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winterarmyy · 9 months

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Welcome Home... Soldat? | Part II

That time when Bucky accidentally relapsed into the Winter Soldier.

Navigation: Part I || Part II* || Part III (end) || Extra

Words: 4.2k++ (of fluff and filth)

Pairing: winter soldier!bucky x female!reader

Warnings: 18+ content, smut, no minors allowed, nsfw, dub con, fingering, pussyjob, thighjob, soldat being manipulative yet maintains to be so loving at the same time, another round of google translated russian, filthy praises, soldat just want to make you feel good, wet & messy everywhere, loud & whiny soldat, and at the end of the day, despite the manipulation, the soldat just want take care of you.

A/N: omfg 1k++ notes from the previous chapter?! i didn't think this would get so much attention that it had, tbh. Like wtf. What did I do to deserve this 😭 Thank you so much for your support! I can't even begin to tell you guys how much joy y'all bring me. So, I decided write more of our soft soldat for all of us cause let's be honest, we need him so bad. It's gonna be 3 part mini series. I hope you enjoy!

Read my other works here: Masterlist

The darkness in his sight seemed permenant, at least until it transitioned into a dim-litted scenery. He recognized softness of the bed, and the blank white color of the ceiling.

He was in his room.

But, when he realized the emptiness of his bed, it was as if a force jolted through his body, yanking his lying figure into a sitting position. The dead silent was broken by the sound of his gasping breaths, followed closely by the beats of his pounding heart.

"Родная (darling)?" His voice shivered in his shaky breath.

When the silent replied his call, cold sweat drenched the roots of his hair. He almost jumped into a defensive position when the door of the walk-in wardrobe seemingly opened on its own.

But to his relief, her voice broke the silence, "Soldat?" Y/N peeped out her head when she heard his voice but the moment she saw the panic in his blue eyes, she quickly made her way towards him.

As soon as she was standing near enough, the soldat pulled her into a crushing hug, rubbing his face into her stomach a relief washed over him. Y/N ran her hands through his hair as she coaxed, "I'm here, I'm here."

He hummed in reply, "You're here." He repeated as a sigh escaped his lips.

Y/N didn't know why she expected that Bucky would be back after their "sleepover" but it was a shock for her when she woke up that morning with several tender kisses on her face by the soldat, who was very much still present.

"So, you're saying he's is not the winter soldier?" Sam cocked his head to the side as he tried to wrap up the overwhelming information thrown by Shuri.

The woman rolled her eyes, "No, I didn't say that. I said, he is not fully relapsed into the winter soldier." She reclarified.

"How was this possible? I thought he was gone?" Y/N asked as her worried gaze glanced over Bucky's unmoving figure in the examination pod.

Shuri sighed as she approached her, they watched Bucky's peaceful features resting through the glass, "We only remove the trigger that were attached to a switch to activating the winter soldier from Bucky; the soldat was never gone."

Y/N's eyebrows creased as the wakandan continued to explain, "It's like removing the toggle from a light switch; you can't turn it on just like that. But if, let say we use a toothpick to poke through the hole and trigger the switch, then..."

Steve intercepted her words before she could finish, "...then it'll be turned on." The woman nodded, "Precisely."

"That does not explain why Bucky is partially... not himself." Tony quickly probed as he casually threw a red M&M's into his mouth.

Steve paced back and forth in the room as he tried to replay the day of the incident, "Maybe it has to do something in that Hydra base that we raided. Bucky did look troubled on the jet home, then when we arrived he suddenly went berserk, looking for something; well... someone". He stopped as he threw a knowing look to Y/N.

"Yeah, why he is suddenly acting lovey dovey with y/n if the soldier was triggered? I don't get it." Sam crossed his arms against his chest as he questioned.

A smile almost cracked on Shuri's lips when they mentioned that, "This is just a hypothesis; but I reckoned that Bucky knew that the soldier is slowly taking over his mind and he didn't want to let himself vulnerable, exposed for people to give him orders."

Shuri leaned her back towards the table as she continued, "So instead, he latched himself on something else, to act as his mission. Some kind of desire that's buried as deep as where his winter soldier persona was concealed."

"So, you're saying that grumpy old man's deepest, darkest desire is to suffocate y/n with kisses and cuddles?" Tony quirked his eyebrow as he chewed on the sweet chocolate snack; there was certainly sarcasm in his voice.

Y/N intictively took the nearest object within her reach, which turns out to be a thick manual book, and struck Tony on his arms. The man repulsed with a confused frown on his forehead, mouthing a soundless, "What?"

Y/N mouthed back, "Shut up!" while Sam chuckled amusingly at the silent banter between them.

Ignoring the back and forth between Y/N and Tony, Shuri answered, "Well, those urges are derived by a certain key emotion, which I'm sure put you that genius title of yours into a good use, then you should've known the answer already."

"Love." Steve's revelation cuts through before Tony could throw his banter at Shuri, "He loves y/n." He repeated his words as if all of this made absolute sense.

Which only made Y/N stop on her tracks, "He loves me?" she questioned herself but everyone in the lab can practically see the confusion on her face.

Shuri agreed to Steve's deduction, "Yes, perhaps. I supposed that is why he is protective over her and like he said, wanted to suffocate her with kisses and cuddles." Shuri pointed at Tony as she return his sarcasm.

"Wait wait wait." Y/N held her hands forward as she stepped in the middle of the conversation, "Why are we casually agreeing to that as if it's normal? I mean, I know I'm not a genius but that is absolutely ridiculous. Bucky doesn't love me, as a friend maybe, yeah, but not like that." She couldn't help but to blush as she recalled the way the soldat hands and lips mapped on her skin.

"Yes, you are absolutely not a genius, especially when you are one of the two idiots who's in love with each other." Tony casually laid out the fact as everybody in the lab nodded in agreement, including Steve who she thought would back her up.

Y/N shook her head in denial and revert the conversation back to its original destination, "So, how do we get Bucky back?"

Shuri opened the terminal screen as she watched the progress of her observation, "Well, we're still figuring that out." Y/N's shoulders slumped in defeat.

"But what I can say is, it is best to let him stick with y/n for now." Shuri concluded.

They took the whole day running tests on the soldat, which he obediently cooperate as long as Y/N was there to hold his hand.

Between resting for breakfast, lunch and snack break; the soldat spend his time to be forced to put to sleep and out of it through out the day.

Right after dinner, and the final test run, he was just left to sleep off the rest of the night and Y/N finally had time to prep herself to sleep, when she heard Bucky's voice from the bed.

"Just finished showering. Hope you don't mind me wearing your shirt, they kinda lock me in here." Y/N frowned when she thought back on how the team managed to bring most of her things over but then forgot to pack her signature iron man pyjamas.

A fond smile curved on the soldat's lips as his gaze raked over her small body wrapped in his baggy shirt, which fell right at the middle of her naked thighs.

Y/N swore that there saw a flash of Bucky in his gleaming eyes. Or maybe she was just being delusional at this point.

She let him pulled her by the hand as he slowly brought her towards him. In no time, he had them both on the comfy matteress with soldat's back propped up against the headboard, while his arms found their place around Y/N's waist, cocooning her in between his legs.

It amazes her to think how comfortable she was, being this intimately close to him; when Bucky would've been too cautious to even approach her platonically.

So she decided rather than being constantly hesitant around the soldat, she thought that she might as well just enjoy the moment as it presented itself.

Y/N's exploring eyes stopped to the side of the bed when she saw a book next to the night lamp. She reached her hand as she leaned closer.

"Prince Caspian." She whispered to herself as her fingertips grazed across the title, "The Chronicles of Narnia, huh?"

It makes sense that Bucky would be interested to read this series, knowing his quirky yet undying brag about having the experience of reading The Hobbit back when it first came out.

Y/N couldn't help but to smile to herself, especially when her train of thoughts stopped at those memories of him.

She lifted the book towards the soldat, "What do you think, Soldat? Want me to read it to you?" She asked as the soldat rested his chin on her shoulder, peering at the deep blue, hard covered book.

He briefly hummed before replying, "Yes, please." The soldat loved the idea of being able to hear more of his darling's beautiful voice. It was his favourite thing in the whole world. Well, one of the things but surely all them were involving her.

Y/N settled herself as she leaned back against his sturdy chest. One of her legs were bent up towards her chest while the other was lazily thrown over his, spreading them as far as they could go.

The soldat placed light kisses on the back of her head all the way to the side of her neck, relishing at how soft her skin was and how good she smelled. The quiet of the room only enhanced the presence of her calming voice, luring him to close his eyes as he drowned himself the melody of it.

Minutes gone by and it was passing the half hour mark.

It wasn't that the soldat find the story boring or her voice drowsying, but he was feeling rather needy, almost greedy, to have more of Y/N to the point that he got slightly distracted.

She had been such a darling to him ever since he came home; fed him, letting him touch her, kiss her, pamper her, held her hand during those long lab tests, having her in his arms through the night and against his nightmare, and making him feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside.

And yet, she didn't get anything in return.

His darling deserved to feel good and he wanted to give it to her so badly that he was getting distracted from the story that she was passionately reading for him.

Soldat's hands carefully explored her body, from the side of her waist then slowly down to her naked thighs. Too engrossed with the plot, she almost instinctively opened her legs wider for him. Though she never intended to do so, her actions surely were quite sinful.

He used the opportunity to glide his metal hand deeper into her inner thighs, lightly caressing up higher towards where her thighs meet, until the tip of it brushed over her core.

Now that's when she realized the situation, her head shoot up to face him. The book in her hand almost thrown to the side as she reached to grab his, gripping it tightly as she tried to pull him away.

Failing to stop him, she whispered "W-what are you doing?" She stuttered as she felt his fingers slide across her clothed pussy.

Soldat looked down at the smaller, "Wanna make you feel good, мое Родная (my darling)" he innocently whispered back as his dangerous fingers provoked her.

When her silence remained, the soldat lifted the corner of his eyebrow in curiosity. Was she hesitating? He sees it as an opportunity to coax her to his will.

He cooed softly when he explained, "You deserve it, darling. Deserve it so much. Please, let me?" He sounded so desperate when he begs like that.

It feels like her whole body was burning, his touch were igniting flames wherever he drags his fingers. She knew it was wrong to feel like this, but she couldn't help it.

Oh, how his fingers works wonders even with the thin fabric were blocking his access.

Y/N bit her lower lip as she looked down to her thighs. The way she was grabbing onto his hands as he moved around; it looked like she was guiding him to touch her more.

The soldat knew she was close to be tempted to submit, "I promise it'll feel good. So good." he almost growled in her ears as he saw patch of the dampness started to appear on the center her panties.

"Don't." she whispered quietly, but that only made the soldat to futher seduce her as he add more pressure on his middle finger.

She hesitated for a while before she slurred "D-don't stop." her head thrown back into his neck, finally giving in to his promise of pleasure.

Lust took over the soldat, "Gonna make you feel so good, Родная (darling). Promise gonna treat your pretty pussy right. Make her cum so hard." He whispered lovingly as his breath sends shivers down her spine.

The soldat groaned, dropping his head to her neck to press open mouthed kisses on her untainted skin as he slipped his hand into her panties.

"Already wet for me?" He chuckled, biting his lip before his long finger slid between her folds.

"Hmmm." she tried to suppressed her voice as his finger moved up and down so deliciously.

"Of course," He said with a smile. He went on to tease her sensitive clit with slow, torturous circles, which force her to close her eyes, biting down on her lip to suppress a shrill moan.

"Родная (darling)," the soldat cooed. "You can scream as loud as you want. Let me hear those pretty noises, yeah?"

Y/N thought to reply but her own breath hitches when that one finger that has been circling her hole finally dips in, proceeding to spread her open for more.

She moaned louder this time, "Soldat..." The movement was completely involuntary; when her hand latch on to hold his wrist as her thighs try to squeeze shut at the feeling of him pressing another finger into her wet stretching cunt.

But, of course he was quick to spread her legs back open, preventing her to shy away.

"p-please soldat, ahh." She mewled, scratching the metal of his arm.

The soldat nibbled on the shape of her ears as he hushed, "There, there darling. Open up for me." His two long, metal fingers thrusts and rubs the inside of her pulsating pussy, occasionally scissoring her cunt as he took her right hand into his fleshed one; intertwining her fingers with his.

Her other hand scrambled to dug into his thigh as she arched her back, grinding her hips down against his metal hand. The soldat smirked proudly at her reaction, moving his fingers a little faster, a little rougher. Just enough to make her whine and move against him in search of more stimulation.

She cried out as his thumb circled her clit, "Ahhh fuck" she moaned shamelessly, while his eyes followed each jerk of her body as if he was memorizing it all.

"Hmm, you're so wet, Родная (darling). So warm too." The soldat hissed as he felt his hand were soaking by the minute. The muffled sound of his thrusts against her wet heat filled the room.

He looked down to her hidden pussy; his hand covered by the panties she was wearing, "Look down baby, open your eyes and look down." he lured her with low groan.

Completely loss in bliss, she complied without asking any question. Both the soldat and Y/N was looking at the same sight, the same shape of his hand clinging tight to the fabric, barely hidden under the thin layer of her panties, moving up and down; in and out of her pussy.

Somehow, watching the way it moves made her closer to her orgasm.

In one swift move, the soldat lifted her slightly to pull the barrier off by the waistband. An animalistic groan rumbled from deep within his chest, when he was completely revealed to the sinful sight of her naked pussy.

So wet and full with his fingers.

