean lost it. He hopes you didn't mean you're ready just for the date.

The ending rolls on the screen, lights turning all around the cinema

"It was great," you tell him, smiling from ear to ear. His heart stops when he looks at you. You're just so beautiful, and today you will be all his. You catch the look on his face, blushing deeply. Jean takes your hand, leading you out of the cinema. The whole ride home is anxious, but you try to fill the silence with thoughts on the movie. Jean basically shakes when he parks his car next to his house. He notices you are still wearing the same sweet smile ,and you're probably not panicking as much as he is.

"Do you wanna watch something or eat?" he asks with a shaking voice. You notice his nervousness, so you grab his arm, gently massaging it.

"We can go upstairs," you suggest, your feet seeming the most interesting thing for you at the moment.

"Okay." he breathes, kissing the top of your head. You giggle before leaning to kiss him on the lips. The kiss is sweet but leaves you both wanting more.

"I'm gonna wait upstairs," he tells you, flashing you a nervous smile. Most of the nervousness already disappears as he climbs the stairs. He knows he has nothing to be afraid of you, but he doesn't want to hurt you

He sits on the bed, looking around the room unsure what to do. He takes out the condoms and lube from the bedside table, scanning the two objects with his eyes. Jean's sure he has the right things, he doesn't wanna mistake the lube for soap even though it's basically impossible.

"You idiot, why would you have soap next to your bed?" he thinks to himself. It's true, he's panicking again for his own good.

The door opens, revealing you in a satin robe. Jean's jaw drops, you're not even naked, yet you make him lose his mind. You come back in a satin robe, making Jean's imagination wander. He wonders what might be under the robe, and it's soon revealed when you let it fall from your body.

"I'm sorry, I didn't have anything matching," you say, looking everywhere but his face. He's stunned. You're standing in front of him in a red bralette accompanied by black panties. It doesn't match for sure, but he thinks it's the prettiest thing.

"You're so beautiful, love," he says, his voice almost turning into a whine. He's painfully hard in his pants, but he doesn't wanna think about it - the only thing on his mind is you. You come closer to sit on his lap, but you quickly jump off when he hisses in pain.

"It's okay, love. You make me so excited," he explains, bringing you on his lap again. This time Jean makes sure you sit on his thighs so that his cock isn't sandwiched right under your clothed pussy.

Jean starts leaving kisses down your body. He stops by your breaths, caressing them through the lacy bralette. He doesn't allow himself to take the garment off, he wants you to do it. He wants you to take it off.

"Can you please take it off?" you beg him but only receive him shaking his head.

"Can you?"

You flash him a soft smile before sitting on the bed. You open the bralette at your back, letting the straps fall down your shoulders. He watches every second with wide eyes, kneeling on the floor between your legs, his arms around your middle. His breath hitching when your eyes meet.

"Do you like me undressing myself?" you ask him just when the bra is about to fall down. Jean's speechless, he doesn't know what to say to you, he only knows that he needs to be inside of you right now. You finally thought the piece of clothing away, straightening your back. Your breathing is also deep, and you try not to close your eyes at the way Jean is looking at you.

"You're the most beautiful girl I've ever laid my eyes on," he whispers, Jean can't even say it with his full voice because of how enchanted he is. He carefully cups your breasts with his large hands, he doesn't dare to squeeze yet. His fingers brush against your nipples lightly before he gets his mouth on your again. He licks a stripe right in between breasts, making you arch your back. He chuckles at how sensitive you are. His mouth travels downwards, sucking dark spots all around your tummy. You moan when he kisses the front of your panties. You've never felt like this before. Every touch feels like a fire on your skin, and you're sure you're dripping inside your panties.

"I'm gonna take this off," he informs you as he takes the garment off, leaving you naked on his bed. At the age of 19, he never thought he would see a naked woman on his bed, but here you are. He spreads your legs apart, his breath catching against your bare pussy.

"I wanted to go all the way, I thought we would leave this for another time," you confess. His gaze sunken, Jean doesn't want you thinking this way. He dreamt about making you feel good for so long, he doesn't care if he's the one not feeling anything, your touch is like a blessing for him.

"Can I still taste you?" he asks for permission, and he gets it. You gently pat his head, bringing him closer to your core. You feel shy because of the way he's looking at you. He watches your core as if it were the prettiest flower in the world. He uses his fingertips to spread your lips apart before his tongue touches your clit. You hiss at the stimulation, and Jean sees this as a positive response to continue. He swirls his tongue around your opening, focusing on your clit from time to time. You're sweet, addictive sweet in his opinion. His cock aches in his boxes, your moans are just too good. He reaches down to stroke himself through his boxers, impatience taking over as he undresses completely. Your eyes widen when you notice his size. Jean catches your look, and he smirks.

"I'll make it fit," he says, using your juices to lubricate his cock. he presses the tip against your pussy, slowly pushing in. You shut your eyes in pain, he's big, and it hurts.

"Shhh, it's okay." Jean coos, kissing your cheek. His other hand brushes your hair out of your face.

"Let's go a bit deeper." he grabs your hands, thrusting his cock deeper. He stills when about half of his cock is inside of you to ask you how you're doing. When he sees that you're taking him well, he thrusts the rest of his cock inside.

"I'm all in, you're such a good girl." he praises you, kissing all over your face. He pulls out until he's halfway inside of you before thrusting in again. His speed is slow ,and his thrusts are shallow, but it's enough for both of you. He presses his weight on top of you, and you wrap your arms around him. You've never been this close to each other, and it's exactly what you needed.

"I love you so much," he confesses, burying his face into the crook of your neck. It's too much for him, and he knows that if you keep squeezing him like that, he won't be able to last long.

"I love you too," you respond, and that's what tips him over the edge, he cums inside you in thick ropes. Jean falls on top of your body, embarrassed by how fast he came. You take his head into your hands, caressing his cheeks and telling him it's okay.

"Let's make you cum." he says, still embarrassed. He reaches down to touch your clit, rubbing it in fast circles. It takes him a few swipes before you're cumming.

The two of you lay next to each other, breathing heavily from what just happened.

"I'm sorry." he apologizes and snorts.

"Don't," you say, smiling at him. he returns the smile, cuddling your body closer to his.

"But I am big, right?" he smirks, making you slap his arm.

"And you cum too quickly."

"That's because I love you, and I'm so attracted to you."

taglist: @mcharris747 @huuuuut30 @krispsprite @bejewelledd @cawwn @veryninjanacho @jamayah @ffakegucci @merachannie @th3girln3xtdoor @iheartpieck @kawasgirl @st4rrlighttt @7haze @nigthmar3moon @softlilpeachxx

i just can't get these tags to work, im sorry

@dngerwayz @nwptune @universllypiratecolor @d1lf-luvr @nobody289x @gia999 @banchangsbbbg

#aot x reader #aot smut #attack on titan smut #aot headcanons #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan x you #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirschtein smut #jean kirstein smut #jean kirstein x reader #jean kirstein x you

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bi-writes · 2 months

Text

mercenary!ghost is dead inside. he wonders what it leaves behind on his pretty little bunny.

notes about reader: as always, reader is curvy and ghost knows exactly what he wants to do with all that ass

more mercenary!ghost (part 2/?)

word count: 5k

cw: mature language and content, suggestive language and content, pet names (luv, pet, bunny + rabbit, puppy), dark!ghost, mean!ghost, toxic!ghost, ghost is thicc, mentions of violence and gore + murder and extortion, mw3 spoilers, mentions of ghost's canon trauma, tw smoking, innocence kink, corruption kink, size kink (reader described as much smaller, manhandled easily), suggestive touching and oral (fem!receiving), cumplay, mentions of dubcon but relationship/dynamics are consensual, simon "i eat pussy like a god" riley

his phone is ringing. it surprises him, the sound of it. it's not familiar, to hear it ring, to see a name on the screen of it and recognize it.

there was no one left to call. not until now.

he adjusts his hold on his rifle, slipping an earbud into his ear.

"'ello?"

"almost back yet?" it's you. rattling your cage.

"'m busy."

"i know--" he clicks his tongue when you say this, annoyed. "but you're not back yet."

"i'll be back when i'm back."

"yeah, but when is that?"

brat.

"'s this how it's gonna be? botherin' me when 'm out?"

"uh huh. so when are you gonna be back?"

"when 'm back."

you huff at that, and ghost snarls a bit under the mask, adjusting the scope and peering through it. there is movement, and he focuses. then your soft voice sounds again, "are you with someone else?"

there's a grunt, and then a firm, "no." and it is the truth, and you know it is, because he doesn't care enough to lie to you. you sigh on the other end, staring up at the ceiling with a wobbly bottom lip.

"we done 'ere?" he asks after a long pause. you sniffle, closing your eyes.

"take me with you next time."

he hangs up before he answers. needy little puppy he has, he knows this. he isn't unfamiliar with this kind of dynamic. it wasn't unlike the job he used to have--a lieutenant, a man in charge, in command of other needy puppies that needed to be put in their place. he wonders often if johnny would have liked you, but you are enough trouble as it is on your own.

a pet dies and another is bought; whatever ghost is, he outlives them.

he attracts them, he thinks. the ones who ache to belong. from the first moment he met you, he knows that is why he felt his blood run a little warmer at the sight of you--it is something in your eyes, something he recognizes, something that he knows tastes so fucking good. there is predator, and there is prey, and then there is the in-between. the purgatory of those who have no idea who they are. they must be shown. they have to be taught, and if they fall into the wrong hands, they are mangled and chewed through.

he wonders for a moment if maybe his mother was one of them. then he remembers that it doesn't matter what she was, because his father had black running through his veins. the same black that simon thinks he sees in the mirror--and sometimes it bleeds onto his face, he swears it's there, hiding underneath the eye-black he paints on himself.

when he was younger, he used to hide from his reflection because of it. the rot of the other half that he was made of, it terrified him. he feared being consumed by it. he was afraid of letting it show, he was afraid of scaring other people.

but when he crawled himself out of his early grave and buried the good half of himself, he didn't flinch in the mirror any longer. he let himself linger there, and when he swiped the black against his pale skin for the first time, he remembers thinking that maybe it had always been there. that he doesn't recognize himself without it because this is what i am, something made of ash, something that shouldn't be here, the remnants of something that touched a flame too hot and swallowed something foul. rancid.

and maybe that is what he's been doing since then--maybe that is what the hollow place is that he feels inside, maybe it's the half that he buried that he wishes so fucking badly to hold onto because it's the only thing that distracted him from feeling like the thing that he truly is. and maybe that is why he died again when johnny did; it was too late to realize that the hollowness is back, and it is deeper, and it hurts now, fuck, take it back, take it away--

and maybe that is why he hates you in some way. because the space is gone. it is filled again; and you fit so perfectly there, and it will happen again, and he has no idea how many more times he can lose the redeemable half of him until there is nothing left to redeem.

but black still runs in his veins, and he is selfish, and he will hold onto it until it's gone. he doesn't care. he is a thing, he is not real, and it doesn't matter to him if he will die again when you do, because while he has you, he will drink what you give him. salvation, redemption, painting his blood red, whatever the fuck it is that you are meant to give him, he will take it, and he will devour it, and he doesn't care what he leaves behind.

he wants it. it's selfish, it's cruel, but he wants it. everything he touches fades away; if he was something real, he would cut you off. but he isn't, and he doesn't care, and he's curious to know what the stain of himself will look like on you.

beautiful you. such a pretty girl. soft like a bunny, glittering eyes--if he was a poet, he might say they are filled with starlight. but ghost is a predator; the shine of you only makes his mouth water.

you were his the moment he saw you for the very first time. he was not inclined to ask your permission, but it wouldn't have mattered--he knew as soon as your eyes met, really met, that he had you. hook, line, and sinker--there it is, there she is, what she really is inside. there is a light there inside of you, he could see it.

he is going to snuff it out. he doesn't know why, but he will, because he wants to. he has an urge to kill something, and he thinks whatever it is that swims in you will do just fine. he knows, somehow, that you will look beautiful covered in it--in the tears when he breaks, when he tears, when he destroys, you will look beautiful, and he won't stop until he takes all of it. he knows, too, he doesn't know how he knows but he knows, that you will let him.

he crossed another name off his list today. he watched them on a lonely rooftop all morning, and it rained. he watched them move back and forth, between doorways, answering phone calls. he doesn't ask questions, so he wonders occasionally what it is they did to warrant a visit from him.

they could've stolen. maybe they betrayed; that is a popular motivation. lovers' quarrels--he knows what it is to die for love, but dying for love at the wrong end of his rifle isn't in marriage vows. maybe they were in the wrong place at the wrong time; maybe they saw what they shouldn't have, and it was enough for a visit from their guardian angel.

sometimes he thinks that what he does is at their mercy; because if he didn't do it, if he didn't make it so quick, so easy, they would suffer. at least this way, by his hand, they would never know. he brings comfort. ease.

it is the same with you, it has to be. he closes his fist and bangs on the outside of your door. the wood rattles under the force, and when you open the door, the look that you give him only solidifies his assumption. if it wasn't him keeping you, then it would be someone else. someone else would look into those eyes, and they would take from you, but they wouldn't be like him. he takes, and he will take, but you won't know that you are empty until it's too late.

that is merciful, isn't it? this kind of love is forgiving, right? the kind that shields, the white lies that protect, that blindfold that hides--this is humane. he is a thing, a predator, yes, but he isn't like the others.

right?

you step aside, and he has to maneuver his shoulders to make it past the narrow doorway. as you close the door, your eyes linger. he wears a dark rain jacket over a long sleeve, dark cargo pants tucked into heavy boots. he wears a holster on one meaty thigh, but it only holds a small pack there. his balaclava is plain, hiding all but his dark eyes, and the hood of his jacket casts a long shadow over him. the gloves he wears are of a utility variety--he worked today. if you ask him, he will say yes, but he will not tell you anything else.

sometimes, you aren't sure if he just doesn't care or if he is trying to protect you from some ugly truth. but then you remember that there are no ugly truths with ghost; the truth is as it is, nothing more and nothing less, and if he hides it from you, it is because you simply don't need to know.

you lock the door behind you, leaning against it. he moves through your apartment with ease. he has been here before, but it feels as if he has always been here. he knows how to rattle the balcony door to get the lock to free, and you don't remember showing him how to unlatch it. you busy yourself with putting the kettle to boil as you see him light a match, a cigarette between two gloved fingers.

it's a nasty vice. it blackens the lungs, shrinks the organ, addicts the user. but it tastes good. and it feels good. and it isn't what will kill him, because this isn't real.

you come outside, a mug of tea in your hand, and you set it down beside him. he flicks ash off the cigarette, spreading his legs wide as he sits there, watching the street below. it's quiet because it's raining, and while the balcony is covered, it wets the toes of his boots.

he looks so good. he spreads himself out in the chair, taking up so much space, and his hand that doesn't hold the cigarette is spread out along his thigh, running absentmindedly down the material of his pants. it's hard to describe the breadth of him--ghost is just big. his hands, the height of him, the space that you can tuck yourself into his chest. he could curl you around his arm, wrap you up with both of them, trap you there. you don't hate the thought of that, the idea of him keeping you there like that. you think about the width of his hand, how it might look with the black of his glove spread out across your throat, holding you there, keeping you there.

you think about what it would be like to be under his mercy. his control. to feel the press of those fingers against the hollow of your throat, knowing he could crush your windpipe with just one perfectly placed squeeze. he would know where to touch. he would know where to tug just right to cut the air off.

it's too bad you didn't know you already belonged to him.

"can i have some?"

you nod to the cigarette burning in his hand. his eyes flicker up to look at you for a moment before he adjusts in the chair. he shrugs finally.

"'f you want."

you put a hand on his shoulder, lowering yourself to sit on his lap. you wear nothing except for a loose shirt, one that covers you to your thighs, but when you sit, it rides up. he takes the weight of you easily, not looking strained in the slightest, one arm supporting the thickness of your thighs with a firm grasp.

you lean forward a little, into him, and he brings the cigarette to your lips. you wrap your lips around it, taking a breath. you want to revel in that fact that you're putting your lips around something his own have touched, and then you start to cough.

the air burns. you turn your head to the side and wheeze; you hear a condescending chuckle, and you go warm with embarrassment. but his hand rubs small circles into your back, coaxing the smoke out of your lungs. you take in a few strong breaths to clear the smoke, and then you look away from him.

"not a smoker, eh?"

"that was...my first time."

when your head turns back to face him shyly, he tilts his head to the side. you cannot see any of his expression, but you imagine he's curious. the way his eyes look you up and down tell you that much.

"wot, you saw me do it, 'n ya think y'can take it?"

you don't respond, just keep your eyes on his. your fingers move, spreading across the solidity of his chest, and you rest them there. you lean in a little more, your face only a few mere inches from his own, and it gives you an opportunity to examine him so close.

his mask is weathered, the skull mouth painted along the mouth a little faded and messy with wear. he smells like cigarettes and earth, wet soil and ash and something warm. the eye-black that is smeared across his eyes fades out at the edges, and the paleness of his skin peeks out a little. you know the black covers the tiredness under his eyes, the lines that must be set in his face from how much he frowns. he has blonde lashes and dark eyes, and what intrigues you the most is that you can see the jagged edge of a healed scar peeking out from under the fabric that hides him.

he frowns, and you see the furrowing of the skin underneath. you meet his eyes again, and it feels surreal to see him in this much detail. you don't think this is a common occurrence; you have a feeling that anyone that has ever gotten this close to him did not live to talk about it the next day.

he has never told you, but you know death follows him. you have never seen what war has done to him, you can't see the rough skin and the patches where skin has been shredded or torn off, but you know, sitting so close to him, that he leaves bodies behind him and terrifies the ones that approach.

you wonder if you should be afraid, but then you remember that if he wanted to kill you, he would have done it by now. he does not want to kill you.

he wants to eat you.

you have asked him once what he does for work. he said he used to work for the military, but he didn't say anymore. when you asked what he did now, he said he was an independent contractor.

a contractor for what, you did not get the answer to. just that he was his own boss now, and no one told him what to do anymore.

"what did you do today?" you ask him finally, reaching up timidly and slipping a thumb down the line of his strong jaw.

