#but no this girl just stands there making no attempt to pick up the pin | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

iwaasfairy · 6 months

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┌─ “ ! „ CADAVER

tw. wound fucking, blood, gore, don’t read this if you’re squeamish!!, somnophilia, oral, noncon, megumi is delusional in this, yandere, belly bulge but gross! , cannibalistic thoughts wordcount. 6.4k

a/n. this one,,, was me pushing myself to just go buck wild, and channel my inner junji, and i think i got somewhere with it... a select few of you will understand me when i say that ,, this is like my love letter to megumi fr ♡ like i said though, this one might be the one that has people a little yucked out but! it's basically my halloween fic, for the spooky month

fushiguro megumi x fem!reader

When the rattling of the stretcher finally quiets in the halls and the rising rate of adrenaline starts to flatten out, Megumi’s lost on what to do. Any of the other sorcerers can’t decide what the next step is either, it seems. Yuji with his back pressed against the glass and staring off into the empty part of the hall they just came from, and principal Yaga a stern quietness and arms crossed. Ieiri-san will do her best work today of any days if there’s anything to be done about it, but Megumi can tell. That uncertainty hangs over all of them as the faint breathing of a collapsed body grows more pitched and panicked.

Megumi always sort of hated you. He didn’t like you from the second he first met you, and it just grew and grew and grew from there. He hates your stupid demeanor with your higher-than-thou morals and your sky-high milestones and that grin that could make even the coldest heart split in two. It doesn’t escape him that this is the same reason he always did enjoy Maki, but you were — more recognizable to him, and yet somehow much further away.

He always hated the way he’d catch himself watching the soft motion of your lashes, or how your mouth would form words, the heat that would carry color to your face. He always hated the quiet moments you’d sit by his side, rattling his heart out of his chest and laughing at him for his hot cheeks; and he always hated how you’d be the thought on his mind right after he’d made sure his own limbs hadn’t yet been blown to bits. But standing with his hands covered in a coating of blood that isn’t his, dripping onto the panes of the old flooring, he wonders what that hatred ever really got him. It never helped him understand you better, that for someone so alike himself, you were so much better at everything.

His chest is rising and falling too fast.

Gojo’s too late, always is when it comes down to the wire, Megumi thinks as the lankier man rushes through and stops a few feet away from them. Yaga’s brow pinches, before he lifts his head the slightest bit to acknowledge the white blond. “What’s the status,” Gojo has to ask, and before he has another conscious thought, Megumi’s furiously rubbing his hands over his sweater in an attempt to get the blood off while his teeth clack with how hard he’s clenching them. There’s a thickness between his ears that makes everything sound far off. The blood stains his fingers the more he rubs, and his face gets hotter and hotter as it lasts.

But he thinks he hears the principal explain.

How you had been pinned down and knocked clean out, head bashed against the concrete pillars. How Megumi had been too busy trying and failing to keep the uglier curse from blasting you both to shit, to notice. How the other special grade had picked you up by the neck and unceremoniously shoved something into your mouth and pushed until it went down your throat - until you started convulsing, spitting out blood and bile before he could reach you. Megumi hadn’t taken the time to look then, but he knows now what it was, slimy, decaying contents of a little vial that had gone missing a few months ago.

“The girl must’ve been a real good match.” Yaga pushes his fingers to his brow, as if forcibly trying to push the frown down. “Ieiri’s doing what she can.” It doesn’t make any of them feel better when Gojo clicks his tongue and aims his eyes at the door, before casting a quick glance at Megumi under thick, blond lashes. He wants to puke. He’d shoved his fingers down your throat for what felt like hours, trying desperately to get you to throw up the curse. Had carried you all the way back while you were sobbing and wailing in pain. Nothing.

If even the worst case repeats itself, they’ll have another incarnation on their hands, and the noose will be tightened around your throat. Yuji must have already realized this, because he’s yet to say anything since you’d been tied onto the stretcher with blood pouring out of your nose and ears and coughing up grime. Megumi’s not even sure if Ieiri would hesitate to put you down without a second warning before it gets to the same turning point. And he is pissed. At the situation, his friends, himself, you. He’s so angry his hands shake, and so angry tears start stinging behind his eyes, feeling like any motion might cause him to throw up. He hates you.

Your chest’s rising with big motions up and down, up and down, as you drum your feet on his bedsheets like an excited rabbit. Megumi grunts, snatches the book from your hands and tosses it back down with the others that were not-so-neatly stacked on his desk. Your shape on his bed makes a dent in his mind that he’ll have to keep replaying over and over when he closes his eyes, and it has a frown pulling his eyebrows down automatically. “So grumpy,” you yawn, and also roll over onto your stomach to tuck your legs to your core, lifting one hand to rest your face into it.

“This isn’t your room.”

“Might as well be,” you giggle back, and he watches for a moment as your hair falls along your shoulders in a gentle brush, making you look even more enchanting. You’re soft and parts of you are shiny like silk, seemingly oozing your rosy, peachy aura all over his stuff. You catch his eyes for just a few breaths, still rising your chest too distractingly, before you push yourself up and slide off the bed to walk up to him. He pivots to thumb through the notes on his desk again, to be farther away from your face probably, and his shoulders rise into an uncomfortable pinch when you approach, feet patting on his floor. “Megumi.” You say his name with a clear pout.

Then heat covers his skin at the base of his throat and he freezes, letting the way you drag your soft lips over his pulse fill him up entirely. His hands shake too hard to keep a grip on the paper, so he spins you around and shoves you back against the desk as you hiss at the sudden painful grip, his fist wrapped into the collar of your shirt. “I already told you to stop doing that.” He hisses, and your eyes are wide and glittering like diamonds, beautiful color peering up at him.

“But you like it when I do that,” you whisper back ever so softly, and his head feels like it’s splitting at the seams, cracking his skull under a non-escapable pressure. He can’t think, can’t even eat normally without the ghost of you hanging over him and shaking him up. It’s unbearable even when you’re not around. His fist unclenches from the flimsy fabric to instead grip your chin with his thumb, and his heart bangs against his ribcage harder than can be normal. Harder than is healthy. A little thought in the back of his skull begs to push. Just once, deny you from digging your claws deeper into him— but he’s already melted to your shape before he can blink.

His face drops like you’re magnetic, thighs pushing you further into the desk and also into him; and it’s truly embarrassing that his hands are still shaking like they do. You lean in when he does, and let your lips meet his hungry, treacherous mouth, other hand sliding to your waist to pull you closer. Your tongue brushes his and he implodes inside, and he swears it hurts to be this close to you.

Not that you care. Your arms wind around his neck to pull him even closer, and his blood feels like it’s boiling under his skin.

He finds himself wandering back to the quieter wing of the school when the sun’s already dipped far past the horizon, and the cold starts picking up. He’s dragging his feet, so he won’t fucking rush back to the room he finds himself thinking about so fast he stumbles. He’s glaring at the patterns in the floorboards so he doesn’t cry. You’re stable- quiet puffs of air escaping your nose every few seconds, but you’re still under surveillance. As far as the clans are concerned, they’ll put something sharp between your eyes sooner rather than later, before whatever’s slumbering inside you wakes up. But Gojo’s fighting for you. It makes him grimace to think about.

Knocking his knuckles onto the doorframe, he enters the dimly lit room. Nanami doesn’t stand when he spots him, but does uncross his legs as he takes a deep breath. Neither of them speak for a while, and the dark haired man takes that time to run his eyes over you. You’re not as dirty as you were when you first got back, shivering and shaking. You’re no longer dripping with blood, though he’s sure if he were to look close enough, he’d still be able to see flecks of it between your cracked lips. As he walks up, he finds himself thinking that you look strangely peaceful, and that doesn’t seem entirely right.

Save for the bloody mark that seems branded into your forehead, you look like you’re quietly sleeping on the metal slab that supports your body. After all the pain and agony you’ve caused in him, sleepless nights and long days of wondering, hoping you’d be okay. Why is it that he’s the one affected by you? Why is it that he’s the one who’s going to have to say goodbye again? He stares at your unmoving form as if that’ll give him an answer, but it doesn’t. And the pit in his stomach swells again. He’s just so angry all the time. Megumi breathes out. “It’s my turn to take watch for a while.”

“You’re early,” Nanami’s deep baritone chastises, but he gets up from the seat anyway. He smooths out the wrinkles in his suit, before slowly placing a hand on the other’s shoulder. The weight is heavy, and somehow doesn’t soothe him at all. But there’s an attempt, he guesses. He’s still not entirely sure why everyone is looking at him like he’s the one who needs it most, broken and disheveled and mourning. He’s been able to finish his tasks like everyone else has, and he can banish the thought of you when he’s supposed to focus on work— at least, mostly. He doesn’t need the fucking pity. “Want some coffee? Or green tea?” Nanami asks, letting his hand slide off when Megumi shrugs.

“No. I’m okay.”

The older man seems to hesitate, simply nodding when he walks past. Before closing the door behind him, he once again clears his voice, and Megumi turns over his shoulder. The blond has this look in his eyes, of pity, as he talks. “Megumi, there’s a chance she pulls through.” Why again - that fucking pity? “Don’t give up.” Though it makes him tingle with an unbearable sort of itch deep under the skin, he grits his teeth, and his brain’s hot and irritated when he responds.

“I wasn’t going to.” Nanami doesn’t seem to believe him, but still softly slides the door closed behind him, and when the footsteps grow softer and softer, Megumi allows for a second to collect himself. He braces his hands onto the metal as he leans in, close enough to feel just the slightest bit of your warmth on his fingers, and see the way you’re still breathing, though shallow, too faint for his liking. His brows pinch when he finds himself with his forehead pressed to your stomach, hunched over like he’s praying at your shrine or something. But he can’t help it.

As much time as he spent beside you with a frown on his face, it never feels enough. He can’t stay away, like it’s an involuntary thing— you leave him no choice in the matter. Even here in the darkness, whining softly into your wheezed breaths, it isn’t enough to be beside you. He can’t do anything from here at your bedside; and that uselessness makes him feel even more uneasy. He needs to be closer to you. Wants to be so close you two get stuck together and melt together like an inseparable entity, would want to crawl inside you if he could.

His nose presses into the clean shirt that smells like your laundry, as he clenches his fists so hard along the table edge they start to ache. His eyes are pressed closed tight when he allows him just a second to nose below your sternum, and that uncomfortable stinging sensation comes back to his eyes. “Fucking idiot,” his lips brush against your covered skin, taking in the lack of heat, of your smell and the way you sounded with his face buried there, “I didn’t mean it.”

“Aw, ow, ow, Megumi~” You pout with a pitched whine as his hand stays screwed around your knee for a little longer, keeping you trapped under his heavier, taller body so that you start wiggling. Your head falls back against his arm, and you lean to press a few kisses to his wrist that’s holding your own to the floor. “Be more gentle.” You pout when you pull back and flash him that fucking look that sends icy shivers down his spine, and exactly nothing else. “You can be gentle, can’t you?” Every other part of him flushes with heat under your doe-eyed, pitiful look, definitely when you start wiggling out of his grasp like you’re suddenly over the game.

You started it. He wouldn’t put himself in your range on purpose. When you’re about halfway out from under his crouched form, you sit up to be face to face; and you brush your hand past his ear, down his jaw and neck and trail his collarbones, all places he’s convinced are now stained a bright, obnoxious pink from his flush. You let your fingers linger when you tilt your head aside a bit so you can slot your lips over his into a sweet, little kiss, and you pull your lips into another pout. “Swear you’re doing it to hurt me sometimes. I’m never trying to hurt you, you know.” A few strands of hair fall over your eye when you sit below him, and he has to fight every single muscle in his body not to push it back for you.

He wants to see your eyes. He wants you to see him like this, pinned under you like the attraction you render him as— his body collapses on top of you as you start giggling all fucking cutely, and his heart races more than it ever has. Your heartbeat drums into his face when he buries it into your softness, chest against his cheek, too long for his own sanity before he drags himself off you. And it is a drag. His entire body starts feeling sluggish when you’re this close to him, close enough to drown himself in your scent. He won’t ever say it, but that scent gets him hard and awfully mellow all at once, his cock coming to life in his pants before he’s moving.

You look happy. Your eyes are those bright, gentle colors that rain down on him, and your lips are quirked into a soft smile, you must know what you’re doing to him. Setting him up for failure again. He huffs and pushes himself onto his back instead, knocking his head to the floor while you’re moving from the rug - splaying your knees either side of him before you nuzzle right back on top of his chest and make it even harder to get a breath, let alone catch it. He’s sure he’s panting a little when you leave your warmth draped all over him, and you don’t do anything other than be there.

His arms are still on the floor, his body rigid under you, but you’re softly giggling into his peck before he frowns down at you again when you catch his eyes. “What?”

“Your heart is beating super fast,” you admit, not proud, not gloating - just stating the fact, and heat overtakes his neck now too. Instead of letting you wind him up any further, he bucks you off and switches positions again, now with your two wrists caught in his hands as you squeak with the ache that probably lodges in your back.

“Can you get off of me?” He sits back on his feet, not letting go of your hands yet, before your eyes flutter and you grab him back. Well, brush your fingers over the skin you can reach, pawing at him just enough to tickle. “What’s with you today?” he bites back, and also snatches his hands back to escape the onslaught of feelings that wash over him. You don’t sit up this time, and from the tilt of your head, you’re considering your answer for a while before you speak out.

“Do you like me, Megumi?” Fuck. His room seems to collapse in on itself. Or, maybe it’s his body— because he gets a little more short of breath, and his thoughts short circuit as his mouth stupidly drops open. He’s choked up for long enough that he has to clear his voice to try an answer, and even then, he gets stuck. You’re studying him so closely it must show. The blaring warmth that fills him up and makes his ears bright red. After another second, your eyes seem to dim slightly, as you push your cheek to your shoulder, opening yourself up to even more attacks. “Love y’, ‘gumi.”

He straightens up with enough tightness in his chest to choke him, makes his eyes sting and his head blare cold, painful warnings— he grabs some of the glasses from the small table beside him, launches it straight into the wall until it shatters into a million pieces upon impact. The loud clang doesn’t do anything to settle his anger, where he fists his hands into his hair and pulls, in hopes the worry will somehow vanish.

“Why do you always have to be such a hero?” he hisses, even though you can’t answer now, “wouldn’t it have been enough to just stay here with me?!” He tilts your face to his and drops his lips to yours, and that familiar softness is enough to have him clenching his eyes shut again against the tears. He kisses you until your mouth opens a bit, then slides his tongue up against yours and grips your shoulders, pulling your limp body towards him more. “I’ll be better to you.” He pleads. You don’t move, and the breaths going over his cheeks are so shallow.

But he can’t stop himself from tangling your tongue with his, licking into your mouth and chasing the warmth until he runs out of breath. You’re so fucking pretty still. He kisses you again, bumping teeth, and grips your hip hard as he lays over you a little more, chest to chest and feeling it brush against him with each soft pant he lets out, each gravelly moan. It doesn’t hurt so much to brush his tongue against yours, to swallow your taste on his tongue until his lips numb — but while it doesn’t ache, it’s also not enough. Before he’s able to think about the morality of his actions, his thumbs are hooking under your shirt and pushing it up, over your soft belly and ribcage all the way up until it’s over your tits, where his lips travel to as soon as the skin’s exposed. You’re so soft still, too.

He’s not sure what he’s doing other than leaving messy, open mouth kisses onto you, kneading your skin between his hands as all the warmth in his body pools into his groin. Your tits are sucked into his mouth, one then the other, as he rubs his face into the doughy skin, then he’s pulling and pinching at your tits like he knows makes you whimper. The sound’s burned into his working memory, and it drives him on to run his face down your soft body to the part where your thighs meet. The skin just above your skirt of the softest, warmest, and he full on moans when his cock twitches hard in his pants and he reaches down to grab himself.

Normally you’d be blinking up at him now, sending him that little look with grabby hands, ready to wrap your puffy lips around him— it’s different when it’s his hand screwed around himself and not even moving yet. he can’t, or he’ll cum in his pants, and he’s not going to waste his cum like that when your warm pussy’s right before him. He’s shaky when he pushes the fabric up, flipping it over your tummy; and groans again when he licks down your panties and mouths at the seat of it. It tastes so much like you his eyes roll back, and his knees give a little, while more precum leaks out of him and into his pants.

He frees his hands momentarily to slide you to the edge of the metallic table, two hands gripping your butt and squeezing, then hooking his finger in your panties to just pull them aside. He doesn’t care about the chaffing he’ll have. Not even a second thought when your little pussy is in front of him, and he pushes his mouth to you for some open mouthed kisses, down to your pussy and back up. Wrapping his mouth around your clit, he sucks hard, and rubs the bud a few times with his tongue. He swears your breathing goes more pitched and heavier when he does, when his fingers trail down your puffier lips to rub the bit of wetness around.

His cock’s painfully hard in his pants, and after a few more times licking you up and down so that your slick covers the entire bottom half of his face, he pushes the zipper down and then takes himself out to watch how red and sore the head of his cock already is, oozing pre and coating both his boxers and his shaft. He spits into his hand to give himself a few tight-wrung pumps, tighter than he likes normally- if he doesn’t, he’ll spill all over your cute, little pussy. He pushes his fingertips inside your now wetter cunt, watching it wink and beg for something to fill, and groans when one finger slides in with ease.

Your soft walls are still soft and hot around him, giving mean licks over your clit again and again in a way that would normally overstimulate you too easily. You don’t whimper or whine now, take his finger nice and sweet inside your squelching, gooey walls, only making a little noise when he slides in a second and he can feel the slight bit of stretching you need. He’s dripping onto the table now, balls tight and heavy - imagines how you moan and look when you’re sucking on them and you smack your lips with each open mouthed kiss or lick. You between his legs is always enough to have his knees giving, and it’s no different now, he has to hold himself up against you before he thinks better of it.

You’re slid back on the table too easily, making room for him when he pushes one of your legs aside— and let out a slight gasp when he hoists himself over your body. He just wants you. So bad. It’s not so embarrassing when you’re not awake to see how fucking crazy he looks, flushed, cock twitching between his legs as he strains to kiss you again, lick over your tongue for more of your taste, and breathes your name. “Baby, fuck- I need to be inside you.” He wants to hide away in your safety forever. A crystalline, fucked up thought springs up in his mind for just a second, but he banishes that with a few blinks.

Instead he lines himself up over your hot, needy pussy and pushes inside just the head at first, grunting tightly at the softness that envelops him. His whole body shudders as he pushes in deeper, feeling that pit in his stomach expand with each inch that he goes deeper, tangles his fingers with yours when he bottoms out and fills you up so well. You’re curled into his touch, and he kisses you, his thoughts blanking as he pulls back, and snaps his hips back inside you. You’re hot and wet and it feels so fucking good, clenching your hand inside his larger one. It’s not fair. He’s losing his mind, and you’re always the end of him.

His cock rubs against your swollen insides with rough, imprecise strokes — he doesn’t mean to, it’s just that trying to focus on anything other than the heat as he slides in and out of your tight pussy is too much. You’re too much; you’re haunting him even now. He kisses down your face to your neck, sucks on your skin and bites down hard enough to make a serious mark, wanting to hear you cry. Normally, you’d cry out his name so pretty, dig your nails into his back until he’s letting you go and grinding back on his cock, but you can’t do that now. His cockhead bumps your spot each time he fucks himself into you further, but it’s not enough.

It’s never been enough. He wants to be closer to you, and that horrible image that was launched into his head creeps back up before his eyes, bloody and horrible. Maybe he always told himself that he hated you because - no matter how much he fought, he would never be able to stomach actually hurting you as much as it hurts him. But now, withering on top of you as his cock thumps with how much blood rushes south, everything else falls away. He wants to claw and bite and carve his way to your insides and make you pay just a little for his sins. His body is coated in a thin sheen of sweat, thighs pumping blood through his body to his lungs, his gut, his cock.

He pulls out of you to kiss down your tits and over your covered ribs, thumbing over the head of his cock and gliding it over your puffy clit, your wet pussy lips and flicking it just in and out of your drooling cunt— before he puts a sloppy few kisses there too, tongue coated in slick. The blood pumps through his head so hard he feels dizzy, pounding behind his eyes as the heat of your cunt overwhelms him entirely. It’s too hard to stay sane -he’s never felt less sane than now- when you’re laying below him like this, ready to leave him all alone. You wormed your way into his heart when he didn’t want it, and now, now that’s all about to end.

His mouth is dry, but he’s drooling as he grips your thigh and kneads the doughy skin of your tummy— looking so soft and warm and perfectly shaped for him. He wants -needs, needs it, to feel you swallow him, ruin him- to cut you open and eat your insides out with the sick force of what he’s feeling right now— he groans your name again, desperately trying and failing to get it out of his head— the more he tries the better it feels to think it. Despite having his fist around the base of his cock, stings of white shoot over your body as he crumples in on himself and paints you with his cum. He’s still hard though, painfully so, and as soon as he’s done cumming he can already feel the building urge to do it again, trailing his shaking fingers down to your clenching pussy and rubbing your clit until your body starts wiggling back just a little too.

Megumi wants to go, bury this urge down and never think of it again. He really does— but it’s like he’s possessed, drooling over your body and flicking his cock in and out of your pussy without sliding back in. He might’ve had it wrong this whole time, but if this is love - God, he loves you, he loves, loves, loves you so much he’s not ever going to have enough. Can’t ever say goodbye, not when his entire soul’s been bound to yours, has been rotted away into nothing like this. There’s only you, and him; and he can’t get close enough to make this fucking feeling go away.

With black spots swimming over his vision, he’s not sure what he’s doing until he’s knelt on the floor and shards of glass cut his knees open through his pants; he doesn’t feel it - just trembles as he gets one of the larger shards and crawls back to you, right between your plush thighs as he kisses your face over and over until he feels like he’ll be sick. “Forgive me when you wake up, baby.” It doesn’t really sound like him anymore, faint and messy as he ruts his cock against the inside of your thigh and stares at your face for a little longer. He paws at your tummy again, maybe it’s the lack of oxygen - he feels like he hasn’t taken a breath in ages - or the fact that all his blood is cleary in his swollen cock, hot and heavy.

He kisses you again, pants against your chest as he watches between your two bodies as one arm keeps him up, and the other drags the shard of glass below your belly button just hard enough to create a little cut. He just- just wants to be a little closer, you’ll let him, you’ll let him- he’s been so fucking mean to you and if he can just do this, he’ll make it up to you. Specks of blood well up that he swipes his thumb through to slide it into his mouth, get used to the taste of copper on his tongue. Sometimes he bites your lip hard enough to split it, and you tear up and whine, tangle your fingers in his hair.

He could cum on the spot when you yank like that, but the taste now isn’t enough. As he pushes the shard of glass into your skin harder, watching one layer make way for another, tougher tissue that still gives when he grids down a little- he waits for the moment where he feels bad, regrets and walks it all back- but the feeling doesn’t come. Your body looks so pretty like this, robbed of your innocence by his hands; and he doesn’t wanna cum yet, fuck. The adrenaline swimming in his head is pounding too hard to feel anything other than love for you, and the pulling, almost unbearable sensation of wanting to slide back into you. The blood pools around the hole as he slides along, hearing the skin squelch and snap, building a sweat along his neck and collar. Maybe you’d lick it up if you were awake.