The soldat teasingly entered a third finger into her, stretching her out so good that she felt tears prick her eyes. Y/N's head snapped forward along with a buck of her hips. "S-soldat,, ahhhh" Her whines grew louder than before and she felt the flame in her stomach growing yet it wasn’t enough.

"Look at you. Look how well you're taking me. My darling is such a good girl, isn't she?" The soldat sounds sickeningly sweet when he murmured in her ears.

He pressed his thumb harder against her swollen clit, rubbing hard and fast circles as he pumped his fingers knuckle deep in and out of her cunt, causing her to gasp from the sensation.

He twisted and curled his fingers around to find that delicious spot inside of her, giving that delicious friction as he fucked her open. The noises coming from her pussy were so lewd, so crude and it only spurred him on.

"Sounds so perfect, Родная (darling). These pretty noises from your lips up here." The soldat murmured as he kissed the corner of her lips, "and down here." his fingers pumped faster, curling over and over again, creating the lewd squelching sounds of her juices leaking out.

Almost seeing stars, Y/N moaned desperately, "Cummin',, so good, 'm cumming." Oh, how sweet does her moans sounded in the soldat's ears.

"Already, Родная (darling)?" he groaned as he felt her hole pulsated, "But you need more, little one." He persuaded her edge a little more; but with the way he was fucking into her weeping pussy, she certainly wasn't able handle it anymore.

She whined needily as she shook her head, "Wanna cum now, please soldat ohh god please please please." She begged deliriously.

The soldat hummed as he worked his fingers up her hole, "Oh darling, you don't need to beg for it. You're so precious, I'd give you anything." He mumbled against her cheek as he kisses her, "Now, cum for me. Let me see you wet my bed, Родная (darling). Go on, cum."

All words die in the back of her throat when a he cooed at her. She threw her head back as a squeak of whine dies in her mouth; eyes squeezing shut, her body tensing as the soldat makes sure that she rides out the high for as long as she should.

"That's it darling, cum for your soldat. give it to me,, aahhh" He motioned, forming an 'O' with his mouth as she clamp down on his fingers; with his wide eyes looking down at her exposed pussy. Her orgasm gushed and flowed out onto his hand, dripping on the sheet as she quietly cry out in pleasure.

"So pretty," he praised, as his fingers kept pumping slowly in and out of her pussy, "So gorgeous, cumming so hard for me," he grunts in her ears as her high begins to settle.

He pull out his fingers, leaving her feeling empty for the sudden lost of touch. But that didn't last long when he proposed something else.

"One more time Родная (darling), with me." He moaned he sunk his metal hand into his pants and pull out his aching cock. The soldat tugs himself in his palm, rubbing the wetness on his hand around his length before settling it between her throbbing cunt.

Y/N didn't manage to let our her protest when he intercepted her, "Won't put it in, darling. Just..." his words linger as he squeezed her plush thighs together, engulfing his warm cock between them, "...wanna snuggle in between your thighs, Куколка (little one)."

"So keep them pressed together, okay?" the brunnete coaxed as his hands took a hold on her, "Will you do that for me?" The soldat asked sweetly.

She gave a small nod of affirmation, looking down at where the soldat's hands squishing both side of her thighs. The feeling of his length throbbing, wet with her slick, had her squeezing her thighs together more.

"That's my sweet girl. Promise you, it'll feel so good, darling." He let out a pleasurable groan as his hips jerked all the way forward, his skin meeting the back of her thighs while the head of his cock was peeking out from the other side.

With a squeeze of her hips in his hands, that will definitely leave bruises afterwards, he started to grind her into him. Back and forth, for the few experimental thrusts. And the moment her pretty little moans started to spill, he knew she needed more.

"More?" he moaned lowly, rocking his hips mindlessly.

Y/N limped back against his chest, whimpering sweetly for him as her needy little cunt drools messily all over her thighs and his cock; effortlessly making the thrust of his length between her thighs even easier.

If she was already so sensitve from him fingers before, now it's just oversimulating for her, "Hmm,, s-soldat,, that feels s-so good," she slurred, eyes rolling back.

"Yeah?" he gloated as he grunts, "Are you gonna cum again, darling? Come on, sweet one, I want to feel it." The soldat almost whimpered as he felt the thudding beat of her cunt on the stroke of his cock.

Y/N simply nodded, mouth falling open. His cock works over her sweet little pussy, nudging the sensitive bundle of nerve as he urged her to orgasm alongside his own.

He watched the way she drag her nails into the flesh of his thighs, "There she is, come on. Let it out, darling. That's it. Hmmm." His chest rumbled a deep groan. It was such a turned on for the soldat, to see the sight of him humping her legs faster until her slick finally wetting her thighs and his cock, making a mess everywhere.

Even if she has reached her high, his thrusts didn't flatter as his own orgasm was still at the edge. "Ahh,, darling,, please-- c-can't stop,," The upperside of his cock harshly rubbed between her sloppy folds, the feeling of the creamy mess between her thighs, making him fucked her faster.

The soldat whined needily into her neck as he drag her tightness back and forth. "So good, don't wanna stop." he squirmed as his voice hitched into a needy whimper, letting his head fall back to the headboard, his disheveled hair hanging by his face, some of it sticking onto his sweaty skin.

The room echoed with the several sinful sounds; his whimpers, her mewls, their skins slapping, the bed creaking, the wetness squelching.

It was such a dream for the soldat, especially when her folds spread around his fat cock every time he rolled his hips forward. The sight was beyond compelling, addictive to a certain extend.

"S-soldat,, please i'm,,hmmm,, sensitive." She can feel how thighs burned from the friction, and her slit abused with pleasure.

The soldat leaned into her until his hot breath blew across her neck, "Just a little more, Родная (darling)? Please? Wanna cum around your soft thighs, between your pretty pussy. You'll let me, right sweet one? You'll let me make a mess all over you? Paint you with my cum. You'll look so gorgeous, Родная (darling)"

His filthy thoughts started to spill out uncontrollably, as his body trembled in pure pleasure. His heaving chest rested on her small back when he whimpered, almost forcing her on her knees, pushing her down the mattress.

He wanted that so bad.

Just fuck her thighs and folds while she's on all fours, abusing her body for his pleasure and maybe slot the tip of his cock inside that tight cunt just before he cum, give that greedy little cunt a taste of his load, but he rather than that the soldat hold back on his thought, because truthfully he very much wanted to make a mess all over her right now.

His mouth sucking on her neck, leaving another one of his mark on her skin; one of many between those shades of purples and reds.

"Cumming for you, darling." He moaned loudly, eyes locked between her thighs, as his leaking cockhead occasionally peeks out. "Have so much cum for you,, gonna cream all over these thighs" He groaned, clenching his teeth as his cock throbs.

She clenched tighter as a unexpected orgasm were coming fast, letting out a desperate squeal as she reach her high. He growled at the feeling of her gushing pussy, fucking their orgasm into a higher level ecstacy.

The rolls of his hips were flattering into a slower and and sensual tempo, as both of them watched his cock; the way it pulsed and throbbed wildly, before white spurts of his hot cum started gushing from the little slit.

The soldat trembled through his orgasm, mouth falling open as he moaned lewdly at the sight of her skin being painted by his seemingly endless amount of cum.

Y/N panted heavily as her lips hanged open; failed words just at the tips of her tongue, unable to be formed properly. It didn't take long for the drowsiness to cloud her eyes, caused by the aftershock of the pleasure.

"There, there." The soldat cooed breathlessly in her ear, "So pretty, darling." Pampering the mark on her skin with gentle kisses, "So good for me." He mumbled as he languidly thrusts his cock, stroking the sides of her thighs, memorizing the sight of their wet mess.

Her body felt so good and satisfied, and the lid of her eyes slowly flutter into a longer close. She didn't hear much of his praises as he as laid her down, especially when his voice going in and out of her ears, as she was fighting through the temptation of slumber.

But, her body absolutely remembered how soft his touches on her skin, and the warm of the wet cloth swiping on the burn of her inner thighs, carefully over her swollen cunt.

"Love you, my precious darling." She couldn't make up what he was whispering under his breath. But she remembered the soldat pulling her close to his chest as he laid her on top of him, and the sweet kiss on her forehead before complete darkness engulf her sight.

"Your soldat loves you so much."

<< Part I || Part III >>

Read my other works here: Masterlist

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yuwuta · 2 months

Text

YUUTA OKKOTSU’S DECLASSIFIED JUJUTSU TECH SURVIVAL GUIDE (AN APPETITE HAUNTING THE HEART)

❝i know this tastes too good to be healthy. the more it melts, the sweeter it gets, so take my heart out because i need all of you.

*this is yuuta okkotsu’s fool-reviewed plan for navigating all things curses, sorcery, and love.

pairings. okkotsu/reader

content, warnings. canon-adjacent, reader has a cursed technique, friends to lovers, smut (uhh... no triggers i think? other than implied virginity loss on yuuta’s part), mentions of violence/curses, possessive/intrusive thoughts... he starts of kinda sweet and weird and then just gets... weirder and worse lol, so mostly yuuta being... yuuta <2

notes. jujustu tech is a college not a highschool, yes i brought naruto in this, i believe in sasuke slander only from a place of pure love, real sasuke ridicule will not be accepted xoxo

word count. 12k i told you i could yap about him all day

playing. candy/baekhyun, untouched/the veronicas, cream soda/exo, lacy/olivia rodrigo, pure honey/beyoncé

#1 — Do NOT touch Maki Zenin’s tools (but if you do, the cute girl who hangs around Inumaki might help to patch you up).

Yuuta hadn’t meant to piss off Maki. He was trying to be helpful, but Yuuta learned the hard way today: do not touch Maki’s cursed tools, at all, for any reason whatsoever. He intended to hand it back to her, but she was prompt in assuming that was part of an attack, snatching it from under his grasp and giving him a jab on the wrist with the dull end of the stick. If the beatdown he’d endured during training put Yuuta on his deathbed, then that hit was the final nail in the coffin.

The crack! sound of his bones made everyone pause their sparring, and Gojo winced the loudest, “Ouch! That one had to hurt, kid!” It was also Gojo who gathered everyone to stand around and look down at him clutching his wrist in pain, before making the executive decision to appoint you as Yuuta’s caretaker.

“This is definitely something you can handle!” he cheered, patting the top of your head, “Take our dearest Yuuta to the infirmary and patch him up, please and thank you! With the way Maki’s been kicking him into the ground, those cuts are sure to get infected sooner rather than later. The two of you can join us for dinner when you’re finished!”

Yuuta tried to refute, on the grounds of “No—no! I—ouch—this really isn’t worth using any kind of cursed energy over!” Which was quickly met with a mischievous raised eyebrow from his teacher, “Oh? Are you insinuating that my precious student doesn’t have the skill to fix a simple fracture?” That prompted Yuuta to spill a flurry of apologies, none of which were coherent, and ended up with him trailing behind you sheepishly to the infirmary with a broken wrist, several bleeding wounds, and probably early heart failure.

Now, Yuuta sits with his feet dangling off of the edge of the examination chair, shivering from the chilliness of the room, and all of his nerve endings rattling at the realization that this is the first time that he’s been alone in a room with you since you’ve met. He winces, first at the sting of disinfectant into his wound, and then internally—mostly out of embarrassment—because his outward reaction made you pause your actions to question if he’s okay.

Okay is relative, he thinks. In the grand scheme of things, he’s okay. Concerning his current injuries, he’ll be okay eventually. Concerning this… whatever this is he feels for you… maybe not so okay.

“Sorry,” he stutters, too loud for the atmosphere and proximity of your bodies to each other, and, so, he winces again, cheeks staining red to match his embarrassment, as if he or you needed any confirmation of it. He doesn’t mean to be a difficult patient, but he has an adversity surrounding hospitals and medical care, and that alcohol really does burn, and you’re really close to his face, and—and you giggle a little, but Yuuta hears a chorus, instead; warm, spring-like, with violins and a piano and cellos strumming in perfect harmony, and the buzz of bees and butterfly wings flapping the melody.

“You apologize a lot,” you tell him, a kind smile on your lips. You step forward, just a bit, as you peel off the band-aid adhesive and gently press it over the bridge of Yuuta’s nose. It’s Hello Kitty themed. It makes him want to scream.

“Yeah, uh—sorry about that!” Yuuta apologizes, once again too loudly. He scratches at the back of his neck with his left hand, and his eyes go wide after a few beats, “No, wait—I didn’t mean to apologize again. I just... I, uh... thank you. That’s what I wanted to say. For helping me, you have my sincerest thank you.”

Yuuta dips his head to bow, and when he raises it again, you’re blinking at him owlishly, and he thinks he’s really done it now. You must think he’s a freak, if you didn’t already. He thinks you’re gonna tell him off for being pathetic and a weakling, but instead you laugh again—that precious sound that pauses Yuuta’s world for the better.

“You’re awfully formal. There’s no need for that, or to thank me. We’re friends, afterall,” you reassure him, “Even if Gojo did force you to be my practice dummy.”

It’s his turn to reassure you, his uninjured hand moving from his neck to shake frantically in front of him, “It’s completely okay,” he does his best to give you a smile as warm as the one you give him. It probably doesn’t work, but he tries anyway—he’s always been an awkward smiler, too wide-mouthed and toothy, “You can do whatever you want to me, I trust you.”