"work."

"and how was it?"

he does not answer, and your eyes flicker back up to his, studying his reaction. he doesn't give one, just eyes the line of your throat as you swallow hard.

"a good pay day then?" you ask, and he hums at that. you smile a little, reaching up with both hands and cupping his masked cheeks gently. "must be good at what you do."

his face flickers a bit at that. he sniffs, looking to the side before back at you, shrugging those broad shoulders of his. one of his big hands comes up and slips up the shirt you wear, gripping your ass firm.

"good at other things, too," is all he says, and you smooth one of your thumbs down the row of painted teeth along the mouth of the mask. his breath comes out warm under your thumb.

"like killing people?"

his hand stiffens against you, and he glares up at you. a huff of a breath comes out, and you tense a little. he flicks the cigarette onto the ground, reaching up with that hand and gripping you around the jaw. your face fits nicely in his hand, and you might enjoy it if it wasn't so aggressive, the way he touched you. he shakes you a little, bringing you close enough that you can feel the wetness of his snarl against your lips.

"that wot y'think i am? some kind o'murderer?" he spits. "think 'm some kind o'fuckin' killer?"

a wave of tears prick the sides of your eyes, and you grip his wrist tight, trying to keep the pressure off of you.

"i know what you do," you whisper. "i know what you do, it's pretty obvious."

"yeah? 'n ya think it's a good idea to fuckin' talk t'me this way? ask me questions you don't want the answers to?"

you narrow your eyes, and you stare back at him, matching the intensity of his own. this makes him laugh; there is no humor in his laugh, but he laughs, and he rattles your whole head as he brings you close enough that your lips brush against the fabric of his mask.

"oh...you want me to tell ya...want me to spill all my bloody secrets..." he growls. you let out a whine when he brings you even closer, smashing your lips against the front of his mask. you choke out a whimper, and you swear you feel his tongue trying to find yours through the barrier. "think y'can handle the lot like me, bunny, and you can't. blood on m'ledger would fuckin' drown you."

and it is the truth, he knows it is, and he wouldn't lie to you because he just doesn't fucking care enough to think up a lie. he didn't serve so many years, he didn't give so much time to what he thought was righteous to come home and paint war as a pretty picture to civilians like you. war is blood, war is loss, war is what takes and takes and takes from a man, until they are things. until they come home and realize they have no idea what they were fighting for when they seem the same dirty streets they left behind.

when their brothers still get killed. when their families still come apart. when their lovers betray them, when they break their hearts--when they realize they are glorified weapons for the politicians that don't care about them, that send them away to die, that refuse to support them when they come home without the goodness that they left with.

he gave his entire life up for this. they took his family, they took the only half of him that mattered, and what was it for? nothing waits for him at home. there is no one in his bed, there is no one to call, there was no money in the bank.

there is only the memories that manifest into nightmares, and the blue sky that reminds him of blue eyes. the blue eyes that he could not save, the blue eyes that haunt him, that ask him, desperately--let the bonnie lass go, LT. you cannae save'er.

but he is a lieutenant, and he was a sergeant, and he didn't take fucking orders from anyone anymore anyways.

you are his, and you look so pretty in that cage. pretty enough to eat. pretty enough to take away. pretty enough to poison, because he thinks maybe this is the only way to make himself feel better.

he wants to see your blood run just as black as his own. misery loves company, they say, and it would please him, the selfish thing that he is, to see you just as ugly inside as he is.

"but you want it," he says, and your eyes flick back to meet his. you don't smile, but your gaze doesn't falter. you just stare back at him, and he laughs again, because he sees something he recognizes there. something inhuman, something a little feral. it is inside you.

and he wants it out.

he stands, leaning over you. you're forced to walk backwards, and he doesn't stop until you're back inside. he closes the balcony door behind him, putting a hand on your chest before forcing you backwards with a firm push. the back of your knees hit the couch, and you squeak as you fall back against it.

you almost think he's going to pounce on you. rip your panties to fabric shreds, spread you wide, and fuck you into the cushions. you think he's going to take from you, because that is what predators do, but you're almost taken back by the sight of him lowering to his knees.

he's kneeling. this behemoth of a thing kneels in front of you, and you yelp with a start when he grips you by the back of your knees and yanks you forward, manhandling you until he has your legs tossed over his shoulders. he grunts as he pushes the shirt up to expose your cotton panties, a soft red pair that you know he will ruin when he's done with you.

your back arches as he buries the front of his mask against your cunt, taking a deep breath through the mask. it's filthy, the way he takes in the scent of you, and if you were sane, you would push him away, the nasty thing he is. but you don't--the gesture floods your insides with need, and you squirm in his grip.

"stay still, little rabbit," he says, but it's a demand. he moves one hand further up your thighs, and you whimper softly when his thumb squishes the slit of you through your panties. his eyes brighten when he notices the fabric darkening as soon as he does this, a growing wet spot dampening your underwear. "look at 'er...drippin'...you hungry, luv?"

"uh...ngghhh..."

"oh, fer fuck's sake, haven't even got m'mouth on ya, and y'can't speak already?"

he laughs, because he is mean, because he is a thing that just wants and takes, and what he wants is between your thighs, and you are easy. you want to be more of a challenge; you want to make him work for it, but his eyes flicker up to meet your own, and there is nothing you can do. there is something said whenever your eyes are on each other--you have no idea what it is, but it tames him, and it keeps you.

"he woulda loved you," he says suddenly. you frown, opening your mouth to say something, to ask who he is, but his index finger pulls your panties aside, and he buries his masked face into the wet seam of your pretty pussy.

you cry out at the feeling, your thighs closing around his head instinctively. your back bows even further, a taut, imaginary string being pulled inside of you, and ghost laughs again, because you're so warm and cute and needy. he pushes his face further into you, nuzzling his nose into the place where he knows your clit is, and he draws the most delicious moans out of you. he smiles under the mask when one of your shaking hands grips the back of his head, pushing him deeper, his mask soaking with the slick of you.

he continues the torture for a time unknown. your brain isn't working; you have no concept of time. all you can think about is the way your legs shake and the grip your hands have on the back of his head as you grind your hips up into him. your eyes flutter open and closed, and you push your shirt up a little so he can see your nipples harden with how much everything aches for him.

it feels so good. he grunts, and then a low groan leaves him when you maneuver his head, shoving his nose up against your clit again and slanting your hips up and into him. you're getting off on this--fucking the front of his mask to feel something, to feel this thing you have been chasing for your entire life.

you saw it in him the first time you met him. the knowing when your eyes met for the first time--whatever it is that you have been chasing for your entire life, it is in him, and you need it.

the thing that poets chase. the rush that a high brings. the missing half of you, the warmth of a love you've never had, the shape of something in your cunt that you know he can fill.

you think you might faint when you feel his tongue finally. you can't see his face; he hides it with a wet mask, but his tongue is inside of you now, and you can't help the crying moans that leave you as he laps at your folds like a thirsty dog. maybe he is thirsty--you can hear the lewd, deep swallowing sounds he makes as he tightens his grip on your thighs and bobs his head in time with your stuttering, pleasure-chasing hips.

he drinks. he drinks you insane. his tongue suckles at your clit, then lets it go with a filthy pop to swirl inside your tightening cunt and eat the pretty bunny he has been thinking about far too much. when he works, before he sleeps, in the shower, in the mirror as he covers the scars of him that he never wants to share anymore. the taste of you is enough to distract him--here, between your thighs, your sweetness in his mouth and your moans filling his ears, he doesn't think about anything else. it's impossible. he has been chasing the void for a long time, and all he had to do was eat a pretty girl to get to it?

he knows it now, has decided it already. your cunt is redemption, and he will lose himself in it to make it reality.

"ghost! please!"

your cries shatter his resolve. he folds you in half as he leans over you now, his hands sliding up your soft stomach before he grips the weight of your breasts in his rough hands and squeezes firmly. you whine, cry, moan, beg--you beg for more, for him to please, please, please--! it feels so good, i want it! i want you, i want it all, i want--i want--what does she want?

me? the thing? what isn't real? because ghost knows that if he gives in, it is over. he signs something away, and he has done this before, and suddenly he is afraid.

when he did this before, he was left something else. he is afraid of what will happen the next time. what will happen to him, what might become of him, because what he is now terrifies his reflection, and he has no idea what it'll do.

"please! please! please!"

but you're crying, and you taste so good. and as he laves into the prettiest pussy he's ever had, the sweetest, he remembers why he is here. he isn't here because he loves you. he isn't here because he cares, he isn't here because it is good.

he is here because whatever he is needs a new host, and you are what it wants. soft, pretty, naïve--you have let it inside, and now he will eat and chew and bite until he sucks something out of you.

maybe the good. maybe blood. but it doesn't matter.

he slides his hands back down, using both thumbs to spread your folds apart, and he pulls back to look at you. you're a sloppy mess, your little hole puckering and pulsing, your clit a throbbing bud that begs him to stop teasing. he looks up at where you're a whimpering, crying thing, tears sliding down your puffy cheeks, and he snarls before he leans down and spits right on your clit, watching it drip into your cunt and swirl between what seeps from you.

"say it."

"nnh...huh?"

"say who you belong to."

when you take a moment to answer, he leans down and licks a fat stripe over your clit, making you sob. you reach down, cupping the underside of his jaw. it's bare, and your soft hands glide over the scarred skin there. it is the first time he doesn't flinch.

"you--you!"

"say it."

"b-belong to you..."

the moonlight is blue when he makes you come. his lips wrap around your clit and suckle soft, and when he knows you're coming, he opens his mouth, hinging a strong jaw so he can swallow what drips from you and take in mouthfuls of it. there is a glare over you, a blue light that shines over your sweaty, shivering body, and ghost nearly bites.

as if the blue eyes he can't keep out of his head, the blue eyes that follow him everywhere he goes, are mocking him for taking the thing he knows he shouldn't have. he's telling him to leave you. that there's still time to let you go. that what he has in his hands, what he has at his mercy, is too soft and too pretty and too gentle to be touched by what he will bring to her doorstep.

you sit up on your elbows, half-lidded, face wet with your tears. ghost almost believes the blue that washes over you, but then his eyes meet yours, and it is over. you're smiling.

this is acceptance. because you know what he is. you know what he does. the gun on him is real. the black in his eyes isn't a trick of the light. the poison spreading in his veins isn't just a sickness, it is a cancer, and this will kill him, and it is contagious.

you cup his face, bringing him up, letting him crowd the space between your legs as he leans over you.

he would care. he wants to care. and when he kisses you, sealing your fate, he remembers, suddenly. the blue moonlight is gone.

and this isn't real.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #ghost mwii #ghost x reader #cod #call of duty #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #dark!simon

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mikareo · 3 months

Text

“ ࣭⸰ ★ HE'S JUST NOT THAT INTO YOU . . . ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ 呪術廻戦 ; gojo satoru x fem reader (1k)

⊹ ⠀⠀ valentine's day is approaching; and with a valentine comes love...or for worse...heartbreak.

contains; gojo satoru x fem reader, angst, mentions of fluff idk, there’s some swearing i think author's note; happy (almost) valentine's,, i’m projecting

1 day, 9 hours, and 47 minutes.

your last conversation wasn't anything out of the ordinary. there was no dry spell. no plateau. no failure to communicate. just you and satoru, plus the typical banter, talking about something as simple as what you were planning on making for dinner; to be more precise, what you were trying to make for dinner. you're a pretty awful cook according to him.

everything seemed to be going so well...really well...almost perfectly well— and with valentine's day right around the corner, you'd instinctively assumed that he'd ask you to be his. instinct is a difficult emotion, though. is it even an emotion? you're not quite sure, but your heart believes it is. your heart— which is practically pounding out of your chest at the current moment, stretching your skin, eager to feel the limitless fresh air and freedom that comes with floating on cloud 9— instinctively wants to believe satoru is your soulmate. you love him don't you? is the answer yes? it should be no.

you've known him for...what? four months? four months of your twenty years of life is seemingly small. that's only one point six-seven percent of your entire lifetime...one point six-seven percent of your life that you wish you could relive forevermore.

...he isn't going to text you back is he?

2 days, 2 hours, and 15 minutes.

each second passing is another flicker of hope that misses the candle wick. instead of lighting the path that leads to your eventual relationship, it lights a fire beneath your feet. your socks feel warm. there's coal beneath them. hot, burning coal withering away the sense of feel in your toes; breathing in the aroma of heartbreak until it becomes a roaring fire that consumes all of you.

why is he doing this? what did you do wrong? you haven't done anything wrong. he's just a man. a man who can't seem to stop playing with your heart.

you can hear his voice in the back of your mind. the part of your mind that connects to your heart. "can you facetime, right now? i'm having a bad day and i just want to see your face." he had to have meant that. "you don't need to apologize for talking over me, i love hearing what you have to say." a guy wouldn't just say that to say that. "don't be too hard on yourself, i know you'll figure everything out becuase you're you. you always know what to do." it couldn't have all been bullshit.

it can't have been bullshit.

because if that's all it was, then you're just a fool in love.

and fools in love are no better than clowns.

3 days, 14 hours, and 22 minutes.

you did what you hate doing. the thing that makes you want to scream into your pillow at the mere thought. the very thing that screams desperation and neediness and clinginess and insecurity all in one. you sent another message.

in the past, you've never had feelings strong enough to elicit such a response. your heart hasn't tied itself to another person's with a red satin bow. the fated string of fate hadn't found you yet. it allowed you to maintain a stable head and remain grounded with no hopes of love on your radar. you hadn't yet learned how to fly; until that day you met satoru and suddenly you had a hundred pilot lessons lined up day-after-day.

it was so easy being with him. everything was so easy.

for the first time ever you had no doubts. you weren't afraid of waking up one morning to find him gone. disappeared. nonexistent. you full-heartedly believed he'd never leave; and you believed he reciprocated those thoughts. now, though...now you may never know what bits and pieces he reciprocated— because your plane crashed. turbulence flew beneath the wings and drove the flight off course. the oxygen masks bellowed down upon the passengers, every seat being filled with your pounding heartbeats, and each and every one of them blew out of the window with no parachute. he didn't even try to cushion the fall.

4 days, 1 hour, and 39 minutes.

if there's one message you never expected to receive, it's surely 'seen 14 hours ago'.

you'd given him space and assumed he'd been busy with a million other things and hadn't had any time to send you a quick message. your last text wasn't even anything out of the ordinary, just a quick "are you okay?", you think that's pretty reasonable. it's reasonable, isn't it?

something could be seriously wrong with him. why else would he leave you on read? he's never done this before. usually, you're the one who's more distant between the two of you. that's how your relationship began, after all. he'd send five texts in comparison to your two; which later evolved into five rivaling five, and now to zero rivaling two. the scales have tipped. how do you rebalance them?

you trust satoru. there must be a perfectly good explanation for this odd irregularity that's occurring in your otherwise perfect relationship. after all, all of your friends love him— they think he's the greatest catch of the 21st century. he's never done anything in the past to warrant such strange behavior. this is simply a difficult week for him...and you'll be there whenever he's ready to vent.

5 days, 22 hours, and 7 minutes.

a broken heart isn't for the weak...but unfortunately, you're not one of the stronger warriors.

he's at another girl's birthday party. he hasn't messaged you back in almost six days...and he's with another girl? celebrating her? he could be holding her close and you wouldn't even know, because god knows he wouldn't tell you. he won't even say good morning anymore. he won't even answer your fucking three word message that you sent out of desperation and concern for his well being. instead, he's at the club with his friends, getting drunk and taking shots, having the time of his life; and you're sitting in your room watching his social media stories...believing that everything that went wrong is all your fault.

but it's not your fault.

it's not your fault you fell for someone like that.

someone like satoru gojo.

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7ndipity · 10 months

Text

When they call you clingy

Ot7 x Reader

Summary: different scenarios in which they've called you clingy.

Warnings: angst, swearing, depression, jk calls himself an idiot, not proofread.

A/N: Thanks to the lovely anon for this request! I'm gonna be honest, these are all over the place. Some are angsty, some are fluffy, Jimin's is just straight-up comfort because apparently he's part of my emotional support squad. Idk, I hope you like them anyway!

Masterlist

Requests are open

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Seokjin: Bickering with Jin was something that happened often, usually over something you both knew was ridiculous to fight over, like the validity of mint chocolate as an ice cream flavor, but both of you were too stubborn to back down.

Tonight's argument: whether holding hands while sleeping was clingy or not.

"I think it's nice." You argued.

"That's because you're clingy!" He retorted.

"I'm clingy?" You asked, offended. "Have you seen you?"

"What?"

"Last week at that party, you couldn't stand me being more than five feet away from you!"

"That's cause Wooseok kept staring at you and I didn't want him trying to make a pass at you." He exclaimed.

You blinked. "That was why?"

"Yes!"

You paused, caught of guard by his admission. "That's kinda sweet."

"Because I'm a sweet boyfriend." He said, still slightly defensive.

"You are." You assented, coming over and kissing him, making him finally crack and give you a small grin.

"Can we please just go to bed now?" He asked.

"Will you let me hold your hand?"

He sighed. "Yes."

"Then yes."

Yoongi: It was late in the afternoon when you brought him a coffee while he was working on his laptop and, noticing the concentrated frown on his face, leaned down and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"Agh, clingy." He grumbled, not with any venom, just his usual tone, but it was still enough to make you draw back, excusing yourself so he could work.

Were you clingy? You knew you were more physically affectionate than he was, but he'd never seemed to find it bothersome, but you couldn't help second guessing yourself after his comment.

Later, when he came through to join you, he noticed you were a bit quiet, but didn't think much of it at first, until you sat down on the opposite end of the sofa from him.

"C'mere." He said, patting the space next him.

"I'm good here right now." You said, making him frown in confusion.

"Is something wrong?" He asked.

"No."

"Then why are you way over there?"

"I'm just trying to give you some space."

"I don't want space." He pouted.

"But you said I was clingy."

"I didn't say it was a bad thing." He said, sliding over next to you. "You know I'm not the best at showing my feelings, but that's one of the things I admire about you. You're not afraid to be the one to reach out first, and sometimes I need that. I need clingy."