The blood runs, covers his entire fist that’s wrapped tight around the glass, it creates little rivers that you’ll both be laying in soon. He coughs, before kissing you below your jaw, feeling the weak pulse beneath his lips— and righting himself to look at his work with a better angle, groaning. There’s both more blood and less than he expected, pooling in your belly button, all over your pretty pussy, his thighs and hands- his cock not yet. He drops the glass aside as he thumbs over the wound and sure enough- he’s cut through fat and muscle and sinew without too much struggle, because you’re soft all over.

He pushes the fleshy gash open more, thumbs over the clean cut he made with a strange sort of fascination before the hot, hot blood gets to be too much for his curiosity and he leans in to lick from your clit up, up, up until his tongue reaches the raised, tight skin— what has he done, what’s he doing, this, this isn’t — he can’t stand the heat that’s coming out of you for long, and it smells, but that isn’t what sticks with him right now. He’s never wanted to be closer. The gaping pouch of your belly’s drooling red for him. The head of his cock twitches when he feels the hot of your stomach coating him in blood, and coating you in turn. The cum from before’s all but washed away, but he’s sure he can give you another couple orgasms before he tuckers out.

He’s strung so high all of this feels like a dream, like his head is about to roll off of his neck; he pushes in with a garbled sort of sound that comes from deep, deep inside him. The skin doesn’t wanna give way at first, but he manages to push back hard enough before suddenly he’s inside, and it’s like nothing else. The pressure of a slab of skin taking him where it’s not meant to go— bleeding and whining out like this, it’s euphoric. He’s able to see his cock’s outline glide into you until it’s bulging your stomach, squelching and sucking him back in; feels like you’re taking him deeper than ever, letting him fuck his cock so deep he’ll hit your ribs soon. You’re so fucking beautiful, even like this, getting coated and letting him fuck it.

He doesn’t know what it’s like to feel like you’re dying, but the peace that washes him entirely clean might be close; he grinds his hips into you hard enough to rock your body under him as he laces your hands again. Both, this time, just chasing after an end that seems like it’ll never come.

He feels infinite. Your blood’s so hot it’s almost painful, and the tightness of the hole he carved into you is entirely different from your pussy, pushing back against him like you’re begging him to get out. He imagines you’d beg so pretty- but he’s inside you, finally inside and deeper than anyone’s ever been. He’s able to watch his cock blow up your belly and make it hollow when he pulls back, and God- he should feel worse than he does. He could swallow you whole if you’d let him. The feeling has him shuddering over you as he pants your name, makes your tits brush over his chest- and his balls smack against the smooth stretch of skin until he can’t feel his feet any longer.

Now he’s got you dirtied, he wants to ruin you too, leave you a mangled mess of flesh and swallow every last bit of you until he never forgets the taste. But that would require he’d stop fucking his hot cock into your bloody, little pouch, and that won’t happen. He’s panting, sweat running down his back from the effort, and his groin starts to feel a little raw too. He might’ve been going for hours by now, licking your mouth clean from his drool only to dirty you again. The head of his cock feels fucked raw inside you, and his thighs shake before his shoulders square over you.

Megumi speeds up his pace fucking into your guts -actually- until he clenches every muscle, is overcome again and reaches heaven inside you, spurting creamy white into the pouch he’s created for himself; “Fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuckfuck,” his hand has to twist into an uncomfortable position to reach for your clit, but he wildly does it anyway— cramping up, until he’s collapsing on top of you and stilling inside. The stench of blood makes the entire room smell, as he thumbs over the side of your blood-coated thigh with one hand, and feels the shaking all the way up and down his spine. He pulls out so slowly, pumping the last bits of cum out with a throaty moan, before he slides off the table onto awfully shaky legs.

If he was any more lucid, he’d think twice before leaning by your side to kiss your eyes, your nose, your pouty lips as the tears that must’ve been building for a while run down your temple— and suppresses the need to actually eat you- for now, he rubs a softer hand over your exposed tummy, before folding the now blood-drenched fabric of your skirt back down to hide your puffy pussy, lest he be tempted again. He whispers his love into your ears, nuzzles at your hairline until the feeling comes back to his hands and feet and he tucks his spent cock back into his boxers, and goes about cleaning the mess he made of the floor.

It’s only when an uncomfortable scratchy sound comes that he notices the burning heat on his neck, the dried sweat painfully sticky— and straightens up beside you when you start to shake again. Immediately his worry is sky high. Even in the gross air of mixed blood and cum and the scent of sex soaking everything, his mind is just clear enough to hold your head when you thrash around a few times, and your chest rises wildly up and down. Then before his very eyes, the damage he’d done upon you slowly starts to stitch itself together, like weaving threads. Lacing you up until every bit of muscle, fat, and skin restores to it’s pristine glory before he ever touched you, with a little puff of cursed energy.

He bites his lip hard when the shaking stops, and your back lands back onto the metal with a soft clang. The noise is louder now it’s quiet in the room. Megumi waits for a bit longer before he brushes the hair from your face, and doesn't mind it that he’s leaving tracks. The darkness is filled with his tense breathing, and then — every sound at once. Your eyes shoot open with a cry, sobbing out like a baby for a few painful seconds. But then spot him thumbing your tears away devoted like he is -though he won’t admit it to you, and you let out a noise of pure relief.

It’s almost poetic, when you crash back into his arms and this time, he lets your arms wind around his waist.

#kinktober #megumi x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi smut #fushiguro smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #tw.dark content #tw.somno #tw.noncon #tw.wound fucking #tw.blood

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ellieslittlewh0re · 9 months

Text

𝐋𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐢𝐧 (𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐)

* ೃ⁀➷ part 1 - part 2 - part 3

pairing - farmers daughter! reader x farmhand! ellie

summary - ellies willpower gets tested

additional tags - shy/loser! ellie, promiscuous! but inexperienced reader, masturbation/wet dream mention, cowboy boot wearing els, eventual smut, sexual tension, mutual pinning blah blah blah

───── ☾•┈୨♡୧┈•☽ ─────

You stirred in your sleep, darkness still cast over the sky. You tossed and turned, trying to get a couple more hours of sleep in before the day started, but you couldn't- the aching in your tummy growing harder to ignore.

You push your hips further down into the pillow that sat between your thighs, grinding down on it. A soft whimper seeps through your lips, growing more desperate.

Imagines of Ellie that last time you saw her clouded your unaware mind, sweat gleamed her cheeks, slightly red from the sunburn, and how she ditched the button-up, leaving her in a white tank top stained with dirt and rust.

In your sleepy fog, you turn over on your tummy, holding the pillow in place beneath you. Your nightgown bunched up from your rustling, settling around your waist, leaving your white cotton panties exposed to the moon.

"Mm-fhm e-ellie." You whimper, drool pooling onto your floral pattern sheets beneath you.

You looked pathetic, humping your pillow, eyes still shut, and a cease between your eyebrows. It was lazy and sloppy, but it's not your fault since you were still technically sleeping, having a wet dream about your daddy's little helper.

It was deprived and sick. I mean, you've only just met her, and you've never even had sex before, so what's so special about some girl you barely knew?

Your head didn't know, but your body did. You craved her- in a fucked up sort of primal way, the same way animal instincts work during the spring, eager to find a mate and reproduce.

You felt empty, and only she could fix that.

The morning greeted you how it always did, sunshine flooding your window and the songs of birds ringing loudly outside.

You rub your eye with the back of your hand, looking around slightly confused. You don't remember what you did, the sheets in disarray more than usual, and the damp patch in your panties seemed to help you remember.

"Shit." You mumble, stumbling out of bed and tugging your panties down and over your legs. You dig through your drawer, pulling out a clean pair as your fathers voice called to you from the bottom of the stair.

"Y/n, I need to run into town, I'll be back in a few hours. Ellie's here in case anything happens."

Even though you were technically an adult- your father never liked to leave you home alone for too long- too scared of something happening to his precious daughter.

"Okay~" you yell back in a sing-songy tone- basically, it was your best attempt to sound like you weren't as panicked as you were.

You change your clothes, throwing on some denim shorts and a cropped baby tee since you were too tired for "first impressions" bullshit.

You make your way down the stairs, the soft pattering of your socks went unnoticed to the unaware Ellie who was standing in the living room, observing the collage of pictures that decorated the walls.

"Good morning, Ellie."

Your soft, slightly groggy voice made her turn around. Her eyes immediately take notice of the lack of a bra under your thin shirt and the strip of skin showing between the bottom hem of your top and the waistband of your shorts.

"M-mornin', doll." She clears her throat, looking back to the pictures to hide the fact she was absolutely falling apart in your presence.

You however, we're better at hiding it than she was. It was painfully obvious that Ellie was worked up about something, and you knew it was you.

You were kind of used to it- the admiration, that is, being in such a small town, the pickings were slim, and it just so happens that everyone in town agreed that you were by far the prettiest thing on this side of the Mississippi River.

"Have you eaten?" You asked, already passing under the archway into the kitchen and pouring yourself a cup of coffee.

"Uh- no, not yet."

Ellie follows your lead like a dog, making her way into the kitchen to sit in a barstool that over saw the kitchen, giving her a first row view of all your movements.

"Good- let me make you breakfast, I can make a mean pancake."

Ellie stutters to interfere, not wanting to bother you to do such a thing for her, but you insist- claiming she needed some meat on her bones.

You even poured her a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice since she refused the coffee.

Ellie's face was bright red upon seeing you all done up, "real housewife type," she thought. Your little apron hanging loosely around your neck, the strings wrapping around your waist, accentuating the curve of your hips just right, and how your hair danced over your back as you mixed the batter.

She could get used to this- seeing you every day and the little outfits you wore that made her head spin. She ached for you the same way you ached for her, but she'd never let herself give into her desires, not unless- you gave in first.

"What did daddy need to go into town fr'?" You asked, placing the plate in front of Ellie before sitting down beside her on the empty barstool.

Ellie observes the plate, feeling slightly overwhelmed by the amount of food- a stack of pancakes, scrambled eggs, and not forgetting the bacon, of course.

She thought, for a second, you were trying to kill her or give her a heart attack at the very least.

"Uh- said something about needing some parts for the tractor-" She picks up the fork and knife and begins to cut into the food.

"Thank you, doll, you didn't have to do all this for me."

"Hush- don't you start, I did it because I wanted too." You smile at her, taking a bite of your pancake, licking the syrup clean off the fork.

Ellie almost choked on her own food. Surely, you were doing this on purpose; to make her life a living hell- or maybe, some sort of sex fantasy that only her dreams could muster.

She awkwardly laughs out of discomfort, directing her eyes to the food in front of her incase you actually do give her a heart attack with your little antics.

You two chatted while you ate- well, mostly you chatted- Ellie being too scared to make a sound to direct attention on her- just silently agreeing with whatever words came out of your mouth.

She watched you though- in between bites. You had her wrapped around your little finger, even if she didn't know it.

You had her exactly where you wanted her.

You knew she'd notice how your tongue wetted your lips or how the syrup started to drip down you chin.

"Oh.. you got a little- here." She dropped the silverware, her hand coming up to your face as she took her thumb and wiped the sticky substance away before putting it in her mouth, tasting the sweet molasses on her taste buds.

Your eyes linger on her lips, darkening with your growing insatiable hanger. Ellie's face immediately lit up in embarrassment, regretting the gesture altogether. She was painfully unaware of what she just did- just trying to help you is all.

"Sorry.., sorry- I dunno why I did that." She awkwardly chuckled, rubbing the nape of neck with her hand.

"Don't be sorry, els- I really appreciate havin' you around- don't know what I'd do without you." You found your voice to be; sickeningly sweet when Ellie was around, but you couldn't help it when you could tell how much of an effect it had on her.

You pat her thigh before dragging it away, making sure she can really feel your touch through her jeans as you grab both of the plates and take them to the sink.

Ellie swallowed the rest of her juice in one gulp, her mind at war if she should make an excuse that she had to leave because if she didn't? She didn't know what she might end up doing to you.

But it was already too late, you were quickly grabbing her hand and dragging her out of the kitchen.

"Come upstairs- wanna show you my room."

Ellie was fucked.

You open the door, holding your arm out as a soft "ta-da" leaves your lips. You fall into your bed, flipping onto your stomach with your ankles crossed, slightly swaying in the air.

Ellie hesitantly; takes a step into the room, still holding onto the door handle in case she needed an escape plan.

"Uh.. why are we up here?" She cracks a nervous smirk, looking around at the new environment.

"I wanted to show you my room-" you slightly pout, your hands tucking under your chin.

"Whaddya think?"

Ellie takes a second- looking around at the room and down to you, her eyes pausing at the curve of your back that dips into your ass.

Fuck- daisy duke shorts might be her kryptonite.

"It's- uh... it's very girly." Her hand leaves the handle as she takes a few more steps into the room, looking more closely at the pictures and paintings that decorated your walls.

"Do you not like it?" You pout some more, flipping onto your back with your knees propped up, making it even harder for Ellie as your cropped shirt rises more on your torso, dangerously close to exposing the undercurve of your breasts.

Ellie takes a seat at the edge of the bed, her head turning to look at your horizontal position over her shoulder.

"It suits you, doll."

Your hand comes up to play with the fabric of her sleeve. In Ellie's eyes- it seemed absentmindedly- like it didn't mean anything on your behalf, and she was getting worked up for nothing, but you knew exactly what you were doing- carefully calculating every little thing you did when Ellie was around.

"Why do you always call me that?" You softly chuckle, fixating your eyes on your hand that slipped to the exposed skin of her forearm- just lightly traces shapes over the faded ink.

Ellie tenses under your touch- her boxers tightening under her jeans.

"Because you look like one." She said barely above a whisper, her voice; coarse, and it dug into your chest.

Silence filled the space between you two besides the soft rustling of the trees outside your window. Your hand moves to her back as you drag your nails lightly across it.

You were testing her limits, wanting to see how much it would take until she finally gave in to what she's been wanting since the day she met you.

Her head turns away from you, letting it hang between her shoulders as she mumbles an inaudible fuck under her breath.

"You scare me."

Your eyebrows slightly scrunch at this, momentarily confused by the statement, but it was all an act. You were playing a game with Ellie- whether she knew it or not, and you were winning.

"Scare you? How?"

Her head comes up, looking back over her shoulder at you. Her eyes were piercing this time, darker than you remembered them being.

She leans down, getting dangerously close to your face- close enough you could feel her breath against your lips.

"You make me feel like-" she pauses, her voice firming under her clenched jaw.

"- like I can't control myself around you."

*sorry idk if I like how this turned out but oh wellll

❥ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 @tfuuka @mattm1964 @tlouadditc @bugaboodarling @robinismywifee @omgidksblog @bf4iy4z @ellieswifee @endureher @asteroidzzzn @machetegirl109 @thatgiraffefromtlou @locaforellie @bellaramseysgirlfriend @wannabwanted @iconsoft @abbbyslefttitty @fireflyelllie

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lilac-5ky · 7 months

Text

get him back! (ex-boyfriend!Toji x Fem!Reader)

mini kinktober tribute: hate sex

plot: you broke up with toji and he decided to break your friends, until you decide you've had enough.

tags: hate sex, toxic relationship, exes to ???, reader tried to be a good friend, toji is a manipulative asshole, against a door, unprotected sex, spanking, recording, derogatory petnames, slight angst and arguing.

wc: 2.2k

Masterlist | Kinktober Masterlist | AO3

“You fucking asshole! I know you’re holed in there like a damn rat; open up!”

Your fist bangs against his door with abandon. You don’t care that it’s 4 a.m. on a Thursday night or that the neighbors probably think of you as some crazy bitch, which maybe you are. You turned into one the moment your best friend was dumped through a three-word text.

“Saw your clunker out front; open up or the whole block will learn what a prick you are!”

Kimie was in love with him. She was in love with him when she collapsed on your doorstep an hour ago, and she was still in love with him when you left her sleeping soundly in your bed. So were Nanako, Azami, and Rio—the victims before her.

His modus operandi was the same with all four of your friends. He approached them one by one, casting the same spell that enchanted the panties off their thighs, dated them until he got bored, and then broke them into a state beyond repair, leaving you to pick up the pieces.

“I swear, if you don’t open the door right fucking now—” You’re suddenly dragged into his apartment, your wrist pulled against a firm wall of muscle as the door shuts behind you with a thud.

“And they say prayers don’t get answered.” His smile makes your guts churn, pearly white canines beaming below a taut, scarred lip. “Tad late though, aren’t ya? Been—what, two hours since I dumped that b—”

An attempted slap has your hand joining its twin in his grasp. “Call her a bitch again, and the next will be your balls!” You flail, trying to break free.

He doesn’t look disturbed in the slightest. His grin only turns wider at the sheer hatred with which you look at him.

You hate him. You hate Toji with every inch of your being. You hate how he ruined your friends’ lives on a whim; how he poisoned them against you, pointing you out as the reason for each of their breakups. You hate how there’s an ounce of truth in that accusation because, in his twisted brain, he’s doing all that for you. Because his ego can’t stand that you bailed on him first.

“Oh yeah?” He sneers, shoving your hands back against your chest. “Try me, girl. Show me what you got.”

His eyes provoke you, as smug as the rest of his face. You hate to think they were once the most wonderful thing in existence, and you treasured them like pure jade.

Your hands ball into fists, that remain glued to your sides. Your threats are empty, and he knows that. You aren’t there to fight. Just to give him a piece of your mind and hopefully, put an end to this insanity.

“Finally came around?” Toji asks at the lack of reaction.

You sigh. “How long will you keep this up?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Any more cute friends of yours left to fuck?”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Your voice climbs a whole octave above his.

“You are.”

“Really? You’re gonna pin all of that on me?” It takes every bit of self-restraint not to pluck the hair out of his stupid head. “Please, enlighten me!”

“I miss you.” He admits, and he sounds earnest, but you aren’t fazed. You’ve heard all of that before; read all about it in the countless texts he’s sent over the past five months. “I miss my pretty baby and all the fun we had together. Miss how we talk, how we laugh, how we fuck.”

You managed to disregard the sculpted muscles decorating his bare chest that had been in plain sight since before you entered his place, yet now you look at them with a stare that is almost nostalgic.

“We were so good together, princess. Why be apart now, mm?” He reaches out to you, his forefinger curling near your cheek. “Don’tcha think your tantrum lasted long enough?”

“My tantrum?” You smack his hand away. “You are the one who had it good, Toji. You are the one who had a maid, a girlfriend, and a wallet all in one. You did nothing, and I did everything! I cleaned for you, I cooked for you—I even tagged along to all your stupid races, and you did what exactly? Fucked all my friends to get back at me for calling things off? If you really think it’s my fault, then you’re sick in the head, though that’s nothing new. You killed us; not me.”

Toji scratches the back of his head uncomfortably. As expected, he has nothing to say in return. He doesn’t miss you; he misses the comfort of you, and you don’t miss him either. You simply miss the way he sometimes held you tight against his chest and whispered he loved you so many times that you were inclined to believe him. You miss the dreams you created—the entire life you’d planned together only for it to be viciously torn apart by his current self.

“Can’t you see it? There’s no ‘we’ anymore. There’s only ‘you’ and ‘I’, and the poison that’s left behind from what we once were. It’s over between us, but ” you take advantage of his silence, “Kimie did nothing wrong. She loves you, so better give her a call, say you got high on some shit—I don’t fucking know—and apologize. Beg if you have to, but get back with her.”

“And why would I do that?” His arms fold over his chest, a thin obsidian brow shaping an arch. “Boring bitch was only good at getting my dick wet. Nothing like you.”

His voice mellows down as he speaks your name, his eyes waning past his eyelids, both soft, unlike the calloused palm that traces the outline of your face. “I was serious about you. Still am. Why else you think I did all that? I love you. Love my baby and her little pussy so much.”

“S-stop that.” Your heart skips a beat as he corners you against the door, your hand searching for the handle behind your back.

“My pussy.” His lips ghost over your neck while his hips buck into you possessively. “C’mon, baby. Be honest with yourself. You don’t really give a shit ‘bout Kimie. You came to me cause ya knew I’d fuck you good. Haven’t let anyone in my pussy since last time, mm?”

“You are wrong.” You breathe out, nails digging sharply into your palm. You don’t want this. You don’t want him. You are here for your friend—the only friend you’ve got left after he turned everyone against you. “You ain’t shit, Toji.”

“Yeah? How many guys have made you scream like I have? How many of ‘em have fucked both your brain and thighs into mush? How many of ‘em you called daddy, hm?” He bites into your shoulder, and an immediate shudder circuits from the point of impact across your body. “Thought so. No one fucks you like I do. No one will ever love you the way I do.”

“Fuck you, Toji.” The way his knee presses between your thighs coaxes a sigh he doesn’t miss. He grinds harder, your heat pulsing below your soaked underwear.

“Yeah? Fuck me?” He’s gone back to facing you, his minty breath tickling your bottom lip right before it follows his tongue into your mouth. Your body doesn’t resist; worse, it reciprocates.

“Yes. F—fuck you,” you mumble, having found a new reason to hate him.

He is right. You never cared that much about Kimie, because if you did, you wouldn’t have sneaked out in the middle of the night in your skimpiest outfit. Avenging your friend was the last thing in your mind, an afterthought drowned by his lips and his hands crawling beneath your dress.

“Why not do it yourself, baby?” Toji nibbles at your lip in the exact way he knows that you like. “Fuck me. Fuck me, and I’ll take that bitch Kirie back ‘f that’s what ya still want after.” His finger curls around the elastic band of your panties, awaiting your answer.

“God, I hate you so fucking much.”

“Hm?”

“It’s Kimie, you asshole.”

In an instant, your arms loop around his neck and your legs around his torso as Toji lifts you up against the door. He grunts into the kiss, teeth and tongues clashing while each tries to gain access to the other’s body. He rips your underwear into a single shred he flings away, giving your ass a rough smack that makes you whine countless little I hate you’s into his mouth.

Fumbling with the laces of his sweatpants, you lower them enough for his cock to spring free, already rock hard even when you’ve done nothing besides arguing. You almost moan at the sight, thinking to yourself there might just be a part of him you actually missed.

“Shoulda wash that potty mouth for all the useless shit it spews,” he murmurs against your skin, sliding your dress’ straps below your breasts and rolling the hem over your stomach. “‘member how much ya loved to suck me off? Gagged on every inch and swallowed every drop like the fucking cockslut that y’are.” His teeth dig in your flesh, coloring a mark right above where his fingers close around your neck. “My cockdrunk whore.”

“Just fuck me and get this over with.”

Your breathing grows strained the more pressure he applies, your walls clenching around his cock as he finally sinks inside. You try not to give him the satisfaction of a reaction, pursing your lips together while his thick girth stretches your cunt to its limits. You channel all the miserable memories he left you with, every tear you shed over him seemingly gathering as slick that squelches with each thrust your moans drown out. Oh no.

“Liar,” Toji smiles haughtily, a continuous drum from his hip ruthlessly slamming yours against the wooden door, your back rising higher each time. “Knew ya wanted this as much as I do.”

“N-no,” you pant out, stubbornly holding onto your last vestige of self-respect while the tip of his cock insists to kiss that one spot that has you seeing stars quicker than you can account for.

“Don’t tell me ya still lie to yourself ‘bout doing this to be a good friend.” And when you don’t answer, he reaches into his pocket to dig out his phone, first pointing the camera at your face and then at the point where his cock splits you open. “Wanna make a video and send it to her? See what she makes of you getting railed?”

“You fucking piece of shit!” You slap the phone from his grasp, the entire screen filling up with cracks before going dark.