Your face seems almost solemn at his declaration, and the panic instantly kicks in again. Yuuta scrambles when his words play back in his head, “I’m sorry, was that weird? I meant that I trust your judgment. You can, uh, fix me up however you best see fit—or just leave it! I’m sure it’ll heal on—”

“You’re awfully self-sacrificing, too,” you cut him off with a laugh, your usual warm nature clicking back. Yuuta shrugs, feeble; you smile wider, “I’m the one who should be apologizing to you. I keep staring, and I’m sorry to have made you uncomfortable.”

“Not at all! You don’t... make me uncomfortable, I mean. You could never,” Yuuta rushes, curling back into himself after his outburst, “You... it always feels really nice when you’re around. I can’t explain it, but everything is calmer.”

Your eyes flutter across his face, before you turn away from him, “I can tell it makes you nervous—I can hear the changes in your heartbeat,” you tell him, opening the cabinet to return the alcohol to its rightful place. You must also be able to hear his thoughts, chiming in just as Yuuta continues to wonder if his heartbeat is really that loud, “It’s part of my technique. I don’t mean to intrude on your heart.”

Is it an intrusion if Yuuta left room for you? If he wanted you to be there? Was it crazy to think that he’d give you his heart to hold and trust you to take care of it, even though you’d only met a few months ago? Maybe it would be easier if he let you squeeze tight enough to put him out of his misery already.

Luckily, you keep talking before he can say something stupid like that out-loud again.

“It’s just that... you remind me of somebody that I used to know. You’re kind like him, and you both share a well-intentioned recklessness, too. I see so much of him in you that it’s hard not to stare sometimes,” you admit, turning back to face him, and gingerly taking his wrist between your hands. When your hands start to glow, Yuuta can feel it—your reversed cursed technique is warm on the surface, but chilly underneath, like a heated blanket on top of perfectly cool sheets.

“I don’t mean to say that you’re just a replacement,” you continue, slowly rotating your hands over his injury. It stings a little, then soothes, “I’m just still in awe of how nice it feels being around you. It feels strangely—”

“Familiar,” Yuuta interjects, “I understand. You feel that way, too. I think... that’s what I meant before.” He understands your words perfectly because you remind him of someone precious to him, too; someone he used to and still loves alot. “You—it makes me happy, that’s why I seem so nervous.”

It seems as though you understand him, too. His heart sings, and you can probably hear it, but Yuuta doesn’t quite mind so much now. What he feels for you is consuming, maybe concerning, but knowing that you know what it’s like to love like him brings him an odd sense of comfort. Maybe he should be jealous that you’ve had someone to love that much before, but he’s not exactly in a position to talk. What matters is that you can hear him and feel him—his heart and his love and his sad and his happy, and it doesn’t push you away.

It makes him want to burst. He owes you a thank you for putting something so precious in his life. He owes you an apology, for ever doubting that you couldn’t handle his symptoms. He should have realized that you can handle his love.

“You feel really warm, too,” he blushes, scratching at the back of his neck with his free hand, “And, uh, not just because you’re holding my hand.”

The twinkle in your eyes turns into confusion, then surprise when you look down to see that the hand below his wrist had moved to rest underneath his palm instead. His wrist was well healed by now, and you’d been, effectively, massaging his skin and muscles with your technique for the latter duration of your conversation without realizing it.

Yuuta couldn’t tell when it went from healing to hand holding, but he’s not complaining—and he doesn’t think he could have stopped it either. Another quality to your technique that he couldn’t understand was how your energy felt sticky, flowed like honey; how it managed to run into broken crevices and bruised dents with a mind of its own. Even if he’d wanted to pull his hand away—and he didn’t, he absolutely did not—he wouldn’t have gotten far from you. He never wanted to be.

“You already have calluses on your palm,” you note, dispelling your healing energy, holding onto Yuuta’s hand only by want now, “You train hard. You’ll catch up to Maki and Toge, quickly, but not if you don’t take care of yourself.”

Yuuta almost chokes when you rotate your wrist so that your fingers are aligned. Your hand is so much softer than his, warmer than his, and maybe he’s idealistic, but your fingers seem to slot perfectly between his when you curl them.

“I’m not always going to be around to fix you up,” you warn him, “So don’t go around pissing Maki off too much, alright?”

Yuuta can feel the heat from your body flow through him. From his palm, up his arm, down into his chest, and everywhere else. It doesn’t feel real. You’re holding his hand, you’re smiling at him, you’re right there and you’re so bright and beautiful, so Yuuta doesn’t know why his thoughts are so gray and dangerous; you wouldn’t hurt him, and he doesn’t want to hurt you, so why can’t he stop thinking about keeping you like this—of stitching your hands together forever to keep you by his side, or letting this heat consume and burn you both.

Yuuta shakes his head to wiggle those thoughts away, but to you it seems like he’s saying no to staying off of Maki’s radar. When he realizes it, he nods too reverently to make up for it; surely looking like an idiot, and then to top it off, he squeaks, “I—yes, ma’am!”

Another foolish outburst on his end, perhaps, but it makes you giggle, fills the room with springtime for a moment, so to Yuuta, it was worth it. “Good,” you nod, release his hand and beckon him off of the chair, “Come on, we should go eat before Panda takes all the good sides for himself.”

Yuuta follows you back to the dorms with his stomach already full of love, love, love. He loves you, and you can hear, and see, and feel exactly what you do to him, and you don’t run. Yuuta thinks maybe you should, even though he doesn’t want you to. Surely you know what he did to Rika when he loved her.

Rika seems to like you, actually, if the humming of her voice in his head as he takes his seat at the table next to you is any indication. He can vaguely make out some of her words as you pass him the dumplings—warm, kind, loyal. He agrees. Pretty, too. No disagreement there.

In such a short amount of time, you’ve shifted Yuuta’s ethos for life. He wanted to die to be with the person he loved before, and never quite understood why Rika would stop him, why she would want him to suffer in this life alone; but maybe this is what Rika was always trying to tell him; that his love was not lost and buried with her, but flowing towards you, his heart, a beacon for you to locate.

You’d mentioned that he reminded you of someone you knew before, that you couldn’t see anymore. Yuuta doesn’t know what happened to your person before he came along; he can only hope that you’ll allow him and his heart to be a vessel for your love someday, too. He won’t disappoint you. He won’t let you let go of him.

It shouldn’t be hard. You already have his heart in your hands.

#2 — Gojo is more than a teacher. He is also the school event planner, once ranked Diamond in Overwatch, and is the only person blacklisted from any and all kitchens on campus. He also gives pretty good (sometimes questionable?) advice. His eyes are kind of scary.

You’re there when he and Toge are nearly decimated by the Grade 1 curse in the abandoned market. He still doesn’t understand much about sorcery at this point, so seeing people like you and Toge in action is awe-inspiring to say the least. Yuuta knows that Toge is nothing short of amazing, but he can’t help but to be drawn into you, you, you—your energy, your fighting style, the seemingly never-ending applications of your technique. Cursed energy in and of itself is still a foreign concept to him, so perhaps it’s that seeing you use the reverse of it so effortlessly is even more novel to him.

He can hear Rika strumming in the back of his mind, an indistinct itch and hum that sounds vaguely like laughter at his self-justification. He chooses to ignore her.

After, while he’s still buzzing with the tingly warm sensation of your technique after you’d patched him up, Gojo finds him, and Yuuta, unable to keep up a façade, pours all his anxious, worried, inquisitive feelings about his mission on the table.

“The way that (_____) can heal wounds... is that something I can learn?” Yuuta questions his teacher, eyes tired but genuine and earnest.

And Gojo, all knowing and absolutely singing at the implications, smiles so wide he’s certain his newest student could see the crinkles in the corners of his eyes, even through the dark tint of his glasses. “Maybe.”

He goes on, leaning back into the old loveseat, one leg crossed over his other knee, “You’ll probably be able to learn to heal yourself with reversed cursed technique, but using it to heal others is difficult and rare. Shoko and (_____) are the only people I know who can do it.”

“Is… did she get to learn it because she’s a Grade 1?” He remembers Maki explaining the ranking system for Jujutsu sorcerers. You and Toge were ranked the highest in the class, and amongst the other Kyoto students; it would make sense that you two have learned more applications of your techniques due to your higher placements.

Gojo chuckles, much to Yuuta’s confusion. “That’s not quite how it works—and if it were, then you’d already know because you’re a Special Grade. You don’t unlock new lessons as you move up, you move up because of how well you’ve learned to control and apply your own cursed technique.”

Right. That makes sense. Except Yuuta knows that his classification of Special Grade is a bit of a cheat because he can’t control or apply his cursed energy half as well as any of his classmates. He has Rika to thank for his immediate promotion, not himself or his own skills.

“In any case, if you do learn it, you’ll never be able to execute it like her, that’s for certain. Reversed cursed technique is complicated to learn and nearly impossible to teach. It’s one of those things you truly have to figure out for yourself when the timing is right—I only got it when I was on the brink of death. It’s 100% effective on the person doing it, but only 50% effective when applied to other people by the user,” Gojo says, “Except for (_____). She was born with reversed cursed energy, which is why she has an almost 100% output on herself and others, so she’s extra special. ”

Yuuta frowns. He never expected to do anything half as well as you, but knowing there’s only half a chance that he could, literally, only ever meet you half-way is frustrating. You can save him time and time and time again, as you already have, and all he can do is be a wound for you to stitch back together.

It must be difficult for you. A similar thought had crossed his mind when he first met Shoko-san, feeling bad for her having to carry the burden of healing others, knowing that she could never receive the same treatment in return. It’s worse for you, though, to be an angel amongst the men on this Earth—it’s not fair that you can give so much to help, and nobody can do the same for you. Yuuta wants to give something to you, he wants to devote himself to you, so at the very least, you have that. If he can’t give you anything else, he can give you himself.

Gojo laughs at Yuuta’s silence, kicking his legs up on the coffee table. “That’s hard for you to hear, huh? Ha! You truly are a lover, not a fighter, Yuuta.”

Yuuta blinks at him. “I, uh... thank you?” He says, even though he’s not so certain that those two things are discernable.

“Right now, the best thing for you to do is focus on controlling Rika and your cursed energy. That way, (_____) can also focus on fighting, and not healing, when you’re on missions together. The stronger you are, the less she’ll have to clean up after you,” Gojo advises.

He puts his feet back on the floor and uses the leverage to lean over, a bit too close for Yuuta’s comfort. “The only thing you can do for her is to learn to help yourself.”

Yuuta’s eyes go wide. He wants to—he wants to help you, wants to help himself, wants to help others, too. There’s a selfish twang for a moment, the thought of not needing you anymore tugging at his heart, but Rika reminds him that he’ll still want you.

Then an even scarier thought crosses his mind. “What happens if I don’t learn to control this? What happens if I curse her instead?”

Yuuta trembles at the thought, breathing and heartbeat erratic, his sensei moving back a bit. Rika is there again, reassuring him that he never hurt her, that his love never hurts, that the only person he’s ever truly harmed is himself by isolation of his own feelings. Trust her, Rika demands, she can handle this.

You can. Can you? You have, so far. You don’t run, you don’t push, you give, and give, and give to him; Rika was kind and playful and took and took and took Yuuta’s loneliness and sickness in stride and he still cursed her, seemingly for all eternity. He wants to love and be loved, but not if it means hurting you—isn’t it bad enough that he’s already inept at healing your wounds? Why should he risk giving you more?

“Yuuta,” Gojo calls him out of his thoughts, “I’m disappointed.”

That truly breaks Yuuta’s cyclical monologue. “I—disappointed?”

Gojo ticks his tongue, shakes his head and points a finger in accusation, “You should know your fellow classmates better by now. (_____) is not that weak or scared,” he chastises, “You’re so worried about cursing her that you haven’t realized that she is the only person so far to have effectively used her curse on you.”

Yuuta pauses, eyes wet with the awful realization that Gojo was right. You have already cursed him; your technique has already gotten past the barrier of his curse. You’ve cursed him. He never stopped to think that it was possible, worried only about himself. How selfish—he shares Gojo’s disappointment in himself.

He’s spent so much time loathing his jealous mind and decaying heart that he hasn’t opened his eyes to see you that you’ve found him. You can poison anything he does, and make the antidote with equal ease; how stupidly naive of Yuuta to think that he could be the one to diagnose or treat you better than you could him, or yourself.

“I’m sorry, sensei,” Yuuta dips his head, and also spares you an internal apology, “I understand better, now.”

“Is that so?” Gojo muses, leaning back into the sofa. His eyes scan Yuuta’s when his head is raised again, that knowing grin creeping back up on his lips. “Well, if you still want to know more about reversed curse technique, or want help learning it, it’s not an entirely lost cause. I’m definitely not the person for this lesson, but, you know who is?”

Yuuta feels a sense of whiplash from the change in Gojo’s demeanor. Confusion clouds his mind again, and he shrugs, “Um... Shoko-sensei?”

Gojo makes a loud buzzer noise, complete with crossing his arms in front of his chest in a big ‘X.’ Yuuta frowns again. Is that where Toge learned to do that?

“Wrong! I’m talking about (_____), obviously!” Gojo claps his hands together, before lowering his glasses to wiggle his eyebrows, “Tutoring is a textbook way to get some alone time, kiddo. You want to spend more time with her outside of class and missions, right?”

“I want to spend all my time with her,” Yuuta confesses, mindlessly. And foolishly, he soon realizes, when he sees that Gojo’s grin has tripled; and he’s quick to flash his hands to correct himself, “No—not like that—not in a creepy way! I just... I want to get to know her better, like you said.”

Yuuta’s awkward chuckles fill the space, and he can feel his insides burning from his cheeks all the way down to his hands. Would he ever be able to think coherently or tactfully when it came to you?