"Really?" You quirked a brow at him.

"A little, just a little." He warned, trying to hold his hands up in defense, but it was too late, you'd already tackled him.

Hoseok: It was a clear night as the two of you walked around the city, enjoying one of your first proper date nights since he'd got back from tour, and you were taking full advantage of it, trying to keep as close to him as possible, whether holding his hand or wrapping your arms round his waist.

"My clingy baby." He chuckled as you wound yourself around him yet again. It wasn't said unkindly, but for some reason the word kept bouncing around in your head, making you self-consciously shift back to just holding hands. Were you being too clingy? You had always thought that Hobi liked your affectionate nature, but now you were worried if it was a little too much, even for him. Noticing your change in mood, he gave your hand a little squeeze. "You okay?"

"Mhm." You hummed, still thinking.

"You sure?" He asked.

"Am I being too clingy?" You asked, glancing over him.

"What?! Of course not!" He said, stunned. "I was just teasing you earlier, Baby. Trust me, you could never be too clingy for me."

"You sure?" You asked.

"Definitely." He said, opening his arms. "Now get back over here."

Namjoon: Joon had been working almost non-stop for weeks and you could tell it was taking a toll on him, the fatigue clear on his face, but he rebuffed you at every attempt to try and help him relax.

"Can you just give me some goddamn space, you're so clingy!" He'd finally snapped one evening, the final straw in your mind.

That was three days ago, and you hadn't been back to his place since, ignoring his calls and texts. You hated shutting him out the same way he had done you, but you also weren't going stand by and put up with his behavior anymore. If it was space that he wanted, he could have it.

Until you open the door the next morning to a very disheveled looking Joon.

"What are you-?"

"I'm sorry." He blurted out. "For acting the way I have, and for yelling at you like that. I know you just trying to look out for me, you didn't deserve any of that." He paused to catch his breath, seeming to brace himself before looking back up at you. "The past few days have been absolute hell without you, but it made me realize how much I love you, and I know it's shitty timing to say that, but I-"

You shut him up with a quick kiss, knowing if you didn't stop him, he would probably keep talking for at least a half hour.

"You wanna come in?" You asked, to which he quickly nodded.

He still had some apologizing to do, but it was a start.

Jimin: Some day are just shit. Some days feel like you're just circling the drain, constantly the verge of tipping over the edge into the deep abyss, and all you want is something to hold onto and keep you from falling.

Which is why, when Jimin came home late that evening and fell on the bed next to you, you had immediately wrapped yourself around him and refused to let go.

"What's got you so clingy?" He'd teased, trying to tilt your chin up, but you wouldn't let him, tucking your face further into his neck.

"Babe?" He asked, more worried now, noticing you shaking slightly against him. "What's wrong?"

You just shook your head. "Bad day."

"I'm sorry." He said softly, understanding the situation now. "Can I do something? Do you need anything?"

"Just you." You mumbled, your breathing unsteady as you tried to keep from crying.

He held you tighter. "I'm here. I've got you."

Taehyung: "I like this." He mumbled, tracing patterns along your back with his fingers.

"Yeah?"

"Mhm, I like it when you're clingy."

As soon as he'd walked through the door, you had latched onto him, having not seen him in over two weeks while he was traveling.

You frowned, propping yourself up on your hands to look at him. "I'm not clingy."

"That would sound a lot more convincing if you weren't laying on top of me right now." He chuckled.

Shooting him a look, you moved to roll off of him, but he stopped you, holding you tightly by the waist. "Where do you think you're going?"

"I don't wanna be clingy." You said stubbornly.

"But I like it!" He laughed.

"Well, I don't! Being clingy isn't supposed to be a good thing!" You said.

"I think it is, at least the way you do it." He said, rubbing circles on you sides with his thumbs. "It's nice to know that you like me as much as I like you."

"So, you're admitting you're clingy too?" You poked him.

"You had to ask?" He suddenly rolled till you were pinned under him. "Darling, you have no idea how clingy I can be."

Jungkook: It had caught you off guard when you overhead him talking to one of his friends after dinner. "Y/n's the same way, they're so clingy!" He'd laughed. It might have only been a joke, but it cut you deeper than you cared to admit.

You knew you tended to stick him more when you went out, but he'd always seemed okay with it. Till now now anyway.

For the rest of the evening, you couldn't help but shy away a bit from him, keeping a little distance between you, causing him to grow increasingly confused.

"Are you mad a me?" He asked, once you were alone in the car.

"Do you really think I'm clingy? You asked, not bothering to beat around the bush.

"What?"

"That's what you said to Mingyu." You said, looking down.

"That was- I was just joking around." He said trying to keep his tone light, but it became clear by your lack of response that you weren't amused. "I don't think you're clingy."

"Then why say it?"

"Because-" He sighed. "Because I'm an idiot. I was just trying to be cool, and I know that sounds dumb and childish, but I don't know how else to explain it." He looked over at you. "I'm sorry."

You studied him for a moment. "I expect cuddles as compensation for this."

"Of course." He agreed.

"And don't call my boyfriend an idiot."

"You got it." He grinned at you, starting the car.

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hunnylagoon · 4 months

Text

Right Where You Left Me

Pt 2: Jailbird

Ellie Williams x reader

I want to write a poem about you but I’m afraid it won’t be enough. I almost feel ashamed that I want you to fit into a word because we both know that you are beyond anything that can be put on paper.

Premise: You and Ellie were childhood friends before you drifted apart. Funny thing about soulmates is that they tend to find there way back to each other. While you both visit home for winter break, events unfold and it is no longer possible to avoid each other.

Warnings: Angst / homophobia / brief violence / reader has religious issues

Part one here!

Part three here!

Part four here!

I may have been wrong to say that I could never hate Ellie. Fuck she was vicious, in the most passive-aggressive way too. She's so sly about it that I can't even get mad without seeming irrational.

Winter break finally rolled around and I had yet to make any progress with Ellie it was whatever the opposite of progress is. If she wanted to hate me, that was fine, I could do the same, I could be petty. It's now December and all of this bullshit started in September, she could hardly be courteous.

Fuck her.

I had survived mid-terms and finals but the way Ellie was acting had me skipping happily towards the edge. She will wash a whole sink of dishes and leave just my fork, or Venmo request me if I ate one of her grapes. Everything had gotten worse when Dina, Abby, and Cat all left to visit their families for winter break leaving just Ellie and I, without the girls there to hold us to the house rules we were at each other's throats.

She was foaming at the fucking mouth to tear me apart. There was no level-headed Abby or fun-loving Dina, not even Cat who was just mellow. Just me and Ellie verbally abusing each other. "Fuck off, with your wild animal teeth," I spat, slamming the dish cupboard closed with a loud thud.

"Wild animal teeth?" She repeats "Wow, you're getting creative, I'll give you that," Ellie's gaze held a certain bitterness "Heard you were on your knees again last night and I don't mean praying."

My eye almost twitches at her words and it takes everything in me not to throw a ceramic bowl at her. I hated her, I hated her freckled face, and eyes as sharp as knives, just hearing her raspy voice, and seeing her sardonic smile made me want to keel over and let the earth wrap me in her flourishing greenery. I often wanted that to happen. I was trying to refrain from going home as I didn't want to spend the entire break with my family but I was starting to think nothing was better than this, I was set to leave the following day (Christmas Eve) anyway but I was seconds away from grabbing my bag and jumping into my car. "Can you just learn to be fucking civil?"

"Why would-

"Because we were sixteen years old when that stupid shit happened!" I spat "You're holding a grudge from when we were sixteen," I reiterated, searching her features for some sign that I'd gotten through to her.

"It's not like you've changed since any of that happened." She stands, unnervingly calm on the other side of the kitchen island. "You were always awful since we were young, always crying, always emotional, always explosive, my dad said you're like a birch tree, one spark and you burst into flames."

"Fuck off."

"You always had to have the attention," Her eyebrows furrow "Nothing was your fault, blame being fucking erratic and insane on your parents."

"You don't know my parents half as well as you think you do."

"What don't I know about them? They've been in my life as long as you have."

"Ellie, stop," I say, suddenly I'm taken away from the mood to fight, I just want to scream into my pillow.

"What?" She asks "You're going to say some shit like 'they aren't loving' or 'you wouldn't get it' Please, enlighten me, what wouldn't I get?" She moves closer just an inch or so "Wow, your life sounds so hard, you have two parents who love each other and a huge fucking house, oh shit," Sarcasm drips from her tone "Maybe it's that trust fund that's taking a toll on you."

"Please, stop."

"You could commit every crime known to man and you would still be their pride and joy, there is nothing you could say or do that would make them hate you-

"Here we go with your 'life is so fucking hard and I'm edgy and indie and I have a sad backstory that I'll bring up every second sentence even though I was seven when it happened' " I mock her.

She bites the inside of her cheek and I can tell that I've struck a nerve "You know when my lease-

"Don't even worry about it," I move out from the kitchen and begin towards my room, Ellie's eyes are trailing me "The minute my lease is up, I'm packing my shit and moving into student housing so I won't have to look at your fucking face while I'm eating!" I slam my bedroom door behind me.

I left that night, I couldn't bear the sound of her guitar strums, so repetitive it made me want to slam my head through the drywall.

You better believe that I cried my entire way home while blasting Julien Baker. My mother was pleasantly surprised to see me at her doorstep a day early, I knew Ellie would be coming down sometime tomorrow to spend the Holidays with her family, I didn't know when, I just knew that I didn't want to see her.

I never even told my parents that Ellie was my roommate and they hadn't heard it from Joel as they drifted when Ellie and I were fifteen.

My bedroom was exactly how I left, I cuddled into my twin bed that night sinking into the absolute silence of the the snowfall, with my dog Dusty curled at my side. I always loved the snow, the way it acted as soundproofing for the earth, when I was little I would just sit in the backyard so I could hear the birds sing in their purest and truest form.

Christmas Eve was dull to begin with, to say the least; my mom made Christmas tree-shaped waffles as she did every year, I was then dragged to an excruciatingly long church sermon. When we returned home I was sent to shovel the driveway, turns out visiting home from college doesn't excuse you from chores. I knew Ellie had arrived when I saw her grey sedan in Joel's driveway as well as Tommy's Range Rover. Bundled up in mittens and a hand-knitted scarf that Naomi gave to me I felt really tough giving the middle finger to Ellie wherever she was in Joel's house.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Elijah was cackling in the doorway. Dusty I happily bounding through the snow, paying to mind to my brother.

I immediately dropped my arm, trying to play nonchalantly "Uh, shoveling the driveway?"

His laughter only grew "You look so stupid," He huffed between cackles "You're standing in a foot of snow in the driveway giving Mr. Miller's house the middle finger in your cute little mitts."

"Say that louder, no one could hear you," I say, sarcastically.

"Hear ye, hear ye-

My eyes go wide and I drop the shovel to form a snowball and deck it at my brother "Shut up!"

"Ow!" He flinches, and his track and field hoodie from high school is now covered in powdered sleet. "Whatever," He yanks his hoodie off to shake the snow off of it "Just finish the driveway so we can watch a movie or something, I haven't seen you in months, Naomi and Aaron haven't shut up about you all holiday break."

I give him a mitted thumbs up before I try to speed run the shovelling, albeit slipping on black ice more than a few times. When I came back inside, I needed to change, my parka was dripping with snow that had melted into water.

I bundle up into sweatpants and an old soccer t-shirt. Being in my old room digs up memories pinned on my wall with bright thumbtacks year after year of photos of my soccer team, in every single one Ellie and I have our arms slung over each other. We're smiling wide and not focusing on the camera but on one another. I tear the picture away from the thumbtacks and throw them into a random shoe box that sits at the bottom of my closet. After that, I take down every artifact I have of Ellie, the drawings she made me, drafts of songs we wrote together, and t-shirts she left in my drawers, I throw it all into a Rubbermaid storage bin.

Though I leave the little wood carvings that Joel made for me alone.

My family's famous Christmas Eve dinner rolled around and I couldn't believe how excited I was, I'm not the best cook and despite me and my mother going through spats every other day, she was one hell of a good chef and I had spent months craving her honey roasted carrots and creamy mashed potatoes.

Please don't judge me when I say this, but we are the family that dresses up for dinners at home. Nothing black tie, just something a little dapper, one time I wore jeans to our family dinner and I was grounded for a week.

I finished zipping up my white sundress and I let my little sister tie a matching bow into my hair, when she saw what I was wearing she changed into her white dress which was ankle length while mine fell right above my knees.

"Oh, my sweet girls are matching again," My mom fawns over us "Let me get a picture of this cute little moment," I smile for the picture, and Naomi does the same, hooking an arm around my midriff. "Adorable," Mom looks at the picture before tucking her phone into her pocket "Now girls, please set the table."

Even though I hadn't been at home for months, setting the table was like muscle memory to me, Naomi put the placemats down, and then I did the dinner plate and salad plate, Naomi would place the napkins and cutlery then I would set glasses and pour everyone water from the pitcher. By the time we finished setting the table everyone aside from my mother and Elijah were at the table, early awaiting what was sure to be a filling dinner.

Slowly but surely my mom brought the dishes with Elijah, placing them all through the center of the dining table. After everything was placed my father, who sits at the head of the table cleared his throat, that was his signal for everyone to join hands. "Dear God, We gather today with grateful hearts to thank you for this food before us. We appreciate the effort and resources that have provided us with this nourishment. May this meal sustain our bodies and remind us of the many blessings in our lives. We are thankful for the love of family and friends who surround us and for the abundance we enjoy. Bless this food, our time together, and those who prepared it. May it strengthen us physically and spiritually. This is your body, this is your love. We thank you for feeding us with your gracious hands. In Jesus' name, we give thanks and pray. Amen."

"Amen," My family repeats before we all ravishingly fill our plates with chicken, maple-roasted mushrooms, buttered green beans, bread rolls, and mashed potatoes. I was eating so fast, I was shocked that I didn't spill anything on myself.

"So, have you met any cute boys at college?" My mother asks me, she is the only one eating politely "I'm sure you could get a real smart guy with those looks of yours."

My father nods "Just make sure he's Christian."

"Or catholic," My mother adds.

I laugh awkwardly in response, I take a sip of my water, the condensation making it slippery in my hands. Elijah gives me an odd look that goes unnoticed by my parents.

"I think we should drop off some bread or cookies or something to the Miller's, just something to say hi while Tommy and Maria are still there." My mom tells us, she isn't speaking to anyone in particular.

"Is Ellie there right now?" Aaron asks.

Elijah shrugs "Probably, her car is in the driveway."

Now Naomi is looking at me "We should invite her over for New Year's or something if she's staying for the rest of break."

My dad shakes his head "I don't know if that's a good idea," All eyes fall on him "It's just- I think she's a bit of a bad influence." He takes a swig of his wine and attempts to suppress a burp but fails. I press my lips into a thin line and look down at my plate to hold in my laughter, Elijah does the same beside me.

"I don't remember Ellie being a bad influence," Aaaron furrows his eyebrows, racking his brain to think of a time that she had done their family wrong.

"It's just that there were rumours of her having-" My father searches for the words "Unnatural tendencies I suppose, and I tried to talk to Joel about it but he got defensive and said that she didn't need fixing, that's how I lost my best fishing buddy."

My mom looks at the discomfort on all of her children's faces "I mean, we all need a bit of fixing."

Dad is quick to catch on "Oh, yeah, of course, I mean it's not just Ellie," He fumbles over his words "And it's not her fault that she's that way, I think It's because she lost her mother when she was young so she got confused about the parental roles, Joel never remarried and he didn't date around much so Ellie didn't have a proper mother figure, it's not her fault she's a dyke and there's still time to fix it if she wants to choose the right path."

Stillness falls over the table, I had never heard silence quite this loud. Even my mother is at a loss for words. All of my siblings are darting our eyes at one another, we don't utter a single word but we understand each other clearly 'Dad actually said it'.

He noticed this and tried to backtrack on his words "I'm not a bad guy, I mean we've all read the bible cover to cover, we know it's a sin. I'll wrap this up, you all know that we love you no matter what and all I'm saying is I'm glad we could distance ourselves away from it."

"Hey Dad, did you watch the Canucks game last week?" Elijah swoops in to change the topic. It's too late, a wave of sickness has already overtaken me.

While my family discusses nothing in particular, trying to ignore what Dad said, I am sick to my stomach, I push my plate away and prop my elbow the the table for my hand to support my head. I am nearly shaking. My dull eyes peer across the table and meet my father's drowsy gaze.

"Honey, are you feeling alright?" My mom pauses whatever conversation she is enwrapped in.

I don't respond, I don't know how.

My family's eyes find a resting place on my figure. Mom pushes herself away from her chair and walks over to me, she places one hand between my shoulder blades, the other takes my cold hand and she slowly rubs a circle on my back to comfort me. "Sweetness, whatever is repressed inside, say it, let it out, we're all family."

Naomi nods in agreement, her wide eyes full of concern. "I don't know how to say it," I tell them.

"Air it out," My dad says, finishing off his glass of wine and pouring himself another "Today is the perfect day, tomorrow is the birth of Jesus, a fresh start."

My heart is racing faster than it ever has before, faster than when I broke my wrist in Ellie's backyard or when I had been on a rollercoaster for the first time. "I like girls," I say, my voice is quiet, and my three words take my family with silence. My mother freezes and takes a step back, her comforting hands leaving me.

"You're joking," My dad scoffs "Tell me this is a joke and you're normal."

"I can't," My voice cracks and I can already tell that the tears are oncoming. I think briefly back to Ellie's words 'There is nothing you could say or do that would make them hate you' if only she could see what was about to happen.

"All of those sleepovers with Ellie?" He is disgusted, his face contorting with horror "Were you dating her?"

"no-

"How can I believe anything you say, you lied to us for nineteen years when you knew you were sick."

"Dad, I'm not sick-

"How many sinful acts have you done under this roof?"

"None, I swear," I shake my head, it took less than a minute for me to be filled with regret at my words. I shouldn't have even come home for the holidays, actually, I never should've found Dina's listing and jumped at the deal.

"Get out," Any light tone in my dad's voice is gone, replaced by pure resentment.