“That was new.” His tongue clicks against his mouth’s roof. “Guess I’ll have to make you pay for this, hm?”

Both his palms drop to your ass, spanking both cheeks in tandem with his thrusts until tears thread your eyelashes, the intoxicating mix of pain and pleasure speeding up your orgasm.

“A bit louder, baby. Don’t think the neighbors heard ya.”

He bullies his cock faster into you, husky moans complimenting your high-pitched whimpers that fill the space and echo across the halls of his apartment building.

“T-Toji, I—” He finishes you off before you can finish your sentence, your eyes squeezing shut as fireworks blast behind your eyelids.

“That’s my girl.” He praises, laying soft kisses that you reject on your sweat-covered forehead. You don’t want to be fooled again. This is a one time thing.

“‘m not your—ugh, fucking girl.” You hiss, yanking at the frayed tufts of hair your fingers pick from his skull. “Never will be.”

“Sure about that?” A hand sneaks between your bodies and finds your clit. “Bet if I make ya cum ‘nough times, you’ll come crawling back to me.”

“N-not a chance,” quickly shifts into a loud, “Fuck!” when he starts rubbing quick circles around the sensitive nub. You can’t seem to stop moaning for him, feeling your second climax creep up on you at the same time he spills his load, fucking every velvety rope of his cum deep inside your sopping pussy.

You stand on your feet for the first time in a while, your knees trembling as you struggle to keep straight without his aid. Toji looks so smug with his cock still throbbing in his hand, the swollen red tip mocking you and your efforts to resist it.

He pulls his sweats up, and without a warning, the door flies wide open. This is your chance to leave. It’s what he wants. For you to either bear the shame of stumbling back home with his cum staining your legs down to your ankles or stay the night and be tricked into getting back together; humiliation on both ends.

“What’s it gonna be, baby?”

And as the door falls shut behind you, you know you’re going to hate yourself even more after this night than you ever hated him.

a/n: so i planned this waaaay too late, but i still wanted to partake in the madness known as kinktober. i'll be doing some of the days at random, sometimes adding more than one kinks to one one-shot. most will be about toji, unless-

and yes, i'm obsessed with olivia's new album. sue me. masterlist tomorrow, it's 5 am ffs.

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lorelaiblair · 6 months

Text

The first time Enid Sinclair ever visited the Weathervane it was on a “double date” from hell.

Bianca’s relationship with Xavier was hanging on by a thread, she thought that maybe hanging out in a group setting would help mend some of the cracks in their relationship.

It didn’t really make sense to Enid, if a relationship was in trouble shouldn’t it be a conversation between the people in said relationship?

Anyways, Enid didn’t blame Bianca, she was scared and becoming desperate. Enid was going to be there to support her no matter what happened.

Even if that meant going on a double date with her ex, one of her best friends, and her friend’s boyfriend who she really disliked.

They walked into the small coffee shop, Ajax holding the door open for the rest of them.

“Thank you” Enid smiled

“All in a gentleman’s work” He grinned

Xavier settled into a booth in the corner and Bianca slid in beside him. It was almost awkward how they sat, everything about their body language tense and awkward.

Enid and Ajax mirrored them, but it was much more natural and relaxed. They were always better as friends, supporting and loving each other in a way that they could never seem to get right when they were trying to force a relationship.

Enid’s knee knocked against his and he grinned at her.

“How is rave’n planning going?” He asked her

“Stressful” Enid laughed, burying her face in her hands on the table. “There’s so much we still need to get done and so little time to do it”

“Did I tell you that the DJ finally got back to me?” Bianca asked

“Yeah?” Enid grinned, looking back up at her.

“Yeah” Bianca nodded with a teasing smile.

“And? What did he say?”

“Yes, he’s going to be there”

“Oh my god” Enid grabbed Bianca’s hand and squeezed in excitement “Why didn’t you tell me sooner!”

“I wanted to see your face” She smiled

“I am so excited” Enid said as she bounced in her seat

“Is he a big deal?” Ajax asked

“The biggest. He’s hoste-“ Enid stopped as a young woman began walking toward their table. She was dressed in all black and her dark hair tied in twin braids. She stopped to stand in front of their table and on her face was a look that said she couldn’t be more disinterested.

She was the most beautiful person Enid had ever seen. Her words were caught in her throat and her breath in her lungs.

“What are your orders?” The girl asked, her tone flat but her voice sounding like the sweetest honey.

“We haven’t had a chance to look at the menu yet” Bianca said kindly. The girl, Wednesday, said the name tag pinned to her dress, turned and walked away without another word. Bianca made a face, as if asking ‘can you believe that’?

Enid became painfully aware of herself. Staring at their waitress like a crazy person. She looked away quickly, grabbing her menu as a way to busy herself and not look as awkward as she felt.

Xavier didn’t have the same decency. Bianca scoffed and scooted even further away from him.

“Are you serious” She asked

“What?” Xavier asked, the first words he had said since they walked into the diner and it was to pretend as if he hadn’t been blatantly checking out their waitress while he was on a date.

“Oh my god, Xavier” Bianca scoffed, picking up her own menu, an attempt to hide just like Enid’s had been.

The silence was awkward, other customers around the room chatted and there was a sound of the coffee machines humming but everyone at this table with Enid promptly avoided speaking more. Xavier had taken his phone back out, at least he wasn’t staring anymore.

Enid had a hard time deciding what she wanted, they had so many things to choose from and Enid had always been bad at making choices. She sat the menu down and looked out the window, the sky was painted in a mural of pinks and purples and the moon was starting to peak over the horizon.

She took out her own phone to quickly snap a picture. It was beautiful, nowhere near as beautiful as the waitress.

Enid cursed herself. She felt like she was no better than Xavier, and since when had Enid even been attracted to girls?

Her eyes caught black hair again, the waitress, Wednesday if the name tag was anything to go by, was at a small table across the diner talking to the people who sat there. The unimpressed look never left her face, and honestly she was starting to look annoyed at the old woman who was speaking to her.

Enid looked down at the table, the wooden pattern of it suddenly incredibly interesting.

She realized that it made sense, being attracted to girls. It made more sense than Enid even wanted to think about right now.

The realization felt kind of freeing though. It was terrifying, but a piece of herself clicked into place.

Someone cleared their throat and Enid’s gaze snapped back up, right to Wednesday’s face. She had the darkest brown eyes rimmed with black eyeliner.

“Are we good?” Ajax asked

“Yeah” Bianca said, Enid nodded her head not trusting her voice to work and Xavier hummed.

“Okay. Ready?” Ajax asked, Wednesday blinked and he took that as an answer “I’ll take an americano and an breakfast sandwich on an english muffin”

“A cappuccino and a croissant” Bianca asked

“Another americano and a panini” Xavier said, which left it to be Enid’s turn. Wednesday hadn’t really looked at any of them, instead sort of looking into space as they spoke, but then Enid felt the girl’s eyes on her.

“Uhh” Enid smiled softly “An iced caramel latte with extra caramel and a blueberry muffin”

Wednesday didn’t respond verbally, but when Enid asked for extra caramel her eye’s crinkled slightly. That was the only sign that the girl had even been listening. She walked off again without a word, going behind the counter to probably get started on their things.

“She’s kind of scary, right?” Ajax asked with a quiet voice.

“I think it’s rude” Bianca said, was it bad that Enid found her endearing?

“She looks like the type of person who would enjoy witnessing a murder” He said

“Or committing one” Bianca added

“I’m sure she’s nice” Xavier said, Enid couldn’t help but glare. She hated he had been the one to say it. Bianca was quiet but Enid could tell she was furious.

“What were you saying earlier, about the DJ, Enid?” Ajax asked, his attempt to change the conversation was obvious.

“He’s just really popular” Enid said “And hard to book, we asked him like forever ago”

“Two months” Bianca clarified

“A long time to not be texted back” Enid argued, Ajax shook his head fondly.

“You’re crazy” He smiled

“I’m just really excited for this dance. It’s our first rave’n as senior’s and being in charge is so stressful. Figuring out the music and stuff took a lot off of my shoulders though, Bianca, thank you again”

“You’ve already thanked me countless times”

“Which is why I said again” Enid told her

“Well, you’re welcome” Bianca smiled “But really it wasn’t a big deal, if you need anymore help with anything just let me know”

“Okay. Are you going shopping with Yoko, Divina, and I next weekend?” Enid grinned

“I wouldn't miss it for anything” She nodded

“I have no idea what i’m going to wear yet” Ajax said

“A hoodie and pants that slightly match the theme?” Xavier asked, Ajax smiled and nodded.

“Like last year” He said

“And the year before that” Enid added, as she spoke Wednesday joined them again. A black tray in her hand, using the other hands to set things down.

“It’s hot” She said as she sat the muffin in front of Enid, even though she was holding it with her bare hand.

“Why are you touching it then?” Enid couldn’t help but ask.

“I’m not affected by such things” Wednesday said, her dark eyes meeting Enid’s, a spark in them that Enid hadn’t seen before. Was it mischief? Intrigue?

Enid wanted to know. She wanted to know everything about this strange girl.

Wednesday sat the last drink down and spun the tray around in her hands to hold it at her side. She went to walk away again, Bianca didn’t let her go very far.

“Are you not even going to ask if you got the order right, if we need anything else?” She asked

“I always get it right” Wednesday said, not even turning back to face them as she kept walking.

Bianca scoffed again, lifting her cup and blowing at the steam.

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prazinos · 1 year

Note

Could you possibly make an Ajax smut where his team lost the poe cup and the readers team won it and he just kinda takes his anger out on/punishes the reader because maybe she was kinda mean during it and he has his jester makeup on during it? Ignore this if you want, btw love your writing :D

Okay Anon, I got a bit carried away but yk hopefully you like this <3

Poe Cup

This can be read as a bit of a part two to Love At First..Sight? But also as a stand-alone

Summary ~ You used your telekinetic abilities to win the Poe Cup and Ajax isn’t too happy about it

WARNINGS ! ~ SMUT MINORS DNI | Oral {F} | Fingering | Overstimulation | PiV |

You and Wednesday finally got to the flags and grabbed she grabbed it before you both sprinted back towards the boats.

You saw your boyfriend and Xavier not too far in front of you and a cruel idea popped into your head.

Now, anything goes during the Poe cup but that doesn’t mean you didn’t feel slightly guilty at what you were going to do.

Using your telekinetic abilities you dragged Ajax and Xavier into the air. They looked down to see you and Wednesday. As you ran past them you blew Ajax a kiss which he just glared at you.

‘Shit!’ Xavier shouted

You dropped the boys and climbed into the boat. Quickly paddling to get to the finish line.

You all crossed the finish line cheering you bent over slightly, attempting to catch your breath and looking up to see your boyfriend in his jester costume. You couldn’t deny he looked good in it. But you stopped yourself from jumping his bones right then and there

You were in Bianca and Enid’s room as Wednesday and Enid were in yours ‘celebrating’.

‘I cannot believe you guys punctured our boat!’ Bianca groaned

‘I’m sorry but it was a little funny’ you giggled and she threw a pillow at you.

You changed out of your costume and wiped off the makeup. It was Enid’s idea to be dressed as cats and you had to admit you did look hot in the costume.

Shrugging on your pyjama shorts and singlet you sat on Bianca’s bed and stuck your hand out so she could paint them.

After a while of watching Gilmore Girls with Bianca and arguing over who should have ended up with Rory, your phone buzzed.

Ajax <3

Come to my dorm, it’s an emergency

‘Shit’ you said grabbing your costume and shoes from the floor.

‘Everything okay?’ Bianca asked

‘No, I think Ajax is in trouble. He said it’s an emergency’ you said

‘Oh yeah, emergency’ Bianca said chuckling.

You rolled your eyes before shutting the door behind you, speed walking to Ajax’s dorm.

You used the key he gave you and walked in to see Ajax. Completely fine. And still in his costume. What?

‘What the hell Ajax you said it was an emergency! And why are you still in your costume?’ You scolded.

You were pinned to the door by Ajax and you looked up at him. His snakes hissing at you

‘That shit you pulled during the cup and you thought you’d get away with it?’ He asked voice deep and stern.

You clenched your thighs together, attempting to get any friction before he shoved them open with his hand.

‘No, you don’t get to do that’ he said.

Ajax picked you up and threw you over his shoulder, you hated how lean he looked compared to his strength.

You were thrown onto his bed before he grabbed your legs and dragged them to the end of the bed. You felt your clit aching in want. Any friction anything at all.

He grabbed your shorts and dragged them down your legs along with your underwear. And you rubbed your thighs together again before he slapped your right one. Telling you to stop.

You looked up at him, taking in his entire frame. Jesus Christ , his shirt was gone but he still had the makeup on as well as pants, snakes out, dark look in his eye. To say you were dripping would be an understatement.

He spread your thighs with his hands and leaned down looking at your dripping cunt. You whined, he was so close but he wasn’t giving you anything.

‘God you’re so impatient’ he mumbled.

Seeing as this was your first time with Ajax it was insane that this was the same nervous man who had confessed to you in your room only a month ago.

He rubbed some of the jester makeup from his mouth.

He leaned in, licking an experimental lick up your cunt before diving in completely.

You’d moaned out, nobody had ever done this to you before. Sure you’d had boyfriends and had sex but none of them actually went down on you. All complaining that it tasted weird or it was too slimy.

But Ajax was moaning into you clearly loving the taste. You looked down at him whimpering when you saw he was looking right back at you. You bucked your hips and he gripped them holding you down in place allowing him to do whatever he pleased.

He inserts two fingers into your entrance before curling them while sucking on your clit.

You feel your legs start to shake, your so close to the edge

And he stops.

You look down at him to see him smirking, rubbing circles into your thigh.

‘What the fuck Ajax’

‘I’m not letting you get off that easy’ he says chuckling darkly before he continues ‘now I’m gonna get some food, I’m starving’

He gets off you and stands up walking to the door.

You smirk to yourself before reaching a hand down to your clit, rubbing it, moaning quietly,

You watch through hooded lids as Ajax snaps to turn around before taking long fast strides towards you. Grabbing your hand and snatching it from your clit.

‘The fuck do you think you’re doing?’ He asks, clearly furious

‘Making myself cum, idiot’ you snap back.

He glares at you before smiling. That can’t be good. He tears off your singlet and I mean literally. He leans back down to your cunt, he shoves two fingers back inside you curling them immediately.

Your back arches as you moan loudly. He moves his head to lick at your cunt once more. He’s ruthless with his tongue, he’s incredible but ruthless.

He sucks on your clit and your legs begin to shake again, you swear that if he pulls away again you’d kill him.

You’re gripping the sheets below you as you feel yourself tip off the edge.

Letting out moans and whimpers of Ajax’s name you come back down from the orgasm that had washed over you.

He doesn’t let up though, continuing to lick, and finger your pussy. You attempt to push him away by pushing at his forehead.

You’re too sensitive, and he’s still not letting up.

You soon feel your second orgasm wash over you as your legs feel like jelly.

And he still, does. Not. Let. Up.

It feels like you’re on the brink of pleasure and pain. Tears are streaming down your face as your juices cover his.

The sounds of it are disgusting but they just get you closer to the edge. You feel like you’re going to explode if he continues like this.

You’re a panting mess as you feel the same explosion of pleasure wash over you again.

You look down at him again and the look in his eyes tells you he’s still not stopping

‘Ajax, please, shit, please stop, it hurts’

And you weren’t lying, your clit aching, this time not in desperation but in overstimulation.

He finally raises his head removing his fingers and sucking them clean.

‘Come on panemorfi, one more, one more on my cock this time’

You felt butterflies erupt in your stomach at the nickname and you nod weakly

‘Words panemorfi’

‘Yes, I can..I can do one more..I um, birth control ’ you say, your voice raspy, although your English was a bit broken he understood what you meant.

Somehow, with little strength you had, sat up and motioned for him to lay down. He did as you ‘said’ and lied down on the bed. You got on top of him, admiring how pretty he looked before aligning his hard cock with your entrance.

You slowly sank down on it, moaning at how he stretched you open even after being fingered.

Ajax groaned at the feeling of your tight walls, admiring your body as you bounced on top of him, he couldn’t take his eyes off your bouncing breasts.

Gripping your hips starting to thrust into you, you let out a high pitched moan throwing your head back. Your orgasm approaching quickly.

Ajax’s moans slowly dissolved into whimpering loudly. Indicating he was getting close.

Your legs were burning, but you were so so close.

‘Fuck, Y/N gonna come, shit gonna-‘ Ajax cut himself off with a loud moan, spilling into you, triggering your own orgasm. Letting a whimper out.

After a while of just catching your breath, you got off of Ajax, reaching over to his bedside table grabbing the tissues.

You cleaned yourself and Ajax up before lying down next to him.

‘Sorry for putting you in the air’

‘I guess it’s okay’ he chuckled. You slapped his chest lightly laughing with him.

Laying in peace for a while you suddenly remembered

‘Shit!’ You yelled standing up to grab your clothes, going to Ajax’s closet grabbing a pair of his boxers you put them on and then your pyjamas. Wiping the smeared jester makeup off your face

‘What? What are you doing?’ Ajax asked

‘We’re meant to be hanging out with everybody’ you said throwing some clothes at Ajax and rubbing the makeup off his face.

‘By the way, wear this makeup more often’ you said making him smirk.

You got to your dorm with Ajax trailing behind you opening it to see everybody watching Hereditary.

Everybody turned around to face the two of you.

‘So’ Xavier said pausing to take a sip of his drink ‘snake pubes?’ He asked

You rolled your eyes as Bianca, Xavier and Enid laughed.

A/N ~ I really do hope this was okay {hopefully it is}

Let me know if you liked this by liking, Reblogging, or commenting

Panemorfi ~ Gorgeous {Greek}

By my loves <3

#ajax petropolus x reader #ajax petropolus #ajax x reader #Ajax Petropolus smut #wednesday the series #wednesday tv show #Wednesday x Reader #Xavier Thorpe #xavier x reader #xavier thorpe x you

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ddymarie · 10 months

Text

Bakugo x F! reader (smut)

⊰ AT FILTHY DEGREES °

Banner from @benkeibear

⊰ Warning: spitting in mouth, choking, degradation, oral(Male), slapping, sloppy make out ses, panty's in mouth,peeing, finger gagging, daddy kink, pinning , public(just the beginning), no prep. No condom, drunk! (Light Manipulative!) Non-cannon! bakugo, cum eating

⊰ "dirty play?, nah I get FILTHY"

You were all up on eijiro all night...

That red dress you wore unintentionally complimented him...

The red head couldn't keep his eyes off of what wasn't his... He wanted you bad.

And you were giving yourself to him. He noticed the glances you threw his way... It made him furious. He was HEATED.

"Katsuki-honey" I gasped as the blonde man kissed on my neck

"Mine" he said. His voice was muffled from kissing in between my shoulder and throat.

"Baby-ah! " I screamed as I was picked up by my thighs- legs instantly wrapping around his waist. But my scream was cut short when bakugo had grabbed me by my chin and forced his tongue in my mouth.

'Whats wrong with him tonight-not in public' I thought

Pulling back from the kiss "Kats, this is dirty-" My mouth closed instantly when he looked up at me with... Anger?. " Dirty? Bitch please" he said as he pushed the elevator button to the top floor. With me still against the wall. " like you weren't being dirty all up on riot down there... I'll show you filthy... I'll show you who you belong to " he said the last part while looking me in my eye. It made me hot at the thought of how he'd punish me tonight.

He had his hands under my dress and rested at my hips where my panties sat pulling them off.

"Katsuki-baby, listen please" I begged for his attention-but his attention remained else where... My open seat thong. "Dirty bitch". I was left in pain from the slap he just landed on my cunt. " you thought you were gonna wear these pretty panties for him tonight huh?... Y'all fucking behind my back princess?".

"No" I attempted to say only for my answer to be cut off by my panties being shoved into my mouth, gagging me. " fucking slut" he said with a taunting smirk on his face.

The elevator door dinged and opened to a dark room. It was huge.

My admiration was cut short when I was thrown roughly onto the bed.

He was cuffing my hands to the headboard tightly.

It hurt like a bitch. But I couldn't do anything about it, I deserved it.

As I layed there katsuki burned a hole in my dress right below my tit before he ripped it apart and off my body. The fabric of the dress burning me.

It felt good.

Standing above me katsuki slowly removed his clothes...

Starting with his suit jacket. His dress shirt. Then his pants. I watched as he slowly rubbed himself through his briefs moaning before pulling them off.

"Oh~" he moaned bending down and removing my thong from my mouth. "Dirty girl~" . He grabbed my head and titled it back. placing his hand on his dick and releasing his piss in my mouth. "Oh~ look at that princess " " just filthy ". I gagged as it overflowed. It clear to say the least and had no taste to say the most. But was still warm. " hold that shit in your mouth" . I knew better than to disobey so I did. I looked like a puffer fish with a mouth full of piss.

He stood over me in silence but the frown on his face told me he wasn't just yet satisfied. "spit it out " he said at once with a plastic cup under my mouth. I spit it all out with a cough staring him in his eyes " I'm sorry daddy" I apologized finally " yea I bet your sorry, slut" he said dangling his dick in my face " you wan it? " he taunted. I nodded yes. He kneeled a little bit allowing me to just lick the tip twice before pulling back and exiting the bed. I whined " But, daddy please" I begged like be wanted me to " you want daddy down your throat, slut " I looked into his eyes " yes " I said. " pathetic " he responded sitting in the love seat across from the bed.

"Fuck~" he moaned as he stroked his dick.

It was torture watching him please himself. I wanted him too.

Watching as he groped his balls throwing his head back and moaning.

"Daddy~" I pleaded. He eyes hung low as he continued working his hands. "Ah~ fuck" he grunted as he came. Cum shooting every on him.

"tell daddy how sorry you are"

"I'm so sorry daddy. I won't ever ever ever do it again. I'll your good girl forever daddy, I promise, I swear " I watched a smirk spread across his face " My good girl forever huh? " I watched as he walked toward the bed. Uncuffing me "show daddy how much you wanted him ".

"I love you so much daddy" I said jumping on him. Kissing down his neck as held himself up. I was sucking hickies all over his neck before licking up and down his chest. Licking up every spurt of cum on him "taste so good daddy" as I licked his his thighs.

"All mine " he said hunger in his eyes "all yours " I said.

I went down on him. Sucking on his tip and stroking his dick. Slurping and spitting all down his dick. "Fuck princess, " I took more and more of him inch after inch. "Hands where I can see em princess" he said grabbing my wrist holding my hands behind my back. My ass was in the air as I gagged sucking up and down his dick. It was thick. I felt him began to gently thrust deeper in my throat careful not to hurt me.

My face was a mess. Spit every where. "Oh~ fuck y/n". He was about to come I could tell. Before I could continue further he held my head down with one hand and had his ball in the other. Cumming down my throat.

I stayed there for a couple of moments before he pulled me off of him. I wiped my face on the sheets before I was pulled up by katsuki once again this time by my sore throat. " we ain't done yet, I gotta dick down what's mine "

He pushed me onto my back and climbed on top of me " You think I forgive you, bitch" he said pulling my face toward his "you think just because I had a few drinks I wouldn't notice, dirty play, doll"

I hadn't even noticed him lining himself up until he roughly pushed into me. It hurt like a bitch, but I deserved it.

"You deserve it, don't cry "

His hands wrapped around my neck squeezing my wind pip as he thrusted slowly inside of me. " i'm sorry-" I wheezed.