“So, uh... I... it’s okay if I ask her about this stuff, too?”

“Some sorcerers don’t like talking about their cursed techniques. But (_____) might not mind. You won’t know until you try.”

Yuuta nods shallowly. Try. He can do that—if not for himself, then for you; he can try for you. All you need from him is to accept your course of treatment; to love you is to let you curse him, completely.

“I’m a firm believer that all’s fair in love and war,” Gojo stands, stretching into Yuuta’s space to ruffle his hair. He leans down further, giving him a glimpse of his glowing eyes before sparing him a wink, “So, be a little greedy, and give it your best shot.”

#3 — Social media is the most twisted curse out there. It makes you feel so close, yet is a stark reminder of just how far you are from the person on the other end of the screen.

Yuuta has never considered himself good with technology. Even before Rika’s incident, he often felt ostracized by his peers because he didn’t have the same interest in or experience with games and cartoons. He had no reason to have a computer or a phone until enrolling at Jujutsu Tech, and there was an evident learning curve in navigating the devices. Toge often snickered watching Yuuta use his smartphone with the dexterity of a senior citizen.

He only barely set up Instagram and TikTok accounts with Toge’s help, but he doesn’t really get the idea of followers—why would people who don’t know him want to follow him? Why would he follow them? He doesn’t know many memes or jokes and even after seeing them, he doesn’t think many are all that funny, but he laughs anyway.

He doesn’t have much time to perfect his social media and meme skills, anyway. He’s dedicated to training and gaining mission experience—which pays off when Geto declares war on the school by the end of the year. Yuuta remembers how you returned his phone to him the next day, a few cracks and black, dark spots on the screen, giggling that you’d found it in the rubble, but that even your reverse cursed technique couldn’t fix its scars.

He thinks he gets the hang of it in the end—the basics of communication and the appeal behind connection with others through it—even going so far as to trade selfies with Gojo sometimes, who always seemed happy to receive them, no matter how much post-exorcism curse gunk Yuuta was covered in.

He also frequently exchanges texts with you. He much prefers to see you in person, but when you’re stuck for long hours in the ER, or away from campus on your own missions, Yuuta has grown fond of receiving your messages. He always attempts to read them in your voice and imagine your facial expressions to match those of the emojis you send. He hasn’t quite gotten the hang of those yet, doesn’t understand what Toge means when he says that not all smiley faces are created equally, so to save himself the trouble, and potential embarrassment, he’s opted to use emoticons instead. Which, if you asked him, has been working out in his favor, seeing as you call them cute.

Yuuta also uses the safety of his phone screen to implement some of Gojo’s advice; picking your brain about curses, sorcery, and healing via text message for just long enough for you to say it’s easier to explain in person to come to him and teach him in your spare time. Soon these study sessions turn into texts asking to hang out outside of class and missions and work, and Yuuta couldn’t be more elated. The screen he once scorned at seemed to be his one-way ticket to being able to talk to his favorite person constantly.

But Yuuta never thought it would become his only means of communication with you. He’s devastated when you break the news to him, over half-finished oolong tea and nervous finger-twiddling.

“You’re leaving?” He echoes, hoping he doesn’t sound too much like a heartbroken child, even though that’s exactly how he feels.

It’s quiet outside of the tea shop where you two sit, nearing seven in the evening; only the soft sounds of other customers conversing behind you two inside, distant cars on the main street, and the sound of Yuuta’s heart beating frantically.

“Not leaving leaving,” you clarify, pausing your finger twirling to place one of your hands over Yuuta’s on the table, “I’m still studying, but I’m being sent abroad for a bit.”

He should be focused on the fact that you’re touching his hand—Yuuta should be happy! Rika still cheers for you in his mind, but her voice is quieter now—but Yuuta can’t. He’s focused on everything else, spiraling about the implications of your words. You’re leaving... going away from him when things are going so well.

Yuuta was so happy when you taught him the reversed curse technique, even happier when he realized he did have the ability to heal others, knowing it also meant having the ability to help you relieve some of your burdens. That didn’t mean that he didn’t still want to give himself to you, he would if you’d have him—but now he wouldn’t have the chance.

“I haven’t told anyone else yet—Gojo only told me this morning,” you mumble, “I’m going to miss you all a lot, but we can still text every day! I don’t know how long the time difference will be, but we can FaceTime.”

It’s not lost on Yuuta that he is the first person that you’ve told about this. It’s another thing to be happy about, another little victory he never thought he’d achieve, but it’s still overpowered by the dread of you leaving him.

He blinks, placing his other hand atop yours, sandwiching them between his, “How long?” Yuuta can’t read the expression on your face, but you don’t pull your hand away. He’s glad. He didn’t think when he’d done it, but the lack of rejection feels good—your touch always feels good, reverse cursed energy or not.

“I’m… not sure—a few months at least, maybe until the end of the year,” you admit, squeezing his hand, “There are some cursed objects and scrolls they want me to help recover, and Gojo says I get to work with another Special Grade sorcerer, too.”

His hands feel so good, so warm, but everything else about Yuuta feels cold, icy with dread and fear. You’re going away for a long time, and he won’t get to see you or hear you laugh or feel your warmth while you’re gone. His sunny days are going away, and Yuuta honestly doesn’t know how many more overcast skies and rain clouds he can take.

And it’s selfish, he knows. He should be happy for you—you were chosen for this mission, for this training; you’re getting the chance to use your skills to help others, and train even further. So, why couldn’t he be happy for you? Why could he only feel a pit in his stomach about the thought of you leaving and meeting some other Special Grade who’s rightfully deserving of their title? Not only had he lost the thing that brought him to you in the first place, but you’re about to find another replacement. Sure, with or without Rika’s curse, Yuuta had become so much stronger, but what’s it worth if he couldn’t keep you by his side?

“Tsukumo is supposed to be really cool, but you’ll always be my favorite Special Grade, Yuuta,” you taunt with a smile.

Yuuta’s eyes go wide and watery with wobbly lips and flushed cheeked and sweaty palms to match. Favorite. Favorite, favorite, favorite. The word spoken in your voice rings in his head like a beautiful chime, the tones washing over him and erasing all his fear and doubt and insecurity.

You had called Yuuta your favorite. Sure, he’s still upset when he and the other first-years drop you off at the airport too weeks later, he still cries the first night you’re gone, still nearly breaks his knee trying to jump for his phone the first time that you call; but it’s okay because Yuuta is living off of the temporary high of being your favorite.

And also, because, in the end, your separation seems to have been inevitable. Not a month after everyone bids you farewell from Jujutsu Tech, Gojo tells him that he’s next on the docket to be sent abroad. He’s happy for a split second, thinking that he might get sent off to Europe where you’re still working with Tsukumo, but then Yuuta learns his true fate: studying under the tutelage of Miguel in Kenya; equal parts away from his classmates in Tokyo, and from you in Barcelona.

Whoever said distance makes the heart grow fonder was a liar and a bitch, because the favorite boy honeymoon comes to an end when Yuuta settles into his new room and makes his first call to you from Nairobi. The feeling and reality of being alone, and even further away from you finally hits him. Still, he relishes in the sound of your voice; fantasizes that when you reach for your phone to show him your new things, it’s you reaching for his hand; dreams of you laying next to him when you fall asleep on the call, and desperately wishes that he could touch you, hold you, kiss you.

He really wants to kiss you. He thinks he’s probably always wanted to kiss you, from the very moment his feelings for you started to grow; even if he couldn’t discern them at first, he knows now—Yuuta knows that he misses you like he’s never missed anyone before. The grief of losing part of Rika, and then losing his proximity to you merely weeks apart is finally catching up to him, and it’s morphing into a yearning that tugs on his heartstrings and rattles his brain.

He knows that the rate of growth of his feelings for you hasn’t been steady, but he blames you for that. You’re the reason he loves you so much, the reason he can’t sleep at night, the reason he learns how to bring Rika back—because he thinks of you, you, you, and how he lost Rika once, and he’d be a fool to lose you twice.

Yuuta thinks it’s no coincidence that your cursed technique has the ability to alter him in mind and body. You have so much ownership over him and you probably don’t even know that Yuuta has spent every single moment of his life living and breathing for you since you’ve met.

And you take his breath away yet again, when he gets to see you in Germany. Miguel is taking him to Switzerland on a classified mission, and you and Tsukumo are on your way to Austria, and by some great miracle, your layovers align. When he sees you waving to him down the long corridor in the airport, it feels like a scene straight out of his dreams. Yuuta spares no time trying to look cool or nonchalant; making a beeline to you, desperate to feel your touch after so long.

He’s breathless in those ten minutes that you’re reunited. Everything is too short, but he does his best to live in it all. He speaks a mile a minute, cramming in anything he hadn’t already revealed to you in your many late-night FaceTimes, and swallowing everything you tell him. He wants to believe that he’d made the best of what little time he had with you, but the truth is he didn’t. Because while you were smiling and hugging and telling him that you missed him, all Yuuta really wanted to do was kiss you—and if he were a smarter man, a better man, he would have.

He thinks, for a split second, that you might have wanted to kiss him too—when you rock back on your heels after saying good-bye, hesitating for just a moment, almost expectantly, before your eyes flutter away. He’ll never know, because he never asked, he never tried, he never said—only whispered, pathetically, to himself as he watches the silhouette of you and Tsukomo before you disappear for boarding, that he loves you.

He almost believes that you hear it when you turn over your shoulder after his quiet confession. Would it have been better that way—if he kissed you, or confessed in the heat of the moment—or would it be taking advantage of an otherwise beautiful moment? Yuuta will never know, and the what if tantalizes him.

He takes his phone out of his pocket and opens the thread of your messages. He starts typing, then stops. Backspace. Start typing. Pause. Read, re-read. Delete. Groan.

What’s the point? He can’t kiss you through the screen, and he’ll be damned if the first time he tells you that he’s in love with you is via phone call. He slumps his shoulders, and Miguel gives him a pity pat on the back. Yuuta goes to lock his phone when he sees the gray thought bubbles pop up below your last message and his entire body goes rigid in anticipation.

[received] 03:27 PM — [attachment: 1 image] — you should keep a closer eye on your things yuuta — i miss you already (◍•ᴗ•◍)❤

Yuuta’s heart stops when he sees the picture of you in your seat, wearing his white uniform jacket. He doesn’t know when you snuck it away from him, but that doesn’t matter—like anything else, he would have willingly given it to you, and then some. It looks much better on you anyway, and Yuuta pinches his eyes shut for a brief moment, to swallow down the thoughts threatening to swarm his mind of you in his arms, in other clothes, in his bed.

He opens his eyes, takes a deep breath, and lets the warm, gooey feeling settle into his veins, and moves his fingers to type.

[sent] 03:38 PM — keep it, you can have anything of mine you want — i miss you more (๑′ ᴗ ‵๑)♥

You heart his messages and let him know you’re taking off soon, and putting your phone on airplane mode until you land. He’s not so confident to send a picture in return, unless you ask for it. Maybe you will, when you’re in Austria. He’ll have to work on his selfies.

He takes another once over the picture you sent, committing the idea of you in his clothes to memory. He knows the messages won’t delete themselves, but he takes a screenshot for safekeeping anyway. Maybe phones aren’t so bad, afterall.

#4 — Do not kill Itadori Yuuji. Under any circumstances. Even if some days you really feel like it. Also, sign up for a Crunchyroll subscription.

Yuuta can confidently say that his training abroad was both the most difficult and fulfilling thing he’s ever experienced. He believes that the change he’s endured is mostly good—he’s physically stronger, emotionally wiser, and overall more confident in himself and his cursed technique. One year ago, he would have been content with dying, but now he has more than enough reasons to keep living. He has people who care about him, and who would miss him if he were gone; and he’s got someone he would miss a whole bunch, too, should anything happen to them.

By miss Yuuta means that he might burn down a small town, might level a city, might flip the entire world on its axis if something were to happen to you. In his defense, he’d go to extremes for most of his friends—but for you, there’s truly nothing he wouldn’t risk.

He figured that out in his time abroad, too; came to terms with the fact that he’s selfish with his love. He loves too much, too hard, too close, and he isn’t very willing to share. He doesn’t see it as a bad thing, anymore, either—Yuuta knows now that the way he loves makes him who he is, and right now, he has the confidence to say that he likes that person, and that he loves you, undoubtedly.

So, forgive him if there’s a cloud of negative energy the size of a coach bus looming over him at the moment, because since you’ve returned to campus, Itadori Yuuji has been slobbering over you like a lovesick puppy.

Because apparently, you happen to know Itadori Yuuji—as in, since you were four and he was three, all the way up until your senior year of highschool, when you were scouted by Gojo, who, believes that you coming home from your study abroad trip would be the perfect time to reunite two best friends who hadn’t seen or heard from each other for the better part of two years—all while keeping this little reunion a secret from everybody, including you and Itadori.

A surprise, it certainly is, when the first time that Yuuta and the other second-years see you in months is on the dingy couch in the common room, under a cuddle pile of the first-years. Nobara’s arms wrapped around your left arm, body slumped against your side, Megumi’s long limbs stretching over Itadori’s torso, leaving the palm of his hand resting on your thigh. Far too close for Yuuta’s comfort. The only saving grace is that the jacket he loaned you is also spread across your lap, offering another layer between your body and his palm. And then there’s Itadori Yuuji, squished right between you and Megumi, with his head on your shoulder, his arms around your waist, and your free arm slung around his neck.