"What?"

"You heard me, get out."

"Dad, it's Christmas Eve-

"Get out!" His voice rumbles through the dining room like thunder "I thought we fixed this phase when we sent you to boarding school."

"Please, dad-

"Get up and get out or I'm going to make you,"

"Fine- make me," Tears prick in my eyes but I cross my arms trying to muster up that false coolness Ellie is so good at feigning.

My dad slams his glass down so hard that it shakes the table, and the partially empty wine bottle my parents had been nursing all night is knocked over by the abruption, tipping over the deep red liquor to travel down the tablecloth and drip onto what was once my pure white dress. "Get up!" He grabs a fistful of my hair and I scream from the shock of pain. He yanks me off my chair and my face slams against the hardwood when his arm slumps, impact heavy from the sudden drop, it doesn't take long for my nose to start bleeding. He drags me to the door pushing it open; my siblings don't do anything they're petrified in horror and my mother begins to cry, covering her eyes from the scene before her.

My dad doesn't stop at the door, I thrash on the ground and he pulls me over both of my hands trying to pry his away from the roots of my hair, he drags me into the snow, finally releasing me. I shake as my hand gently finds the way to my burning scalp where I fully believe he has pulled out clumps of my hair with his harsh and unforgiving grasp.

From the doorway the rest of my family watches, Naomi has a hand covering her mouth her doe eyes brimming with tears of her own. My father disappeared into the house, it didn't take long to see what he was doing he slammed the window to make the bedroom open and began to throw all of my belongings out of the window. My pictures, my old soccer uniform, armfuls of clothes from my old beaten dresser, candles, books, paints, and shredded posters were torn straight off my wall.

"Dad, stop, I'm sorry, I'll get better!" I am on my knees, hands clasped together pleading with him. My skin is burning from the contact with the snow, I know that it must be a horrific sight to behold. White sundress, stained with wine, tangled hair, red-tinged skin, puffy eyes and incoherent sobs.

The snow makes everything so quiet the only sound travelling through the night are my sobs. I can no longer see my father in my bedroom, he is coming back down and somehow that is worse, he pushes past my family and throws the presents I was supposed to receive on Christmas morning beside me, I flinch at the movement.

"I'm sorry!" I plead like I'm bargaining with the Grimm Reaper for my life "Give me a job and I'll do it, just tell me what to do to get better!" The screaming carries through the night, alerting the neighbours in what was supposed to be a calm and quiet neighbourhood. Across the street, Joel turns on his porch light, squinting his eyes at the scene on the opposing lawn and trying to make sense of it. "I want to get better!" I shake with every sob. I could hear my dogs barking from the loud noises.

My dad shakes his head "You're too far gone, I didn't raise a fucking dyke," He is almost crying himself, he doesn't mourn for the daughter that he has but the daughter that could've been. The daughter who donned white every Sunday for church and settled down with a nice family man, a daughter who was holy but in this moment I am the purest form of holiness, born again from the violence of my father.

"Dad, I was created in God's image, why would he create his child to be this way if it was so wrong?"

"You're a fucking mistake is what you are," He seethes "Get off my property or I'm calling the cops."

"You still have my bags!" I scream and I watch him retreat to get them "Are you going to do anything at all?" I search my family for any sign of life but they all avert their eyes from mine. My father comes back out, and he throws my purse and suitcase on the lawn, this time both of them hit me, talking about kicking someone when they're down.

My dad begins to usher the family inside "I never want to see you again, get your ass up and start working, I'm not paying for you to fuck around with women instead of getting an education."

"That's it?" I cry "You won't come to my wedding or meet my kids? What about my funeral?"

"Not as long as you're with a woman." With that, he slams the door behind him and locks it. I let out another guttural sob, I've already cried so much that it's beginning to hurt within my stomach. I take a deep and shaky breath in, wiping the tears away from my eyes with my freezing hands, I'm sure to catch hypothermia if I don't warm up. I look up to see my neighbours all around either watching from their window or in the Miller family's case, the front porch. I'm sure that someone has already called the police.

"Let me in, I'm sorry!" I scramble off the ground and begin to bang on the door. Shaking the handle "Let me in!" This goes on for longer than I would've liked, I hammer on the door and scream as loud as I can but they all ignore me. Eventually, I stand by the window and slam my hands on it "Let me in or give me my fucking dog, you can't take care of him!"

I knew I was fucked when I heard sirens. It only made sense for the neighbours to call the cops at this disturbance.

I'm going to do you all a favour and tell you some useful information; when the police arrive and you don't wanna seem guilty, don't try to drive away from the scene because you might just end up getting handcuffed and shoved into the back of a police car for your childhood bestfriends family to watch from their front row seats.

"Prison life isn't for me," I wallow as I press myself against the bars of the holding cell. There are two other women in the cell with me and they both snigger. One of their names is Lucia, and she has bronze skin and brown hair so dark that it almost looks black with gold hoop earrings the size of my head, I don't know the other woman's name but she looks significantly older and has stringy blonde hair, the wrinkles of her face drooping.

"Honey, this isn't prison, you'll live another hour," Lucia sits on the uncomfortable bench, her arms crossed, she's kind of hot to be blunt.

"You reek of liquor though," Blondie cackles and I catch a glimpse of her rotting yellow teeth, what's the opposite of pearly whites? Golden nuggets? Something like that.

"Because I got wine spilled on me," I retort. I had been crying before they even placed me in the cell, wailing so loud that I was annoying the officers. I was so upset and starved for affection that I hugged the officer who detained me, babbling incoherently about how my life was ruined, I don’t even blame them for arresting me, I looked like a crackhead trying to break into a nice suburban home. “I'm not drunk."

"Could've fooled me," Lucia smirks, she's wearing a black tank top and skinny jeans. I wasn't a fan of skinny jeans but she was converting me.

I fell asleep hugging myself on one of the uncomfortable metal benches with chipped blue paint, when I woke up, it was Christmas, even though it didn't feel like it. I saw the snowfall outside of the windows on the other side of the cells. Lucia had told me just before she was released that they had the right to hold you longer over holidays, I wanted to weep all over again.

Blondie got removed from the cell too and I was all alone. The only thing that kept me sane was pretending I was Katniss or Lucy Gray, if they had survived the Hunger Games, I could survive this. I genuinely thought my life was over and I was getting sent to prison for hammering on my dad's door and screaming.

With each hour that ticked by, my profound sense of loneliness only grew. The sounds of distant laughter flitted through the hall and I am reminded of the world that lies beyond the metal bars. I wonder what my family is doing at this moment, every voice that I hear acts as a reminder of the love I had jeopardized. I lost Ellie, I lost Conner, and now I had lost my family.

I think about praying to god for a moment though I discard the thought. If he was real why did he let that happen to me? Maybe forgiveness and redemption were not necessary.

"Crybaby, call someone to pick you up," Officer Reid who initially arrested me and interrogated me began to unlock the cell, "Charges are dismissed." He had been calling me Crybaby since I was stuffed in the back of the police car and wailing uncontrollably.

"Like for real?"

He was in fact, for real. I was brought to a landline phone and my hands acted faster than my head, dialling the number of someone I would trust with my life, I just prayed that the number hadn't changed.

After making my call I was told to go to a weird booth thing to collect my effects, where an old and very judgmental woman dumped my few belongings out of an envelope. I wish I knew the technical names for this stuff but it's not like I've been arrested before this one off occasion. She looked at each of the items, stating what it was while she took inventory of it. "Smartphone, lipgloss, a single gold earring, and a cross necklace," She marks something down and then turns the paper around and holds out a blue pen for me to take "Sign here."

My phone had died already, I was missing an earring, and the cross had failed me, all I had left to rely on was my cover girl lipgloss. I sat in that stark grey room for what seemed like hours, everyone seemed miserable as I am, at least I wasn't the only person having a not-so-merry Christmas.

Holy shit, I was still disgusting. I was sticky and freezing, still in the wine-ruined white dress, there was still dried blood on my face despite my pestering Lucia to help me get it off. My hair is tangled, the bow that my sister had tied in lost somewhere in the snow. I haven't looked in a mirror but I know I look rough from the side glances that everyone is casting me. I can't imagine the dark bags beneath my red, puffy eyes to be any sort of appealing.

The sterile waiting room is beginning to get on my nerves, I flinch at every movement and hold onto hope that every person walking through the door is the person I'm waiting on. I try my best to avert my eyes from the clock so time doesn't drag on any longer than it already is.

By the time Joel gets here, the sun is beginning to set, his eyes frantically search the room until they land on me, I'm already standing up and walking toward him. "Kiddo, are you okay?"

My lip quivers and it feels like every awful thing I've ever felt is going to seep through my teeth. My head falls onto his chest but this time I don't cry, I think I've run out of tears "I have nothing ahead of me."

Joel doesn't ask questions, he just hugs me in return, resting his chin on the top of my head, there is the comfort I had been so desperately searching for.

He signs release papers and he guides me to his red Ford Explorer. When I called him I asked him to bring me shoes as I was barefoot when I was detained, being the number one dad that he was, he brought a reusable grocery store tote bag, containing a hoodie, sneakers, fuzzy socks, sweatpants and a bag of my favourite chips. I slip the sweats on underneath my dress while the hoodie goes overtop, I awkwardly unzip it and shimmy it off, stuffing it into the tote bag.

The drive back to his house begins and he turns on the radio, trying to make lighthearted chatter "Thanks for coming to get me," I say, my voice is quiet and I pull my knees to my chest like as I tend to do when I get nervous "You can just drop me off at my car and I'll be out of your way."

"Sorry, kiddo," He says, eyes focused on the road "You're staying with me tonight, I don't want you driving these roads in the dark and it'll be good for you to have a hot shower and a warm meal, get some sleep somewhere that's not a holding cell."

"It's just that-

"If you still want to leave in the morning that's up to you but you shouldn't end your Christmas alone," Each word seems so genuine "And you know I would gladly have you stay with me three hundred and sixty-five days a year."

I look at him, a soft melancholic smile on my face, "Thank you," I say.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

A sigh falls from my lips "What happened to all of my stuff that was left on the lawn?"

"Tommy and Ellie brought it all inside."

Ellie brought it back inside? Did she actually give a shit or was this something her dad ordered her to do? "Did my dad say anything to you?"

Joel shakes his head "Maria went barging on his door, those two were in a screaming match for a good two minutes before he locked the door on her. Hasn't been outside since, everyone in the neighbourhood has been coming by to ask what happened."

"Even Sharron?" I ask Joel, wrinkling my nose in distaste.

"Even Sharron," He solidifies. Sharron was the grouchy crone of the street, shutting down every party, cussing out teenagers from her porch, and yelling at barking dogs "She said she was worried about you." The windshield wipers painted rhythmic patterns across the glass, clearing a path through the soft snow that continued to fall.

"She's not worried about me, she's worried I'm on drugs and I'll break into her musty home to steal all of her hummels."

Joel huffs a laugh "I can't believe that I used to let her babysit you and Ellie."

"Me neither, you should be paying for my therapy." I tease.

He chuckles at my words, "So you're majoring in wildlife biology?"

"You remembered what I wanted to major in?"

"Of course I did."

"Hey, Mookie!" Tommy wraps his arms around me the moment I set foot in the door. He's called me Mookie since I was a little girl, it started when I couldn't pronounce monkey and thus Mookie was born. "Let me get a good look at you," He pushes me back just the slightest hands clasped on my shoulders "Look at that bruise you've got on your cheek, looking awful tough, like those greasers you used to read about."

"Look at that, Mookie grew up," Maria greets me with a warm smile, pushing Tommy away to hug me "Good to see you made it through prison alive," She jests.

Joel's house is exactly how it was when I left.

The air carried the familiar scent of firewood and lavender incense. In the living room, an inviting fireplace stood as the heart of the home. Its gentle crackle and the dancing flames provided a soothing backdrop to the overstuffed couches adorned with cozy blankets and throw pillows, worn from years of shared family movie nights. A well-loved rug covered the wooden floor, its pattern a mosaic of memories and spills easily forgiven and of course, a coffee table hand-crafted by Joel and intricately carved.

The shelves lining the walls were a treasure trove of family history. Photographs in mismatched frames captured smiling faces frozen in time, chronicling the evolution of Ellie through the years. A collection of well-read books, their spines creased and pages worn, stood proudly, offering a glimpse into the literary adventures that had unfolded within those walls.

The kitchen, the heart of many childhood homes, held the lingering aroma of Christmas dinner. The countertops, scarred from countless meals prepared and shared, were a testament to the love that had gone into creating family dinners. A worn wooden table in the center of the room bore witness to the countless conversations, celebrations, and moments of solace shared over shared meals.

"You know what, when I was around your age, I spent my fair share of time in the cooler, good to see you're taking after me," Tommy winks and gives me a hard pat on the back. Neither of them acknowledges the reason behind last night's events and somehow it feels worse than talking about it.

"We've just finished up making dinner, I'm sure you're hungry," Maria smiles softly, taking my hand into her calloused one.

"Yeah, I'm starving," I smile in return and trail behind the blonde woman to the dining table.

All of the plates are laid out with portions of food on each one, Ellie is sitting alone, spooning mashed potato into her mouth while she texts someone, she glances up at me and offers nothing more than a tight-lipped smile and awkward wave before going back to her phone. Tommy comes by with a tray of garlic butter rolls and uses tongs to add more onto my plate "Don't think I've forgotten how much you love these."

I grin up at him, I'm sitting in the same chair I sat in all those years ago when I Ellie and I would settle down after spending all day in the sun, Joel would ask us what we wanted for dinner and almost every time we would shout hotdogs.

"Good to have you back," Joel nods to me "House always felt a little empty without you."

I always felt a little empty without this house "Good to be back," I smear some mashed potato onto Tommy's famous garlic butter bread rolls.

I feel almost sick with nostalgia as I look around the dining room, Joel still had Ellie's crafts from elementary school hung up and if you look closely, you find little clues that I've left behind; proof that I once existed as a girl beneath this roof. There's a dent in the wall from the time I stood on my chair to catch a spider and accidentally fell over, my head hitting right into the wall, Ellie was laughing too hard to help me.

"So what school do you go to?" Maria asks me, washing down her pot roast with some ice water.

"Northridge actually," At my words, Ellie's head perks up, she's looking dead at me with a look of fear in her eyes.

"Oh, Ellie goes there!" Tommy smiles "She never mentioned that you do too."

Ellie is silently pleading with me, I know she doesn't want me to tell her family that she's been borderline tormenting me as my roommate and sending me to bed with tears in my eyes. I didn't plan on telling them anyway "That's funny, I guess we just keep missing each other."

Joel set up an air mattress in Ellie's room, that's when it became clear to me that he had no idea just how bad the fallout was between us. I hate to say that I missed her room and all of the memories we shared in it.

Ellie's bedroom resembled something of a teen guy who'd never gotten laid before. She had a navy comforter, her shelves were lined with comics and novels, I know for a fact that she'd read every single one of them. Her desk was always a mess, covered in pages of poetry and sketches that she had torn out from her journal. Almost every inch of her walls is covered in posters of bands, movies and her nerdy video games.

I was fresh out of the shower, finally in my clean clothes that I had dug out of my suitcase. I got to charge my phone too, there was an overwhelming number of messages.

D-Manz: HAPPY CHRISTMAS BITCH!!!!!!!!! I LOVE YOU AND CAN'T WAIT TO PARTY WHEN WE GET BACK

Jesse: Merry Christmas, hope your day isn’t shit! 😁😁😁

Riley: Merry Christmas! Hope you're having fun at your new school!

Abs: Merry Christmas and stay safe!

Kayla: Missing you girl ☹️ so excited for that staff party!

Kit-Cat: Merry Christmas, don't have too much fun without me

Yara: Merry Christmas ❤️ this probably isn't the time but I was hoping you could send over your notes from the last conservation lecture, just wanna text you before I forget!

566-460-4374: I got your number from Kyle, this is Roderick, I saw you last night and wanted to check up on you, hope everything is okay and merry Christmas.

Lindsey: Hey, haven't talked to you in a while but my parents said some stuff went down, just wanna make sure you're okay.

Ellie: Lmk if you need a ride back to our place

Ellie: Don't know if you can even see this but I got all of your stuff off the lawn, I promise it's safe 👍

Naomi: I'm so sorry

Naomi: I didn't think that would happen

Naomi: I didn't know what to do

Naomi: I love you

Aaron: U good?

Naomi: Please don't hate me, I'm sorry I didn't do anything

Elijah: Sorry but I wish you didn't tell Dad that

Naomi: I'll try to talk to Dad

Elijah: Hope you're safe

Elijah: Call me when you can

Still, there wasn't any word from either of my parents. I replied returning well wishes and assuring everyone that I was okay, I turned my phone onto Do Not Disturb and began to watch the Hunger Games on my phone. The room would've been pitch black if it wasn't for the blue light from my screen and the gentle beams of moonlight gliding through the window.

Ellie walks into the room after she finishes with her shower, she's in sweatpants and an old hoodie that she got from a rodeo, I had the same one, and we bought them together. I glance up at her before looking back at my movie and pulling the quilt further up my body. "You still like the Hunger Games?"

"Yeah," I say, being as brief as possible.

"You should take my bed and I'll sleep on the air mattress," Ellie says while she ties her hair into a low ponytail.

"I'm fine here, thanks."

"Seriously," Ellie is standing awkwardly at the foot of her bed, waiting for me to do something.

I shut my phone off and turned on my other side to face away from her "Just go to bed."

Ellie runs her hands down her face in frustration, she's starting to feel like an asshole "Please take the bed, it's the least I can do." I ignore her so she speaks again "I am begging you," She tells me bluntly "I feel like a dick and it would make me feel better if you just took the bed."

"You are a dick," I answer, she should've seen this response coming from a mile away.

"Please take the bed."

I sit up to look at her, frustration now boiling up inside of me "You're going to be nice now because you feel bad for me?"