Laughing katsuki shoved two fingers into my mouth as he thrusted faster. "Fuck, you slut". I couldn't help but moan around his fingers. Him pushing them deeper into my mouth causing me to gag. His thrust were vicious as he threw his weight in me.

'Fuck it felt good' I thought eyes rolling in the back of my head.

I felt my stomach start to tighten. I was close.

Moaning above me katsuki said "right behind ya, doll". He had let his head rest between my neck as he growled and grunted.

"Fuck-" he shouted as I bit down on his fingers both of us Cumming.

The orgasm he gave me had me dizzy.

"Mine" Katsuki murmured "Mine"

You didn't mean to catch his eye... You most definitely didn't mean to anger katsuki and send him to 100° either.

#bnha x you #bakugo smut #bakugou katsuki #bakugo x black reader #bakugou x reader #mha smut #katsuki smut #bakugou smut #bakugo katuski x reader #katsuki x reader

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tothepointofinsanity · 6 months

Text

Observation Log Series: Sayaka [III]

Today on: Visual metaphors for depression and the actual “magic of friendship”.

Images are taken from this Magia Record game video on YouTube.

I am pretty sure someone else in the ages past had already covered this bit, so I suppose I will add this to the archives for my own documentation purpose. Or for just anyone who feels like reading it, really.

Sayaka’s magical girl transformation in this sequence is very interesting. There are a lot of jokes about how she’s yeeted everywhere by the Holy Quintet in her own transformation, so here are the notes:

The beginning of her transformation is shot in the sequence of a downward spiral. Sayaka falls through the hoops and into the ocean as her opening, a reference to her descent into madness (keep in mind: the sea as a metaphor for an inescapable expanse of darkness; the abyss) in the main show, as well as her deteriorating mental health. The spiral drawn to resemble piano keys (🎹) is also no coincidence, but they break apart when Sayaka plummets past them, much like music becoming discordant and incoherent.

Right after that, she gets thrown around respectively by her friends, each of whom gets her to the destination of being fully transformed. What is important to notice is that for the majority of this part, you cannot see Sayaka’s face, and she appears completely indifferent and motionless as others pass her around without hassle. You would think someone like Sayaka, who typically exhibits stubborn tendencies, would be resistant to being literally thrown around, but I feel that there are reasons for this:

• Sayaka being shown not as weightless, but rather as something heavy that makes an impact wherever she goes. She’s literally dead weight in the water despite her Witch being a mermaid. There is no attempt whatsoever we see from her where she tries to swim gracefully or float naturally in the sea. She just seems to be…there, being moved rather than performing her transformation by herself like all the other magical girls.

• The Holy Quintet are the essence of friendship that help Sayaka not necessarily out of her depression, but rather giving her a massive boost by flinging her to the next appropriate person. Given she is portrayed as dead weight, she doesn’t transform manually and do fancy dances, instead heavily reliant on the support of the crew to help her get changed. The sequence where she’s thrown onto the bed and lies there before being flung out again is very reminiscent of the tragedy that individuals struggling with mental health problems can barely get out of bed on their own at times, even to the point where it seems they might never leave said bed. Homura has to pick up Sayaka in a bag before tossing her to Kyoko, where it unfurls and it becomes her cape.

It is also interesting to note that the bed is surrounded by mirrors of all sizes and shapes that don’t reflect Sayaka at all, but rather the oceanic creatures and environment. Her self image is nonexistent and replaced by the sea. When she’s thrown to Kyoko, it is only then she is “stopped”, and we finally get to see her face. Her hair is long, unlike the appearance of her short hair that we are used to. Kyoko helps her with the last part of her transformation by putting on the gold hair pin.

Kyoko being the one to not throw Sayaka but rather casually stop said impact is likely symbolic of their relationship. The ocean is stopped by the unmovable rock.

• In the very last part, Sayaka appears standing on a platform that arises from the sea, and only then she seems fully refreshed and ready to go. Once again, instead of swirling out of the water or something, she needs something solid to stand on and raise her to the surface as she is incapable of doing so herself. Her entire transformation seems to highlight that others need to be on standby to support her, or else she will likely just dwindle and sink motionlessly to the bottom of the ocean. By the way she’s posed, it also seems to imply that she has complete trust in her friends, who were there at every turn to assist her transformation.

Something else I thought about as well is the irony that despite being mermaid coded in terms of her own Witch and backstory, Sayaka is almost always portrayed as a sinking vessel the moment she hits the water. A finless mermaid, yet frustratingly a mermaid that cannot even swim or float. I find that this interpretation would fit into the existing narrative that Sayaka and the Incubators view her as useless or inadequate. What good a mermaid who sinks in the sea? What good a magical girl who needs others to help her transform proper? Noting that Sayaka’s transformation always involves her emerging out of water seems to tell us that she has always pulled her weight out of the abyss by herself.

TLDR: It wouldn’t hurt to show that Sayaka requires support from everyone in order to do her best.

#Sayaka Archives #madoka magica #puella magi madoka magica #magical girl #pmmm #pmmm sayaka #sayaka miki #mahou shoujo madoka magica #magia record

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soulaires · 4 months

Note

hiii can I request for grumpy!reader x sunshine!kenji hcs plz I love that man so much 😩 and that trope is such a 🤌

also can I be 🪸anon?!?!?!

THAT’S MY BABY

pairings: grumpy!reader x sunshine!kenji kishimoto.

warnings: absolutely shitty pick up lines and horrible attempt at flirting. also sexual innuendos lol

summary: kenji and his intimidating gf

notes: I need this man so bad I’m not even joking. Also yes you can be my coral anon 🫶(you guys can claim any emoji you guys wishes) also kenji is orange while you are purple.

you absolutely hated kenji when you first met him.

he was obnoxiously loud, very annoying, doesn’t read the room, and sarcastic. way too sarcastic.

although his little sarcasm comments really can make you break a character

while you hated him at first sight, you absolutely caught his attention when you arrived at omega point.

he was stars truck that he mad it a goal to impress you, to notice him and maybe, maybe you can possibly like him back.

when in training, he’s really trying so hard to impress you

you noticed him once with a comment saying “nice work, kishimoto.” and he absolutely froze at that moment

he had it imprinted on his mind, treasure the moment on his heart, and blush at the moment every time he remembers it.

he actually like the way you played hard to get, or at least that were you doing instead of genuinely hating his ass

he says random pickup line at you.

and will always try to insert his flirty comments.

are you a map? ‘cause I just got lost in your eyes, princess.

hey, I think I have a low iron cause every time I get up too fast I always end up falling for you.

no pen, no paper…but you still draw my attention.

the sunflowers would mistake you for the sun, all turning to look at you.

hey, what’s the month date today again?

It’s may now. may I finally be yours?

hey, Princess. Do you know the word of the day?

the what???

word of the day. it’s ‘legs’ so, why don’t we go home and spread the word?

no pickup lines today?

nah, don’t have any pick up lines cause I’m not tryna be picked up I’m trynna be pinned down. he smirks

It’s stupid, really.

but sometimes you find yourself blushing and a small smile coming at your lips

and of course, it won’t get unnoticed by him. he always feel proud at himself and a smug smirk is displaying his face

and, you sometimes tease him by flirting back.

“hey, how’s my favorite girl doing?” Kenji said as he enters the gym.

“your favorite girl is doing okay. how about her favorite boy, hmm?” you replied, as your eyes are still focused on the lifts. With the lack of reply, you look at him and there he was, standing frozenly as his cheeks painted tomato red.

“that was smooth.” He finally said after a solid minutes.

“wanna see if my lips are too?” you replied with a smirk.

—

“Watch out, sweetheart. You kinda sound like you’re flirting when we argue.” Kenji suddenly said as you guys argue over something stupid, again. You only roll your eyes as a response that make him chuckle.

“Whoa, watch at that attitude, princess, yeah?” he said after he whistled.

“attitude isn’t the only reason my eyes roll back.” you countered with a smirk, staring directly at his eyes.

—

“relationship are 50/50, you are a catch, so am I.”

“yeah right, a relationship is 50/50 you give me your last name while I scream your first.”

“WOAHH!?”

when you finally smile at him openly he gets caught off guard like

wow??? you are so beautiful??

He still continues to win you over even when he already has!

he calls you sunshine ironically because you are actually just the grumpy black cat gf

I don’t need protection.

yeah, believe me she doesn’t .

he calls you sweetheart, princess, pretty girl, baby and ma’am

you who glares while kenji just grins

he loves the way you laughed at his stupid jokes

you are laughing. I told a joke and you are laughing. I LOVE YOU.

kenji who looks at you first when he makes sarcastic comments / jokes to see if you are laughing.

My girl not allowed to watch IT cause i'm the only clown she needs in her life

LOVES LOVES the way you glare at everyone but smiles only at him.

like he is your only exception make him wanna just marry you right there

gets jealous when you suddenly a lot less grumpy in warners presence

he scrutinizing the fuck out of him FOR REAL

he will never admit that he's jealous of warner for his pride and ego cus he know warner only doing it to get on too him

but he will pout and will sass you

he will play pranks on someone who flirt with you using his ability to be invisible

It really gets handy

anddd aaron warner is always the victim of it

I mean yes, Warner can sense him BUT not when someone is really keeping him distracted

EHEM juliette EHEM

can't keep his laugh whenever warner come out annoyed at him bc of the pranks

“Remind me again, what did you even like about kishimoto?” Warner asks while kenji just huffed.

you, who is reading a book blatantly says without looking up, “his personality.” you feel someone’s pair of eyes on you

Warner raised his eyebrows, surprised. “Really now?”

“Fuck you mean by that?” Kenji interpreted while warner look at him with disgust on his eyes.

“yeah, i was surprised too.” you replied which cause your boyfriend to gasp dramatically and warner who chuckled.

Kenji grabbed at his chest dramatically, “wow. Betrayed by my own girl?” You laughed at him while you gave him a kiss on his temple while Warner rolled his eyes and left. Kenji who still annoyed at warner ignored it while he sassyingly left.

he ignored you for a solid 1 hour and then he comes at you asking for cuddles

he peppered some kisses on your face and calls it "skincare"

he puts flowers onto your hair

you always dig holes into someone just by glaring, and he'd bend down gently and lean over to whisper, “why don't we like them?”

he follows you like a puppy

whenever you stand up to go somewhere HE FOLLOWS.

WHENEVER YOU GO HE GO.

he worships the ground you walk on

he sees you a gift from God

he loves to be babied by you

but will never admit it

at the end, he is your sunshine to your cloudy mood.

#reader insert #rie answers 🦦#shatter me series #shatter me #riewrites 🫀#kenji kishimoto x reader #kenji kishimoto x you #kenji kishimoto #grumpy x sunshine #grumpy gf x sunshine bf #black cat gf x golden retriever bf #black cat gf #golden retriever bf #I love this song #PLS LISTEN TO IT

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dariaslookalike · 2 months

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Needing Miller pt I

Summary: It's a shit hole of a world that you're living in, and it gets even shittier when you're ambushed in your sleep. It's a slippery slope that leads you from being tucked cozily in your sleeping bag to joining the raiding group lead by the most infuriating (and intimidating) man you've ever met. You need to survive, above all else- either in this group (without smacking its leader over the head), or in the world alone after somehow escaping. Easier said than done, when your mind loses all sense of focus, tactics and skills the second that Joel Miller rolls up his sleeves and shows his godforsaken forearms.

Warnings: Violence, swearing, adult language, mature themes, eventual smut, female protagnist, no reference of y/n

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 6.6k

A/N: I posted this on AO3 under the same username, feel free to give that a look. I'm excited to be posting this cause its been sitting in my drafts FOREVVEEERRR but i'm also not going to be updating it on a regular schedule- uni and life blah blah blah

Next Chapter: Pt 2

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You know something is wrong before you wake up.

There’s a shift in the air. A warm, humid breeze puffs against your cheek. You squeeze your eyes tight, trying to savour the little bit of rest you can find here. It was a miracle to find a mall like this; abandoned, free of infected, and a safe place to spend the night.

But your gut sinks and there’s a sudden sense of dread that settles on your shoulders now, even in your half-asleep state. You’re tucked into the corner of an abandoned clothing store. The racks were mostly picked clean, or otherwise moth-eaten, but you had found some coverage behind the counter. You had laid your sleeping bag down and could only imagine it before the outbreak; girls younger than you standing behind the register, tiredly scanning item after item as some middle-aged woman goes into a drabble about her day. But the corner was still quiet and safe; more than you had been awarded in your recent weeks.

So why was there a breeze?

Your hand inches down and grips at your knife, tucked into your jeans. It was uncomfortable and prodding to sleep with, but right now you were more than grateful you had kept it beside you.

You open your eyes and are met with a row of crooked, yellowed teeth and wide eyes. The man’s face is pressed up against the floor and he grins at you, his nostrils flaring when your eyes meet his. You can see every dirty pore of his face, every cold sore littered around his mouth.

You scramble back, trying to put some distance between the two of you so that you can rip your hand out of the sleeping bag and stab him through his grinning mouth. He laughs, and it sounds bubbly and excited. You glance around quickly and see another man, standing off to the side. Not as if he’s on the lookout, but as if he’s simply overseeing his friend; supervising his fun. His face is hollow as he looks at you. Uncaring. You feel nauseous.

The man is wiry and everything about him is thin. The angle of his shoulders, the concavity of his neck, the tight pull of skin around his face. He shifts himself into a squat, and his hands snake out, gripping you by the shoulders. He pulls you up, and his bony fingers dig painfully into your shoulders, his rotten mouth fanning across you.

His voice is croaky and uneven, but he leers closer to you. “I’m gonna have so much fun with ya. Love it when they get that scared look on their face.”

You blanch, and feel your breath get caught in your throat. But damned if you give into his weird, kinky reverse psychology. You struggle, kicking out to him, and it does little more than shuffle your sleeping bag further down. He chuckles at your feeble attempt but you don’t stop. His hands pin you to the wall, but you’re almost thankful for it- it lets the sleeping bag tug down unresisted while you remain upright. He just smiles and it makes his face crease in a way that reminds you of a worn, leathered shoe.

“Look atcha. Pretty face. Can’t wait to see what those pretty lips do.”

He squeezes against the clothed flesh of your breast. He groans, and pushes himself forward, rutting against your leg. His hand kneads against your breast harshly. Your arm is finally out enough that you can wrench it free of the sleeping bag material, and you manage to kick it completely to your feet. He doesn’t notice, instead entranced by his groping.

But he fucked up. Let your shoulder go to be a pervert. Stupid fucking raider.

And then your arm is raising and your fingers are clutching the knife so tightly and your arm is swinging down and your muscles tense with the amount of force and your hand angles the blade for his neck.

But his eyes dart over at the last second and he stops chuckling, instead swinging himself to the side. Your knife misses his neck, but you follow it through regardless, driving it home into his shoulder.

He cries out in a twisted combination of pain and fury, and his hand drops from your breast. You see his friend advance closer, hands reaching to his jeans, where a gun is shoved into the side. The man in front of you snarls, not even bothering to tell him to back off with words; but his friend gets the message, and drops his hand, stepping back. Deeming you not a threat.

You dig the hilt in deeper and kick out, boots connecting against his shin.

He whips back to you, and spittle flies out of his mouth as he huffs in pain. But his other hand still pins your shoulder, and in a second it readjusts to your throat, squeezing against the column of your neck. His eyes are somehow wider, and you can see the red veins surrounding them.

You’re forced to abandon the knife in his shoulder, and instead both your hands come up to claw at his hand. He laughs, and reaches up, twisting the knife out of his shoulder in a pained yell. You want to tell him he shouldn’t have done that. Stupid fucking raider. That he might bleed out now if you were lucky enough to nick an artery. But instead, you bare your teeth and your hands reach out, clawing at his eyes when it proves futile to attack his hand. His fingers squeeze tighter at your throat and you suck in your last breath.

He’s going to kill you, says a small voice in your head.

He angles his head back just far enough that your hands can’t dig into his flesh and the strain makes his neck look taut and ready to snap. You’re starting to get lightheaded. He laughs again, and you kick out; but this time it’s weak, frenzied and doesn’t land with the direction or force as before.

He’s going to kill you. Stupid fucking raider.

The bloodied knife is in his hand and he angles it up, digging the tip into the apple of your right cheek. The hand at your throat relaxes, and you realise it’s for the same reason his friend didn’t intervene. You weren’t a threat. You gulp down air and it brings back focus to you. You dig your fingernails into his forearm but he doesn��t even flinch as you draw blood, and gouge your nails in deeper. He just shows all his yellow, rotting teeth in a grin.

“Thought we could have some fun.” He moves his face closer, sneering. “But you’re a fucking bitch with this fucking knife.” He digs it in, and you feel blood dribble down your face. “Gonna make sure you’re just as fucking ugly outside as you are inside.”

He digs it in deeper but his eyes stay trained on you. You realise he’s waiting for you to start begging. To start pleading for yourself, for your skin, for your face. To convince him not to maul you and assault you and kill you.

You spit on him and it lands across his nose and cheeks. “Fuck you. I’ll still look better than you, you inbred piece of shit.”

He drags it down your face and you hate the satisfaction in his eyes when you cry out. You feel it slice through tissue and he drags it from your right cheekbone down the length of your face, and it’s such a searing, precise pain that throbs throughout your whole face; he could have been stabbing you in the eye at the same time, and you wouldn’t have been able to differentiate. You can feel the tip of the blade scrap against your teeth and gums and blood fills your mouth and your lips part, letting blood flow out instead of choking on it.

But then a shot rings out. And the hand at your throat falls and the knife is wrenched out of your face.

You can feel your own blood gushing down your cheek but there’s something warm and wet splashed across the entirety of your face. You crumple to the ground, and your hands press themselves against your cheek, trying to halt the bleeding. You can’t even think, don’t even know why you’re trying to stop the blood flow when there’s no way you’re making it out of here alive. He was going to have his way with you and he was going to kill you and his friend was going to-

Your eyes flick across the floor, and travel up his pair of jeans, to his bloodstained shirt, to his face that’s half missing. It’s a bullet hole in the same manner as an asteroid being played in a darts game. There is no precision or clear entry or minuscule crater. His face is torn apart in a mess of red and flesh and wet and his one eye stays on you, unseeing. Your spit is still flecked across his cheek.

You lean over and vomit, and it’s a horrible mixture of bile from your empty stomach and red from your cheek. It stings against your wound, an acidic pang.

Someone’s talking and you’re reminded of the man standing to the side. But it’s two voices. Your ears are buzzing.

“What did I fucking tell you about the girls? What the fuck did I say?” Commanding. Brutal.

“I-I’m sorry Joel.”

A thud. “I asked you a fucking question. What did I say?”

“T-to not touch 'em. To not think about it.”

“‘should blow your fucking head off. Look at your friend-” You can see in your peripheral that the man’s head is clenched in the newcomer's hand, and twisted in your direction. There’s enough force that he could have had his neck snapped, but he simply stumbles and looks over towards you.

“You think for a second of doing the same as him, and I’ll wrench your skull off with my bare hands. Now get the fuck out of here. Don’t come back.”

And then there’s silence.

The man still stares up at you. His head has become a puddle on the floor. He’s missing half of his face, and you think the other half is splattered on you.

You stare at him.

Can’t stop.

Stupid fucking raider.

He was going to kill you.

His chest doesn’t rise and fall. He’s not gasping for breath. Your cheek is a searing, blinding pain, and you wonder if he felt anything while it happened.

The red of his face drips onto the tiled floor. It spreads out, and soaks into the corner of your sleeping bag that’s crumpled to the floor. You can see his brain but you can’t rationalise it with the diagrams you had seen of a pink, fleshy oval. It’s red and dripping and chunks of it are hanging out and it looks more like a splattered, bruised tomato than some scientific drawing.

You should be standing up. Running. Sprinting until your legs give out. Wiping his blood off your face. Stopping your bleeding. That’s what the voice in your head tells you. You’re vaguely aware that the man- Joel, says the small voice, is still in the room with you. That he might be worse than the man now soaking into the floor.

But you stare at him. Can’t stop. He was going to kill you.

It’s like the world dulls when the other man crouches in front of you. Your ears don’t hear anything. Your eyes only see the red veins of the man in front of you, blooming out as he drains onto the ground. You feel lightheaded and the throb of your cheek and sting of your bruised neck fade into the background.

And then a hand touches your chin, which is wet with…you’re not sure. Your blood. His. Tears.

He- Joel, the voice in your head hisses- tilts your face to him and your eyes are wrenched away from the man on the floor, and instead, you meet brown ones. Crows feet creep out at the corners. There’s a notch in between his eyebrows as they furrow. His nose is strong and carved and his jaw is square. He says something and you don’t hear it, instead eyes dropping to the movement of his lips.

And then the world rushes back in.

Your ears are filled with the noise of your heavy, ragged breathing, you feel the bright, stinging pain in your face, and you can smell the iron spreading from you and on the floor. And you don’t know how but your knife is back in your hand. It’s still red. You don’t care. Instead, your pulse is thrumming in your neck and you feel it drip down your face. And your muscles are all screaming at you in support and that voice in your head is a rapid chant of yes yes yes yes. And there’s adrenaline filling your chest, and you growl, eyes twisting and you lash out like a rabid animal, your teeth gnashing and your knife swinging down in a high arc and this time you’ll make it count, you’ll make it land, you’ll fight and you’ll scream and you’ll kill and you’ll-

Your knife doesn’t even make it halfway through the air before a hand grabs your wrist, stopping all motion with that one action; like screeching a train to a halt.

You growl, and it comes out guttural in your heavy breath. You bare your teeth and taste your blood. You angle the knife down, tilting it so that the bloodied edge digs into the large hand grabbing your wrist. You see blood start to drip down his wrist and you force more pressure into the hilt of the knife. Slice it through tissue and tendon and bone. Create that searing, precise pain.

You carve a nice wound into the hand, but then with only a flex of tendons, Joel squeezes your wrist so tightly that your bones groan against each other. Your hand involuntarily flexes and the knife clatters to the ground beside you.

Your free hand snakes up, aiming to gouge out his eyes. He huffs, and again, easily grips your wrist in his hand.

You bite back your cry this time, and snarl. “I’ll fucking kill you.”

It comes out garbled, and blood drips from the inside and outside of your cheek, but he understands. He scoffs. It’s not perverted or desperate in the way the man’s was; it’s genuine disbelief. His voice rumbles out from him, deep and unyielding. “And how are you gonna do that?”

Stupid fucking raider.

You use his grip against him, his resistance to let go of your wrists. You force yourself forward, and his tight hold on you means that he falls back, and lands against his back with a dull oof. You raise your elbow as high as it can and slam it back down into his sternum. You slam your knee down, and it connects with his crotch; you hear him groan beneath you painfully. You go to kick out at him, knee him in the crotch again until his grandkids are screaming for you to stop, but his thighs cage you, and tighten around both your legs. You stretch your fingers out like claws and rack them down his neck, drawing lines that bloom in red. He adjusts his grip, and his hands easily envelop yours completely.

You stare down at him huffing, and struggle in his grip, like a mouse caught in a snake’s hold. You jab anything you can into him, your elbow back in further, your hip into his thigh. You land blow after blow and you’re sure they’ll bruise by the way he hisses and groans. But he’s stronger than you and his hold tightens around you, squeezing in until you can’t move at all, instead pinned against him. Now that he knows you’re resistant, he doesn’t let you move an inch.