Yuuta should have been relishing in the fact that you were finally home, but all his focus is drawn to the way your position allows Itadori to cuddle right into you, to the way your arm is around his shoulder and your cheek pressed against the top of his head. You two might as well have been in your own little world, and Yuuta hates it. And, as if that’s not enough, the realization that he was not the first person to hug you or welcome you home clicks, and his anger bubbles deeper.

Next comes dread, that creeps in slowly when you and the first-years wake up, and you and Itadori go on and on and on about how surprised you were to see each other at the airport, how Itadori just assumed that when Gojo said he’d assigned them to “pick up something super special,” that he was messing with them, how you couldn’t seem to take your eyes off of your precious, precious kouhai that you’d missed so dearly.

Childhood best friends brought back together through sorcery. Yuuta’s seen that one before, and he didn’t like the ending.

You and Itadori mend the gap in your friendship like two years of no contact was nothing, falling into a pattern that’s so easy and familiar, that it’s painful for Yuuta to watch. The assumption that you’d died, and the knowledge that Yuuji had actually died only served to strengthen your vows to protect each other in the name of your friendship from here on out.

Yuuta considers putting his own sword through his chest if it means you’ll swear your devotion to him. If he died, would you cry for him? Would you pray over his grave and beg for him to come back to you?—or would you find comfort in those who kept living, find solace in a friend who came back for you and can still hold you in his arms?

“Tsuna tsuna,” he hears from his left, followed by a mischievous giggle. Toge’s taunting is hardly enough to pull Yuuta out of his cloud of rage, but the blunt end of Maki’s staff is.

“Will you stop pining so damn hard?” she sneers, whipping the staff back to her side and placing a hand on her hip, “Not only is it pathetic, it’s gonna attract curses like flies to honey.”

“Why am I the only one getting hit?” He turns to his right to motion to Megumi, who seems to be brooding just as hard. Megumi respects you, but it was easy to see that he was reaching his limit on sharing his recently revived lover with someone else. Maki huffs, “Because he doesn’t have a literal cloud of darkness looming around him.”

Yuuta sighs, doing his best to reign in his feelings, but it’s pointless once he hears your laughter across the field—light and airy and sunshiney and all because of Itadori Yuuji.

What were you two talking about? If Itadori were out of the way, would you pledge yourself to Yuuta? Did he ever hold a space comparable to Itadori in your heart—would you let him?

A broken chord strikes Yuuta’s heart when he realizes that Itadori is the person you told him about last year; the person you missed so much, and you never thought you’d be able to see again; the person that Yuuta reminded you of; the person he was happy and eager to be for you. And now, in knowing Itadori, Yuuta thinks that his willingness was beautifully naive—to think that he could compare to someone like this. Itadori is light, where Yuuta is dark; he sees the best in people, where Yuuta manages to come off on the wrong foot always; he perseveres in faith and determination, where Yuuta is fueled by an anxious desire to prove, prove, prove himself to be worth something to anybody.

He can see how easy it is to love Itadori. It’s easy to cling to faith, to believe in something higher than yourself, to know that someone above can pull you up. Yuuta cannot compete where he cannot compare; he’s a shadow that engulfs you, takes you away from light, a dream that’s hard to wake up from. He could never be bright to you; his best attempt would probably drive you and him too close to the sun, martyred for love in burning flames.

Still, even in all his jealousy, Yuuta comes to the even more sobering realization that making Itadori disappear wouldn’t fix his problems. You told him he wasn’t Itadori’s replacement, but maybe that’s because he could never be him; maybe he doesn’t have to be. Yuuji could never be him, and he could never be Yuuji, but whether Yuuta likes it or not, he and Itadori are two sides of the same coin; and as such, Yuuta has, begrudgingly, grown to feel the same sense of responsibility over the younger boy that you do.

So, even though he never expected that they would both be at the mercy of your hand at the same time in this lifetime, he absolutely cannot kill Itadori Yuuji. Not only would it make you sad, but it would probably make Yuuta even sadder in the end, somehow. What a bother.

He’s about to get up—to leave, maybe go over there, he doesn’t know yet—but he stops when he hears a calm buzzing by his ear. Yuuta blinks, slowly, shoulders relaxing unconsciously, allowing the larger than normal honey-bee to land on him. He recognizes it as one of your shikigami—and even if he hadn’t, that familiar, cooling sensation that washes over him would have let him know—so, gently, he lifts a hand across his torso, allowing it to crawl onto his finger, and strum its tune.

Yuuta can feel a few more, hear them humming around him, and he closes his eyes, lets the small group of bees flutter around him and all that looming jealousy dissipates from his body.

Faintly, past the calm hum of the small swarm, Yuuta can hear the call of Yuuji’s voice, petulant, “Aw, no fair. Fushiguro, I want calming shikigami, too! Can you bring out the bunnies? Please.”

Beside him, Toge and Maki seem bemused by his newly calmed state, then amused when Megumi sighs, stands, and reluctantly pulls his hands together before a couple dozen white rabbits flood the field and hop onto Yuuji.

The buzzing grows softer, and then quiet. Briefly, Yuuta feels a bee land on his cheek, before it flies away, leaving the smell of fresh pollen in his wake, and when he blinks his eyes open again, you’re there, in front of him with a smile sweeter than anything he’s ever known.

“Hope they didn’t scare you,” you muse, waving a finger before the last bee hovering around you disappears, “You seemed upset, everything alright?”

He’s about to open his mouth to say something, anything, when he’s cut off by Itadori Yuuji once again, with one bunny on either shoulder, and three more cradled in his arms. “Hey, doesn’t (_____) totally remind you guys of Sakura!” 

Maki scoffs, albeit with amusement, as she points her staff at Yuuji’s hair. “If anyone bears resemblance to Sakura, it’s you, Itadori.” 

Yuuji actually makes an attempt to look at his own hair before chuckling. Yuuta flashes a look to Megumi, who looks equal parts exasperated and enchanted. Yuuta doesn’t get the reference, and when Inumaki starts making gestures about how Yuuji is like some Naruto guy and Yuuji screams about how Megumi resembles a Shikamaru, he becomes too afraid to ask. 

You seemed charmed at the end of the discussion, when everybody fundamentally agrees that you’re the Sakura of the group. Yuuta is far less charmed by these comparisons (and it has nothing to do with the fact that he didn’t get one). He doubts that this Sakura person can do what you can do, doubts that Sakura is even worthy enough to be compared to you, whoever she may be. 

And maybe Yuuta goes back to his room to watch several compilation videos about ships in Naruto later that day, but nobody has to know that. From what he’s gathered, Sakura is pretty cool, and even though Yuuji bears the most physical resemblance to her, he can see why everyone agrees that your healing abilities compare well to hers. Yuuta thinks you’re better, and he’s still holding out hope that there’s some other character equivalent for you that Itadori didn’t think of, that Yuuta can, just to prove that he knows you better. He doesn’t fight any comparisons between Gojo and Kakashi, though. That one honestly freaked him out a little.

If it turns out that you’re Sakura, then he should hope to be Sasuke, but Yuuta thinks this dude is kind of a dick. From the 47 minutes of scattered Naruto content that he’s consumed, he actually much prefers the dynamic between Sakura and Naruto, even if that does equate to Itadori Yuuji having a crush on you, at least you’re out of his league and chasing after somebody else.

Still, he thinks Sakura would be upset if Naruto actually died, or worse, if Sasuke actually killed him—never mind the fact that apparently he tried to kill her? Yuuta would never do that, but Sakura still seems to like Sasuke after all of that... in any case, Itadori Yuuji must live, and Yuuta must accept his fate as Sasuke reborn.

Though, to Yuuta’s understanding so far, Sasuke and Naruto are destined to duke it out and if only one of them has to survive, then maybe it’s not so bad to be this guy. Yuuta doesn’t know how it ends between them, but he thinks he could take on Itadori Yuuji if he had to. He won’t because he’s your friend, and Yuuta’s friend now, too, but if Itadori or the curse inside of him acts up, then Yuuta can at least rest assured he can put a stop to it. That’s not something he could have guaranteed a year ago, but now, he can.

Yuuta sighs, finally locking his phone and shoving his head under his blanket. He’s been knee deep in analyses about Sakura ships for the past two and a half hours now, and he’ll admit Sasuke is growing on him, but not much. His only saving grace seems to be that Sakura is madly, unconditionally in love with him; Yuuta wouldn’t mind having that kind of devotion from you. He turns to lay on his back, staring up at the blank ceiling and wonders: if it came down to saving only one of them, would Sakura pick Naruto or Sasuke... would you choose the boy who’s loved and looked up to you since you were kids, or the boy who sacrificed everything in hopes of gaining enough strength so that what happened to him never happens to anyone else.

Maybe they answer that in the series, Yuuta reasons. 720 episodes, at 20 minutes per episode... if he devotes about half-a-day to watching Naruto, then he can breeze through it in a little over two weeks, maybe sooner if he uses his weekends efficiently. That’s plausible, and by the end of it, Yuuta is certain that he’ll have the answers he needs—and even if it doesn’t, then at least, he’ll have one more thing to talk to you about.

In the end, Sakura picks Sasuke, Naruto marries somebody else, and Yuuta understands that the two were never opposites, but complements, and that Itadori Yuuji-shaped pit in his stomach dissipates. Still, about three weeks later at breakfast he makes the argument that if anything you’re more akin to Tsunade, minus the gambling addiction, and that gets him rave reactions from everyone, including you, who is more than happy to show him your new slug shikigami as a means of commemorating your new Naruto kin.

Believe that, Itadori.

#5 — None of this matters if you don’t kiss her. You have to kiss the girl—or she’ll get mad enough to the point where she’ll kiss you.

The following month comes your indictment into the Semi-Special Grade hall of responsibility. Yuuta vaguely recalls Gojo’s lecture on how people don’t really get promoted to Special Grade—it’s classification you’re born or cursed with, like himself, or Yuuji, or Tsukumo—but, you, of course, defy all odds and expand everything Yuuta knows. Nobody is surprised—Yuuta thinks everyone was among the similar thought that you were undoubtedly unique amongst your classmates, in a way that was different from him or Yuuji. Being born with a body that generates reversed cursed energy instead of cursed energy is deserving of Special Grade status if you asked him; he doesn’t know what pushed the higher-ups into finally acknowledging your skill, but he knows it’s well-past due. And while he’s happy you’re getting recognition for your efforts, Yuuta would never wish to saddle you with half of the shit the higher-ups put him through.

They better hope that Yuuta doesn’t find out that they’re plotting anything with you, lest they meet the end of his sword.

Part of your promotion entails a dual-degree program that will have you starting medical school next fall. Yuuta almost cries at the thought of you being sent away again, until you tell him that Gojo managed to pull a few strings this time—to fund everything and keep you in Tokyo.

And even though you’re not licensed to treat civilians yet, you’re already more than experienced with taking care of and healing your fellow sorcerers, which lends Shoko’s promotional gift to be a shiny new office, right across from hers. Yuuta is the first person you invite inside, and he brings you a photo of you, him, Maki, and Toge from last year—honestly, probably the only photo the four of you have together—to christen your desk, and a plaque with your name on it for the door, that he may or may not have fantasized about it reading with your first name and his last name on it instead.

To no surprise, your office becomes a safe haven of sorts. Yuuta would define any time or place with you as a safe haven, but there’s something special about this place. Maybe Yuuta is still leaping from this being the second time you’ve chosen him. He’s the first person to see your office, the first person to sit at your chair, your first official patient when he stubs his toe against the corner of your desk (where he left the first decorative object). Maybe it’s a little far to say that this place has him all over it as much as it does you, but Yuuta likes the sound of that.

When he comes back from gruesome missions, he’s invited to let himself in, no matter how much blood he’s covered in, and you’ll be there to take care of him. It’s not different than before—not different than even last year when he’d waddled in your shadow to the room across the hall and sat down with heart palpitations while you fixed his wrist—but something about this feels special. It holds a different weight than hanging out in your dorm or cooking together in the kitchen; this office is yours, the things you say and do to him here are confidential, the yearning for and almost-kisses you almost have are for you and him alone; within these four walls, you’re free to curse him completely.

So, he’s understandably upset when your office becomes a cozy corner for the other students as well. Maki likes to take refuge inside to study alone, Panda and Toge have been caught on more than one occasion attempting to wrap gauze around each other like zombies, Megumi uses your supplies and basic first-aid lessons to prepare small kits for him and the other first-years, hell, even Gojo has been found asleep in your office on more than one occasion. He gets why people are drawn to you like a magnet, why you’re comforting, and welcoming, and a source of warmth for them, but that doesn’t mean that Yuuta likes to share you. It’s much harder to almost-kiss you this way.

He must have pouted loud enough about it, because shortly after, instead of inviting Yuuta to your office for lunch, you ask him to meet you on the field. Not one to question you, he obeys, and soon, instead he’s met with an entirely new safe haven, sitting criss-cross inside your domain with all your shikigami slithering and fluttering and buzzing about him. A butterfly lands on his nose, and Yuuta’s nose crinkles. You lean in to let it crawl on your finger instead, and don’t lean too far back when you slowly begin to explain to him the intricacies of your domain and how it all comes together.

It’s amazing, surely. Yuuta listens as best he can, but it’s hard when there’s a halo of butterflies around you, and a symphony of bees buzzing in his ear, and a slug kissing at his hand, and a snake coiling around his body and gently massaging his muscles, and your voice sound so soft and warm, and you look so pretty and, and, and he wants to kiss you again.