"That's not why-

"It is actually," I tell her "This will last for a few days and then we'll go home and you'll be a cunt all over again, fucking keeping a list of everything I lay a finger on so you can say it's my fault if it breaks." She bites the inside of her cheek, that's her tell. Every time she does that I can tell that I've gotten under her skin. "You'll still act like you don't know me and I'm just some weird girl who thinks the world of you, I know what you say to those girls you have over, the walls aren't that thick." My insides ache from all of the screaming and crying of the past couple of days "And I know that I hurt you and I've told you a million times over that I'm sorry, you don't get to start having empathy for me now."

Ellie's silent again, she can't seem to find the words, so instead she slips under the covers of her bed, giving up. Minutes pass us, we've slept in this room together a thousand times but this time it's different, we don't share her queen bed and stay up all night watching the walking dead and talking shit about people at our school, we lay in the uncomfortable silence. We're grown but in this moment I still feel like a child searching for her mother's hand to guide her, I feel like my teeth still need to fall out so brighter, stronger ones can take their place, that the baby fat has yet to shed from my bones.

"I didn't know that you liked girls," Ellie said, breaking the silence "And I shouldn't have assumed that stuff about your parents." I don't respond to her, though she knows that I heard her. "I lied that night when you moved in."

"What?"

"I got all bitchy and said that you don't even cross my mind, I was lying," She's confessing to me as if I'm a priest "There wasn't a day that went by where I didn't think about you."

I'm not doing well.

I want nothing more than to crawl into bed next to Ellie and just hug her until I fall asleep but the resentment I've garnered for her these past months refrains me.

"I don't know if you ever knew this, but back in high school I had a bit of a crush on you," She says and my break hitches in my throat "Hey, you there?"

'I don't know if you ever knew this but I turned myself inside out trying not to be in love with you.' I don't say that, instead, I say "Goodnight, Ellie, Merry Christmas."

"Goodnight," She mutters, and like me, she turns her body to face away from me.

I don't feel mature in the slightest, I'm kept awake, haunted by shame and embarrassment. Ellie had seen me only one night prior, on my knees begging for love. We may be cold and calculated to one another now but I remember when she was a little girl who overwatered her plants because she didn't know how to stop giving.

TAG LIST I just tagged whoever wanted a part two: @elliesaesp @yalaysbee @laundrybag29 @readbydayana @elliesaturnsoftdrink @mikellie @melanie-watermelon @skylerwhitwyo

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beomiracles · 1 month

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sex with a ghost ft yeonjun

─ dark lustful eyes pierce yours, "still think I'm not real, angel?", he taunts as he moves in and out of you slowly.

A/N ─ heh, hey :3 I've been working on this all evening but I sorta gave up on the proofreading part... it's 1am ok. My longest one part fic yet, coming in at 7.3k words exactly >_< I am DESPERATE to know your thoughts on it !!!!

pairings: ghost!taehyun x psychic!afab!reader warnings: major character death, slight descriptions of character death, ANGST, cheating???, eventual smut, fingering, oral (f rec), vaginal penetration, slight degradation but also praise, multiple love interests if you close your eyes squint and believe.

A screeching sound can be heard echoing through the quiet neighbourhood as your car comes to a stop. You really needed to invest in a new one soon.

Gathering your supplies, you step out to be faced with a large apartment complex. The neighbourhood was foreign to you, though the houses looked to be well maintained.

Climbing the stairs to the entrance you curse yourself for choosing heels today. The doorbell rings, once, twice, you're greeted by an elderly woman's voice through the small speaker. "Hello ma'am, it's y/l/n, from-"

"Oh! Yes of course I know where you're from, come on in!", the doors swing open and you make your way through the entrance. The elevator makes a noise as the doors open on the seventh floor and you walk out.

The elderly lady whose voice you'd heard on the speaker is already standing in the doorway, waving you over. As you reach her you bow, "miss, y/l/n y/n, ma'am". The woman smiles as she introduces herself as Mrs Kang.

Mrs Kang leads you through the small hallway into a spacious living room with a marvellous view of the city. "Tea, coffee?", she asks as she takes place behind the counter in the joint kitchen space. "Just water will do fine, anything else tends to mess with my work", you say as you sit down by the dining table.

Taking out a wax candle you place it in the centre of the table. Around it you lay various dried herbs, the whole thing is finished off with a ring of salt around it. Mrs Kang returns with two glasses of water as she places one in front of you. You thank her and take a sip.

As Mrs Kang takes a seat in front of you she eyes the candle. You bring out a box of matches, "before I start, would you mind telling me about your son?".

The woman nods as she clears her throat, "I...well he passed just two months ago", she says, fingers picking at her cuticles in an anxious manner. "May I ask how?", your voice is soft as you keep your gaze on her.

Mrs Kang swallows, "it was a car accident, he...it was his friend who was behind the wheel", she shakes her head, "my Taehyunnie, he wasn't...he wasn't irresponsible like that he...", tears fill her eyes as she continuously shakes her head.

You offer her a tissue to which she silently thanks you. Wiping her eyes with shaking hands before she finally meets your gaze again. "It's wrong", she states, "I should not have to bury my child...". She holds back a sob as she continues, "I should witness him fall in love, g-get married and...", a sob escapes her throat, "a-and start a family of his own".

"He was so young", she cries, burrowing her face in the tissue. You extend your hand to caress hers. "I know, and I am so incredibly sorry for your loss".

Despite doing this for a living you still felt rather stale in situations like these. It felt as if you were invading a very private and personal part of her life.

As Mrs Kang's breathing slowly returns to normal you try and shift the direction of the conversation. "Why don't you tell me about how Taehyun was?" you give your most kindhearted smile. "What did he enjoy, was he afraid of something, did he have any dreams?"

Mrs Kang smiles, "he wanted to become a singer". She scoffs as she leans back in her chair, "I always told him he would do good as a model, he was very beautiful you know", she says and you nod, "I'm sure he was".

Mrs Kang shakes her head, "but there was no changing his mind, music was his sole passion". "The hours he would spend cooped up in his room, writing his heart away".

So he liked music? "And what about friends? A girlfriend?" Mrs Kang is silent for a moment, "he didn't have many friends growing up", she admits, "he wasn't very social...", a troubled look presents itself on her face, "perhaps I could've done more I.."

"You did an amazing job raising him, I'm sure", you say as your hand gives hers a squeeze. Mrs Kang gives you a thankful smile, "he did find a few friends through music", she frowns, "but he never brought a girl home".

She shakes her head, "but what do I know? he moved out years ago... I just, could never bring myself to do anything with his room...he's my only baby". Her bottom lip quivers slightly as her voice cracks, "and now...now it's all I have left of him.."

"I completely understand, and I appreciate you sharing all of this with me, I know it isn't easy for you". Mrs Kang nods as she blows her nose with the tissue before discarding it. "Whatever helps you maybe get in contact with him, I'm willing to do anything", she says, a hopeful look on her face.

"Then shall we get started?" you bring out a match, lighting it as you place it next to the wax candle. As the flame takes to life you blow out the match and place it down on the table.

You close your eyes as you take both of Mrs Kang's hands in your own. It doesn't take long before a familiar feeling fills your chest. It's sharp, pushing at your ribs, it feels as if they're about to crack, but it doesn't hurt.

That's how you know that there's something else present, someone else. "Kang Taehyun?" you ask and the surge in your chest grows tighter, you smile. "My name is y/n, I'm here with your mother", you can feel Mrs. Kang's grip on your hands tighten.

"He's here", you say as you open your eyes, "do you have any questions for him? anything you want him to know?". Mrs Kang nods, "I want to tell him that I love him..", she whispers, almost pleadingly. You nod.

"Your mother tells you that she loves you, Taehyun", you await his answer. The spirits never spoke verbally, but would send off different auras, they each held different emotions.

The surge in your chest suddenly felt warm, you smile, "he loves you too". Tears once again fill Mrs. Kang's eyes as she lets out a small sob, "ask him if he's happy, please, I need to know that my baby is alright".

You refocus your attention to the surge in your chest, "your mother asks if you're happy, Taehyun". You're unable to hide the surprise on your face as the pull on your chest immediately darkens, it's almost painful, you've never felt something quite like it before.

Mrs Kang is quick to notice the change in your expression, "what? what's wrong?", she asks worriedly. You shake your head as you close your eyes. The intensity of the surge grows with each second, "he's not happy", you admit and Mrs Kang lets out a small cry.

A soul lingers between the living and the dead for one of two reasons, it can stay behind to watch over loved ones, or it is unable to move on. Judging by the dark pull on your chest you would assume the latter. "Taehyun, why do you linger?", you ask, eyes closed.

The pull on your chest starts thumping rhythmically, almost like a heartbeat. It's quick, harsh, angry. Your eyes snap open, and your hand grips the collar of your shirt.

Mrs Kang immediately stops crying as she looks at you with a horrified expression, "what's wrong dear?" she exclaims. You shake your head, "I've never felt anything like this before", you admit as you take a deep breath.

The thumping is so loud that you fear your eardrums might burst. Quickly leaning forward you blow out the candle and everything comes to an abrupt stop.

It takes you a moment to recollect yourself as your breathing returns to normal. When it finally does you look up at Mrs Kang, "may I see his room?".

Taehyun's room is neat, it feels almost melancholic, frozen in time. Your hands graze along the the shelves filled with albums of different artists. His closet was empty, to be expected. Your gaze lingers on a piece of paper discarded on his desk.

Picking it up you study the words scribbled on it, the handwriting is neat but most of the words have been erased or drawn over. It looks to be lyrics, was it a song he worked on?

"That one was no good", a voice speaks. You shriek, immediately dropping the paper. As you turn around you're met with a young man, possibly in his early twenties. His short black hair lay messily atop his head, his eyes are dark as they study you. Hands digging deep into the pockets of his denim jeans.

"What the fu...who are you?", you ask as you take a step back, your legs hitting the desk behind you. The man raises an eyebrow, "thought we met already".

It takes a moment for you to piece together his words and his comment about the paper in your hand. The way he was standing so causally... as if it were his own room.

"Kang Taehyun?"

He smirks, "in the flesh, well not really". Your jaw goes slack as you stare at the man in front of you. "But...that's not possible, you're...you're",─"dead?", he asks to which you nod.

He shrugs as he takes a step toward you, "your black magic seems to have done a lot more than you expected it to". His dark eyes pierce yours as his brow twitches slightly, "I'll give you that though, I never really believed in the supernatural".

Your mind is still in shambles as you try and make sense of the situation, "how are you here? it makes no sense..". You blink, once, twice, but he remains. You close your eyes for a solid thirty seconds before peeking them open. "You're strange", Taehyun comments and you feel as if your legs are about to give out.

"This can't be happening", your hands claps around your head, "I must be going crazy, yeah that's it, I'm hallucinating". You let out a short laugh, "I really need to get more sleep, I'll take a nap as soon as I come home, yes, that'll solve it".

"Do all psychics talk to themselves?", he asks as he tilts his head. You breathe in, then out, "you're not real", it's a statement not a question. And just like that Taehyun vanishes, the tension in the room slowly lifts and you feel yourself relax as you blink a few times.

Then he suddenly appears again, closer, so close that you could touch him. "Then what am I?" he inquires. His pale hand reaches out to graze yours and you jump, knocking the decorations on his desk.

"Is that not real?", he asks to which you shake your head. Taehyun frowns, he looks almost as if he's about to say something but stops himself. He vanishes, but in less than a second he reappears, now sitting on his bed.

You're about to speak again but the sound of the bedroom door opening has you snapping your head in said direction. Mrs Kang enters, "is everything alright? I heard a noise..."

"I'm fine but I...", you begin as you turn toward the bed, it's empty. Taehyun was gone again.

Mrs. Kang thanks you over and over as she promises to treat you to dinner whenever you wished. You too, thanked her immensely for her hospitality and made sure that you would let her know should anything happen.

You didn't tell her about Taehyun, you were sure it had all been a hallucination. It was true, you were sleeping a lot less these days. You didn't know why, you had never had a problem with insomnia before but you suppose that surrounding yourself with the dead had a certain effect on people.

Still, it didn't explain the fact that you had felt his touch. His hand had been cold, hard as if made out of steel. It was like his whole body was frozen in time. Lucid hallucinations were not something you'd heard of so how...

Thinking that all you needed was a good nights sleep, you made your way home. The keys jingle in the lock as you twist them around in your hand. Kicking your damned heels off, you stumble into the kitchen.

Your hands still had a slight tremble to them as you poured yourself a glass of wine. Drinking on weekdays, alone, wasn't usually your forte but you figured that you needed it if you wanted to get any sleep tonight.

Bringing the glass to your lips you take a sip. "Didn't take you for a drinker", Taehyun's voice is loud, it feels as if its coming from within you. It startles you and the glass slips out of your hands and shatters onto the floor. Red liquor coating the wooden planks.

"Fuck", you look up to be met with Taehyun's figure on the other side of the countertop. "You followed me?". Taehyun shrugs, "if that's what you can call it".

You frown, this was way out of your level of knowledge. You had never heard of a spirit taking a physical form, even less clinging to a host. Were you the only one that could see him? Was that why he vanished when Mrs Kang entered the room?

"I don't understand...", you study his face, unable to read it. "I wish I did but it seems I am as clueless as you are", he says as he leans his forearms on the counter.

"I...I did nothing different today", you mumble as your mind retraces the events of the day. "Then how are you able to take on a physical form? granted I'm not going crazy of course".

"I couldn't, not before at least", he drawls, "then you came along", he smirks, "and suddenly I could". You thought you might've officially lost it now.

You cross your arms, "it doesn't explain why you're following me of all". He frowns, "you're the only one who will listen", he leans closer over the countertop, "I thought you knew that already".

I'm the only one who will listen? He had to imply that others did not see nor hear him. You chew on your bottom lip nervously, "you have to excuse my manners earlier", he grins, "it's been ages since I last had human interaction".

His words make your eyes snap back to him. That's right, he wasn't human, not anymore. He was a ghost, and the only reason he was still here was because he's either watching over someone, or he's unable to move on.

"Why don't you let your soul continue? Why do you still cling to this world?" you ask. Taehyun's expression visibly darkens to the point where he almost looks demonic. "I've got unfinished business here", his words are almost inaudible.

"Unfinished business? what kind?" you press for answers but Taehyun remains quiet. "Does it have anything to do with your mom? your friends? your music?". Every question has his muscles tensing further until he slams his fist down on the countertop, "quiet, please".

You gulp, his knuckles leave a small dent in the marble stone but his hand remains untainted. Despite his harsh outburst another question bubbles at the surface that is your mind. You can't help but ask it.

"Was...was your death not an accident?"

Taehyun's dark eyes find yours as he locks them in place. It feels as if the room temperature dropped at least ten degrees and a shiver creeps up your spine. Yet you stand your ground as you refuse to break eye contact with the ghost.

It's quiet for what feels like forever until the soft rattling of keys from somewhere in the hallway grabs your attention. "Babe, 'm home", a voice calls out and soon Yeonjun comes into vision.

He's carrying two bags of groceries as he sets them down on the countertop. "Hey, you okay? you look like you've seen a ghost", he says as he makes his way around the counter to you.

"I...", you eyes flicker between your boyfriend and the now empty spot where Taehyun had previously been. "Shit, what happened here?", he asks as he bends down to pick up the remains of the wine glass. You had completely forgot about that.

"Oh, right I...I'm just tired I, I was going to clean it up", you rush to help him but a hand on your wrist stops you. "Go rest, babe", Yeonjun smiles as he gives your forehead a kiss, "I'll make us dinner, yeah?".

After the two of you have eaten you offer to do the dishes since Yeonjun had been nice enough to cook for the two of you. Yet you felt your hands trembling as you turned the plates over in your hands.

The whole day had put your body in a state of constant unease and you felt watched at all times. Lean arms wrap around your waist causing you to jump in surprise, the plate falls out of your hands and down in the sink again. Luckily it doesn't break.

"What's wrong, babe?" Yeonjun asks against your neck as he presses a soft kiss to it. You shake your head, "it's just been a long day", you say, and it's partly the truth. Your boyfriend hums as he turns the sink off, "I'll finish it up, do you want me to stay the night?".

Not even thirty minutes later you're laid in bed, your boyfriend's arm draped across your waist as the comforting sounds of his snores fill the room.

Though you hadn't seen Taehyun since earlier that evening you still felt that he was there. You didn't know why but it put you on edge and it wasn't until the early morning hours when you finally fell asleep.

You wake up the next morning to an empty bed, as you make your way into the kitchen the dishes are done for you. A small note is placed on the fridge, "leftovers packed in the fridge for lunch, don't forget to eat, ─ love Yeonjun".

You smile as your fingers trace the outline of the small note. Glancing over at the oven clock confirms the fact that you had indeed slept in. Though your next client wasn't until this afternoon, it gave you plenty of time to get ready.

You don't see Taehyun, not when you shower, blow dry your hair, eat your breakfast or do your makeup. Leaving your supplies in the car the day before meant that it was only for you to get going. One last look in the mirror and you're off.

The google maps on your car glitches a couple times making your way to the client's house a huge detour. Nonetheless you still manage to make it in time.

When you arrive you're greeted by the younger man who'd called. He looked your age, perhaps even younger. He led you through the small hallway and kitchen into a cute living room.

The house spoke to you in many ways and you found yourself admiring the paintings on the walls as you waited whilst he brought the two of you some water.

He sits on the sofa across from you, wiping his hands nervously on his pants. You smile, "I understand that you have called me regarding your late grandfather, correct?", he nods.

"He passed almost four years ago...", he says as he looks down at his hands. "May I ask how?", your voice is soft as you place your hands on your lap. "Cancer", he says and you nod, "I am incredibly sorry for your loss", you reach a hand out to grab his.

His eyes widen as they travel between yours and the way your hands interlinked. "If you trust me, I will be happy to reach out to him for you", you say and the man nods.

"I will require both of your hands", you say as you extend your other hand, he quickly takes it. His hands feel sweaty against your own, probably nerves you thought.

Closing your eyes you search for that familiar pull on your chest. When you find it you instantly smile, the pull is soft and gentle, like that of an old person.

"Mr Park, my name is y/n, I'm here with your grandson", you say. The pull on your chest instantly blooms into warmth. "He's here", you smile.

As you blow out the small candle the pull on your chest seizes. The man is quick to thank you over and over. You notice how his hands still haven't let go of yours.