His broad, thick legs squeeze against your own so that you’re lying atop him, while he holds your hands painfully between the two of you. His hand is pouring out blood from where your knife sliced, and it seeps over your hands, sticky and wet and reeking of iron.

Joel scoffs again, and you think it’s the most annoying sound you’ve ever heard.

“Real impressive- first time I’ve seen an elbow jab be used as a killing blow.”

His drawl is Southern; smooth and honeyed, which almost sweetens his mocking words. You’re going to tear his throat out with your teeth.

He looks up at you, and his eyes almost soften. But then his face morphs into something tense, something rigid and he shakes his head. “‘M not gonna kill ya. Or hurt ya.”

You laugh, and your hair falls with the movement, spilling to frame your face and hang over the man beneath you. Your blood drips from you onto his cheek. He doesn’t move to wipe it away.

“Exactly what your filthy fucking raider friend said. We’d have some ‘fun’.” You lean down, eyes wide, and you chuckle, trying to not let the pure fear seep through. His grip is so strong on your hands that you know he could splinter your bones right now if he wanted to; he stops you from leaning closer to his neck as you planned, and you gnash your teeth. “I’ll bite your fucking dick off if you put it near me.”

You expect him to scoff. Maybe slam you into the floor, push your face into the puddle of the last man who hurt you. Break your hands.

Instead, he lets go of you. Loosens his legs against yours.

You stare down at him for a moment, shocked. But then you scramble back, so quickly you almost slip, until your back is against the wall. You reach out, gripping the hilt of the knife you lost in the palm of your hand.

You sit back on your haunches and breathe heavily, eyes trained on the man in front of you. His eyes don’t leave yours but he sits up. Draws his legs in closer. Pushes to his feet, and crouches, mirroring you.

You both stare at each other, and you can feel his attention on the knife in your hands, the tension in your shoulders. You take in the reddish lines down his neck, scratched down the surface. Your blood on his cheek. His blood dripping off his fingers. You force yourself to swallow. You tried stabbing him once and he easily stopped you; it won’t take much now that he’s expecting it too. You force yourself to still your breathing. Force yourself to place the knife beside you, on the floor.

He nods at the action and raises his hands, palms facing towards you. An act of surrender too.

“‘M Joel.” He says, and it’s so simple that it leaves you blinking for a few seconds, waiting for him to continue. But you realise he’s waiting for you to introduce yourself, and you do so. He whispers your name under his breath, as if verbally committing it to memory.

“I meant it- ‘M not gonna hurt you.” He tilts his head and spits against the dead man on the floor. “That fucker’s always been a problem.”

A problem. His words from earlier rush in; reminding the other man that he had warned them about girls. You run your tongue along your teeth. It tastes coppery. “You’ll let me leave?”

He nods again, slowly, as if you were a cornered animal. You suppose you were. “‘f ya want.”

You nod slightly, and the movement makes you aware of the wet drip from your cheek, and the dried splatter across your face.

He sighs. You knew there was going to be a ‘but’. Stupid fucking raiders.

“You’re gonna run into bad things out here,” His tone is matter-of-fact. “Fuck knows where you’re going, but others won’t be as kind as I am.”

You gesture your head to the body between you two. “As kind as him?”

“Worse.”

“So what? You’re telling me to get off your turf, turn around and don’t look back?”

He shakes his head again and huffs out a breath as if all this talking is tiring him. “No. I’m telling you to join us.”

You blink. Your cheek still drips and the pain at your neck still stings. You scoff, and your hand itches for the knife at your side. “So I can be your group’s whore? I said I’d bite anything you put near me.”

“We don’t do that to women. Or girls.” His eyes dip down to you at that, taking you in, assessing you. You wondered if you looked like some dirty street urchin. “But I’m one man down, and you clearly have some fight in you.”

You clench your jaw, ignoring the sting of your cheek. “I don’t trust you.”

He stares at you and tilts his head to the man beside you, his tone sharp and biting. “You think he trusted me? ’M not going to be your fucking friend.”

He pushes to his feet so suddenly and quickly that you flinch back, hands gripping the hilt of the knife beside you instantly. His eyes track the movement, and his lips tug up the smallest amount as if you proved his point. That you would still fight.

He huffs and rolls his eyes as if it’s the most obvious choice in the world. “Leave. Stay. I don’t give a shit, but it’s going to be the best deal you get out here. ‘Specially before you bleed out.”

He points at his own face, mirroring the wound on your cheek. And then he turns and steps over the dead man, and walks away. You watch his form; the broad expanse of his back. The muscled tone of his thighs beneath his jeans. His full height now that he was standing.

You could run the other way. Forget about his warning and keep heading east, not that you had a place in mind. Maybe he was bluffing- maybe there was no one else here, and he was banking on you not questioning it…Except you had seen the evidence of raiders as you advanced here. You weren’t stupid enough to not recognise tracks kicked into the dirt, or the rubbish left behind or the corpses that weren’t decayed by years, but were newly rotting.

You could listen to him, and just turn around; pray you didn’t run into any groups you had somehow avoided and go back to fucking FEDRA and everything you tried to leave behind. Or…stay. Stay with the stupid fucking raiders who split your face open but have someone to look out for you; someone to take watch while you slept, instead of just crossing your fingers and hoping that would be enough- because it clearly wasn’t.

Fuck.

You curse yourself. Reach out, and wind up your bloodied sleeping bag as quickly as possible, shoving it into your bag. Sling your pack across your shoulder, and stand up. You shove your knife into your jeans.

You look down at the dead man. There is an unholy halo of blood, blooming around what’s left of his head, that edges onto the toe of your boot.

You walk past and kick him.

It’s not hard to find Joel. He’s leisurely walking down the hall outside; as if he knew you were going to chase after him. He doesn’t turn when you come up beside him, but he talks, his low voice grumbling out between the two of you.

“I’ll get someone to have a look at that. As…an apology for what happened back there.”

Your cheek thrums in pain, and you nod. Can’t exactly expect a bouquet of roses for nearly getting assaulted by one of his henchmen. Some good stitches and antiseptic would be the next best thing. You reach up, and press the cuff of your flannel into your cheek, reminded that you should be putting pressure on it. You try not to swallow the blood in your mouth too much. You wonder how bad it’ll scar.

“Thanks. I guess.”

He nods, and you walk like that through the mall for a bit. He’s leading you back to the entrance you realise, and you have to quicken your pace to keep up with his long strides. You look up at him. “So..are we going to talk about schematics?”

He glances down at you, eyebrow furrowed, and scowling. “You’re not getting a fucking badge for joining.”

“No.” You scoff. “I mean you said we had a deal. What are the strings attached?”

“Strings? This isn’t a business deal. You join. You do what I say. You’ll get fed, protected, the works.” His eyes are stony as he looks at you. Not glaring at you but glaring nonetheless. “Better than what FEDRA can fucking offer.”

There’s a beat between the two of you where he awaits an answer to a question he never asked. Finally, you nod.

“Okay.”

He nods and faces away from you again. Joel’s peace is short-lived when you tsk, speaking up once more.

“What about the rest of the group?”

Another unspoken question, but he reads it loud and clear in the tense of your shoulders, the blood still dripping down your face, the pain as you speak each word and try not to catch your ruined flesh in your teeth. Would you be safe? His Adam apple bobs and he slows, coming to a full stop. He faces you fully, and you clutch the strap of your bag, barely breathing. The glint of a gun is at his waist. You didn’t see it earlier in all the commotion, but now it draws your attention. The same gun that shot your attacker; his man.

You’re reminded that he could kill you easily now. Gun or not. He didn’t sound like he was exaggerating when he threatened to rip off that other man’s head.

“If I say no one’s touching you, no one’s fucking touching you. That’s it. Now shut up.”

He turns and walks more briskly now, and you have to actually jog a bit to catch up after standing there dumbfounded. Rude. Arrogant. But…he was going to keep you safe. Had shot someone- no, not someone, but shot one of his fellow raiders to keep you safe when you didn’t even know him.

He was the only thing standing between you and the rest of the people in his group; the only thing standing between you and the other raiders you had narrowly avoided, combing over the area; and more importantly, the only person standing between your gaping wound getting infected and septically killing you.

You were fucked.

You swallow and remain silent at his side, passing through half-empty shops to get to the mall’s entry. The hallway broadens up into a large foyer, where a water fountain sits, desolate. An abandoned food court surrounds it, tables and chairs cleared out to one side. There’s a group standing at the fountain and you falter. Maybe you should just leave. Run while you still can. Face what’s out there.

But Joel turns beside you and casts a knowing, disapproving look at you as if he could tell exactly what you were thinking. You clench your jaw, ignoring him, and continue forward.

The group talked excitedly, loudly, as if it didn’t matter who heard them. Some of them sit on the lip of the fountain while others stand and talk. The chatter dies down when Joel walks up, and all eyes turn to him.

But their attention is torn, and you feel eyes rake over you; taking in your ruined cheek that’s bleeding down your neck and onto your shirt. Your small statue. The rigid tense of your shoulders. The stained knife in your waistband.

Joel notices and rolls his shoulders, the same way a lion stretches its paws out; a show of power and restraint. “Terry’s gone.”

All the eyes drag back over to him, and you see a man in the back visibly pale. The same man from earlier. Standing guard. Your stomach curdles, and you inch closer to Joel, trying to hide slightly behind his broad form.

Joel tenses when he feels you brush against his arm but he's not obvious in reacting when he sees the same man. You think that, if you weren’t a centimetre from him, you wouldn’t see the rigid still of his shoulders or the flick of his gaze over the faces, that lands and stays on the man. You can hear his words and wonder if he’s rethinking them too. Don’t come back.

He tilts his head down to you and you hate the swivel of eyes, how everyone is now permitted to look at you. The man’s face at the back hardens.

You wonder if he’s staring at the splatter of his friend across your face. Or the ragged gouge in your cheek- he was now the only one here who had seen your face unmarred. You hate that thought.

“She’s with us now. Anyone thinks of following Terry’s footsteps-”

Joel’s hand moves so fast you don’t register it reaching down to his waistband and coming back up until his gun is firing again. The man at the back drops in a spray of red and you shudder out a breath, eyes wide. The noise leaves your ears in shock and everyone takes a step back, some swearing and other’s hands going over their heads.

“And you won’t live to regret it.”

You swallow, and your stomach folds in on itself. Jesus. And Joel said he was kind. What the fuck had you agreed to? Who had you agreed to?

The other men nod, and you realise it’s subordinate. A curt response to their boss. Joel. The leader of this group of raiders. Joel, who had just killed two of his men- one for hurting you, another for disobeying him. Some of their eyes flick back to the now-dead man, whose head is pooling out on the floor.

Joel scoffs. “Deal with that.”

He gestures at two of the men. They spring into action, not questioning him for a second. Joel turns his attention to another man, standing closer to both of you.

“Ryan. Patch her up.”

The man, Ryan, nods. Joel steps away from you, and you almost step with him, not wanting to be left here. But you still yourself. Force your legs to remain planted. Don’t let these strangers think that you need someone to protect you. He walks away, back into the mall as if he wasn’t finished with whatever had dragged him there in the first place.

Ryan walks closer to you. He’s wearing faded jeans and a military-style jacket; all pockets and thick material. He offers you a thin-lipped smile; an acknowledgement and nothing else. You don’t return it.

He gestures his head towards the fountain. “Sit. I’ll see what I can do for you.”

You give him a short, curt nod, but don’t turn your back to him or anyone. Everyone watches you warily. But when you sit, and Ryan shoots a look over his shoulder at them all, that has a flash of Joel’s authority, the conversation gradually returns.

It doesn’t even get interrupted when the body is dragged away. You don’t look. You brace yourself against the edge, hands gripping the tiles. You look up at the man in front of you.

“You ‘re a doctor?”

His lips tug, and he reaches over, grabbing a backpack set near the fountain. “Something like that,” he mutters, riffling through the bag. “I was before the outbreak. Haven’t been one for a long time.”

You nod. He looks to be in his thirties. He must have been just out of med school when the outbreak hit; fresh, probably still doe-eyed and hoping to make a difference in the world of patients.

“Doctor to raider. Crazy pipeline.”

He sighs and looks down at you. You see gauze and a sewing kit in his hand. “Yeah. Did Terry do this to you? Did he…do anything else I need to look at?”

You swallow. Shake your head. “No. Didn’t get that far before Joel found me. He just,” You tilt your neck to the side, exposing the now purple marks on your skin. You wonder how much blood is stained against them. “Choked me too.”

“Told him he was gonna find out if he fucked around.” Ryan huffs angrily, muttering to himself. “I can’t do much for your neck.”

He places his materials down and instead grabs a rag from within the bag. It looks clean enough, at least. He dampens it with his water bottle and then passes it over to you. You wipe it across one side of your face but don’t bother touching the still-flowing wound. You swipe it down your neck, and finally across your hands; you think most of it is your blood, dried against your skin, but your eye catches the toe of your boot. Where you had stepped in Terry, or what Joel left of him.

Ryan takes back the rag and draws his eyes back to yours. His hand reaches up, pressing against the skin of your neck. You flinch back before forcing yourself to relax; he was an examining doctor, not an opportunistic pervert. Hopefully.

“He didn’t do much damage here. It’ll feel worse but then the bruises will fade. As for your cheek…” He tilts his head and bends at the waist, inspecting the torn flesh better. “I’m gonna have to stitch you up. It’s starting to clot which is good but it’s straight through.”

“Yeah. I can taste it.”

Ryan’s lips don’t curl at your statement, instead, he nods in understanding. He rifles in the bag again and produces a large bottle. When he opens it, it smells like the tea tree oil that your mother used to keep in the bathroom cabinet.

“Nature’s antiseptic- it’ll work fantastic at cleaning and keeping out infection, but it’s going to hurt like a bitch and I don’t have anything to give you.”

Did you just look so pathetic and bruised up that he was taking pity on you?

“Can’t be worse than being stabbed in the face, right?”

He shrugs and it does nothing to fill you with confidence. He opens the bottle and pours out some onto his hands and the needle in his grip, sterilising them in a mock imitation of surgery conditions. You force yourself to turn from him, expose your wounded cheek to him.

You don’t know how you sit still. The first stitch is piercing and stinging and brings the throbbing attention back to your cheek. You can’t look at him, so you focus somewhere in front of you; count the cracks in the tiles and the amount of squares. By halfway, you’re not resisting the tears streaming down your face, or wiping the blood that’s dripping down to your chin again. You feel like you’re going to throw up again and acid rises at the back of your throat.

When he finally pulls back and cuts the thread, your hands are shaking. Then he slathers antiseptic across the stitches, taping gauze across them and you think you might pass out.

You must look like you’re about to because Ryan’s bloodied hands reach out to steady you. You blink, hazily and couldn’t smile at him now even if you wanted to.

“Thanks.” You say, but it’s muffled from how little you move your lips. Everything in your face is pulsating. He nods and gives you a worried look.

“You should lie down. You’re gonna be in a lot of pain, and if you can sleep through it, you should.”

You cast a glance around you. In the whole process, you hadn’t realised that the sun had settled and night had fallen in the skylights high above. You can count them now; there are five other men here, all ranging in age, some close to yours, and some older than Ryan. They’re split off in separate groups close to the fountain. Three of them sleep to one side, while the others sit around an open fire. It’s jarring, to see a bonfire in the centre of a shopping mall, even though the world has ended. But there’s no Joel.

“No, it’s fine. I’ll just sit here.”

Ryan’s eyes crinkle as if he knows what you’re thinking. “I won’t let anyone get near you if that’s what you’re worried about. You can trust me to stitch up your face, you can trust me to do that, right?”

“Why?”

You bite your lip, eyebrows furrowed. You don’t bother asking much else. He knows what you’re asking. You’re a raider. I’m a girl you don’t know. Why are you being kind?

He nods, and his lips tug down. “I was a doctor. Swore to protect and to heal. And, I know Terry isn’t a good representation of it but… this is a good group.”

“Good?” You ask, cheek throbbing. “Does my face look good right now?”

Ugly. Inside. And Out. You shake away the words, and stare at Ryan’s face, ignoring the tears swelling in your eyes again. He chews his cheek and looks at you earnestly.

“Terry was bad. Everyone here,” He gestures with his hand towards the rest of the group. “Knows to not fuck around with Joel’s rules. He said not to go after girls. He said you’re with us. So I’ll watch over you, but you’re safe either way.”

You nod slightly, sighing. You glance back to Ryan, voice quiet. “Does he…do that a lot? Shoot people to prove a point?”

The man doesn’t flinch at your question and just shrugs. “He’s brutal. It’s what’s made us survive for this long. If he says something he means it; following through just shows everyone that he means business. Don’t get it in your head that just because he dealt with Terry, or brought you into the group, means that he’s kind, or that he cares about you. You’ll be doing your part, just like the rest of us. ”

You nod but still have to bite back the sting of his words. His eyes meet yours as if he was still examining you. Your part. What part did you have in a raiding group?

His expression softens.

“I’ll keep watch over you.”

He stitched up your face, so you feel inclined to believe he wouldn’t let his handiwork go to waste by letting you get shivved in your sleep. And you’re not going to sit around and wait for Joel, especially now that he wasn’t simply your gun-slinging saviour; he was the leader, the killer, the brutal man in charge. You wonder if you should regret joining him; regret the feeling of debt for his two dead men.

But you just nod and slide off the water fountain until you sit on the ground, where you can roll out your sleeping bag.

Ryan stays true to his word, and remains by the fountain as you slip into your sleeping bag, and turn on your side so that your bandaged cheek doesn’t touch the fabric. You try not to think about how Terry’s blood is dried on one corner. You settle with your back to the fountain, not wanting to expose yourself to the rest of the group just yet.

The pain is throbbing. Your wrists and hands and whole body hurt from when you grappled with Joel earlier. You feel exhausted from the rush of adrenaline, the loss of blood, the horrors of the day.

You slip into an uneasy, pained sleep.

#joel miller x reader #the last of us fanfic #joel miller fanfic #raider!joel #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #dariaslookalike fic #raider!joel x reader

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cuteskunkz · 1 month

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‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.Good Morning Princess ₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

~Part 2~

(Dom!Mike Schmidt x Sub!Reader)

~Summary: Mike comes home after a long day and needs to blow off some steam. Continuation of part one!!!

~Tags: Pet names, degradation, praise, breeding kink, daddy kink, brat taming, gawk gawk 3000, penetrative sex, afab!reader

Note: This is pretty much porn LMFAO!! Read part one for the full story.... or not if you're horny no judgement ;) Just a reminded that I am brand spankin new to writing fanfic so apologies if it's mid. Pls lemme know if you're interested in more, my amas are always open to ideas <333

⊱✿⊰

Mike grabs your face with one hand. This causes you to pout at him and furrow your brows. "Don't make me cuff you again" Mike says playfully. You take it as a challenge, deciding to be the biggest brat possible. You knew how much Mike loved taming you, it was like a newfound hobby for him. At one point your attitude was so much he had to throw you over his shoulder and carry you to the bedroom to teach you better manners.

"Or what? I can handle some stupid pair of cuffs" you say while staring at Mikes baby pink lips. He pins you to the bed. His strength is impressive, you couldn't fight him off even if you tried. The guy definitely takes his push ups seriously. You start wiggling underneath him knowing this will piss him off more. His hands only grip tighter around your wrists, further restraining you. "You're so fuckin needy- do you know that?" he growls. You face away from him suddenly feeling bashful.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you." You lock eyes with Mike, your mouth slightly agape. You take notice of his light brown freckles and it's like your heart skips a beat. "Good girl. Now get on your knees" he directs. He loosens his grip on you and stands next to the bed waiting for you to follow his order. "Nah I think I'll stay riiiiight here. You know Mike- your bed is soooo comfy I couldn't possibly eveeerrrr get u-" he grabs your throat and pulls upward forcing you to stand and make your way off the bed. Your tiny fingers attempt to pry him off but it's no use. "Im gonna fuck your mouth until your dumb little brain is empty. How does that sound hm?"

That's all it took for you to turn back into his subservient toy. "Anything for you sir". You lower yourself down onto your knees and stick your tongue out. Mike had you basically trained to take position for times like these. He taps his cock on your tongue a few times allowing you to mentally prepare for his length before roughly thrusting into your throat at a decent pace. "It's like you were made for me. God you're so pretty sucking on me like that. Thank daddy for stuffing his cock in your mouth." He pulls back slightly leaving his member resting just barely on your lips. "Thank you daddy" you reply. "Thank you for what? Use your big girl words"

"Thank you for f-fucking my throat." He smiles, "There we go. Good girl". He thrusts back into your mouth and pumps even faster than before. Guess your words really motivated him or something. Mike takes your hair into both his hands and forces you deeper. The sounds of you sputtering and gagging on him push him closer to his climax. You stare up at him with tears rolling down your blushing cheeks. You'd pay any price to stay in this state of pure bliss. "You look so beautiful when you're cockdrunk, princess. I know it's a lot but you're doing so well... j-just a little longer I promise"

Mike pulls out of your mouth leaving spit strings attaching you to him. He grips your sides and picks you up, laying you down on the edge of his bed. You instinctively rest your legs on his chest anytime you're put into the missionary position as it allows him to hit your more sensitive areas easier. He began lining up his length to your throbbing cunt, causing butterflies in your stomach. "You still with me?". You couldn't focus anymore but to nod in confirmation. A low groan left his lips as he slid into you. Slowly but surely you stretched to fit all of him.

"You're all mine princess- ALL fucking mine." Mike pounds deeply into you, using your hips as a handle to move you onto him like his personal fuck toy. The sounds of your pussy around him as well as your high pitched moans were so intoxicating to Mike. You were his favorite pastime activity. "I'm gonna pump so much cum into your sweet little pussy baby. Gonna fill you" he says while wrapping one hand around your throat. Just the thought of him finishing in you made you feel like a feral animal in heat.

Your climax sneaks up on you. You uncontrollably tremble on Mike while babbling what sounds like his name over and over again. Maybe if you were coherent it would be more obvious. "That's it, keep it up little fuck bunny. I love it when your tight pussy drools for me". You felt so overstimulated, bucking and rolling around but his hands pin you once more until he can finish. You felt so small and weak under his control.

He bottoms out in you. You can feel his rhythm getting sloppier, signifying his closeness. "Oh fuck b...baby I'm gon....gonna-" he whimpers. His head falls back while his fingernails dig into your hips. You're filled to the brim with his cum, some of it leaking out around him. For a second it's silent (beside the sound of both of you catching your breath that is). He slowly pulls out, careful not to spill any of his seed out of you. Mike slips his middle finger into you to push it deeper leaving you feeling deliciously full.

You lay there with your eyes closed unable to wipe the grin off your face. "If this is what happens when I mouth off to him I definitely gotta do it more often" you think to yourself. You distractedly replay the series of events that just happened in your head. You hate to say it but you definitely tuned Mike out for a bit to recall everything correctly. "Hello? You there? Did I kill you? Oh no!! My poor baby!!" he teases, pretending to cry. "What will I ever do!!" He throws himself on top of you like a damsel in distress, pretty much crushing you. "Mikey I swear to god I will punch you" you chuckle. "You do that and I'll tell Abby you threw away her favorite crayons." You pull the blanket right below your eyes pretending to be scared, "Hey man I was just playing around- you'll actually get me killed like that."

⊱✿⊰

This is the final part of Good Morning Princess <3 I hope you guys enjoyed as much as I have!! It was so much fun writing this and I can't wait to keep creating. That being said if y'all have ideas please send them in, i'm pretty busy but Im on here daily. Thanks for reading!!!