He wants to kiss you really badly. He wonders if that’s part of your domain—honestly, he’d wondered if that magnetic, honey-like attraction he has to you is in any part influenced by your healing nature—wonders if the confines of your space exacerbates the flow of blood to his heart and his cheeks and his—

“Are you listening?” you question, that glowing, addictive smile on your face, “You know I can make the snake bite, the bees sting.”

God, Yuuta wants to kiss you. He wants to live in the spring garden of your love forever, and ever, and roll around in the grass and drink honey with you, and kiss you and kiss you and kiss you. You could keep him here forever, he’d be perfectly content with living his days wrapped up in your curse.

Yuuta shakes his head to snap out of his daydream, disrupting a few butterflies in the process. “I—sorry,” he apologies, “I’m listening now.”

You hum, folding your legs underneath your knees and sitting before him. Yuuta’s certain he looks slightly ridiculous, covered head to toe in animals and small insects and burning underneath your gaze—wasn’t this domain supposed to help people feel better? Is there no cure for lovesickness that you can use on him—or, at the very least, embarrassment?

“I asked you why you won’t kiss me.”

Yuuta knows that if he weren’t in your domain right now, he would have fallen to a sudden death. “I—I, um,” words, Yuuta, words; a bee lands on his cheek, he takes a deep breath, “I’m sorry.”

That doesn’t seem like the right answer, judging by the twist of your lips. Of course it’s not—because it’s a lie, and you know it, and you know he knows that you know it. How could he be sorry for wanting you, for spending every last waking moment breathing for you, hoping that you’ll end his laborious breaths and pour air into him yourself?

“You know, I brought you in here to make sure that you wouldn’t run or pass out on me,” you confess, reaching out your hand towards him; the tip of your finger barely grazes his cheek as you allow the bee to crawl onto you, “I worry about your heart more than I should.”

You flick your finger gently, allowing the bee to flutter freely and your eyes to focus back on Yuuta’s, “Right now, in this domain, it’s mine to control. To stop, to beat.” It’s yours outside of here, too; to fix, to break. He knows. He knows, he knows, he knows. “Why won’t you let me have it, Yuuta?”

Yuuta gasps, and despite his surprise, despite his extreme lovesickness, despite his dark desires, his heartbeat remains steady, his body remains perfectly tempered and cool, his voice resonates clearly—all because of you.

“You’ve always had it,” he confesses, “Always. From the moment I met you.”

He can’t read your expression. He’s suddenly hyper aware of the power struggle here; domain aside, you can hear everything about him, sense the slightest physiological change in him, alter any one of his bodily functions at your whim and Yuuta doesn’t know what goes on in you. Would it be wrong to confess that he likes it; that this feels like you having him, that he likes knowing you can take him?

“I thought so, maybe,” you enlighten him, “Last year with all the calls and texts,” you lean over and set free a butterfly from his shoulder, “And then in the airport,” then guiding the snake to coil around your arm and around your torso, “And then I thought maybe you’d have said something when you were jealous of Yuuji,” this time your hand touches him, a feather-light touch to his elbow, “But you didn’t, and I was beginning to wonder if I was hearing your heart beat for someone else, instead.”

Yuuta grabs at your hand erratically, “No—no. Never.”

He’s senselessly in love with you, and if it weren’t for your healing hands, Yuuta’s certain his ribs would have cracked from the pressure of his happy heart by now; but then again, maybe he should ask you to let it break—let that fracture serve as an entry point for you and yours, to prove to you that it beats for you and you alone.

“So then what is with you? You have a habit of giving girls your heart and not kissing them, or asking them out—is it always straight to marriage with you?”

It’s torture hearing that word fall from your lips. He doesn’t have time to even begin to process it. Yuuta’s eyes flicker to the smile on your lips, the slight tilt of your head. He says something he shouldn’t, “Would you be opposed to that?”

“I’d like a kiss first,” you tease, “Would you give me one?”

And how could he ever deny you anything. There, with a harmony of beautiful insects and warm sunlight, Yuuta finally, finally, takes the last move forward to kiss you. It’s everything he wants and exactly as he’d imagined—he can feel the rush in his bones, the want in his stomach, the love against his skin when you fall into him.

It’s one kiss, and another, and then Yuuta can feel your tongue against his, greedily falling into the rush of you. He’s everywhere, hands on your neck, lips on yours, body stradling yours when he carefully leans you backwards; Yuuta has you, and you have him, and he won’t let this moment go to waste. He pulls away for a moment, only a moment, to take in your kiss-swollen lips and commit this vision to memory. He’ll have to take another visual photograph outside of your domain, when your bodies are free to breathe erratically and equilibrium is broken so you and truly, truly, feel all of Yuuta’s love in earnest.

He wonders if it’s the effect of your domain that prevents his nerves from running haywire when you take off his shirt, when you let him take off your pants, when you have your hands on his chest and his on your hips. It must be. Yuuta knows for certain that otherwise, he’d be a blushing mess of fumbling limbs and stuttering words.

Still, Yuuta thinks, domain or no domain, he wouldn’t let this moment pass him. It’s not nerves when his hand brushes over your clothed clit and he hears you moan—even if it had been, that would have been the antidote to his poison. Lust, pressure, possession wash over him in excruciating waves. He wants more. He wants you.

Impatience when he adds pressure with his hand, bliss when you buck your hips to add more of your own, greedily grinding against his fingers. Yuuta kisses you again, swallows your moans and feeds you his own when slips his hand past the barrier of your underwear, and he feels your warm, wet cunt against his fingertips for the first time, and when he pushes two fingers into your heat, he thinks he could cum right then and there, from this alone.

“Yu—Yuuta, more,” you plead. Your hand on his neck, fingernails scraping into his skin that should leave a mark. They probably won’t. He’ll be sure that next time they stick.

And Yuuta, unable to deny you anything, obeys. He curls his fingers inside of you, thrusting gently at first, and then with more confidence—and warning, when he hears you snarl about not teasing. Ironic, he thinks, as he watches your lips fall open, since you’ve had him strung along since day one.

“I wanna—wanna cum with you inside,” you moan, a sound that Yuuta promises to commit to memory. Later, when his brain is working better, and the coil in his stomach isn’t so tight, and you’re not clenching around his fingers.

You’re greedy, and Yuuta’s never realized it. You suck him in and still want more, and you must know that he’ll give it to you. It should serve as a warning, you have the high-ground to take him any which way you want—for a fool, for granted, for yourself, for nobody else; so what does it say about him that it only spurs his arousal, that it makes him impossibly hard and he can feel himself leaking from the thought of it.

“I want that, too,” he reassures you, leaning down to press his forehead against yours, because you’re perfect for him, “But I want this first. Give me this first, please. Please.”

He thinks you might cry. The rational part of him knows you can regulate it, that you probably won’t; the sick part of him wants to see it, wants to know what it takes to make you lose control.

You call his name like a prayer, once, twice, and on the third time, Yuuta can feel it as much as he can hear it. He can feel the moment that your walls clench, and your eyes screw shut, and your body convulses around him. You’re beautiful, irreverent, and Yuuta thinks that being responsible for this is the greatest achievement of his life.

He wears your orgasm with pride, raking over you as you blink your eyes open to him again. You’re lucid too quickly, he really is going to have to take the time to enjoy this somewhere less controlled later, eagerly wrapping your hand around his wrist and forcing them to his mouth. Yuuta groans when he tastes you on his tongue, nothing short of euphoric, and he’s sure to taste every last drop.

You smile, and then laugh—an almost inaudibly giggle that has Yuuta smiling back reflexively. Like always, he follows your every move and succumbs to all your whims when you lean up to kiss him, and then coax off his pants and underwear, and line the tip of his dick up with your slit and pull him in, again, by the neck to bite at his ear, “Come on, Yuuta. Give it to me.”

An order, a promise, a plea—Yuuta vows to fulfill them all, determined and spell-bound when he sinks into you. He can only imagine what it feels like for you, but for him it’s warm, wet, soft, snug, sticky—like honey, like a bee drawn to sweetness. It’s good, too good, Yuuta doesn’t know how to last when you feel this good.

He can feel you everywhere, around his dick, your hands on his back, your breath on his cheek, your skin against his. He feels stuck to you, stuck in you, mind, body, and soul as one, unable to differentiate him from you, from you, from you.

“Fuck,” Yuuta stares, carefully swiping a thumb over your browbone, conscious but not in command on how deep he’s thrusting into you, “You’re so—fuck, I love you.” He wants to hear you say it back, he needs to, he has to. He can feel it again, stomach in knots, and nerves on fire, and skin sticky, and Yuuta has to know—“Please, please. Do you love me, too?”

You stutter, only from the rock of his hips into yours, reaching for his face and cradling it between healing hands, “Of course I love you, Yuuta.” His mouth opens, wobbly, and tears flow over his eyes—briefly, Yuuta thinks that it’s cruel that you’d let him cry; that you have command over every function in his body and that you’d let him cry, but he can’t bring himself to be upset. He’d probably have cried regardless, because hearing you say that you love him is a rush comparable only to burning tightness in his gut right now.

You tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling his lips to yours when you finally let go together. Yuuta can feel you tight around him, when he cums; and an unfiltered harmony of moans and skin on skin when he lays on top of you, sinks into you. Your hands don’t leave his hair, and Yuuta finds bliss in your affection, in being in your arms, in being yours.

He doesn’t know how long you two stay like that, he doesn’t know if physical time passes in your domain, but it doesn’t matter. He’d stay here forever with you, let you use the full extent of your prowess to eat his heart out as sustenance, bleed for you to quench your thirst. He’d be everything you need and more; he’ll make sure that he’s all you want when it’s done and over.

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pluckyredhead · 6 months

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What the heck is going on in Batman/Gotham War?

I know a lot of people in fandom are confused and/or upset about what's been going on in Gotham War - why is Bruce acting like this, what is Selina doing, why are the Batkids taking sides. So I figured I would fill you all in on what's been happening in Batman and Catwoman since Chip Zdarsky took over with Batman #125, because it has been BONKERS and I have been enjoying the hell out of it.

Below, the quickest summary I can manage while still being comprehensive:

[Content warning: mental illness, abuse, suicide (...ish), LOTS of violence.]

The first arc, "Failsafe," starts with Batman and Robin (Tim, in this case) in pursuit of the Penguin, who is on a killing spree. In the very first issue, Tim gets shot in the neck. Bruce has to take him to the hospital, but first he has to strip him out of his costume and put him in civilian clothes to preserve their secret identities, triggering memories of when he had to do the same to Jason's dead body. There is LITERALLY NO PURPOSE TO ANY OF THIS EXCEPT WHUMP (Tim is back in action with a fucking BAND-AID on his neck very quickly), which is how I knew this was going to be good. Beat Tim up! Make Bruce cry about Jason! I want these men to suffer! (There is also SO much to be said about Tim's own Poor Mental Health Decisions throughout the entirety of Zdarsky's run so far, but that's for a separate meta post.)

Anyway. Bruce leaves Tim in the hospital and goes to confront Penguin, who turns out to be dying of mercury poisoning. He kills himself and makes it look like Batman did it, forcing Bruce to flee. (Penguin actually faked his death and is alive elsewhere under an alias, but that's not important right now.)

In the Batcave, a massive robot called Failsafe emerges. Failsafe attacks Bruce, who usually eats killer robots for breakfast, but he can't seem to get the upper hand on this one. Duke, Cass, Steph, and Dick show up to help, but Failsafe beats them all too, while Tim gets an injured Bruce away and to the Batcave.

In the Batcave, Bruce puts on a weird purple and red Batman costume and a new personality takes over: the Batman of Zur-En-Arrh. Now, Zur has a very complicated history going back to 1958, but for the purposes of this story, all you need to know is that when he was younger, Bruce decided it would be good to hang out in a sensory deprivation chamber until his mind created a secondary personality, Zur, who is essentially Batman without Bruce. Zur is pure efficiency who does not care about anything but the mission. He created Failsafe, for one purpose: to kill Bruce if Bruce ever crossed the line and killed someone. And right now, Failsafe believes that Bruce killed Penguin.

Failsafe nearly kills Tim, which Zur is okay with writing off as an expendable soldier's death, but this causes Bruce to take control of the body back because "Tim isn't my soldier...HE'S MY SON!" (Tim Nation, why are you not ALL OVER this story? It's catnip.)

Babs calls in the JLA (SuperBat fans, you will also want to read Bruce's adoring description of Clark when he shows up), but of course Failsafe has kryptonite, which it stabs Clark with. The League dumps Clark and Bruce into the JLA jet and distracts Failsafe while Tim flies Clark and Bruce to the Fortress of Solitude. Bruce tells Tim he's a good boy and jumps out of the jet and into the ocean so that Tim and Clark will be safe from Failsafe. He's rescued by Arthur, who takes him to Atlantis to heal. THIS HAS ALL ONLY BEEN FOUR ISSUES SO FAR.

Two weeks later, Bruce wakes up to discover that Failsafe has taken over Gotham. He teleports up to the JLA Watchtower on the moon to lure Failsafe there, then blows the Watchtower up, hoping to catch a ride on one of the Javelins. But Failsafe has already destroyed them, so Bruce RIDES A BOOSTER ROCKET BACK TO EARTH, OXYGEN MASK CLAPPED OVER HIS FACE. The whole thing has some powerful Scooty-Puff Jr energy.

The only tricky part is reentry, when Bruce starts to burn up - his costume is fireproof, of course, but his chin is exposed. SO HE TAKES OFF HIS LITTLE BAT-PANTIES AND PUTS THEM OVER HIS HEAD. I swear to god this happened in a real comic book and the entire "Bruce falls off the moon and survives" sequence is utterly delectable goofy nonsense and I truly cannot recall a time I've had more fun reading a comic book.