"He likes you".

Taehyun's voice is a stark contrast to that of the man in front of you as he sits on the sofa next to him. If you were surprised by his appearance the man in front of you hadn't seemed to notice.

You frown toward Taehyun, but his gaze is fixated on the man next to him. "I uhm, I wanted to say that I really admire the work you do.." he says shyly and you smile.

"What an ass kisser", Taehyun comments in a disgusted tone, "he just wants to get you in bed, it's written all over him", he grimaces. You ignore him as you offer the man a smile. "Thank you", you say as you squeeze his hands in an attempt to make him let go.

He lets go as he nervously begins to fiddle with his fingers, "I was hoping...no, wanting to ask if...", he clears his throat nervously, "if maybe I could see you again?" You nod, "if you would like to request my services again that's completely fine just-"

"No I...I was wondering if I could see you...", he says as his face flushes with color. Oh. Taehyun scoffs and averts his gaze, arms folding over his chest.

"I'm uh, I'm afraid that's not possible", you say as you rub your wrist awkwardly. He quickly nods and clears his throat, "right, of course, it's quite alright", he reassures as he stands up. "I'll see you out?", you give him an awkward smile as you nod. "That would be nice".

Despite having had a shower that same morning your body yearned for a second one. The sweat of that man felt as if It clung to you and the whole situation had been so awkward that you just wanted to get in the shower and wash it all off.

The warm water cascaded down your body and your ran your fingers through your hair. For some reason you found your mind wandering to Taehyun and you didn't like it. He made you feel an unexplainable way.

He had pestered you all way home, dodging all your questions about him and somehow always managing to turn the conversation around on you. Only for him to disappear once the car parked outside your apartment.

"He was practically fucking you with his eyes the whole time", he said as he leaned back against the leather of the passenger seat. You roll your eyes, "he wasn't".

Taehyun snorts, "how would you know, you kept your eyes shut the majority of it". Your hands grip the steering wheel tighter, "what's it to you anyway?".

He looks you up and down as he grins, "nothing really". You sigh, "then why bring it up in the first place", you mumble as you keep your eyes on the road ahead. Taehyun doesn't answer.

The warm water did little to ease the tension in your muscles and you turned the shower off and got out. Wrapping a towel around your body you begin running your hands through your wet hair.

A cool sensation against your neck has you spinning around only to be met with nothing but air. You frown as you turn back to the mirror, grabbing the blow dryer as you plug it in.

A cold hand on your shoulder makes you jump and you turn around to come face to face with Taehyun. "What the fuck!" you shriek as you pull the towel closer around yourself.

"Just because you can appear at your own will doesn't give you the right to invade my privacy", you retort as you cross your arms over your chest tightly.

A smirk creeps its way up on his face, "this is the least I've invaded your privacy so far", he says as he takes a step toward you. "You think?" you snap back.

Taehyun tilts his head to the side before vanishing. His voice echoes through your mind, "would you rather I stay up here?". The sensation has your head pounding and you press a palm against your forehead. "No, get out", you order and to your surprise he complies.

A fragment of a second later he's in front of you again, a smirk on his face. He reaches a pale hand up to trace your jawline and neck. His fingers are cold as they leave a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

"What are you.."

"I like you".

His words have your eyes widening but Taehyun's expression is indifferent. "What?" Your tone does little to hide your disbelief.

Taehyun's thumb grazes your bottom lip, and you let him. Why? you didn't have an answer. "I said I like you", he repeats as his hand falls back to his side.

You shake your head, "you don't, you're confused, it's normal your soul is in a transitional state". He chuckles, "you think you got me all figured out huh?". You frown, "what are you implying?".

He takes a step closer, cold chest almost touching your warm one. "I'm...drawn to you", he speaks slowly, as if choosing his words carefully. You sigh, "because I'm the first person you've interacted with since your death, it'll pass", you assure.

"Really?" he asks, a playful grin on his face. "What am I to do until then?" his lips form into a slight pout. You were sure he could hear your heart literally pounding out of your chest.

The sharp ring of your doorbell has him gone in a second. You breathe out a heavy sigh of relief. Remembering that you had ordered takeout before your shower quickly has your mind shifting. Pulling on a robe you make your way to the door as you retrieve your food. Sitting down on the sofa, you pull out your phone to text Yeonjun.

"Come over tonight."

The bed squeaks in rhythm to the deep thrusts of your boyfriend as he pounds you into the mattress. Bare legs wrapped around his waist your long nails claw at his back.

His hand grips onto the headboard as the other gently caresses your cheek. "Look so fuckin' gorgeous tonight, babe", he groans as his face contorts into one of pleasure.

Your lips part in a soft moan as your back arches off the bed. Sex with Yeonjun was bliss. It always seemed to get your mind off things and relax you.

His head dips down to kiss and suck at your neck and your eyes flutter closed in pleasure. When they open again your heart almost stops as you find Taehyun's eyes staring right back at your own.

Hands in his pockets he leans against the wall as he looks at you. Only you, it's as if he's not even registering that Yeonjun is present. His gaze moves from your fucked out face, down your naked body. It stops at your core, as Yeonjun's cock slides in and out of your throbbing cunt. He stares shamelessly, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

Your grip on your boyfriends hair grow painfully harsh earning a soft groan from Yeonjun, "need more?", he asks. You nod, your eyes locked with Taehyun's as you speak, "yes, need it so bad".

The night Taehyun had watched you get fucked out by your boyfriend had been the last time you saw him. Four days had passed without as much as a peep from him.

You were relieved, ready to put it all behind you. Writing it off as a weird hallucination of sort. It must've all been in your head. Though a part of you, a very small part, felt weird.

It wasn't that you missed him, you thought. But something was gnawing away at you every moment spent without even feeling the presence of his soul, tugging at your chest.

You had even for a split moment considered to bring out your supplies and summon him yourself. Thought you quickly discarded the idea again.

Your days were slow, uneventful and almost boring. Yeonjun was away on a business trip and you had spent the past nights alone in your dark bedroom. He wouldn't be home for another three days, you groaned at the thought.

Scrolling mindlessly on your phone as the late evening turns into early night. You didn't have any clients tomorrow so you didn't see an issue with staying up.

By 2am your eyes finally began to feel heavy. Putting your phone away you pulled the blanket over yourself as you got comfortable. You had almost drifted off into a deep sleep when the light squeak of the floorboards made your eyes snap open.

Sitting up, you pulled the covers closer to your chest as you squinted in the darkness. It was quiet, but you knew that you weren't alone. The tugging sensation in your chest had returned, he had returned.

"Taehyun..?" your voice is barely above a whisper but a soft hum coming from somewhere in the room confirms your suspicions. Carefully reaching over, you flick on the lamp on the bedside table.

The room is immediately cast in a dim light as Taehyun's figure comes into vision. He's standing exactly where he had been, four days ago.

Was it bad that you were relieved to see him? Probably. Yet you couldn't hide the smile etching its way to your face.

Something was different about him, you couldn't pin point it until your gaze met his. Dark eyes were piercing yours much like they had the first time you met, but this time they held something else, lust.

You barely have time to blink and he's by your side. Standing next to the bed he towers over you from where you're sitting. Cold fingers slide under your chin as he turns your face up.

Your lips part in surprise as your eyes widen, "T-Taehyun..?". His thumb pulls at your bottom lip before he lets it go. He lets out a frustrated sigh as he takes a few steps back.

Left confused you shift awkwardly on the bed. "What's going on...?", you whisper, he doesn't reply. It's strange, you hadn't seen or heard from him for four days and now, he just shows up acting all strange without even speaking to you.

"Listen Taehyun, I..", your words get stuck in your throat as he suddenly appears in front of you. Your back is pushed against the headboard as Taehyun cages you against it. Arms on either side of your head, his hands grip the headboard tightly. His knees hit the soft mattress as he straddles you.

"You what?", he asks, his voice is low, rumbling from deep in his chest. You swallow, "I...uhm...I...", your eyes shift from his own to his lips. Your tongue subconsciously darts out to wet your lips as your gaze travels back up to his eyes.

Taehyun lets out a frustrated groan as he mumbles something under his breath. You can't make the words out and before you know it his lips are on yours.

Your eyes widen but only for a moment before they flutter closed. His lips are cool against yours, but it's not unpleasant. The kiss is tender but it's full of desire. A sense of longing and yearning emits from him as his lips move softly against yours.

Though Taehyun is quick to pull back, he studies your face for a reaction. You bite your bottom lip softly as your gaze falls on his lips. "One more", he breathes out before crashing his lips against yours once again.

This time he doesn't hold back as his tongue forces its way inside your mouth. You happily comply as your lips part, your hands find their way to his hair, tugging softly at the ends.

Teeth clash together as Taehyun presses himself impossibly closer to you. His hands move from the headboard to gently cup your cheeks. His touch is electrifying.

But is it right? Your mind goes to Yeonjun, your boyfriend. You had a boyfriend for christ's sake, yet here you are making out with...with a ghost.

Could it count as cheating if he wasn't even a real person? You didn't know, and in that moment you couldn't bring yourself to care.

Taehyun is first to pull away as you chase after his lips, a soft whine emitting at the loss of him. He smirks, "so eager", he coos as his thumb massages your saliva coated lips.

His other hand finds the end of your blanket as he pulls it down. You're wearing nothing but your satin nightgown, it barely reaches your upper thighs. Perked nipples prominent through the thin fabric.

"Don't tell me you've been getting this dolled up every night", he mumbles as cold fingers trail along your collarbone, down the centre of your chest.

You shiver as you squirm under him, "you wear this for him too?", he glances up toward you. You bite your lip as you shake your head no. You usually wore something more comfortable to bed, but the past four days had been affecting you greatly. Perhaps it was the absence of your boyfriend, or maybe it was the absence of the soul you had grown so accustomed to in such a short time.

Taehyun hums in approval as he pushes the thin gown over your hips, revealing the white lace concealing your aching core from him. Index finger finds the hem of your panties as he pulls it up, "and these?".

Your face flushes all shades of red as your eyes meet his, "they're new..", you whisper. Taehyun lets go of the fabric wrapped around his finger, it snaps back against your skin.

"A shame for them to get ruined on their first wear", he says as he presses his thumb against your clothed clit. A soft gasp escapes your lips as your thighs twitch slightly. "But you don't mind do you, angel?"

The nickname catches you off guard, and it makes your cunt clench around nothing. His other hand rubs small circles on your hip as his fingers on your clit move your panties to the side.

"Knew you'd be fucking perfect", he slides two fingers inside of you without much struggle and you arch off the bed with a whimper. The hand on your hip holds you back down against the mattress as Taehyun watches his fingers slide in and out of your dripping pussy.

"That boyfriend of yours aint enough?" he tilts his head as he looks at you, your lips parted as soft moans spill from your mouth. "Greedy fucking bitch", his fingers curl inside of you making you cry out in pleasure, "one guy aint enough for you?"

You shake your head, "n...need you", you whimper. Taehyun hums softly, "you will". He retracts his fingers making you whine at the loss of contact, "let me taste you first, dollface".

His fingers are quickly replaced by his soft breath as he inhales the scent of you. "Smell like fucking heaven, angel", he groans, "bet you taste like it too".

Your thighs clench around his head as he presses his tongue flat against your clit. Hands in his hair, you force his face closer to your throbbing cunt. Soft whines and moans leave your lips and when he inserts his tongue you swear you see stars.

Air wasn't a necessity for Taehyun and he used it to his advantage as he devoures your cunt like it was his last meal, ironically enough it could've been.

Cold hands caresses your plush thighs as they tremble under his ministrations. A familiar feeling fills your stomach as your climax approaches. Taehyun looks up from between your legs and you swear that the way he looked at you almost made you orgasm on the spot.

"Gonna give me a taste of your heaven, angel?"

You whimper as your orgasm cruises through you, Taehyun is quick to greedily lick and feast on your high, his nose stimulating your clit as he does in an almost taunting way.

Once your legs stop trembling he finally sits up, wiping his face with the back of his hand. You're left a panting mess as you lock eyes with him. "Can you give me one more, dollface?" he asks as one of his hands palms himself through his jeans. You eagerly nod.

His smirk is the last thing you see before he grabs you by your thighs, pulling you down so that you lay flat on your back. Propping himself up on one arm Taehyun leans over you, fingers brushing a strand of hair out of your face as the tip of his cock prods at your cunt.

He leans down to connect your lips with his as he slides himself inside. Thick cock stretching you out in a blissful way, you moan against his lips.

"Greedy fucking pussy sucking me in like it's been starved", he says as his lips move down your neck and collarbone. He moves slowly, filling you out with each thrust. "Bet it has", he says as he teeth graze the flesh of your breast.

"Your boyfriend is sloppy", he grunts as he thrusts back inside of you, "doesn't know that he's got heaven right in front of him". His mouth finds your nipple through the thin material of your nightgown, twisting and pulling it between his teeth.

You whimper and feel yourself clench around him, pulling a groan from Taehyun as he sucks marks onto your chest and neck. One of his hands travels down your thighs, pushing it up, allowing him to sink deeper into you as you both moan in union.

"Shit angel, you were made for me", he breathes out as your lips find each other in a messy exchange of kisses. Pulling away for a short moment, his dark lustful eyes pierce yours, "still think I'm not real, angel?", he taunts as he moves in and out of you slowly.

"Just shut up and kiss me", you moan as you pull his lips back down on yours again. You can feel his smirk against your lips as he snaps his hips against yours, earning a loud cry from you.

Your breath grows short and ragged as you feel your second orgasm of the night approach. Taehyun's thumb finds your abused clit as he rubs it teasingly. "Gonna cum for me a second time, angel?"

Your cunt throbs around him as you release all over his cock, hands pulling at his hair as a soft whimper escapes your lips. Taehyun's teeth graze your skin as he buries his face in your neck, a low groan leaving his lips as he finishes deep inside of you.

The sensation is unlike anything you've felt with anyone before, not even with Yeonjun. Taehyun rests his forehead against your as he waits for you to catch your breath, the perks of being dead you suppose.

His gaze remains lustful as he studies your face but there's something else too. The back of his hand gently caresses your cheek as he speaks, "my room, on the desk, top drawer to the right, there's a blue USB stick, take it".

His words confuse you, but he doesn't let you overthink it as he reconnects your lips in a soft kiss.

When you wake up the next morning Taehyun is gone. At first you think that the previous night might've just been a feverish dream, but the mess that were your bedsheets and your missing panties told you otherwise.

A warm shower later you're sat by the TV. Taehyun's words from the night before still ringing in your ears. "USB stick, desk, top right drawer", what did significance did the small device hold? There was only one way to find out.

You still knew the way to Mrs. Kang's apartment, she greeted you with a smile. After a rather long moment of small talk you find yourself in Taehyun's room.

Heading straight for his desk you pull out the top drawer to the right. And just like he said there it was, a small blue USB stick, you take it.

When you arrive back home you rush to your computer, as you plug it in a small set of files pop up. Curious you click the first one, at first it's dark, you frown, was it broken?

Then an image floods the screen, no a video, your eyes widen, it's a dash cam. More specifically it's the dash cam of the car that had taken Taehyun's life.

Anxiously you skip ahead, it's not until a few days later when the event actually takes place. Taehyun passes by the front of the car as he makes his way to the passenger seat.

While in the car you can only make out their voices, the engine roars to life as the car starts moving. They drive for a good thirty minutes, their conversation shifting between ordinary subjects.

It's not until they make it out on the highway that things start going wrong.

"Hey, slow down", Taehyun says. The car is visibly moving faster than the ones surrounding them. "I'm trying!" his friend then exclaims, his voice slightly panicked.

"What the fuck do you mean? Just slow down!", Taehyun's voice rises, and his friend curses under his breath. "I fucking told you I'm trying, it's not working the brakes..."

You close your laptop. You don't want to see what you already know is bound to happen. Though it's clear that someone messed with the car beforehand.

Taking a deep breath you reopen your laptop, clicking off the file you go back in time. It takes you a couple of hours to go through all the footage but then you find it.

Almost five days earlier, a man you don't recognise comes into frame. He walks around the car a few times, slowly, cautiously as he scans the area.

Then he gets inside, so he had a key? You don't exactly know what he's doing but you know enough to be certain that he's not fixing the oil. After a mere five minutes he exits the car and leaves.

That's what Taehyun wanted you to see. It wasn't a car accident, it was murder. And the person guilty was yet to be caught. It would explain why he wasn't able to move on.

You had to get this USB stick in the right hands. And that's exactly what you did.

The footage proved to be crucial evidence directly linking the man to the crime. He had turned out to be a direct family member of Taehyun's friend.

When Mrs Kang found out she was heartbroken. Though she thanked you immensely for finding out the truth behind her son's passing. You continued to visit her regularly after that.

You never saw Taehyun again, but every now and then a warm pull at your chest would remind you of his gratitude toward you and that he was forever indebted to you.

#txt #txt fanfic #kang taehyun #txt post #taehyun fanfic #taehyun #taehyun x reader #taehyun smut #txt taehyun #beomiracles ₊˚⊹ ᰔ #beomiracles hard thoughts ✧˖

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peachesofteal · 10 months

Note

oh the image of Darling alone with her newborn daughter, afraid and uncertain 🥺 what if she did call the guys during a moment of vulnerability, begging them to come get her, she can’t do this by herself?

This is my absolute jam. Anon, I love you.

18+ Mature themes Baby trap au Takes place after this

Johnny is having a nice dream.

He knows it's a dream, because you're in it. And instead of seeming sad and tired and overwhelmed, like you looked in the store a few weeks ago, you look happy, and comfortable, beaming up at him with the baby in your arms while she coos sleepily against your chest. Simon stands beside you, hand on your shoulder, peeking over to look at her, before flicking his gaze back to Johnny's, his own smile stretched wide across his face.

There's a shrill, annoying sound in his dream, something that makes him frown, before he redirects his attention, back to you, Simon, and Bee, his baby, that he doesn't even know yet. His family, the pieces that make him whole, that he doesn't get to have.

The shrill sound gets louder, and this time, he can feel himself waking up, being pulled forward into consciousness.