#josh hutcherson #mike schmidt #breeding k1nk #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt x reader #mike schimdt fanfic #mike schmidt smut #josh hutcherson smut #smut #fanfic #fnaf movie #fnaf movie fanfic #fnaf movie smut #Josh Hutcherson I need you PLEASE #Spotify

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lattaeyongs · 2 years

Text

two tickets to paradise (sjn)

original gif

↳ pairing: johnny suh x reader

↳ word count: 14.8k

↳ genre: best friend!johnny, vacation (resort)!au, summer!au, fake dating!au, best friends to lovers!au, fluff, slight angst

↳ summary: after your fiance leaves you at the altar, you’re devastated – but not devastated enough to cancel your honeymoon. instead, your best friend johnny accompanies you, and you start thinking that your fiance wasn’t right for you after all.

↳ warnings: sexual tension, sexual inuendos, nudity

↳ a/n (1): loosely based on a hallmark movie with the same name!

It was supposed to be the best day of your life. It’s the day that many little girls dream of. Weddings were supposedly chances to twirl around in a pretty dress and walk down the aisle with everyone watching you be united with the love of you life who would be there for you through sickness and health. It was the day that all eyes were on you.

All eyes were on you, but not for those reasons. Today was the day that you were jilted at the altar, by the man you thought loved you. Months of meticulous planning just evaporated into thin air. Days spent picking napkin colors, addressing invitations, and touring venue options were all for naught.

It’s like a gaping pit in your stomach erupted when you were arm-in-arm with your father at the end of the aisle, and Qian Kun wasn’t standing there with a lovestruck gaze pinned on you as he anticipated a fulfilling effect of married life. You thought you were dreaming, that maybe if you blinked a few times, your fiance would just appear from thin air.

That you wouldn’t be living the most embarrassing moment of your life because of him.

The guests’ heads were turned to you, their eyes filled with pity. They all waited a couple of minutes before saying anything. Then, that’s when the murmuring began. The pleasant summer sunshine now felt like blades stabbing your skin. All right. Maybe Kun is just late, that’s all. He just got caught up in downtown traffic as he was trying to make it to the venue – a historic park near your beloved childhood home, and the venue is decorated with beautiful, lush flowers. Any moment now, he would run up to the altar, his hair windswept in a way that only he can pull off, and he would smile sheepishly before getting ready to make a vow to be true to you and to you only.

That never happened.

These few moments of tension between you, your father, and the guests felt like an eternity.

Kun isn’t going to show up, and not because of traffic, but because he doesn’t want to marry you.

It’s as if the world is melting around you as tears start to fall from your eyes. The greens, reds, oranges, and blues from the guests’ outfits and the wedding decor all swirl together, and you unhook your arm from your father’s as you run out of the wedding venue. Your father wants to pursue you, and you can tell that from the way he calls your name, but you don’t turn back to look back at him. You don’t listen to the audible gasps and the murmurs increasing in volume, all you can think about is running. Grabbing the hem of your lacy dress in an attempt to maneuver yourself through the gardens, you look for places you can hide, places where no one is going to find you, places where you wish you could just melt away from the world.

How are you ever going to live this down? How are you ever going to see anyone again? They’re going to think of you as Y/N, the poor girl whose fiance decided last minute that he didn’t want to marry her.

You cry. You have a good cry where wailing sobs slip out of your throat, until your throat feels raw, which is exactly how your heart is feeling. With how your head drops to your hands to block out any semblance of light, your makeup smudges in your palms, but you don’t care. Why should you? If Kun didn’t want to marry you, then who would?

Your cries turn more silent, where tears slip onto your cheeks without warning and fall onto your lap. In the sunlight, they look like little diamonds.

You sit in silence for a while, the rustling of the trees, the chirping of birds, and the quacking of ducks being your only company when you hear approaching footsteps. You quickly try to rub your eyes. You’re used to the occasional runner taking a jog at this part since only the historic gardens near a beautiful seventeenth-century mansion serve as the venue for your wedding, not the rest of the park, filled with trails and nature for others to enjoy. You looked out of place at this duck pond by a walking trail, in your white wedding dress sporting dirt stains during the time you’re sitting on a gray, dusty concrete bench, but you tried to make yourself seem a little bit presentable. You would only look at joggers or people walking their dogs for a couple of seconds before they can notice your red-rimmed eyes.

But the footsteps don’t belong to a random person just minding their life. They belong to your oldest friend, Johnny Suh.

Johnny’s hair is parted to the side of his heart-shaped head, clearly washed and gelled for the occasion. His suit is a crisp gray, the sheen like morning dew, and you have good reason to believe that it’s designer. He’s wearing pointed Aldo shoes as he approaches you at the bench, and now you can see the sheen on his forehead, from sweat as the sun beat down on him while he tried to find you. He doesn’t say anything, only offering a smile. For him, it’s of relief that he’s found you in this four-hundred-something acre historic park.

“What are you doing here?” You ask bluntly.

“I was in the area,” Johnny says innocently.

You snort. “Did my parents put you up to this?” Right now, you didn’t want to see anyone who was at that wedding. You can already feel the embarrassment creeping up your cheeks the longer Johnny is here – the thought of facing your family and friends after this fiasco made your heart climb to your throat.

“No,” He says simply. “I remembered that this was your favorite place to come after school. You always liked coming here and thinking.” You’re surprised that Johnny remembers this about you when high school was almost a decade ago.

“Your sister wanted to come with me,” he says. You perk up at the thought of your sister. Oh, your sweet sister Iris. You can already feel yourself comparing yourself to her. Here she was, with her husband of six years and her son, watching you get abandoned at the altar. How lovely.

“I told her that you needed some space. That too many people shouldn’t try to come and console you.” You’re thankful for the courtesy.

“And that’s why you’re here? To console me?” You ask. The word ‘console’ stung you. It had a connotation of pity. If there was anything you wanted less right now was pity.

Johnny almost laughs. “Console you? I know you better than that. I came here to make sure you didn’t start talking to trees.” For the first time after the wedding disaster, you smile genuinely. You’re notoriously known with your close family and friends for talking to yourself – but it wasn’t just murmuring to yourself what you needed to get done that day; you would talk to yourself or to inanimate objects as if you were talking to another person. You’ve been doing it since you were a child, talking to your dolls as if they could contribute to the conversation, but you never grew out of it.

It was times like this that you were grateful to have a friend like Johnny, a friend who could make the worst situations seem like they have a silver lining.

“It’s just,” you start sniffling. “I thought that Kun loved me. That he wanted to be with me forever,” you say softly. Johnny’s eyes were full of compassion and understanding.

“I’m starting to wonder if I pushed him into this,” you think out loud. “I mean, I proposed to him, I was the one that always prompted him about the wedding planning, I was the one carrying most of the weight when it came to this wedding.”

“That’s a bad sign. At least when it comes to men.” You look at Johnny stunned. You would have expected him to say something like ‘oh no, it wasn’t your fault’ or ‘Kun is an idiot,’ the usual things that people would say if someone they knew got jilted at the altar. But Johnny was your oldest friend, and instead, he gives you honesty.

“What do you mean?” You ask.

“Men are flighty creatures. They have to be the ones who prompt you when they are ready to put down the roots.”

You sigh. “Thanks for taking me back to 1950,” you snort.

“But am I wrong?” Johnny asks pointedly. “Human nature has fundamentally changed very little in the past seventy years,” Johnny reflects thoughtfully.

You swallow, hard. “I guess I wanted to be married like Iris. She has such a happy life with Jay that I thought maybe I could have a life like that,” you say, a small hint of desperation in your voice. “After all, Iris did get married at around this age.” You say.

“There’s no point in being married,” Johnny says, “if it’s not with the right person.”

“You’re right, you’re so right,” you say. “I just feel so stupid for being so blind-sighted when it was all in front of my face.” Silent sobs choke the rest of any words you have in your throat, and Johnny takes your hand in his. The heat of his hand is soothing and warm.

His voice has nothing but kindness in it now. “It’s not your fault.” Here it is. “Sure you didn’t notice the signs, but it doesn’t mean that you ever deserved this. What Kun did was unacceptable, no matter if you silently pressured him into this or not,” Johnny says. Despite his voice being kind, there’s reason in it.

“To top it all off,” you say, heaving a huge sigh, “I spent so much money. Thousands of dollars just,” you make a whistling sound. Since you did most of the planning, you were also paying a significant portion of the wedding expenses. You earn a good salary, but you didn’t like wasting money.

“Did you pay for the whole wedding?” Johnny asks, surprised.

“No, but I paid for a lot of things. The florists, musicians, invitations, food. Kun paid for the venue and the cake. And obviously, I paid for this dress,” you gesture to the lacy dress that hugged your figure. The dress was four figures.

“There still might be a way to salvage something from this wedding,” Johnny looks like he is in thought, and you look at him, curious.

“What do you mean?”

“What about the honeymoon? Did you pay for that?” Johnny asks, rapidly firing those questions at you.

“Yeah I did –” You groan. You paid for an all-inclusive resort on Jeju Island along the beach. You always wanted to go to Jeju Island, after going on a business trip with Kun to South Korea, where you took a ferry to the island and spent a day on those white, sandy beaches.

“What’s wrong?” Johnny asks, concern in his expression.

“The all-inclusive resort I booked in Jeju Island for mine and Kun’s honeymoon is non-refundable,” you say. You bring the palm of your hand to your forehead dramatically, causing a loud ‘smack’ to resonate in the air.

You were such an idiot. Why on Earth would you book anything that was non-refundable? But then again, you didn’t think you would ever cancel your honeymoon. You thought that the limousine that you booked after the reception would whisk you away to the airport.

Oh, God. The limousine. You still haven’t canceled it yet.

“That’s what I was thinking,” Johnny says. “Most resorts are non-refundable. What if you go on your honeymoon by yourself?”

You’re practically struck dumb with this idea. Going on your honeymoon alone?

“Are you insane?” You ask Johnny. “I’m going to be surrounded by married couples and feel sorry for myself,” you say.

“Why not?” Johnny asks. “You spent the money. And the resort is all-inclusive. It doesn’t matter if Kun doesn’t show up. The only money you would lose is Kun’s airfare.”

What Johnny said had a point. Everything is paid for in a lump sum in an all-inclusive resort for all the amenities that you have access to, so it didn’t really matter if Kun didn’t come.

“I don’t know Johnny,” you say, knitting your fingers over your lap. “This sounds like a crazy idea.”

“Since when have you walked away from crazy ideas?” Johnny asks, more rhetorically. “That’s not the Y/N I know. The Y/N I know takes her own path and never feels sorry for herself. She doesn’t care what anyone thinks, and she doesn’t care if something sounds crazy.”

You laugh. “Very nice monologue,” you say. You stand up. Johnny looks surprised at your sudden burst of energy. “You know what? I think I’ll do that. After all, I spent the money,” you reason, echoing Johnny slowly.

“One more thing,” you say. “Do you want to come with me? You were the one who suggested the idea in the first place. Plus,” you smile. “I don’t want Kun’s plane ticket to go to waste.”

Johnny stands up. His tall figure towers over you as he smiles with excitement. “Of course, I’ll come. I want to spend quality time with my best friend. We haven’t had much of it in a long time.” Johnny notes. With your working lives, it’s hard for you both to carve time into your busy schedules to see each other.

A honeymoon with your best friend? That was the last thing you ever thought would happen.

Instead of canceling the limousine, you called for it to pick you up at Johnny’s parents’ house, where he was staying for the week for your wedding. You took a ride with Johnny in his black Audi with your luggage that you already packed that was full of skimpy clothes and lingerie. You didn’t have much use for those items anymore, but you had a good few pairs of shorts, swimsuits, T-Shirts, and a couple of appropriate blouses; you didn’t have enough time to unpack those items (and you didn’t want to just leave it at the wedding venue or give it to your family), so you decided that your skimpy clothes and lingerie would just have to make the journey to Jeju Island with you.

Twenty minutes have passed, and you pull up into his parents’ driveway. The limo would pick you both up in two hours, which Johnny said was good enough time for him to pack.

Johnny is in the bathroom, changing and showering to wash off the gel from his hair. You can hear the water running through the thin walls of his adjoining bedroom. You take this as a chance for you to change out of your wedding dress and into a green blouse and jeans shorts, wash the makeup off your face, and undo the complicated hairstyle the stylist arranged in the main upstairs bathroom down the hall.

You can feel the thought of your heart pounding at the spontaneity of this vacation. You have never done something like this in your whole life, and you can’t think of a lot of people who have done this either. Life is too short, and you’re not gonna spend even a day feeling sorry for yourself because Kun didn’t have the courage to tell you that he didn’t want to marry you.

Suddenly you hear the phone ring – your phone. The familiar notes hit your eardrums comfortingly, and you look to see the caller ID: your sister, Iris. Taking a deep breath, you answer the phone.

“Hello?” You ask. For some reason, your voice feels slightly shaky.

“Y/N?” Iris asks. You can hear the sound of relief in her voice.

“Yeah?” You ask.

You can hear a few more people (two more people) murmuring in relief. The only people it can be are your parents.

“Oh my goodness, where are you? Are you okay? I knew I shouldn’t have listened to Johnny and not pursued you –”

“Iris,” you say. Calling her name made her stop. “I’m fine, really.”

“Where are you?” She asks again. “You got us so worried with the way you ran off like that.”

“I’m fine,” you say again. “I’m at Johnny’s house.” Gasps.

“What are you doing there?” Iris asks, pressing for more information.

“Hanging out,” you say casually. It feels like you’re in high school, sneaking off to hang out with friends when it’s well over your curfew.

“You could have at least told us!” Iris exclaims. “You had us worried sick!” Iris takes a deep breath. “When are you coming home?”

You pause. The only people who know about your honeymoon plan are you and Johnny. You chew on your lip. “About that. You know my honeymoon?”

“That you’re going to cancel since you’re not going with Kun?”

You take a deep breath, your blood rushing through your veins. “So I’m not actually going to cancel it.” You hear three collective gasps.

“What do you mean?” Iris asks.

“I paid money for it, and it’s an all-inclusive resort. It doesn’t matter if Kun doesn’t come with me.”

“But what does that have to do with Johnny?” Iris asks.

You swallow. “Johnny’s coming with me.”

At this, your parents clamor in confusion. You can hear Iris take her mouth away from the speaker to address your parents. “Mom, Dad? Can I have a moment alone with Y/N?”

“I guess, honey,” your mother says, resigned. “We’re just glad that she’s okay.” You can hear the floorboards creak, signaling your parents’ exit. But at times, your parents can be nosy and eavesdrop, so your sister takes extra precautions. You can hear Iris walking to a corner and shutting the door. The only room that isn’t crammed with stuff and can fit a human being comfortably is the main floor powder room.

“You’re serious? Like this isn’t a joke?” Iris asks.

“No. I’m going on my honeymoon with Johnny.”

“God, this would have been your dream junior year,” your sister giggles. Your face immediately becomes hot, and you look at the bathroom door, hoping that Johnny didn’t suddenly come out of the shower. Thankfully, you still hear the sound of water running through the paper-thin walls; Johnny is still taking his shower.

“I told you, Iris, it was only a little crush!” You whisper-exclaim.

Iris laughs. “Right.” She doesn’t believe you. “You stared at Johnny with the biggest heart eyes! I had to get you drunk to get it out of you!”

It wasn’t necessarily the way that Iris explained. After you came home for the summer from your fourth and final year of college, your sister thought it was high time to celebrate that you graduated, so she took you to a pub downtown. You both were laughing, having a couple of drinks, and it was your first night trying vodka, and it was strong – you chose to have it neat instead of on the rocks because you wanted the more potent effect. You don’t really remember that night very clearly, but somehow the topic of Johnny came up, and then you finally confessed to her that you had a tiny crush on him back in high school. After all, who didn’t? He’s literally the definition of tall, dark, and handsome. You expressed how confused you were when Johnny wanted to be friends with you, a quiet girl who sat in the back of the classroom and did her work without bothering anyone.

Eventually, you moved on (obviously) and almost married another man. Johnny had a couple of girlfriends in college and one in high school, but nothing panned out; so far, he’s single to the last of your knowledge.

“I can’t believe he never noticed,” Iris laughs.

“Shut up!” You’re laughing a little bit too.

Suddenly the mood of the room becomes more serious. Iris’ voice is clear, her words echoing in your brain.

“Y/N, I’m afraid of what this is going to do to you. What if you fall for him again?”

Silence. Your eyes periodically check the bathroom door before you respond.

“I’m not going to fall for him again,” you say quietly. “I’m over him. I was about to marry another man for God’s sake!”

“Who left you at the altar,” your sister says. The words sting you a little, but you know that your older sister is only looking out for you. “In fact, I would say that this makes you more vulnerable to fall for him again,” Iris reasons.

“Well, I’m not going to,” you say. “That was a long time ago, and I’m a different person now.”

You practically jump from where you’re sitting on Johnny’s bed, and he comes out. He’s only wearing a towel on his lower half. His hair is wet, and he’s shirtless, his dark abs toned. A couple of drops of water fall from his neck and travel to his chest, and you almost have to physically move your head to rip your gaze away from his body to look him in the eye. He smiles a little, pointing to the stack of clothes on his bed. His bathroom is very small, and there isn’t enough room to change inside there, and his closet isn’t very big either.

You laugh, noticing that your phone is at your ear. “Nice talk Iris. I have to go now, but we can talk about your dogs later. Bye!” You make a kissing sound, ending the phone call.

Your voice was a little too high-pitch at the end, and you can’t help but feel that all the saliva in your mouth has dried out, and you’re also parched for words.

“Your sister?” Johnny asks.

“Yeah,” you say, a little too quickly. “She was just wondering where I was.”

“Oh,” Johnny nods, understanding. “Did you tell her?”

You nod. “Yeah. She thinks it’s a bad idea.” You almost want to smack your palm over your mouth, but Johnny looks at you, amused.

“J-Just that b-being around married couples with my best friend would be w-weird,” you try to heroically save.

“Makes sense,” Johnny shrugs his shoulders. “But who cares? Since when did you have to cancel your honeymoon just because your fiance doesn’t show up?” You laugh.

It seems that your gaze is locked into Johnny’s and you can’t look away no matter how much you’re trying and butterflies are flying ferociously in your stomach at the thought that Johnny is wearing nothing under that loosely tied towel and –

“I-I’m gonna go to the other room. You’ve got to change,” you say, gesturing to the towel that is covering his lower half. Johnny is suddenly jolted at the thought that he is wearing almost nothing in front of his best friend, not even swimming trunks.

You scramble to the door, which is only a few steps away, and fumble with the round doorknob. You let yourself out and shut the door. You press your back against the wall, smelling the dinner that Johnny’s parents’ are cooking in the kitchen.

You really hope you weren’t going to prove your sister right.

Johnny opens the door after he finished changing, and he’s wearing shorts and a Hawaiian shirt with a gray sleeveless underneath outlining his chiseled chest. You gulp when you find yourself staring and look back up at Johnny.

“Johnny! Dinner’s ready!” It’s almost four in the afternoon. Johnny’s parents are running the retirement home drill, in which lunches are served this early. It seemed that the older you got, the earlier you wanted dinner served – you were noticing that whenever you stayed with your parents, who served dinner at a comparable time.

“In a minute!” Johnny yells down the stairs. His mother looks up from the last step to see you. “Y/N! How are you feeling? I’m so sorry about the wedding –”

Yes, of course. It would be too much to ask from the universe to try not to run into anyone else that saw you get stood up at the altar. Johnny’s parents were at the front, near your parents, and it’s like they got first-class seats to see the empty altar.

“It’s okay,” you say, a bit more tersely than you would have liked.

“Why don’t you have some food? There’s nothing that a home-cooked meal can’t help,” Mrs. Suh says, a kind, weathered smile on her face.

You nod, pleasantly grinning. “I’d like that very much.”

You walk down the stairs. Johnny’s house is much like you remember seeing it back in high school, minus a few minor changes. The Suhs have repainted the walls and added a few more antique knickknacks that Mrs. Suh loves collecting at local auctions.

The dark wood table, though, looks the same. You sit at the table, with Mr. Suh already digging into his food. Johnny’s parents are from South Korea, having settled in America before Johnny was born. Mrs. Suh, though, never lost her taste for traditional Korean food, and always took the time to make home-cooked Korean food at least once a week.

Today’s meal is rice with potato and beef soup, thick noodles with soy sauce flavoring, and a side of kimchi. You smile graciously at Johnny’s mother, who arranges the small cups and bowls before pouring servings for herself.

“I never understand men who leave their fiances at the altar,” Mrs. Suh starts off. “Just tell them the truth!” You nod, feeling that exact same sentiment.

“I have a cousin whose fiance left her at the altar,” Mr. Suh pipes in. “She was absolutely heartbroken, but she is now living better and said that made her a stronger person.”

“I hope you know Y/N,” Mrs. Suh says, “that you’re like family to us, and that your pain is our pain,” her eyes are round, serious. She extends her hand out, and you take it.

“I don’t think Y/N wants to talk about her wedding anymore,” another voice interjects. Johnny enters the dining room and takes a seat in the empty chair next to you.

“You’re right Johnny. So silly of me,” Mrs. Suh says, shaking her head. “Where is my head?” She clicks her tongue.

The next few minutes are spent in silence, where all four of you are chewing on your food or slurping on noodles.

“I didn’t think you and that Kun were right for each other anyway.” The clatter of chopsticks immediately breaks the lull of the eating sounds. You all look for the root of the words, Johnny’s mother.

“W-What do you mean?” you stutter.

“I always thought you and Johnny should get together.” At these words, Johnny’s eyes are bulging from his head.

“Mom!” Johnny exclaims. Johnny’s father prefers to not get involved with the conversation, still eating his food and pretending there’s silence.

“What?” Johnny’s mother asks. “I thought I should be able to say my piece. You and Y/N have been friends for so long, I’ve been wondering when it’s going to happen.”

You practically start coughing up the noodle broth.

“And by the way, I see that there are suitcases by the door,” Mrs. Suh mentions. From her seat, she can see two suitcases, one of them Johnny’s and the other one yours (he probably must have taken them downstairs before meeting the family for dinner). The bags are almost skillfully hidden by the staircase but not skillful enough to avoid Mrs. Suh’s thorough gaze.

“Are you guys going anywhere?” Both you and Johnny swallow together.

“J-Just on a vacation,” you say nervously.

“What kind of vacation would you have planned so close to your–” Mrs. Suh has a delighted look on her face. “Inhyuck, it’s happening!” If there’s anything that Mrs. Suh isn’t, it’s a slow woman.

“What’s happening?” Johnny’s father asks, now forced to be a part of the conversation.

“The honeymoon. Johnny’s going with Y/N!” Mr. Suh looks surprised.

“Well, it’s not really a honeymoon anymore–” you manage to say, but Mrs. Suh is not interested in letting you talk.

“This is so exciting!” Mrs. Suh continues. “What have you two planned?”

“Well, it’s an all-inclusive resort, so I guess just relax?” You shrug your shoulders. You look at Johnny who nods.

“That’s wonderful!” Mrs. Suh looks ecstatic. “Hopefully, it will give you the chance to see what’s destined for you both.”

Johnny rolls his eyes. “Mom! Y/N and I are best friends. Nothing’s going to happen between us. Y/N just doesn’t want to waste all the money she spent,” Johnny explains.