Anyway, Bruce lands directly outside of the Fortress, BECAUSE OF COURSE HE DOES, and runs inside to find Clark and Tim. While Clark keeps Failsafe distracted, Bruce and Tim program nanobots to inject compassion into Failsafe. I SWEAR TO GOD. They zap him with the nanobots, but Failsafe pulls a high tech space gun out of the Fortress and shoots Bruce with it anyway, apparently disintegrating him. Tim falls to his knees in the snow, weeping. TIM NATION, WAKE UP, THIS RUN IS CANDY FOR YOU.

But of course Bruce isn't dead! That wasn't a killing gun, it was a "zap you into another dimension" gun!!! THAT was the compassion!

So Bruce finds himself in a dystopian alternate Gotham, and I'll be honest, I didn't love this arc ("The Bat-Man of Gotham") as much as I loved "Failsafe," but it has its moments. In this Gotham, Bruce Wayne is dead, so Regular Bruce is like "Oh boy, time to Batman this place up." Also he's plagued by hallucinations of a skeleton version of Jim Gordon who is still wearing a trench coat AND A MUSTACHE. Like I said, it has its moments.

This Gotham is controlled by Arkham, and anyone who is diagnosed as "crazy" is locked up. A new villain, Red Mask, is in charge, and Selina and a Venomed-up Harvey Dent work for him. Bruce teams up with an orphan kid (of course) named Jewel and goes after Red Mask, who turns out to be some guy named Darwin Halliday and ALSO...the Joker. Well, he's the Joker who hasn't been Jokerized yet. But one time he breathed in some chemicals that let him see into the main reality of the DCU (???) and glimpsed Regular Joker and now he wants to build an interdimensional machine to mentally connect with Regular Joker across universes which he assumes will make him insane, NATURALLY.

Bruce attacks Red Mask, who sics a Venomed-up Ghost Maker on him. Ghost Maker cuts off Bruce's right hand. Bruce cauterizes it with an electroshock machine and ties some spikes on it (SERIOUSLY) and goes after Red Mask again. Meanwhile Red Mask mentally connects with an alternate dimensional Joker...but instead of it driving Red Mask insane, he's what drives the Joker insane. Desperate to become the Joker somehow, anyhow, he jumps into the interdimensional portal, and Morally Dubious Alternate Universe Selina kicks Bruce in after him.

Meanwhile, Tim is in full "I KNOW I SAW HIM DIE BUT HE'S NOT DEAD" mode, which: bless. So he teams up with Jon Kent, which...gosh, what an astonishingly boring duo. I love Jon, I love Tim, they're perfectly nice and normal around each other, I'm falling asleep. Anyway Tim fights Toyman for a while and then makes a VERY stupid costume where the entire torso is a giant light-up R, because "I want him to see that Robin is coming to save him." GET A THERAPY, TIM.

Bruce finds himself first in the Michael Keaton Batman universe, then the Red Rain universe, BTAS, Batman Beyond (yes I know they're the same universe but I guess he goes there twice), Silver Age, Kingdom Come, Gotham by Gaslight, and more. Adam West gives him a utility belt. The Dark Knight Returns Bruce builds him a robot hand.

Finally Bruce and Red Mask reach the end of the multiverse, which is a Gotham asteroid floating in space, surrounded by giant Jokerized sharks. LUCKILY BRUCE HAS BAT-SHARK REPELLANT IN HIS ADAM WEST UTILITY BELT!!! Honestly this whole arc was worth it for that moment.

Bruce knocks Red Mask out, but now he's stuck. He has a device from Batman Beyond Bruce to get home, but it's only good for one person, and he can't leave Red Mask there to die. Of course, that's when Tim shows up in his stupid giant glowing R costume and they hug it out, thereby fulfilling but also compounding all of Tim's issues since 1989.

Anyway things are fine now, right? Sure, Bruce is hallucinating that his family is on fire, and the Zur personality is not going neatly back into the box where it's been all these years, and he still has a robot hand (Damian, hilariously, immediately announces that he wants one too), but he's FINE. He is a little bit mad at Selina, because she broke out of jail (she was in jail because she killed her fuckbuddy because he was trying to kill Bruce), and also because she didn't tell him Penguin was alive and that would have stopped Failsafe, and also because Other Selina kicked into another universe. Selina, very fairly, is like "Well I'm not responsible for Other Selinas and also maybe don't build robots to kill yourself with and not tell anyone about them???"

THEN we got Knight Terrors, the summer event in which a villain called Nightmare caused everyone to fall asleep and, uh, have nightmares. Bruce, specifically, had a nightmare that he met an eight-year-old version of himself that vomited up a man-sized bat with a gun for a head. I laughed SO HARD. Bruce also had his body borrowed by Deadman for the duration of the event, so while he endured the psychological toll of nightmares like everyone else, he also endured the physical toll of everything Deadman was doing PLUS the mental toll of being aware of what was happening in the waking world even though he couldn't control his body. As soon as the event was over, he lapsed into a coma so that his body could get some damn rest.

Okay. Now we're up to Gotham War.

(I know, I know. But for all of you who are like "How could Bruce do this???" about Gotham War...*points up* THAT'S HOW. HE IS NOT WELL.)

Bruce awakens from his coma and IMMEDIATELY decides to Fight A Crime even though Babs is like "Maybe don't?" But he can't find any crime, which is...weird. His kids confirm that Gotham's been super quiet since he's been out.

Selina hears that Bruce is awake and is like okay, time to pay the piper. She calls all of the Bats to a meeting and explains that she's the reason crime has been down. See, villains like Joker and Two-Face always have goons, right? But what if the goon supply dried up because the goons have better jobs? So Selina has trained All The Goons In Gotham to be...cat burglars. No violence, no stealing from anyone who can't afford it. More importantly, no helping Scarecrow or whoever commit mass murder.

All of the Batkids are like "Hmm...I feel uncertain about this, but it's working...I don't know what to think..." except for Jason, who thinks it's hilarious and is instantly Team Selina, and Damian, who is staunchly Team Bruce. Bruce, meanwhile, is like "No! NO! THIS IS CRIMES, AND CRIMES IS BAD!" and Selina's like "I mean, robbing from the rich is basically a victimless crime" and Bruce screams, I swear to god, "MY PARENTS WERE 'RICH'!" Inexplicable scare quotes and all. I laughed so hard.

Anyway this is the basis for Gotham War and it is endlessly hilarious to me because everyone in the Batfamily is supposed to be a genius and yet not one single character has pointed out that:

There are jobs the goons could be doing that AREN'T illegal. It's not just violent crime vs. nonviolent crime. There are in fact many other jobs! I am POSITIVE Gotham needs construction workers and hospital orderlies. (Yes, I know it's hard for people with records to get jobs. That isn't addressed.)

Being Batman is SUPER ILLEGAL.

They are all so stupid.

Selina's plan doesn't even work, because one of her thieves gets killed by a rich person defending their home, and Bruce is like "See? This is why crime is bad!" and like...pretty much snaps. He's particularly fixated on Jason, even (rhetorically) threatening to kill him, which is when the other kids jump into the fray on Jason's side, all except for Damian, who like I said is firmly Team Bruce. (This makes complete sense to me, Damian has been dealing with severe trauma and isolation pretty much nonstop since 2018 and he and Bruce have finally made a tenuous peace, so I can understand why he wouldn't want to lose that.)

Also, Vandal Savage buys Wayne Manor. It's so random and SO funny.

OKAY BATMAN #138. Bruce has kidnapped Jason and injected him with a variation on fear toxin which will be triggered whenever Jason's adrenaline spikes, the idea being that Jason is no longer capable of killing - but in practice, Jason is no longer capable of even getting up off the floor, he's so terrified. I want to be really, really clear here: Bruce is like 90% Zur here, and the only reason he goes this route and doesn't kill Jason is because the remaining 10% that's still Bruce loves Jason and is trying to help him. He's just incapable of good or humane help because Zur literally can't do feelings.

Dick knows something is up and is sneaking around Bruce's Secret Other House We've Never Heard Of to figure out what it is. Damian attacks him to protect Bruce. Tim attacks Damian so that Dick can do what he needs to do, and handcuffs Damian to a parking meter:

THERE IS SO MUCH TO UNPACK HERE!!! TIM GO TO THERAPY! DAMIAN GO TO THERAPY! EVERYONE GO TO THERAPY!!!!!

Dick figures out what Bruce did to Jason (it's on the computer, for...some reason?) and absolutely loses his shit on Bruce, beating the crap out of him, which tbh is the only thing that felt off to me in this run because frankly I don't think Dick likes Jason that much. BUT WHATEVER.

Tim pulls Dick off of Bruce. Bruce leaves them both tangled in a net and flees as the cops approach. Zur's like "Good, fuck 'em" in Bruce's head, because the cops will expose Dick, Tim, and Damian's secret identities and Bruce will be free of the dead weight of a family, but the little bit of Bruce still in there throws Dick a batarang so he can free them all in time.

Then Bruce leaves. Damian is devastated.

I WILL NEVER RECOVER FROM THIS PAGE. Damian really thought he could have Bruce's love and loyalty if he turned on everyone else! Tim is going to be a therapy dog to a Wayne even if he has to settle for the one he doesn't like! That unresisting, blank hug made me SCREAM when I turned the page. Incredible. (Also the art fucking S L A P S, god bless you Jorge Jimenez.)

ALSO it turns out that Selina's second in command has been Vandal Savage's daughter Scandal Savage the whole time and they are turning Selina's cat burglar army into their own personal army WHOOPS. (This also feels very OOC for Scandal but at this point I trust Zdarsky with my life so let's see where things go.)

SO THAT'S WHAT'S GOING ON IN GOTHAM WAR. TL;DR:

Bruce is unhinged because he nearly died like 19 times in a week and it unlocked the smaller, meaner purple Batman that lives inside him.

Selina is unaware that you can get money legally.

Tim is going to have a nervous breakdown if he can't fix someone, ANYONE.

Damian needs a hug but ideally from someone he actually likes this time.

Jason is so scared.

THE END.

#batman #bruce wayne #gotham war #meta #i can't believe how long this is

2K notes · View notes

laughing-with-god · 7 months

Text

These Things Take Time (Yandere! Supernatural! Taehyung x Reader)

Synopsis: There's something wrong with your boyfriend Taehyung. At least, you think it's him.

16.5k

Trigger warnings: yandere behavior, psychological gaslighting, violence, gore, some heavy making out, strong language, AFAB reader (she/her) I'm sure I'm missing some but you know me and what I write lol

Authors note: just a real quick thank you to @bigbuffjoonie and @mustardpop for having beta read and brainstormed with me literally a year ago about this fic that I never published until now.

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He passionately thrusted her against the wall, mouthing at her neck while muttering disgusting things that he was going to do to her.

It was foul…

It was taboo…

It was…..

Your fingers paused and hovered over the keyboard, the constant clicking of your writing coming to a sudden halt.

Your eyes scanned the last few lines, lips instinctively mouthing the words and checking the overall flow of the plot.

Your two main characters were about to fuck each other’s brains out after a long ‘will they or won’t they’ that spanned well over a dozen chapters.

There should be a feeling of torture, a feeling of relief, a feeling of frenzied lust that just couldn’t contain itself anymore and combusted within the contents of these pages.

That is what you desperately wanted your loyal readers to experience when they get to this scene.

Yet when reading the long-awaited buildup, you felt nothing.

You cared for every character you created like a mother does their child, them getting their happy endings was just as important to you as it was to them. So why did you feel so numb and dissociated from everything you’ve been typing the past hour?

You released a disillusioned sigh and leaned back into your chair. Your eyes stung from staring at a screen for so long and your limbs ached to be stretched with hours of immobility.

Writer’s block was a bitch.

Unlike other skills, writing was one of the few expertise that working harder at it won’t guarantee a better outcome. You could type away until your fingers were bruised and bloody, but it doesn’t mean anything you wrote would be worth shit. Writing was a talent and it came and went as it pleased. And right now it was gone.

Which left you very depressed and your editor very pissed.

You gave up the fight and reluctantly closed your laptop. Then stood to your full height, to give your back a much-needed stretch.

‘I tried today. And that’s okay. I’ll try again tomorrow.’ You thought to yourself, half heartedly taking your therapist’s advice to acknowledge your efforts and not just the outcomes.

When in a creative slump, it has been said that reading other works can be a source of inspiration. Can’t be a good writer yourself, then go out and read a good writer. With this thought in mind, you slowly exited your office and descended down the stairs.

Last week your mom sent you a book she recommended, and you’ve been so busy trying to finish your own novel that you just tossed it somewhere and haven’t touched or looked for it since. Though, you were almost certain you caught sight of it on the coffee table yesterday.

When you stepped into the living room, you spotted a familiar figure standing by the large bay window.

The sight tugged a small fond smile onto your face.

Taehyung was your boyfriend of six months.

He was strikingly attractive, tall, kind and clearly didn’t know his own worth because not only was he dating you, but he also agreed to move into this secluded farmhouse while you tried to finish your book. He assured that he could use this time and space to focus on his paintings as well, but you knew deep down he just didn’t want to leave you alone out in the middle of nowhere.

Right now only his profile was facing you, his alluring feline eyes staring at the raining scene outside, dark brows furrowed in heavy thought. He looked to be biting on his lower lip, a habit you’ve never seen before, but you supposed you two have only been dating for a few months so there was probably a whole world of little quirks you didn’t know of yet.