No, no nononono please, let me stay here, let me stay-

"Phone." Simon grunts, mouth hot against his neck, and Johnny pats around the bed for it, before locating the thing under a pillow.

Blocked number? A telemarketer, at this hour? He blinks when he sees the time, 0347, and then blanches when another thought occurs to him.

"Simon." he's sharp with it, word full of intent, and it has Simon jerking awake.

When Johnny tilts the phone screen, his eyes widen.

"Answer it." He barks, and then Johnny slides the call open.

"Hello?" he's holding his breath after he answers, waiting for a response from whoever it could be.

He expects someone, you, hopefully, to say hello, or hi, or anything. But that doesn't happen, instead... the line is quiet. Dead air... but open. Like someone is there. Like someone is listening.

Simon's grip tightens on his knee.

"Hello? Is anyone there?"

He can hear breathing on the other end, light puffs of air, and it emboldens him, encourages him to take a guess, take a chance.

"Darling? Is that you?" He softens his voice, trying to be as gentle as possible, trying to coax you, if it is truly you. The line stays silent for a while, seconds, and then-

"Johnny?" It's your voice, but it doesn't sound like you. You sound... distraught. Your voice is scratchy, pitched with rasp, and he swallows.

"Yes, I'm here. We're here." You're crying now, he can hear it through the phone, and Johnny's heart lurches, while Simon stares at the phone in his hand like it's a bomb.

"J-Johnny." You cry, and he wants to scream at how useless he feels.

"I'm here, I'm here darling. Talk to me."

"I ca-can't." you sound broken, and he looks at Simon in a panic, who has a fist clenched in his hair, eyes wide and wild.

"Can't what?" He asks, but then the baby cries, little wails that turn immediately into screams, and the phone sounds like it's being shuffled. "Can't what, love. Talk to me, tell me what's wrong."

"She's si- ick, and I'm, I- I'm sick and I haven't slept and we both have fevers... I don't know." You echo like you've put him on speakerphone, and he can hear you sobbing, while Bee screeches over the sound. Sick? You're sick? The baby is sick? Panic pounds in his heart, and his mind conjures all of the things that could go wrong to the forefront.

"Where is she?" Simon demands, and Johnny shakes his head while he quickly mutes the mic.

"We can't just barge in on her, she's skittish enough-"

"The fuck we can't. She needs us, Johnny." He's already getting dressed, putting sweatpants on and Johnny's internal battle rages. They could spook you. They could scare you off. They could never see you again. "She needs a bloody doctor, MacTavish. They both do. Ask her. Now." The order stings, and Johnny forces his doubt away.

"Darling... where are you?"

"At my-" Bee screams in the background, and he listens to you try to soothe her, voice cracking as you sing a soft lullaby through your tears before coming back to the phone. "My apartment."

"Will you give us the address? So we can come help?" He tries to ask it gently, tries to ease into it, and then they both hold their breath before you rattle it off in a shaky voice.

"Okay, darling. We're on our way, okay?" Simon calls to the phone while Johnny shoves himself into a sweatshirt, and you make some kind of noise, that sort of sounds like an okay, before saying you're going to hang up to take care of Bee.

"Alright, love. We'll be there soon. Everything's going to be alright."

#peaches asks #baby trap au #peaches writes #ghoap x reader #ghost x soap x reader #soap x reader x ghost

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noroi1000 · 7 months

Note

Can you do one with Gojo and his really tiny newborn daughter ( I’m feeling a bit nostalgic because my niece)

When Gojo meet his daughter for the first time. He really taken back because how tiny she is. He like y/n sweetie where is the rest of her? In sweet way of course.

Her tiny little hands can’t even rap her his finger

Even the newborn baby clothes that he got for her don’t fit her. They have to roll up the little sleeves on her onesie😭

He show his baby to everyone and said look how cute she is and how small she is. Also keep asking Shoko is he baby a normal size for a newborn baby and she like yes Gojo.

He just loves his little girl so much.

Basically a really fluffy request Noroi and also Noroi if get any idea or scenarios please feel free to the request the more fluff the merrier🥰

Just really want to see Gojo being all cute with baby girl and wife🥰

Little Loved One

Summary: Gojo have very little daughter.

"I'm late! Sorry!" Your husband ran into the room, not caring to be quiet.

You didn't blame him for being late. Nothing happened. You knew he would be here as soon as he found out about it.

He quickly took off the blindfold and came closer, looking at your condition.

It was obvious that you were tired. But the sparkle in your eyes only proved that you were also happy.

"Where is she?" he asked you, looking around.

"You'll see her in a moment." You said with a smile and reached for his hand, then feeling his fingers gently hold you.

He took a chair and sat it next to your bed, running his fingers over your hand and the wedding ring you were wearing.

"I'm sorry for keeping you waiting. Everything's ready." Another woman entered the room with a small bundle in a blanket. She came to your side, placing the baby in your arms.

Her every step was carefully watched by your husband.

"Are you the father?" she asked with a smile, and then suddenly realized the similarity of his appearance and that of a small child. "Congratulations."

She gave you another smile as she left.

And with his help, you sat up on the bed differently and moved closer to him, showing your little sleeping face. The little girl's slightly pink skin seemed so soft just by looking at it.

His eyes scanned his daughter as she lay there.

He reached out a finger to lightly caress her cheek.

He always thought that babies who were just born were ugly. So pink and they don't move. And they just cry. But not even an hour after she was born, his daughter was so sweet. Fine white hair on her head and only slightly pink skin. And suddenly the child's hand reached for his finger. The tiny hands couldn't wrap around his finger.

"She's so small." he said, moving closer.

"Do you want to hold her?" you asked.

"Me?" He pointed at him.

"Who else? You're her daddy."

"This... What if..."

"Satoru." you interrupted his uncertainty. "She's your baby. Nothing will happen."

With a bit of uncertainty, he stretched out his arms, catching the baby.

She seemed even smaller in his hands! It was as if he could hold it in his hands and there would be enough space.

That's why he was afraid that he might tighten his hand too much or do something wrong and hurt her. With his little child, he can't be the strongest. He must be careful and gentle.

He smiled at the sight of her next to him, and when she moved slightly, he laughed.

How could such a little thing cause you so much trouble for so many months? Even though she was smaller compared to him, she was tiny. How could such a little girl keep you up at night? How could such little legs kick you from the inside?

"Have you named her yet?" he asked, grabbing her hand with two fingers, watching as her tiny fingers tightened on his nail.

"I thought maybe you would want to." You reached up to her head, stroking her little white hair.

And after a moment's thought, he spoke up.

"...Aiko?" He looked at you, waiting for your reaction.

"Aiko... Gojo Aiko. Do you like it?" You smiled. "What does that mean?"

"You could say Little Loved One."

He suddenly gained courage and kissed her forehead.

"Welcome to the Gojo family. My little Aiko."

"I didn't know you'd be happy with my baby, Utahime." He laughed, leaning against the baby stroller, watching the woman's hand gently touch her little hand.

"Your child is not you. I can't believe this little angel could be like you. Her name?"

"Aiko."

"Even if I could deny it, I see that you are the father..." She looked at the white hair and long white eyelashes.

Gojo is so beautiful, so you both knew that your daughter would be beautiful.

Her daddy is a little overprotective. And you can be sure that her teenage years will be strange.

Satoru who chases all the boys away from his little daughter. This will be a sight you won't regret seeing.

It's all ahead of you, but you know that your daughter will attract a lot of eyes. Just like Satoru. But there will be someone to protect her.

Daddy's little girl.

Because now you constantly see him walking around with her, never leaving her for a moment. It was a lovely sight.

"She's so tiny. Was she born earlier than she should have been?"

"Shoko..." Gojo exclaimed, wanting her to explain.

"Everything is fine with her. But she's just a little smaller than she should be. She should make up for it as she grows. She's just smaller, but there's nothing to worry about."

"That's good. But I'm worried about what kind of father she has." She growled, a vein throbbing in her forehead.

"Hey Hey! I am the perfect father!" he said loudly and suddenly reached for his little daughter in the stroller when she woke up because of him. "Look at that little sweet face! She's happy to have a daddy like me!"

Cuddling Aiko against his broad chest he watched as her eyes opened and he looked at her. Her arms reached out to him as she let out a slightly dissatisfied moan.

"Aww, daddy is here." he moved her higher, watching with glee as her arms flailed around awkwardly. "Don't worry. Daddy will take care of you."

Walking into the room, you wrapped your arms around his waist, snuggling lightly into his side.

Your husband simply loves your family so much.

"It's delicious, isn't it?!" he laughed, giving a spoonful of food to Aiko and she started laughing.

Long legs kneeling next to the baby chair as he fed her.

You couldn't be jealous of your child. He gave a lot of attention to your daughter. But did it matter? She is your child. And you love her just the same. It's impossible not to love this baby.

____

"Hmm... I thought the clothes would fit this time." He groaned sadly, watching as the sleeves on your child's arms were too long.

"We'll go buy smaller ones. These will come in handy later." You stroked his arm soothingly, leaning into the kiss he gave you.

"I'm waiting for her to grow. My little one~."

____

"Look at her! She's so cute!!!!" His voice was howling as invisible arrows pierced his heart.

Your daughter just hugged a teddy bear that was almost bigger than her.

Isn't it perfect to see your husband with your daughter?

He who is constantly taking photos.

A man who was afraid to take her in his arms because he was afraid he would break her. Now he could take her everywhere with him. Because he doesn't want to leave your side.

The old worries about your daughter being tiny disappeared as she started to grow. She started to be like a normal child her age. Even though she was still tiny in your husband's hands.

He couldn't help but love his family.

Gojo's family is not so small anymore. Now he has two people he loves more than life itself.

And only one question appeared in his mind as he held his sleeping daughter in his arms.

"Honey, could we have another baby like this in the future?"

#gojo satoru #jjk x you #gojo x y/n #jjk #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x you #Daddy Gojo Satoru

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writingforstraykids · 26 days

Text

I owe you a kiss - Pt.6

Pairing: Minchan x femReader

Word Count: 5362

Summary: Once you're back home, your husbands try their best to support you, but the circumstances are taking their toll on you. It all goes well until you find out who was the one driving that night...

Warnings/Tags: mention of amnesia, angst, tiny mention of blood, fluff, cuddles, anxious!soft!min, caring!soft!channie, domestic stuff, husband!min, husband!chan

A/N: I know, I know it looks like shit in the beginning but trust the word count, it'll get all good, soft and domestic🖤

PART FIVE | PART SEVEN

Minho slips out of his shoes and stands still for a moment. Chan closes the door and hesitantly slips his hand into Minho's. “Kitten?” he asks quietly but gets no response. “Min, look at me, please.”

Minho does, looking at him with wet eyes, still not saying a word. Chan gently rubs his shoulders before cupping his face and flashing him a small smile. “I know I should be happy,” he finally says. “I know I should be relieved that she's awake and talking. I know I should be happy that we finally got her back. I know I shouldn't still be feeling like shit,” he rambles, and Chan soothingly fondles his cheeks. “But you know how much she hates losing control. You know how scared she gets of change,” he hiccups helplessly, and a few hot tears slip down his cheeks. “Once it'll all settle in, she'll hate me, and I-I can't even blame her because I did-didn't do anything else those p-past two months a-and-.”

“Hey,” Chan says so softly it makes him shut his mouth. “I won't let that happen, baby. It was an accident and there was nothing you could've done,” he says firmly and pulls him in close. “I'm so thankful you're both alive, you know? I don't know-” his voice breaks, and Minho's heart sinks at the sound. “I don't know what I would've done if…,” he stops himself, not daring to put his deepest fear into words. “I get it, Minnie because it would've been a lot easier without the memory loss. I'm terrified of hurting her because I'm not fully feeling well yet. But as long as you won't let go of my hand in all this, I know I'll be okay.”

Minho carefully pulls Chan's hands off his face and intertwines their fingers. “I won't let go,” he says.

“I'll always have your back, okay?” Chan asks timidly, and Minho nods quickly.

“And I'll have yours,” he promises and squeezes his hands.

“I could really use a hug,” Chan admits, and Minho doesn't hesitate, pulling him close and kissing his cheek. He gently sways them from side to side and exhales softly. “I love you, Min.”

“I love you too, Channie,” Minho whispers back and squeezes him tightly.

Minho gently helps you out of your jacket and hangs it up for you. Neither Chan nor Minho had remembered that you only moved in here one and a half years ago, so the house was another factor. He watches you glance around the hallway timidly and swallows softly. “Anything familiar?” he asks gently.

You swallow hard and shake your head. “Not besides…some of the interior,” you tell him.

He notices how anxious it makes you and carefully slips his hand into yours. “Let me give you a tour, come on.”

You follow him through the house and recognize some bits of your old home. He tells you where to find the most important things, and seems like he's afraid to say anything wrong. It makes you sick seeing your husband try so hard to make you comfortable in a suddenly so unfamiliar place. “I-I'll go use the bathroom real quick,” you tell him, and he nods, telling you again where to find it.

You close the door and take a deep breath, hugging yourself tightly. “Fuck,” you whisper and sit down heavily at the edge of the bathtub. If you wouldn't know Minho and Chan had been your boyfriends for four years and then husbands for another five you would've freaked out at the hospital. You couldn't remember the past two years of your marriage, but the seven years before are enough to trust them. Still, it all feels so weird. You don't notice how much time has passed until Minho gently knocks at the door and lets himself in. He sits down next to you, and for a moment, you're both quiet. “Minho?” you ask timidly.

“Yeah?” he asks gently, turning to look at you.

“Have I been a good wife to you and Chan? Did we have fights? Did I hurt you? Did you hurt me?” you ask, and he inhales deeply. “I know this sounds weird, but…I have no idea where we left off.”

Minho fidgets with his wedding bands and hums thoughtfully. “I can't remember anything big concerning the two of us, we usually get along very well,” he tells you, a small smile on his lips. “We were on a date before the accident. I was very tired, was fighting with Chan over the phone, and…you said you'd take me out for dinner. You were trying to cheer me up, and you did, you always do,” he says and gently clears his throat, pushing away the images of what happened after.

“What about Chan?” you ask timidly, sensing something off.

Minho straightens up and pinches his nose, trying to figure out where to start. “About…six months ago, Channie wasn't feeling very well. He was overwhelmed with work and had no resources left for either of us, including himself. He pushed us both away, and one night, when I was abroad, he called me, saying he got into a fight with you and something was seriously wrong,” he tells you and chews on his lower lip. “I called you, asking you to go back and check on him as I flew back home. Chan was feeling numb for quite some time, and we did our best to support him figure out ways to make him feel again. After a while, he decided to visit his family in Australia, take a break, and everything. I stepped in for him at work, and it was killing me,” he admits. “I missed him like hell. I had to lead our team, and I felt lost without him, but you never gave up on me,” he says and his hand subconsciously slips into yours. “He caught me on a bad day, we got into an argument, and well…then we had that accident. Channie got onto the next plane and came back home as fast as he could.”

“Is he still struggling?” you ask hesitantly, and Minho smiles weakly.

“I don't know, Y/nnie. This whole thing has taken a huge toll on me. I broke down repeatedly and Chan took care of me as best as he could. He even got me a therapist, imagine that,” he laughs, and you can tell he's not really doing well with any of this. “I don't think he had much time to figure out how he truly feels. I should've been there for him more, but I…I could barely get myself out of bed sometimes.”

“I'm sorry,” you apologize timidly, squeezing his hand. “I'm so sorry, Min.”

Minho shakes his head firmly. “None of this is your fault,” he says and searches your eyes. “None of it, okay?”

“Okay,” you nod hesitantly.

Minho inhales shakily, a suspicious shimmer covering his eyes. “I know this whole memory thing is shit, honey. I feel selfish for saying this, but I'm just so glad you're alive and back home.”

You smile weakly and squeeze his hand firmly. “As long as I have you two, I'll be okay sooner or later.”

Minho gently squeezes back and looks up as Chan steps into the doorframe. “Oh my, am I interrupting something?” he chuckles.

“Hey, Channie love,” Minho says softly and Chan leans down to give him a kiss.

“Hey, kitten,” he smiles, gently caressing his cheek. Chan turns to you and gently brushes back your hair, kissing your head, unsure if you feel like kissing. “You're okay?”

“More or less,” you nod, and he sits down on your other side.

“We're always here if you need someone,” he tells you and gently pats your knee.

“Thanks,” you nod tiredly. “I really appreciate it, this can't be easy for you either.”

Minho remains quiet this time and glances at Chan. “We're just glad to have you back. The rest we can figure out together,” he assures you. “Just let us know, okay?”

“Okay,” you nod gently.

You turn onto your side heavily and are met with a sight that used to bring a smile to your face. Minho's asleep next to you, his hair hanging into his face, lips parted, and his bunny teeth showing a little. His lashes throw their shadows on his cheekbones and you once more notice how beautiful he is. You've been home for a week now and Minho took another two months off to keep an eye on you. You like being home with Min because he's there when you need him but lets you be when you don't. He doesn't push, he doesn't talk your ears off, and he tries his best not to handle you like you're made out of glass. Still, you can tell he doesn't see you when he looks at you. He doesn't see his wife. He sees the accident and the woman he lost due to the memory loss, and the guilt in his eyes suffocates you sometimes.

You haven't dared look up the accident yet, but slowly, you can't fight the urge to see what really happened that night. Minho doesn't like talking about it, and Chan wasn't there.

You slip out of bed and grab your phone, leaving your husband on his own. Locking yourself in the bathroom, you start researching and soon find article over article. Pictures of the crashed car send shivers down your spine. Investigating some further you can tell how worried your friends were about Minho during their interviews, who looks nothing but truly exhausted. You can tell he hasn't been sleeping much; his eyes look glassy in most of them, and Chan never leaves his side.

Minho looks up as you come downstairs to join him for breakfast and gets up, putting some waffles on your plate. “Thought you'd like something sweet,” he says and flashes you a smile.

“Who was driving?” you ask, making him freeze for a second.

“What do you mean?” he asks, but the slight tremble in his voice tells you he knows exactly what you mean.

“The accident. Who was driving?” you ask again, stopping in front of the table.