“Yeah,” you agree. “There’s nothing going on between us.”

As if on cue, the phone rings. It’s the limo service, and you pick up the phone. As you predicted, it feels like it has been two hours, so it was about time for the limousine to come and pick you up.

“It’s the limo,” you tell Johnny. “The driver’s here.”

“Great,” Johnny smiles. Both you and Johnny stand up, and Mr. and Mrs. Suh wish you both a good vacation. You thank them for the meal, and Johnny tells them that he’s going to call them when they land.

As you exit the quaint home that you grew up coming to multiple times a week, you can’t help but feel a sadness tug at your heart, at the reassurances that Johnny gave his mother that there was nothing between you two.

You’re absolutely sure that you’re over Johnny, and you’ve been over Johnny for years. But why are you disappointed?

The limo ride to the airport is a maximum of thirty minutes, and you planned the ride to be at around the same time that the wedding would have finished and you would be whisked away for your honeymoon, thus your flight time giving you ample time to get through TSA without worries.

So far, your honeymoon is going the exact way that you planned, minus the fact that you were going with your best friend instead of your fiance.

After your suitcases are taken to the baggage claim, you and Johnny are both left with small carry-ons. Yours is a tote slung on your right shoulder while Johnny’s is a backpack.

After an hour, you both board the plane, taking seats next to each other. The twelve-hour plane ride went faster than you thought it would. You and Johnny spend the time sharing earbuds, listening to music, and eventually watching movies together. A little thrill rushes through your veins as you watch comedies together while other people were trying to get some sleep; it starts to become a challenge for you both to keep your laughs quiet without earning the stares of disgruntled, tired passengers.

Eventually, you both start getting tired, and you fall asleep, covering yourselves with the thin, airline blankets that didn’t do much to stop the cold air from piercing your skin and freezing your bones.

You become startled when you hear a voice over the speakers. “Good evening passengers. In fifteen minutes, we’ll be landing at Jeju International Airport. Please turn off all cellular, and electronic devices in preparation for landing. Welcome to Jeju Island!”

You look around yourself with bleary eyes. The whole time you found it difficult to sleep because you didn’t have a pillow. But somehow, you fell asleep and looking next to you, you know the reason why.

Your cheek has been resting on Johnny’s shoulder, and suddenly you feel your face catch fire. Slowly, you notice Johnny’s eyes open, and he looks at you, tired. He had gotten used to the warm feeling of your cheek on his shoulder and missed it a little.

Your faces are unnaturally close. Desperately, you want to say something that doesn’t pertain to this.

“We’re almost here,” you say, rubbing your eyes, moving away as fast as you can with your slow, sluggish body.

The plane lands, and you and Johnny take your carry-ons and exit the plane, into Jeju International Airport.

The lights are bright, and the white walls reflect that light, and it hurts your eyes, compared to the dark airplane you were in for twelve hours.

After picking up your bags at the baggage claim, you and Johnny make your way to the shuttle, which drives you both a few miles before stopping at the resort: Byeolbich Resorts, right along the Jeju Island coastline.

The resort is painted in welcoming pinks and oranges, and you see happy couples holding hands and smiling at one another – you, on the other hand, were keeping a safe two-inch distance from accidentally touching Johnny’s skin.

The woman at the front desk, a woman around your age with long dark hair, is on the phone, but she ends the call with “Thank you for calling Byeolbich Resorts!” after you and Johnny wait for a few moments.

“How can I help you?” The woman asks politely, a pleasant, hospitable smile on her face.

You clear your throat. “I made a reservation.”

“Name, please?” She asks.

You give your first and last name.

“I don’t see you on our list,” the woman says, typing on her computer and scrolling.

Your breath catches in your throat. “I probably put it under another name. Try Qian Y/N,” you say. At the way Johnny stares at the side of your face, you feel your cheeks burn at how embarrassing it was to book a resort under your ex-fiance’s name, as if you’re a thirteen-year-old combining your’s and your crush’s name in a fancy gel pen on your math notebook instead of paying attention in class. The woman smiles at you, clueless to your thoughts.

“Yes Qian Y/N on your honeymoon with your new husband Kun,” She reads from her notes. Her gaze then returns to you and Johnny.

For the sake of keeping this interaction simple, you decide not to correct her, and Johnny thinks the same thing; after all, you were only going to see this woman when you check into the hotel and when you check out two weeks from now.

“Alright. Room 918.” She types something into her computer, and opens a drawer, pulling out two plastic cards; they were to be yours and Johnny’s keycards during your stay. She hands you both keys.

“Would you guys like help with your luggage?” A young voice asks. You look to see a younger, college-age guy with a pleasant look on his face eye yours and Johnny’s luggage. It wasn’t really a lot, but since this boy was offering, you smile, handing him your luggage. Johnny does the same.

You and Johnny are careful not to stand too close together as you enter the elevator with the bellhop, and the elevator dings when you reach the ninth floor. All three of you walk across the hall to room 918. You insert your keycard and open the door.

You’re not so sure why the arrangement of the room is a shock to you.

This is a large suite room like you reserved when you booked the reservation online, but there’s a king-sized bed and a small lounge chair on the other side of the room, which again, was exactly what you booked on the website. When making this last-minute plan to attend your honeymoon and then bring your best friend along, the sleeping situation completely slipped your mind, if you were honest.

“Is there something wrong?” The bellhop asks. You look at him, then at Johnny, then at the bellhop again.

“N-No,” you stutter to the boy. He smiles in relief.

“Good. Then I’ll leave you two newlyweds alone.” He says, with a sly smile. At the implication, your breath catches in your throat.

When the bellhop leaves, you shut the door behind you.

“So the bed,” Johnny notes nervously.

“Yeah,” you say after a while. “I’m sorry, I should have rem–”

“It’s fine,” Johnny insists. “I’ll take the lounge chair.”

“No, that would be so rude of me. After I invited you on this trip,” you say. On the website, you booked the ‘honeymoon suite,’ so there’s not even a lousy futon.

“Are we then just gonna… share the bed?” Johnny asks slowly. The way he sounds, it’s unsure, as if he’s dipping his toe in a cold swimming pool.

“Yeah,” you say, taking in a deep breath. It takes a long time for you to pry your gaze away from Johnny’s. It took you a few moments to respond to Johnny so that you would sound just as unsure about the idea as Johnny – you didn’t want it to seem that you were ready to jump into bed with one of your oldest friends, but at the same time, you didn’t want to sound repulsed either.

Ah, the intricacies of human relationships.

“I’m going to get showered and change,” you say, changing the subject.

“I will too. I-I’ll change in that closet.” Johnny points. You nod.

The bathroom is nothing less than exquisite. There’s a beautiful double vanity made of speckled marble, and there’s a large jacuzzi tub. The shower is wrapped in pristine white tile with a light and jade blue backsplash that makes the white pop out more, and the soaps that were laid out in the engraved soap dish were water lily scented. You loved the feeling of the gentle warm water caressing your skin and the soap felt smooth against your skin, and it got rid of the sweat (and embarrassment) that stuck to your skin.

Before getting into the shower, you were able to find shorts and a loose T-Shirt that was decent enough to be in while your best friend shared your honeymoon suite with you.

Once you come out, Johnny is changed and is sitting on the bed, plugging his charger into the socket next to the bed. He’s sitting perilously on the edge of the bed, a bit uncomfortably, and an idea strikes you. Johnny’s gaze is on you, and you open the covers (which is difficult due to how beds are made in hotels and resorts). You line various pillows in the middle of the bed.

“This is my side, and that’s your side,” you say, a bit harsher than you would have liked.

“Yeah,” Johnny nods vigorously.

As you lie down on the bed, pulling the covers over you, Johnny does the same. For a while, you linger at the edge of the bed, too wary to go too far inside and mess up the barrier. Despite this uncomfortable position, you try to get some sleep, and eventually, sleep gets to you.

No matter how many precautions you took not to destroy the barrier, by morning, the barrier has tumbled over the bed. When you wake up, you’re met with reddish light that tries to bleed through the dark curtains, and… there are arms wrapped around you.

Not just any arms, but Johnny’s arms.

The pillows that made up your barrier are now spread across the floor, completely disregarded and forgotten as Johnny’s arms envelop your resting figure, spooning you. You’re lying on your side, your cheeks against your soft white pillow, and you’re sure what’s happening now is just a dream, a weird dream that you have no idea where it came from.

As carefully as you can, you try to shift your position in bed without disturbing Johnny.

You fail.

Johnny grunts, and wraps his arms around you tighter, moving closer to you. His nose is only a few millimeters away from touching your forehead, and his lips are close.

So damn close.

They twitch a little as Johnny has a pleasant dream, and from this distance, you can study your best friend’s face. You always knew that Johnny was handsome, but this proximity is driving your heart crazy.

His face is a beautiful tan, and any blemishes on his face look ethereal. There are small mustache hairs right above his lip, dark and faint. His sleeping expression is so peaceful that it’s hard to look at anything else but Johnny’s beautiful face, to not admire how wonderfully his features complement each other –

Suddenly, his eyes fly open. You’re about to jump away from him, but Johnny beats you to it. He tries to untangle his arms from around you, and his expression is filled with newfound embarrassment. Now, you both remain on opposite sides of the bed once more, the same position you were early last night, backs straight like sticks.

“I’m going to wash up,” you say. You absolutely hated the feeling of eating or drinking anything with an unclean mouth, so you stand up.

“I’ll do that too,” Johnny says. You both walk in the same direction, to the left where the bathroom door lies, and you and Johnny almost try to head in at the same time. Awkwardly when your arm hits the door frame, Johnny backs up.

“You go first,” he says, gesturing.

You go in, to the vanity farthest from the bathroom door.

You already kept your toiletry bag in the bathroom as you did some light unpacking last night, and you fish around inside after opening the zipper, revealing the toothbrush sealed in a toothbrush bag.

Johnny comes back into the bathroom with his toothbrush and toothpaste, and while brushing your teeth, you both exchange wary glances, trying to avoid any sort of confrontation about the situation from last night.

“I’ll be at the pool if you need me,” you say to Johnny before opening your suitcase and finding your red one-piece swimsuit and a shirt to wear over it. Johnny gives you a thumbs up before turning on his shaving razor.

When you leave the room, key and purse in hand, you get into the elevator and press ‘main floor.’ Once you’re dropped back off to the main floor, you follow the signs to the pool.

It’s a beautiful sunny day outside, and the pool looks just as beautiful, a twinkling turquoise gem. A few couples are in the pool, making out or splashing each other, giggles bubbling on their lips, and there are other couples sitting on the lawn chairs, holding hands, sipping margaritas, and chatting. One thing is for certain – love is in the air.

You heave a huge sigh and find a spot at an empty orange lawn chair. It’s next to a table with an umbrella in the middle. The umbrella is unopened, so you crank the handle, and the umbrella slowly starts expanding.

“Would you like anything, ma’am?” A woman asks. She looks like she works here since she holds an empty silver tray dripping from condensation from the drinks she just served to the couple chatting and holding hands.

“What drinks do you have?” You ask.

“We have a gin-infused strawberry margarita as today’s special,” she informs you.

“I’ll have it,” you smile.

She nods and scurries away to the bar. You stretch your legs to cover the vast extent of the lawn chair and close your eyes.

This wasn’t so bad, you think. Maybe if you could go the whole honeymoon without anyone asking about your fiance, then this wouldn’t be a terrible getaway.

Of course, with the way that Byeolbich Resort was marketed as the perfect getaway for newlywed couples, it would be impossible to avoid that question.

You’re suddenly approached by two people, a man and a woman, most likely a newlywed couple, and the woman waves at you.

“Are these chairs taken?” She asks politely.

“No,” you smile. The man and woman take their seat by the pool, and quietness ensues for a few moments.

“I’m Seulgi. And this is Taemin,” she introduces the both of them. The man, Taemin, waves at you pleasantly.

“I’m Y/N,” you respond.

“And where’s the lucky man? Or woman?” She asks, raising a brow. You smile a little at her peppy attitude so early in the morning.

“Oh, he’s in the room,” you say a little nervously. “He’s just shaving.”

“And you didn’t wait for him so you could have quality time together?” She pesters. For a second you think she’s serious, but she only playfully slaps you on the arm. You’re surprised at her intimacy, at how she treats you like an old friend given that you only met a few minutes ago.

“I’m kidding. Sometimes I need a moment away from this one.” Her gaze for a second rests on Taemin, as her hand shields her lips to pretend she’s telling a secret. You laugh, not particularly because she’s funny but because you’re relieved that she isn’t asking any more questions.

“Y/N!” You hear from afar. From the indoor entrance to the pool from the resort, you see Johnny, waving at you. He’s once again shirtless and he’s wearing blue swim trunks.

His body looks so wonderfully sunkissed that you think your mouth is about to drop open.

“So you’re the hubby?” Seulgi says, smiling. Johnny looks at you quizically for barely a second before smiling at Seulgi; she didn’t notice, thankfully.

“Yep,” Johnny plays along. “Y/N is my wife. We’ve been happily married for a day,” he continues. When he pulls a chair to sit beside you, he grabs your hand and holds it, his knuckles resting against his thigh.

You’re almost caught off-guard with how comforting his hand feels.

Seulgi looks overjoyed. “Congratulations!” She exclaims. “We’ve only been married for a week,” Seulgi gestures to herself and Taemin.

“By the way, I’m Taemin,” Taemin introduces himself to Johnny.

“Johnny,” he says, reaching out to shake Taemin’s hand. Taemin looks a little baffled at the gesture before ultimately taking Johnny’s hand.

“That’s wonderful,” you say, plastering a smile on your face. It’s not entirely fake – you’re happy that Taemin and Seulgi were able to find love together – but the crushing feeling it gives your heart is unreal.

Here were two people who got married and were honeymooning together. They looked so genuinely happy. They didn’t seem to be walking on pins and needles like you were.

“Your drink?” The woman from earlier takes your flute and places it on the table.

“Thank you.” You bow a little, as per Korean tradition.

“Would you guys like anything?” She directs to the rest of the group.

“Some Soju,” Taemin says. “None for my wife though, she’s had more than her fair share for today,” he jokes.

“Hey!” Seulgi whines but makes no move to order a drink for herself.

“Could I have some Bokbunja-ju?” Johnny asks. Korean raspberry wine. You’ve heard of it faintly when Kun would order alcohol at restaurants in Korea.

The woman writes down these orders and goes back to the bar.

“So,” Seulgi starts off. You’re drinking your margarita when she continues again. “Out of all the places you could take your honeymoon in, why Jeju Island?” She asks.

“Well,” you say. “Johnny had a lot of business opportunities in Korea, and one weekend, we went to Jeju Island to soak up the sun at the beaches,” you explain. “Ever since, I’ve loved Jeju Island.” It wasn’t completely a lie. Replace Johnny with Kun, and it’s the same story.

“How wonderful!” Seulgi gleefully claps her hands. “Taemin and I have been coming to Jeju since we were kids,” she looks fondly at her husband. “We were best friends before we became married. Can you believe it?” She asks, not really expecting an answer. “We’re from mainland Korea, from Seoul,” she says.

“I remember it like it was yesterday,” Taemin suddenly says. Seulgi feverishly blushes. “We were in the same dance class. I saw her from across the room, and I instantly knew that I had to be around her.”

“Aww,” you say, trying to gush more emotion into your voice. Yours and Kun’s meeting wasn’t actually that interesting – a couple of friends in college introduced you to him.

You don’t talk to those friends much anymore.

But right now wasn’t the best time for you to be hearing cute love stories while you were still so bitter.

“Speaking of dance classes,” Seulgi says. “There’s a couple’s dance at the west wing tonight. You guys should come.” Her voice sounds very enthused.

“Well, actually, me and Johnny were going to –”

“We’ll come,” Johnny interrupts.

“We will?” You raise a brow at your fake husband.

“Yeah. We will,” Johnny reassures, looking at you before pleasantly smiling at the couple. You gape at him only for a few seconds, before it can become noticeable.

“Great! I guess that’s settled.” Seulgi says.

“Drinks?” You hear a familiar voice, and it’s once again the woman who served you your drink. She hands a drink to Johnny and Taemin, and they thank her graciously.

As you chat with Seulgi and Taemin for a few more minutes, you only pray that they won’t ask anything too personal, or catch on to your secret in some big, dramatic way.

After all, isn’t how all these ‘fake dating’ scenarios end?

Thankfully, you have enough summer dresses in your arsenal that would be formal enough to wear to a dance. Your dress is a cream dress with red leaves, sleeveless, and it comes to almost your knee. Johnny is wearing a nicer shirt and some slacks.

He looks stunning.

You both approach the west wing, and you know it’s the correct location when you can hear loud music bleeding through the walls. Johnny courteously opens the door, and you walk in, to see many couples in nice clothes dancing to the live music. They’re playing lively jazz music, and the saxophone and trumpet music hit your soul.

“Y/N! Johnny!” A voice shouts in the midst of all the noise. It’s Seulgi, and holding her waist is Taemin, who is beaming at his wife.

“Seulgi!” You exclaim. Taemin detaches himself from his wife and they both approach you in the crowded room.

“I love your dress!” You exclaim. Her dress is a light, seafoam green, and it compliments the heels she’s wearing.

“Thank you! I love yours!”

You smile at the compliments. You take a few moments to observe the decor, a dark room lit by fairy lights, and a large panoramic window that shows the sun dipping into the ocean that is a few miles away from the resort.

“Why are you guys standing around?” Seulgi questions. “Dance!” You didn’t even realize that Seulgi and Taemin started dancing to the music while you and Johnny stand awkwardly together.

“What do you say, partner?” Johnny asks. “Can you pleasure me with a dance?” He rephrases, a cheesy smile on his face. You laugh at how he dramatically bows to take your hand, and his hands suddenly land on your waist. You gasp, thanking the loud music for masking the sound, and you feel your body stiffen.

“This feels like prom for adults,” you say as you match Johnny’s lively steps.

“Remember our prom?” Johnny says nostalgically.

“Yeah,” you smile. You and Johnny went to your senior prom together after your best friend offered to take you when you couldn’t find a date and all your other girlfriends had dates. You didn’t want to go so you won’t bother them, but Johnny enthusiastically volunteered because he thought that prom was too important to miss. Even though it’s just overdressed high schoolers in a school gym dancing to ‘The Cupid Shuffle’ and the like, every high schooler should have the experience. After all, it’s the one day that the school gym doesn’t smell like a sweaty sock.

Johnny picked you up, wearing a matching navy-blue bow tie that his mother picked out to your hand-me-down navy blue gown that your sister wore to prom, and you ate at a Mexican restaurant and showed up to prom just as more and more people were arriving. Your heels were digging into your feet, but you didn’t care, just dancing to party music and singing along without a care in the world.

It was the night you were sure that you were in love with Johnny, and you were sure your best friend was never going to like you the same way you liked him. But despite that soul-crushing feeling, you still had fun.

Suddenly a slow song started to come on. You stop twirling and stare awkwardly at Johnny. The DJ speaks into the microphone.

“This is for all you guys in love!”

“I guess we start slow dancing,” you say. Johnny holds you close, and you feel any words you’re going to say die in your throat. You press your cheek against Johnny’s shoulder, careful not to smear any of your foundation on his nice white shirt. Johnny holds you in a way that’s not too loose and not too tight, the two of you moving your bodies in synchronicity to the Korean ballad.

As more and more people stare into their partners’ eyes lovingly or start kissing, your steps start to become mismatched with the beat as you slowly become more uncomfortable. You feel your cheeks heat up as you observe those couples and meet eyes with Johnny again.

Neither of you says anything.

“That’s right folks!” The DJ says. “Now it’s time to get it on!” His voice is expressive as he scans the crowd for couples.

Out of nowhere, the lights from the mechanical moving spotlights land on you and Johnny, the only couple that doesn’t look all lovey-dovey. You harshly gulp at the newfound eyes that were on you.

“Come on, don’t be shy,” the DJ says in good humor. “PDA is allowed here. After all, most of you folks are on your honeymoon.”

“Kiss, kiss, kiss,” Seulgi starts chanting. Taemin follows her with a wide smile on his face, and slowly, other couples start joining their chants.

Finally, both you and Johnny have had enough of all the guests’ goading, so quickly, you press and peck onto Johnny’s lips. He looks frazzled at the gesture, but he tries to keep his cool. You pull away, smiling at the audience that is circled around you both.

“You guys can do better than that!” The DJ sighs.

Johnny leans in, grabbing your waist and pressing you impossibly closer, and smashes his lips against yours. He nibbles your lips gently, and you’re pretty sure that your heart is about to beat out of your chest and move when it hits the dancefloor, but your heart is very much in your chest as you feel the sensation of your cheeks catching on fire as you kiss back, enjoying Johnny’s lips.

Johnny pulls away slowly, as if he’s scared to pull far enough from you that you can gaze into his eyes. But finally, he faces the crowd, smiling, and they cheer. You follow in suit.

When Johnny dropped you home from prom, he gave you a warm hug on your front porch. Not a single kiss was exchanged and the closest you got to ‘couple’ things was taking photos. When the slow dance came, you and Johnny were sitting at a table, resting your legs.

Now, you’re far from prom.

It started when you were a sophomore. Johnny was in your English class, and together, you were supposed to make a utopia based on the principles in Republic by Plato. You needed to get into groups of four. None of your usual friends were in that class, so after asking a random girl if she wanted to be in your group, and another guy approached you to join your group, suddenly Johnny, a guy you saw around your school but didn’t really talk to, asked to partner with you. Dumbstruck, you agreed.

The problem with partnering with random people is that you’re not sure if they’ll do their fair share of the work. For the guy and girl who joined you, it seemed like they were allergic to meeting up or contributing anything to the shared PowerPoint that you created, and Johnny was the only one actually helping out. He was always ready to meet in the library or stay after school, and together, you carried your group to an ‘A’ and wrote scathing reviews of the other members of your group.

You thought it would be a little crush that would dissipate after Johnny went back to his old friends after the project, but he just stuck around. What was just a crush by junior year was you slowly falling in love with your best friend, with the way he was always able to make everything better. He knew what you were thinking before you even said it. He knew how to cheer you up if you did poorly on a test.

Out of all the girls in school, there was no way he could ever fall in love with you. You were certain. At prom, he didn’t ask you to slow dance, and you both rested your feet while sitting at one of the tables in the corner of the room, watching other people slow dance while you squeezed your sore feet. You had it all planned out in your mind that if he would slow dance with you, it showed that he liked you in that sense, and you would finally confess.

Although you didn’t let it show in the final weeks of high school, you were heartbroken. But the physical distance you had going to separate colleges helped you get over him. Eventually, you fell in love with Kun, the Chinese exchange student that your friends introduced you to, and were obviously engaged to him.

Until today, you thought you were completely over Johnny Suh.

Johnny was like a flame – if you got too close, you were going to get burned. It happened once before. But you were careless enough to let it happen again with this honeymoon trip.

You should have listened to Iris because now you were falling for your best friend for the second time, and you’re not sure your heart can handle it again.

For the next few days, neither you nor Johnny mentioned the kiss and pretended that it didn’t happen. You both would wake up next to each other and use the other facilities of the resort. One day, you both went surfing, then on another you went to the beach and built sandcastles, drinking strong Korean alcohol. While things were a little awkward – like how you both wouldn’t stand less than two inches from each other, you still were having a good time despite how you were unexpectedly falling in love with your best friend again.

Seulgi and Taemin raved about the massages at the resort next time you ran into them at the pool where you and Johnny would relax and start working on your tans before you would do anything substantial in the day.