Minho carefully puts the plate down in front of you. “Does it matter?” he asks timidly.

“It does,” you nod, tilting your head at him. “Will you be honest with me, or do I have to ask someone else?”

He stares at you, wondering what you're aiming at with that question, but gives himself a push. “I was.”

“Were you drunk?” you ask, and Minho's frown deepens.

“No.”

“You said you were tired, was that it? Was that what made you miss something?” you ask, and he subconsciously takes a step back. “Were you so upset about Chan that you weren't paying attention?”

“Y/nnie,” he pleads quietly. “Don’t do this.”

“Min,” you say firmly. “I can't remember the past two years of my life. I don't know what happened and no one can tell me because that'll only be your version of every day,” you say and take a shuddery breath. “Chan hasn't kissed me once since I'm back home, and you look at me like I'm something broken you're too attached to to get rid of. That hurts, Min. I just want my fucking life back!”

Minho raises his hands in defense and steps closer to you. “Honey, I'm sorry, you're right. I can't make up for all that time. But she said they'd come back to you in a few months, at least that the chance is very, very high,” he tries, but the way your eyes darken, he knows you don't want to hear any of it. He tries to brace himself for the emotional outburst that's about to happen, but he can't prepare himself for what you say next.

“No, you really can't make up for it. Not if you're the one causing this whole mess,” you say, noticing the fear flickering in his eyes, but you don't care. “You were the one driving, you're the one feeling guilty, and now I know why. My whole life went to shit because of you!” you snap at him. Minho doesn't say anything, simply stares at you as your words sink in. His body trembles, his stomach tightening painfully, and his eyes filling with tears. “You fucked everything up, and you're trying so hard to make up for it by staying home with me. Now I know why you so desperately try to make me feel better, and I thought it was because you loved me!”

Minho looks at you as if you just hit him right in the face. A soft whimper leaves his lips, snapping you out of your rage, before tears start running down his face, and his body shakes with a sob. “I know, okay?!” he snaps right back at you. “I know it's all my fault! I-I know I fucked up, and I-I'm the one to b-blame,” he hiccups helplessly, taking a few steps back as you reach for him timidly. “I'm sorry, Y/nnie, I swear, I did-didn't want this.”

“Min,” you whisper guiltily, but your husband shakes his head firmly, biting back a sob. “I'm so sorry, darling, I didn't mean it.”

“Don't lie,” he says, voice cracking.

“I'm sorry, please,” you try, but Minho pushes past you and goes back upstairs. You let him, knowing he can't handle you, seeing how badly you just hurt him. Helplessly, you grab your phone and call Chan.

“Hey, baby girl, I'm on my way home. Is everything-.”

“Channie,” you whimper.

“What's wrong, baby?” he asks worriedly, putting you on speaker.

“I hurt Min,” you tell him, hugging yourself tightly and sitting down on the sofa.

“Hurt him how?” he asks nervously, taking a turn left.

“I said some dumb stuff about him being responsible for my life turning to shit and that the accident was his fault,” you say, and it's quiet for a moment. “Chan?”

“Ynnie…please tell me you didn't,” Chan says lowly, heart sinking to his stomach. “Please tell me you didn't.”

“I'm sorry, Channie, I didn't mean it,” you whisper timidly. “I was just…I don't know what got into me.”

“I…fuck, okay, I'll be home in a bit,” he tells you, swallowing down the lump forming in his throat.

“Thank you,” you sniffle.

Chan stares at his phone as you end the call and slams his hand on the wheel. “Fucks sake Ynnie, not when I finally convinced him otherwise,” he curses and finally reaches your street. “Shit, shit, shit.”

Chan quietly pulls the front door closed behind himself and swallows hard as he meets your anxious eyes. “Where is he?” he asks.

“Upstairs,” you tell him. “Channie, I'm sorry,” you tell him, tears filling your eyes. “I'm so sorry.”

Chan sighs softly and opens his arms for you, pulling you into a tight hug as you get up. “I know you are. I know you're struggling, and I know we can't take that pain away,” he says, soothingly rubbing your back. “But baby girl, you can't forget Minho is a victim here too. He might have been the one driving, but he's also the one who saw you unconscious, covered in blood, and not knowing if you'd ever wake up again,” he tells you gently, without sounding like he's blaming you even a little. “He still feels guilty because he'd rather be the one getting hurt. He's been having nightmares and panic attacks and had a really hard time believing that it isn't his fault, you know?”

“I just fucked that up, didn't I?” you ask timidly.

“I don't know,” he answers honestly.

“I asked him if he was drunk,” you admit shamefully.

Chan bites back a sigh, trying to be patient with you. “Okay, come on,” he says and pulls you to the sofa. “The police provided us the security camera footage, where you very clearly see who's at fault,” he says and grabs his phone, showing you the clip.

You can see your car pulling up at the crossroads. Suddenly, a car races down the street from the right and crashes right into your side. It's raining heavily, making the road slippery and causing both cars to slide to the side a few meters. Once the video is over, you look at Chan horrified.

“That other driver was drunk,” he tells you gently. “He was speeding, ignored a red light, and honestly, looking at this, it's a miracle you two are still alive. So please, don't blame anyone else but that guy, hm?”

You nod quickly and chew on your lower lip anxiously. “Channie angel?”

“Yeah?” he asks gently.

“Can you tell him I'm sorry? I don't think he wants to see me right now,” you say timidly.

Chan nods and kisses your temple. “I will. We'll fix this, okay?”

“Okay,” you nod, relieved.

“I'll go check on him, alright?” he asks, and you nod bravely. Chan grabs a blanket and wraps you up in it, flashing you an encouraging smile. “We'll be okay.”

You timidly grab his hand and search his eyes. “I love you.”

Chan's face softens. “I love you too, baby girl.”

Chan opens the door to the room he uses to work from home, suspecting that's where he'll find Minho. His heart breaks a little as he sees him sitting on the small sofa there, his legs hugged up to his chest. Minho's wearing a sweater of his, burying his face in its sleeves as he takes shaky breaths, clearly trying to calm down. He silently closes the door and walks over, kneeling down in front of him and soothingly rubbing his thighs. “Bunny?” he asks so softly Minho looks up with wide, teary eyes. It's a term reserved for their most private, intimate moments and it never fails to make Minho feel so safe and loved.

He doesn't say anything, body moving on its own as he slips from the sofa and crawls right into his lap. Chan welcomes him with one of his most loving and healing hugs, nuzzling his nose into his hair.

“I love you,” Chan whispers, cradling his head. Minho slumps against him, burying himself into his arms as deeply as he can, growing so small it breaks Chan's heart.

“I'm so tired, Chan,” Minho says, voice raspy from crying. “I'm so fucking tired.”

“I know,” Chan says and turns with him in his hold, leaning against the sofa. “How can I help?”

“There's nothing you can do,” he answers quietly. “She hates me. I fucked up her life.”

“You really think that?” he asks patiently.

“Doesn't matter. She does,” he says.

“Do you?” he asks. “You think you fucked up her life?”

“Apparently, I'm not exactly making it easier,” he answers. “Since I'm the drunken, heartbroken, distracted fuck who got us into that accident.”

Chan mindlessly rubs his lower back. “Apparently…so you don't believe it.”

“I-” Minho grows quiet before pulling back and searching his eyes timidly. “Does that matter if she does?”

“To me, it does,” he nods. “You've been blaming yourself for months, saying the most hurtful shit about yourself…I think you made some progress,” he says calmly.

“Not really,” he shakes his head. “The minute someone throws it at my face, I agree with them.”

“Bunny, can I tell you something?” he asks, and Minho nods tiredly. “She called me the minute you left, saying she fucked up. She asked me to tell you she's sorry because you probably wouldn't want to see her now.”

Minho's eyes fill with tears. “Really?” he asks timidly, and Chan nods. “I really thought she hated me now.”

Chan gently cups his face and plants a tiny kiss on the tip of his nose. “She doesn't, I promise.”

Minho messily wipes his cheeks with the sleeves before stopping in his movement and groaning at himself. “Fuck, I completely messed up your sweater.”

“That's okay,” Chan giggles softly. “We can wash it.”

Minho hums and smiles shyly. “Just really needed you close after that,” he tells him.

“You're so cute,” he smiles happily. “Also-” he gets interrupted by the door opening. The two of them look up and see you standing in the doorframe, shaking with sobs.

Minho moves before Chan can fully comprehend the sight and wraps you into a tight hug. “Shh, honey, it's okay.”

You hug back tightly and shake your head. “Nothing is okay,” you sob. “I hurt you. Just be-because I can't cope with what's happening.”

“It's okay,” Minho whispers gently, caressing your head. “I promise we're okay.”

You timidly grab his sweater a little tighter and bury yourself into him. “I'm sorry, Min. You didn't fuck up anything,” you hiccup. “I love you so much.”

Minho buries his face in your shoulder and shakes his head. “I know,” he whispers and squeezes you gently. “I love you too, my pretty girl.”

“I just wanna feel normal again,” you whimper, and Minho's hold on you tightens.

“Try and give yourself some credit, honey. You went through some shit, and you're still dealing with the aftermath,” he says softly and kisses your hair. “Try being a little more patient with yourself.”

Chan smiles sadly, remembering himself saying something so similar to Minho only weeks ago when they went for a walk. So he did listen.

Two weeks later

You anxiously meet your reflection in the mirror before staring down at your products on the sink. Chan said he'd take you both out to dinner, and you just wanted to look nice but you had trouble remembering your routines. You talked to your doctor about it, and she told you it's completely normal to get confused easily by those things at the moment.

Minho walks into the bathroom, buttoning up his shirt, and flashes you a gentle smile. “You're alright, beautiful?”

“Yeah,” you nod quickly and stare back down at your things. “I…I think I need help,” you tell him, glancing up at him as he fixes his hair.

“Sure, what do you need?” he asks, not quite picking up on your struggle yet. Minho grabs your concealer and carefully hides the dark patches beneath his eyes. He's still not sleeping well, and it shows.

“I uh, I forgot what I usually do,” you tell him, waving at the various items displayed at the sink. “Like…did I have some sort of routine? Because if I did it's nonexistent in my brain right now.”

“Oh,” he nods and puts your concealer back down. “Uh, I'm not sure, but I can still help,” he tells you, and you smile relieved. “One second,” he winks at you and leaves the room, coming back with a chair. “Alright, take a seat, honey.”

You giggle softly and do as you're told. Chan joins you, chuckling in confusion as he sees you. “Min's helping me, my brain is letting me down right now.”

“Oh,” he laughs and watches Minho grab some of your things. “Yeah, it's good you asked him and not me.”

“I had a feeling,” you tease him lovingly.

Chan chuckles and turns back to the mirror, adjusting the collar of his shirt. He fixes his hair that frames his face in those beautiful curls you love so much and you can see the frown forming on his face before it’s fully there. It’s beyond you how both of your husbands were this stunningly pretty and still had their trouble believing so, Chan much more than Min. “Channie?” you ask gently, and he hums in response. “You look very handsome.”

Chan meets your eyes through the mirror, face softening. “Thank you, baby girl,” he says with a sweet, shy smile. Minho turns around, taking in the sight of his husband, and hums agreeingly before slapping his bum. Chan snorts and fondly rolls his eyes. “Typical.”

“That’s your own fault wearing those trousers,” he smirks before getting started with helping you. “Who even allowed you to leave the house in those, huh? Surely not me. No one else should be allowed to see how well-.”

“Minho,” Chan whines in protest, blushing heavily. “Shut up, will you?”

Minho smiles softly and then you realize he must’ve noticed Chan’s insecurities getting the better of him as well. “Only because it’s you,” he tells him fondly. “So, I think you started like this,” he tells you. He talks you through it, checking in with you if what he’s doing makes sense, and tries his best to make you satisfied with the result. Only a little later you’re ready to go and thank him happily. “Always, princess,” he assures you kindly. “You need help with your hair as well?”

“No, thank you, darling,” you smile at him. “I’ll be done in a bit.”

“No rush, honey,” he tells you and kisses your cheek before leaving you some space. He joins Chan downstairs, who’s standing at the kitchen island, bent forward on his elbows as he checks his phone. Minho smiles at the sight and steps behind him, wrapping his arms around him. Chan gently intertwines their hands on his stomach and finishes his message to Lix with one hand. “You’re alright, kitten?”

“Yeah,” he nods and nuzzles his face into his neck. “Ah, you put on my favorite cologne,” he smirks, burying his nose deeper into his skin.

Chan hums, agreeing, and turns off his phone, turning in his hold. He smiles as their eyes meet and gently nudges his nose with his own. “Pretty boy,” he whispers, and Minho blushes softly. “I miss you.”

“Miss me?” Minho frowns gently. “I’m right here, love.”

“No..like,” he leaves the sentence unfinished, gently squeezing Minho’s hips.

“Oh,” Minho laughs brightly and kisses him sweetly. “I can stop by the company tomorrow, just make sure Sungie and Binnie aren’t around.”

“I think I can arrange that,” Chan chuckles, gently cupping his face.

“Don’t start anything you can’t finish now,” Minho warns him, and Chan rolls his eyes, kissing him lovingly. Minho kisses back sweetly and pulls back soon, knowing Chan could get lost in kissing way too quickly. They really didn’t have time for this now. Not with you coming downstairs any minute, still finding your way back into your marriage. “Channie…is that place you picked in walking distance?” he asks.

“I figured there’s a chance she doesn’t feel safe to drive yet, so yes,” he nods, and Minho hums, relieved. “Also, you aren’t exactly keen to sit in a car yet, either.”

“Not really,” he chuckles agreeingly. “Thank you, Channie.”

“For what?” he frowns softly.

“For being so considerate and caring,” he smiles, shaking his head as Chan is about to respond. “Don’t you dare say it’s nothing now, I will kick you.”

“Oh,” Chan nods, holding back a laugh.

“Idiot,” he giggles fondly, poking his side.

“I’m ready,” you interrupt them gently, standing a little away from them.

Chan smiles at you sweetly. “You look beautiful, baby girl,” he tells you, and you mirror his smile.

“Our beautiful girl,” Minho agrees proudly, taking your hand and pulling you closer. “We should probably leave, right?”

Chan checks his watch. “Yeah, we should.”

You swallow softly and glance at them timidly. “Can I sit in the back?” you ask.

“I thought we could take a walk, it’s close by. If we’re lucky, we can see the stars on our way back home,” he says, watching your eyes brim with tears. “Or we can take the car?” he asks nervously.

“No,” you shake your head and laugh weakly. “I would prefer walking,” you assure him. “Thank you, Channie angel.”

“God, you two sometimes,” he breathes out, squeezing Min’s and your hand. “It’s nothing, really an-ey!” he breaks off in protest as Minho punches his shoulder.

“I told you, it’s not nothing. It means a lot, my love, and we’re very happy to have you,” he says. “Also, be glad I didn’t kick your pretty a-.”

“Okay,” Chan laughs and pulls you both with him. “Enough of this now, you’ll make me get all sappy, let’s go.”

You enjoy your first evening out immensely. It makes you feel less like something’s wrong with you. Both Chan and Minho focus mostly on you, making sure you’re alright and comfortable. The many smells and loud noises are overwhelming at first, and they try their best to distract you. Once you allow yourself to relax, things get easier. Dinner is delicious, but what truly makes your evening is the laughter, gentle touches, and the way they make sure you’re part of the conversation.

On your walk home, you indeed see the stars painting the dark canvas of the night sky. You’re walking between them, holding onto their hands, and feel a lot closer to Chan as well. Minho occasionally points out constellations, sometimes playfully bickering with Chan about the correct name. You find yourself smiling, genuinely smiling, for the first time in a while. You think about your day and suddenly stop in your tracks, leading to your husbands turning in confusion.

“Y/nnie?” Chan frowns as your eyes fill with tears. “Are you okay?”

“I remember that place,” you breathe out, and they both stare at you with wide eyes. “We had dinner there the week we moved in, didn’t we? Channie, you spilled your drink all over Min’s pants. Min, you wouldn’t stop cursing because it got all sticky and-” you break off in wonder as your mind forms such vivid pictures of that day.

Minho laughs wetly, a hot tear falling down his face. “Yeah, yeah, that’s exactly what happened.”

Chan still stares at you in wonder before laughing weakly. “You remember?”

You nod happily, messily wiping your cheeks. “Yeah, I know that’s not much, but-.”

“No, baby, this is huge,” Chan smiles through tears, wrapping you into a tight hug. “That’s your first breakthrough after only three weeks, baby.”

You giggle happily and beam at Minho, who’s still frozen in place. Reaching out for him, he takes your hand and lets you pull him into your hug. Minho cups your cheek and kisses your forehead softly. “I’m so happy for you,” he tells you genuinely.

Back home, as you prepare for bed, the weight of the day slowly settles on your shoulders. For the first time since you got back home it doesn’t feel like the burden of another wasted day but a blanket of comfort. It reminds you of the love and care that surrounds you in the presence of your husbands. Minho brushes your hair as Chan takes off your makeup for you, both as gentle as they can get.

As you lay in bed between them, the events of the past few weeks replay in your mind. The argument with Minho feels like a very distant memory now, simply a hurdle you’ve all overcome together. His forgiveness, his understanding, and his undying love for you feel like a balm for your wounded, anxious heart. Chan’s patience, kindness, and unwavering support for the two of you remind you of the strength of your bond.

In the quiet of the night, with Chan’s steady breathing on one side and Minho’s warm presence on the other, you feel a sense of peace lull you in. The road to your recovery would still be a long one, and you weren’t naive enough to believe that there wouldn’t be any more challenges.

You whisper a quiet “I love you” into the darkness, and in the soft murmur of their responses, you find a promise—a promise of healing and a love that will never leave you. You don’t know why, but right here, you understand that no matter what comes your way, you’ll face it together as a family. With that thought, you drift into a peaceful sleep, knowing that with Chan and Minho by your side, you’ll be okay. You would talk to Chan about the distance you feel another day, and you’d work through your shared trauma with Minho another time, supporting him through his share of the deal as well. For today, you’re glad to be able to fall asleep between the loves of your life.

PART FIVE | PART SEVEN

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