“In order for the masseuse to be the most effective, you need to take off your clothes,” Seulgi informs you both. “Obviously, there’s going to be a towel over your bum, but at least you need to be topless so they can rub the essential oils on your skin, and you need to take off your pants if you want the leg massage. But that shouldn’t be a problem for you both,” Seulgi smiles suggestively, “you should be seeing a lot of each other in bed.”

You and Johnny laugh uncomfortably. “Yup. We’re having a good time in bed,” you say nervously, hoping that you don’t sound as nervous as you are.

To avoid any awkwardness, you and Johnny book separate appointments at the same time but with different masseuses. Your masseuse is a woman named Jiyeon, a kind woman in her thirties who you heard from Taemin has expert hand that can melt the stress away from your body.

You’re clutching the edges of your robe when Jiyeon smiles at you. “I’m going to look away and get some oils from this cabinet,” she points to a glossy white cabinet with a metal handle. “Feel free to take off your robe and lie face down on that massage table. There’s a towel over there for covering.”

You do as she bids and strip down naked, lie face-down on the massage bed, and put a medium-sized white towel on your butt. You position your face on the massage bed, which cradles your cheeks comfortably.

All of a sudden, you hear a knock.

“Excuse me, I’ll only be a moment,” Jiyeon says. Quietly, she opens the door, closing it so that there’s a thin line of air between the door and the door frame. The person who knocked starts talking, and you quietly listen to what they say.

“Jiyeon,” says a woman. “Do you mind looking after my client? My five-year-old just had an incident at school, and the teacher wants to talk to me,” she says, not elaborating further what the ‘incident’ is.

“Sure. Come on in,” she tells the client. “I’m going to get more materials from this cabinet, and feel free to strip down and grab a towel.”

“Sure– Y/N?” You know that voice from anywhere: Johnny. Your head now rests on your cheek as you look at your best friend, who only has a towel on his waist.

“Johnny?”

“You two know each other?” Jiyeon asks.

“Well, we’re sort of… married,” you say, the words sounding unfamiliar on your tongue.

“That’s your husband? Normally couples try to utilize the couples’ massage,” Jiyeon thinks out loud.

“We…” Johnny is out of words.

“Don’t worry,” Jiyeon says. “Many couples are shy around their spouses being naked, especially if they were saving themselves for marriage.”

“Y-Yes,” you chime in uncertainly. “I was saving myself for marriage, and now that I’m married, it’s all so new to me.” You chuckle nervously.

“That’s absolutely okay,” Jiyeon says expertly. She’s probably massaged hundreds of couples who are having a hard time adjusting to married life. But you’re pretty sure she’s never run into a couple faking to be married because that was easier to explain than the real story. “Now that you’re together, I hope you both can start overcoming that shyness.”

“Yeah,” Johnny says quietly.

Jiyeon goes back to getting more oils. It’s too late now to cancel your appointment. Johnny faces the the door, and you gulp at the toned, muscular, hell even beautiful side profile of your best friend. The second that Johnny takes off his towel, you shift your head to face the tiled floors. For a millisecond, you got a good view of a completely naked Johnny. You feel your cheeks burst with heat, and you’re glad that no one can see your cheeks right now.

You’ve seen Johnny half naked before, in his swim trunks and even with just a towel, and you have admired his beauty from afar before. But now it’s different. The thought of liking Johnny and him being naked in the same room is too much for you.

The second massage bed squeaks as Johnny gets on, and you feel a tapping on your arm. You turn to Johnny, whose cheek is smushed against the table and he has a wide grin on his face.

“So much for private,” you whisper, quiet enough for Jiyeon to not hear.

“It’s like the universe wants us to see each other naked,” Johnny scoffs.

“Today, we’ll be using a lavender green tea mixture,” Jiyeon says, unaware of your’s and Johnny’s private chitchat.

She starts off coating the oil on your back, little by little. She gently dabs the substance and places her hands on your back, and you gasp a little at the feeling of another woman touching you like this. Johnny snickers and you make a mental note to smack him later.

You feel the mixture working wonders on your skin, and it’s as if your worries are melted away by Jiyeon’s skilled hands. You moan slightly at the sensation of being pampered, and you feel your lips curl up into a smile.

“Enjoying yourself over there?” Johnny asks. You turn your head to face him.

“You will too,” you smile.

You’re a little disappointed when Jiyeon’s hands leave your body and she takes a few steps to massage Johnny’s sunkissed flesh. He hums contently as Jiyeon massages him, lathering his body with the essential oil mix, and you watch, slightly jealous.

You want to touch his skin like that.

“You signed up for the leg massage?” Jiyeon asks.

“Yes,” you say. That was back when you thought Johnny wasn’t going to be in the room.

After you close your eyes, Jiyeon rubs the oil on your legs, and you feel bliss overcoming you. Her fingers are soothing yet powerful, two words that usually have a hard time coexisting together in the same sentence, but in this case, ‘soothing yet powerful’ is the perfect fit for what you’re feeling.

She asks Johnny if he was supposed to have a leg massage, and he says yes, so Jiyeon gets to work on him, and Johnny is just as content with the massage as you are.

When Jiyeon steps away and stands in front of you both, Johnny sounds disappointed. “Is it already over?”

“Yes. You can book another appointment with me if you want,” she says. “I’ll leave you two to get dressed,” she says suggestively before leaving the room.

At the same time, you and Johnny look at each other.

“I-I’ll change first,” you offer awkwardly.

“Okay,” Johnny says, his gaze straight at you.

“Do you m-mind looking away?” You ask nervously.

“Oh,” Johnny didn’t even realize that he was staring at you for a long time, at how beautifully the towel around your waist and butt shows your womanly curves. “Yeah, of course.” He turns his head away, and you get up, grabbing your pink blouse and shorts from where you discarded it before the massage started. You fumble with trying to put them on, your hands shaking, mentally chastising yourself for changing so slowly.

“I’m finished,” you say to Johnny, your back facing him. “You can change now, I’m not looking.”

“Okay,” Johnny responds. You hear the massage table creak as Johnny rises, and he has his back facing towards you. You don’t know what possesses you – a bit of curiosity or horniness – but you turn around slowly yet silently, to get a view of Johnny’s toned, muscular back, tanned due to all the time you both have been in the sun recently. You watch how he turns to grab a robe that you didn’t even realize was lying around, and your eyes travel ravenously to his toned chest, down, down, down…

Your cheeks are heating for the millionth time today when you turn your head back, staring at the white walls. You can see Johnny about turn to face you just as you were staring, and terrified of getting caught, you whip your eyes back to where they are supposed to be, on the white, pristine walls.

“I’m done,” Johnny says. “But I’ll need to go to the other room to get my clothes.” He smiles, his face a little red. Good, he didn’t notice you staring.

“Let’s go to the seafood bar,” you say before Johnny can say anything else. As you try to make your mouth water at the seafood you read on the website was the best in Korea, your mouth is watering at something else…

Oh, how you wish Johnny stopped being friends with you after that project.

Instead of getting drunk on the beach for the twentieth time during your stay, you decide to invite your favorite couple Seulgi and Taemin for some beach volleyball. It looks fun in those summery beach movies, so why not try it in real life?

You asked the receptionist at the front desk where all the sports equipment was, and she showed you a portable storage unit near the part of the beach that was owned by the resort, and the four of you take the time to set up the net.

While playing under the hot sun, the time passes by quickly. Taemin and Seulgi win the first set while you and Johnny win the second set, both worth twenty points (neither of you were sure how many points a real beach volleyball game was supposed to last, and twenty seemed like a good number).

The final set consists of fifteen points, mostly only to be the tiebreaker set, as you have learned from watching a little beach volleyball in the summer Olympics. The previous sets weren’t that long since neither you, Johnny, Seulgi, or Taemin were that good and were honestly a little scared to be diving head-first into the sand to keep the ball in the air. But as the competitiveness of the game increases by the set, all four of you are willing to do what it takes to win.

The match is at 12-11 with you and Johnny on the losing side – for now. The best thing about having Johnny on your team is that Johnny is at least six feet tall and perfect for blocking the ball from coming to your side – embarrassingly enough, that was probably where the majority of your points came from because Seulgi had a difficult time diving for the ball, and you weren’t exactly much better. Sure, you had pretty good reflexes – back when you were growing up with Iris, you could swat her hand away when she tried to pull your hair – but those reflexes weren’t the same type you needed to keep a volleyball in the air.

“12-12,” Johnny says, smirking at Taemin and Seulgi.

“It’s not fair!” Seulgi whines. “You’re so freakishly tall,” she jokes. Taemin presses his lips in a fine line in good humor. Being only 5’9, he would have to jump really high if he wanted to block Johnny’s shots, and that only happened sometimes.

The final set persists. Every time you and Johnny would get another point, you both were cocky and off-guard, leaving Taemin and Seulgi to regain a point and keep the score tied. Once, they earned another point, leaving you and Johnny behind one point. The final set in beach volleyball doesn’t end until one team earns two more points than the other team, and sometimes that leads to sets that were more than twenty points.

Thankfully, though, this set does not go over twenty points, but ends with twenty points exactly. With this heat, you were praying that it would end soon so that you could get a drink of water (which you would get only every ten points into the set).

With you and Johnny leading, you serve the ball. Seulgi is able to receive it and set it into the air, when Johnny is able to jump up and block the ball. He is able to aim his block to an exposed part of Taemin and Seulgi’s side, where neither of them are in range of protecting. After Johnny makes his move, neither Seulgi or Taemin could stop the ball from touching the sand.

“We win!” You exclaim excitedly to Johnny. Noticing how Seulgi and Taemin are watching, you run up into your best friend’s arms and kiss him on the cheek. Johnny carries you and presses a soft kiss on your lips, playing along (and sadly, nothing else).

“We get it,” Taemin rolls his eyes.

You and Johnny help Taemin and Seulgi take down the net, and you shake hands.

“Good game,” you say to each other. Seulgi pulls you in for a hug while Taemin and Johnny fist bump in good faith.

“See you guys later,” Taemin says. He directs his gaze to you. “After you told us about the surfing, we’re going to try it out,” he smiles at you then redirects his gaze to Johnny. They both bow in a means to say ‘good-bye,’ and they take the net away, which you all agreed would happen to the losers of the game. Johnny takes the ball, and you throw some sticks you found to mark the court towards the ocean.

Seulgi and Taemin are just ameobas in the distance as you and Johnny make your way in the same direction, sand coating your feet. The walk is slow since the sand seems obsessed with ensnaring your feet.

As you walk, your arms brush. Due to the awkwardness parading around as a married couple, you jump back, but Johnny doesn’t.

“When are we going to stop pretending?” He asks suddenly, perfectly in Johnny’s signature direct style. Your eyes widen. You knew it; Johnny hated pretending to be married to you, after all who would want to be married to you? Even Kun, your fiance of numerous years, didn’t want to spend the rest of his life with you.

“What do you mean?” You ask cooly, trying not to show that your lips are starting to quiver.

“Pretending to date?”

You take a deep breath. “When we get out of this resort. Then we can go back home and pretend that this never happened, and you don’t ever have to talk to me ever again because I forced you to play along as my fake husband–”

The words that keep falling out of your mouth evaporate as Johnny faces you, a serious look on his face. His brown eyes contain the utmost seriousness.

“That’s not what I meant,” he says. You cock your head. It’s as if your heart stopped, waiting to beat again until Johnny says something.

Johnny then says the words that make the earth shatter under you.

“When are we going to stop pretending to date and start actually dating?”

You feel completely winded.

“R-really dating?” You stammer. You couldn’t believe it. While you were suffering alone, thinking that Johnny probably doesn’t like you back (for the second time since you’ve met the guy, in fact), he’s standing right in front of you, telling you the opposite of what you’re expecting.

“Yeah,” Johnny says. He takes your wrist, the volleyball between his waist and elbow long forgotten as it drops onto the sand. The world has stopped rotating, and only you and Johnny are in this moment.

“Why?” You can’t seem to get over your astonishment.

“Because you’re really great, and I can never get you out of my mind,” he says. Your gaze continues to burn a hole into his eyes, and he finally continues.

“I’ve been in love with you since junior year. So what’s that?” Johnny asks, rhetorically, “Seven years?” You have to keep yourself from letting your jaw drop to the ground. “On and off of course,” he smiles.

“I was so worried you didn’t like me back,” Johnny says, taking a hand and combing his hair back, revealing his tanned forehead. You can tell that this is a dialogue that has taken years to perfect and to get the courage to say.

You can’t believe that you’ve never had the courage to say these words like Johnny, preparing to love him in silence once again.

“Not to mention that it could change our friendship forever,” Johnny said.

“But Y/N,” he says. “Not for a second did I stop thinking about you. In college, there was something missing. Sure, I had a few girlfriends here and there, but there was nothing that was substantial. Every time I went out to an Italian restaurant, and I would remember how much you love pasta,” Johnny smiles to himself.

“When I got with Kun, why didn’t you say anything?” You ask.

“Because,” Johnny sighs. “I thought it was too late. You were already in love with him. And I tried to move on. But I couldn’t,” Johnny says suspensfully.

“Then this honeymoon thing happened. I knew I couldn’t keep it a secret anymore. I don’t want to lose you to another man, not again,” Johnny says, his voice rising in slight anguish.

“It was so hard to look at the happy pictures of you and Kun on Instagram kissing, holding hands, going out together. In fact, it drove me insane,” Johnny chortles, in an attempt to keep the mood a little lighter than it was.

The new information puts Johnny in a new light. You shyly try to avoid his gaze, but you fail. You need to tell him this to his face.

“I guess this is something else we have in common,” you smile. “I’ve had a crush on you since sophomore year, but I’ve been in love with you since junior year,” you take a deep breath, waiting as you let the words resonate in Johnny’s brain. His gaze urges you to continue.

“I didn’t want to tell you anything because I was afraid it would change our friendship. And imagine if you didn’t feel the same way, how awkward it would be. Could we ever really look at each other the same again?” You confess.

“I had a speech planned out senior year. At prom,” you say. Johnny’s gaze remains fixed on you as he processes the new information.

“I thought that if you asked me to slow dance, then it would be the perfect time to confess,” you say. “If we slow danced, then it meant that you sort of liked me? Or that the mood was right? I don’t know,” you giggle. “It sounds stupid now that I say it out loud.”

“Well, you were one step ahead of me,” Johnny joins in on the laughter. “God knows that I was too chicken to confess to you.”

“Iris would say the same thing about me. ‘Just confess already! No it won’t be weird that you’re in college now’” you mock your sister.

“But then my friends introduced me to Kun. He was so different,” you sigh at how young and in love you were with him. “He seemed so exotic. He was the Chinese exchange student, but then became a permanent student and got help with his citizenship. This was when we were together. Kun called me his good-luck charm, and I thought it was a sign that we should get married.” You smile ruefully. “We know where that went.”

“I don’t think I was ever in love with him,” you start off. “I had this stupid, silly little competition with my sister, but I was really the only one participating. I always had to one-up her, and there wasn’t really any provocation for it,” you confess. It wasn’t like your parents compared you to her. Naturally, you’re a competitive person.

You’ve never told this to anyone, and suddenly, it feels like there’s a big weight lifted off of your chest.

“You never needed to be like your sister,” Johnny says. “Just being you is enough.”

Slowly the gap closes between you both. You throat dries at what you’re going to say next, but you force the words out of yourself.

“I love you Johnny Suh. I always have, and I always will.” Johnny smiles at the tenderness of your voice. You giggle. Finally, it’s out.

“God, I feel like I could scream it to the world,” you say.

“Then do it,” Johnny challenges.

You smile. You step away from Johnny and cup your hands around your mouth.

“I love you Johnny Suh!” You scream shrilly. At the way peoples’ gazes land on you both for a few seconds, you giggle, and Johnny follows in suit.

“Now your turn,” you put your hands on your hips.

“I love you Y/N Y/L/N!”

People mind their own business this time. Love confessions are probably the norm around here.

Before you can stop yourself, you stand on your toes and place your lips on Johnny’s. His lips feel fresh and you can’t help but feel your heart race uncontrollably. You feel like you could die at this moment because you can’t imagine yourself being happier than you are right now, and you want to preserve the feeling. Johnny feels the same way; he can’t stop kissing you, your cherry chapstick making his mind hazy.

You both stare into each others’ eyes as many thoughts run around in your heads unsaid. Johnny’s hands find their way to your waist.

“What are you doing?” You ask. He starts moving, to the beat of his own song, and you follow his steps. By now, you have a feeling why he’s doing what he’s doing.

“Giving you the slow dance that you wanted. And,” he says bringing his lips impossibly close to your’s that you can’t believe he’s not kissing you right now. “The dance I was too scared to ask for.”

Together, you and Johnny are slowdancing on the beach. The sun isn’t a problem anymore, and everything else has faded away in which it would take a lot to remove you from the little world you’re in with Johnny.

You start humming, and Johnny joins you.

If only you told him nine years ago.

A blade of sunshine hits your face, slowly rousing you.

Your vision is bleary with sleep, but the crisp off-white walls and abstract paintings hanging above the bed signal that you’re in the hotel room that you’re sharing with your best friend Johnny.

Now, your boyfriend Johnny.

You both are tangled under the soft white quilt in a mess of limbs. You try hard not to move to abruptly so you don’t wake your boyfriend. There’s something in his face that makes him look so peaceful, so relaxed and child-like; you’ve noticed that people always look like that when they’re asleep.

If there’s something Johnny has learned over the years, it’s knowing when people are watching him when he sleeps. In college, if he felt the slightest gaze hit him during his boring history class, he would immediately jerk awake to not alert the professor of his lack of effort.

But now, he likes the feeling of your gaze raking against his cheeks. He enjoys it for a few moments before he slowly opens his eyes. Your face is close to his, and you almost want to jump away from shock, being so consciously close to your best fr – boyfriend, you mean.

Johnny’s hand quickly grabs your wrist. He would hate for you to back away, because then, he wouldn’t be able to smell the pleasant coconut and strawberry bodywash you used yesterday.

He smiles a sleepy sort of smile. “You’re my favorite thing to see this morning, and all mornings.”

These words make a fast heat spread across your cheeks, and Johnny only gives you a throaty laugh. “Did you forget that we’re dating now?”

To Johnny, being your boyfriend seemed natural; maybe that’s because for the last week and a half, he’s gotten a lot of practice.

For you, on the other hand, it’s going to take longer to get used to. Sure, you’ve gotten practice being Johnny’s girlfriend, but for the whole time, you were a bundle of nerves, afraid that at any moment, someone will find out the true story and will immediately start to pity your situation. Or that Taemin and Seulgi would find out and get mad at you for lying. After getting to know them better, you felt bad about all the lying.

Johnny is a go-with-the-flow type of guy, and after being handed the ropes, he knew what to do. That was one of the many things you love about Johnny.

You lean forward to kiss Johnny’s slightly-chapped lips and smile. “Of course I remember that we’re dating.”

The two of you hop out of bed together; last night, after eating lots of seafood at the seafood bar for maybe the third time since you’ve come here, were completely full and were too tired to do anything else except lie on your backs and sleep together, feeling more content than you have in a long time.

Both of you go into the bathroom where you brush your teeth, stealing gazes at each other while foam coated your chins and making silly faces after cleaning your mouths.

After getting into your beachwear, you both head to the pool, your go-to place before you explored any of the resort for the day. That’s the place where you would meet Taemin and Seulgi, your first couple friends.

Taemin and Seulgi are already there when you and Johnny arrive.

“Y/N! Johnny!” Seulgi calls out. Taemin gestures to two empty lounge chairs by their table and they already ordered you guys drinks.

There’s a reason why you like them.

You and Johnny wave and then join them, taking the two full drinks by their table.

“How was the surfing lesson?” You ask Seulgi, remembering yesterday that Seulgi and Taemin tried surfing lessons that were advertised on the resort website.

“Hilarious,” she says. You quirk an eyebrow, finding the response odd, but she continues. “I was having a good time – in fact, I was a natural, but this one here,” she shifts her gaze to Taemin for a few seconds, “kept falling on his butt!” She erupts in a fit of giggles, and Taemin is prepared to argue.

“The instructor said it was natural for beginners to fall like that,” Taemin defends himself.

“But I was a natural,” Seulgi says playfully, whipping back her hair dramatically.

“Yes, you were,” Taemin fondly smiles.

“It took him at least ten tries for him to actually stand upright,” Seulgi says.

“And what did the instructor say after that?” Taemin challenges in good humor.

Seulgi smiles, “that pro surfers should watch out.”

Taemin nods, “That’s right, don’t forget,” he bats her shoulder.

“I’m so lucky to be married to such a stud,” Seulgi says, and at first you think that it’s her being sarcastic, which a small part is, but then her gaze becomes serious. She forgets that you and Johnny are around for a few seconds.

“And I’m so lucky to be married to a beautiful, natural surfer.” They kiss, and you and Johnny smile. That was you guys just a few hours ago, sick with love that you confessed to one another.

You don’t feel bitter anymore seeing them together, only glad that you found someone who shares the same kind of love for you that you do for him.

Seulgi and Taemin’s gazes are back to you both.

“There’s something…” Taemin trails off, his finger to his chin, “different about you guys.” His voice is clear and astute. Taemin is one of those people whose quiet, but when they say something, people listen to them.

Taemin collects his thoughts to say something further. He inspects you and Johnny in detail. “You both don’t have a few inches of distance. And you’re holding hands.” He points out.

You feel your heart catch in your throat. You were hoping that neither of them would notice anything different, but you weren’t really the best actress.

“Wanna tell them?” Johnny asks. Taemin and Seulgi wait in anticipation for your next words.

“When we came into this resort, Johnny and I weren’t actually married. Or dating in fact.” These words paint shock on the other couple’s faces. You continue the story with how your fiance of many years left you at the altar, and after paying lots of money for the honeymoon, you decided to still attend, this time single and with one of your oldest friends.

“We knew it would be really complicated to explain this story the first time we met you or even the staff. So when people would assume that we were married, we didn’t correct them.”

You try to stop the butterflies in your stomach by thinking that honesty is the best policy, and that you’re relieved that you finally told the truth to people you considered your friends.

Seulgi and Taemin are lost for words for a while.

“Well that’s… eventful,” Seulgi says. You think that she’s about to call you a no-good liar and walk out of your life, but she just smiles. “But I would have done the same thing too. And about your former fiance,” she says, “Fuck him.”

“Seulgi!” Taemin says, “There’s no call for bad language.”

“Of course there’s a call for bad language for Y/N’s terrible former fiance. I know you’ve heard it a bunch of times, and you’re probably tired of it, but I’m really sorry that that happened to you.”

With Seulgi, it didn’t seem like she was trying to sound like they pity you, but her words were heartfelt and genuine.

“It’s okay,” you shrug your shoulders. “Him dumping me is the reason why I’m here today with the love of my life,” you smile fondly at Johnny after taking a sip of your drink, and he leans in to share a kiss that tastes of strawberries and alcohol. “It gave me time to reassess who I should really be with.”

After a few moments of silence at your soulful words, you raise an eyebrow playfully. “Maybe I should send him a thank-you note.”

“Maybe you should,” Taemin says. “It’ll tell him what he missed out on.”

a/n (2): thank you so much for reading! this was a very self-indulgent fic that i had a great time writing. let me know what you thought by leaving a comment or sending me an ask! my ask box is always open. thank you for stopping by!

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