The scene was a bit intense, as you weren’t used to your usually cheerful boyfriend looking so ponderous. Yet you shrugged it off and just assumed he was most likely brainstorming his next painting. Taehyung was your first artist boyfriend and your friends did warn you that they could be a bit dramatic.

You quickly surveyed the room and indeed located the book on the coffee table. While reaching for it you called out, “Hey love?”

Taehyung snapped his neck at a speed too fast for your liking, instantly facing you with eyes wide and blown out in what you could only assume was shock.

You giggled, thinking he was too absorbed in his own world that he probably just now noticed your presence.

“I know I said I wanted pasta for dinner but how about we order some chinese instead?” You asked. Taehyung didn’t say anything, eyes still wide in unknown revelation, entirely unmoving. You continued, “This weather makes me not want to do anything, and I know you complain about the delivery time but we could just reheat the food if it gets here cold.”

It seemed like forever but Taehyung eventually nodded.

He then turned to face the window again.

You inwardly sighed and guessed he wasn’t thrilled with the idea of chinese. He always complained that you didn’t take care of yourself and how you needed home cooked meals rather than greasy takeout. But when creatively burnt out like this, you tended to just reach for the doordash because the act of cooking seemed entirely too much for you.

Hoping to butter him up, you tipped toed from behind and wrapped your arms around him. You nuzzled your face into his back and took a deep breath, enjoying the familiar scent of his outrageously expensive cologne. His body seemed to melt into your hold, tense posture suddenly limp and calm.

You reached up and pecked his cheek, grinning when you caught sight of his lips twitching upwards. Harmless manipulation complete, you trudged out the room with a lukewarm “Thanks honey!”

You skipped up the stairs and made a left into a hallway, quickly getting into the bedroom and preparing to plop into the heavenly crumpled mess of sheets and blankets, when an unexpected sound caused you to still.

The front door was opening.

Afraid of a possible home invasion, you rushed out to see what was happening.

The door was wide open and emerging into the home…was Taehyung.

His hair and jacket was drenched from the rain, four or so heaping grocery bags in his hold as he looked up the stairs at you with a tired smile.

“Hey baby, can you give me a hand with some of this? I got some sauce for the pasta and picked up some other stuff we were running low on.”

Time stood still.

Your jaw dropped in bewilderment.

Your mind struggling to process this odd collapse of reality.

The nearest grocery store was, at its quickest, still a twenty-minute drive into town.

There was just no way Taehyung was able to leave and get back in the same time it took for you to get up the stairs and into your room.

No one can be in two places at once.

What the fuck was going on?

You just saw him. You just talked to him. You just smelled him. You just touched him.

Taehyung’s gaze worriedly ran up and down your face, correctly detecting that something was dreadfully wrong. He kicked the door closed behind him and rather ungracefully dropped the bags, hastily stepping over some of the falling items to race up the steps and take you in his hold.

“Y/n? Baby what’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost! Did something happen while I was gone?” He fretted.

“I-w-what-you-j-just-living room…” You stammered, not even being able to bring yourself to voice what was happening.

“What? What about the living room? You’re not making any sense.”

You gulped, looking up at him with fear. “T-Tae, I could’ve sworn I just saw you in the living room. I talked to you.”

Your boyfriend’s face dropped.

“Y/n, get in the bedroom and lock the door behind you.”

You irritably huffed while blinking away oncoming tears, realizing Taehyung didn’t quite understand what you were saying. “No! Not like an intruder! It was you.”

“I’m right here Y/n. I just got back from the market. I haven’t been home in the past hour. There’s no way you just saw me in this house.” He slowly explained, as if you were having some mental breakdown and needed to be talked off the ledge.

Your temper rose. “No shit Kim Taehyung! That’s why I’m scared! Do you have a twin brother or something? Or did you come into the living room before going back to the car to get the groceries?”

Taehyung backed away from you, clearly put off by your outburst. “No? First off, you know I’m an only child. Secondly, why would I come in and let you talk to me before going back out in the pouring rain, bring in groceries and then pretend I have no idea what you’re talking about when you said you saw me in the house just now?”

You glared up at him, now feeling foolish for even being scared in the first place of something that most definitely had a logical explanation.

Your boyfriend always had a more playful side than you and this was most likely the first trick he was trying to play in your very young relationship.

“I told you I don’t like pranks, Taehyung. You can pull them on your friends all you want but you promised to never pull one on me.”

He threw his hands up in the air in exasperation. “I’m not pranking you! It probably was an intruder who looked kinda like me and instead of letting me go and investigate, you're arguing with me?”

“It wasn’t an intruder! He didn’t take anything!”

Taehyung laughed incredulously, “Great, you're defending some robber over your own boyfriend now? I almost feel jealous.”

“There’s nothing to be jealous over because the guy was you!” You exploded.

“Which isn’t possible!”

“Go look then!” You relented.

Taehyung didn’t need to be told twice. He swiftly ran down the stairs and went through the entire house, searching for an unseen man who managed to trick his girlfriend into thinking he was him.

He found no such person.

It was only while you both wordlessly unpacked the groceries while licking the wounds of your little spat did Taehyung make a point that chilled you to the bone.

“Y/n, when you saw me…how did I look?”

You raised a brow at him. “I don’t know? You looked just fine.”

“Okay…and your working theory is I parked outside and came in, talked to you, then went back out, just to enter through the front again like nothing happened?”

You meekly shrugged, “Yeah I guess that would be a good trick.”

Your clever boyfriend pointed at the window, where it was still raining heavily. “I would've been soaked then, Y/n.”

That was the first incident.

— Dinner that night was a tense affair.

At least until Taehyung solemnly apologized for being so bad at hiding his true identity.

He then fessed up to being the Korean version of The Flash.

Against yourself, you bursted out laughing.

Maybe it was all the anxiety of the day that made you loopy, or your desperate need to just return to normal but you apologized for snapping and blamed your overactive writer's imagination for everything.

Taehyung said it was okay and that you actually looked hot when angry, you knew for a fact you didn’t but took the compliment nonetheless and suggested an early night in.

And just like that your first couple fight was over.

Yet that night when you were in the arms of your slumbering boyfriend, with his peaceful snores rumbling in your ear, all you could think about was the other Taehyung.

You regretfully lied to your boyfriend.

You knew for a fact that it wasn’t your imagination.

You were never the type of writer who got so immersed in your work that you began imagining things and confusing them for reality. If anything, you were too grounded in reality. In addition to this, you highly doubted that multiple weeks of writer’s block would even allow for such a vivid mirage to occur.

And the most damning evidence of all, if it was your imagination…why would your mind conjure up the exact replica of your boyfriend? The very man you live with and see everyday for hours on end? Wouldn’t it be a character from your book? Or at least someone you haven’t seen in a while?

It all didn’t make sense, but you didn’t have enough information to say what it was, you just knew what it wasn’t.

You rolled over and buried your face into Taehyung’s chest, practically praying for the mystery to soon be over and solve itself quickly.

It was most likely the overthinking and looming dark corners of the bedroom, but you began to feel like someone was watching you through the small gap in your ajar bedroom door.

– A few days passed and you have almost forgotten about the incident.

I mean, maybe not entirely but you were at least willing to chalk it up to a freak incident.

Scrolling through some discussion boards online showed that your story was actually pretty tame to what other unexplainable experiences some people have had. At least the other Taehyung didn’t try to scare or hurt you. It just seemed like he was doing his own thing really, like he was lost in his own world staring out that window. Thus you concluded that you weren’t in danger, and it therefore wasn’t worth freaking out about.

Mainly because your editor was on your ass and there was nothing productive about thinking of him when you were already so late on a deadline.

Naturally, you attempted to throw yourself into your writing, which was proving to be as fruitless as ever. Yet you knew giving your editor anything was better than nothing, leading you to sending half-assed drafts to him and enduring long calls about how your writing was okay, but not great.

You and Taehyung have been off too.

There was no more fighting or even words exchanged about the fiasco. However there still was an uneasiness between you two. You doubted that Taehyung believed your imagination excuse, but you also knew that he didn’t trust your original recollection of events either. Your boyfriend sort of walked on eggshells around you, almost as if you’d somehow think he was the imposter whenever he’d step into the room. You would be lying if you said you weren’t a little offended by it.

Luckily, Taehyung was currently immersed with his art, rarely leaving his little workspace. You wished you could say the same but you felt like you were simply writing in circles without actually getting anywhere. It was hard to not be jealous, but at least you were given some space away from him after a rather unresolved fight.

Meanwhile, you were planning to take a day or two off of writing, to just let your mind wander and relax so that maybe the next time you sat behind a laptop you could actually produce something worthwhile.

Of course it would just so happen that it would fall on the very day you get sick.

Waking up that morning you felt feverish and lightheaded, telling yourself that you could just use fifteen more minutes of sleep and you’d probably feel better.

You woke up five hours later; feeling even more feverish, lightheaded, and now nauseous.

You trudged downstairs to the kitchen and popped back some painkillers with a glass of water, already fantasizing about getting back into your warm and comfy bed once again.

Except what could make your bed even warmer and comfier? Taehyung.

Your boyfriend was always the more affectionate one between you two, you often practically had to push him away when you were trying to get work done. But now that you were willingly going to ask for his affection, there was no way he’d let you go uncuddled.

Any awkwardness in the relationship was long forgotten as you stomped towards his workspace, a demand to be held heavy on your tongue. You were too sick and exhausted to try to navigate relationship politics, but the whole point of a boyfriend was that he was supposed to provide attention on demand, right?

You reached his door and feebly knocked, trying to be polite to his artistic process and not just barge in.

You heard some shuffling on the other side and soon enough your boyfriend was in front of you. Taehyung hadn’t shaved his face in days, a faint goatee gracing his already intimidatingly handsome face. His black hair was messy and fluffy, a gold chain gracing his neck and drawing attention to his lack of shirt and gray sweatpants.

He grinned at you, “What’s up baby?”

You pouted up at him, momentarily not even ashamed to resort to such cheap tricks, “I feel sick and want to be cuddled back to sleep.”

“Aww poor thing.” He crooned while leaning against the doorframe. “Why don’t you head back up to bed and I’ll be up as soon as I can? I just finished a sketch and really need to focus on the next few steps before I can quit for the day.”

You huffed, kind of annoyed that he wouldn’t even take a break to hold you.

He rolled his eyes at your reaction, “Don’t look at me like that, honey. When the muse strikes, I gotta paint. Otherwise I don’t know when I’ll get the next chance for inspiration. You understand, right?”

“Yeah, I’m just really crabby and being held sounded really good.”

Taehyung chucked, muttering to himself a “cute” before leaning forward and pecking your lips. “I promise I’ll try to be quick. Go drink some water and wait for me. I’ll bring you some soup when I’m done.”

You just nodded and left him to his work. Instead of the bedroom, your feet somehow led you to the living room.

Maybe you should watch some tv while Taehyung worked? You already slept a lot today and if Taehyung was gonna be in bed with you later, perhaps it was a good idea to stay up for a little bit. Besides, you’ve been avoiding this part of the house ever since the incident and you needed to get comfortable in your own living room eventually.

Such a reminder of that rainy day caused you to cast a wary glance at the bay window, oddly feeling both relief and annoyance that nothing was there.

You plunked down onto the couch and wrapped a throw blanket around you, searching your usual streaming services for some comfort show to watch.

It was halfway through an episode of some show you’ve already watched countless times, when you heard footsteps approaching.

You looked up and saw your boyfriend, looking as cute and messy as before. Except now he held a sheepish smile on his face as he held up a steaming mug of something.

“What’s that?”

He took a seat next to you and gently handed the drink over. “Hot chocolate. I know protocol is tea whenever someone is sick, but I know how much you hate the taste.”

You fondly smiled and took the mug, flustered that he remembered such a minor detail about you. “Thank you love but you didn’t have to. You should be focusing on your work. Don’t let me distract you!”

Taehyung shook his head and threw an arm around you, holding you tight against him. He craned his neck and looked down to you, almost meeting you nose-to nose to connect his gaze with yours. Suddenly a serious expression replaced his formerly sheepish one.

“Actually, I wanted to talk.” He said, taking a deep breath before continuing, “I-I wanted to say sorry.”

“For what?”

He licked his lips, “I know we’ve been kinda out-of-sync ever since you said you saw someone and I didn’t believe you. But, it just didn’t make sense. Like, how is that possible? Whatever the case though, I shouldn’t have made you feel like you were going crazy or something.”

You raised an eyebrow, “So you believe me then?”

“Yes. I know you wouldn’t lie. I don’t know what happened but…I know you know what you saw.”

A warm feeling spread across your chest, temporarily putting your sickness on the back burner. In truth, you weren't sure if the situation even called for an apology but you felt so pampered that your boyfriend cared enough to. “I-I’m sorry too, Tae. I shouldn’t have assumed you were being mean and pranking me. Snapping at you wasn’t cool.”

Taehyung just shrugged. “Nah, I probably would’ve done the same thing.”

You secretly agreed that you were in the right but still, if he was being a big enough person to say sorry so should you. You turned your attention back to the drink in your hands, taking a sip.

You nearly moaned in pleasure when the flavor graced your taste buds.

“What did you put in this?”

“Oh just some cinnamon and-”

“Ginger.” You interrupted, knowing without a doubt that it was the other spice.

“Yup. Why? Is something wrong?” He asked, probably worried you didn’t like it.

“No! It’s perfect.” You said before gulping down more of the nostalgic hot chocolate. “When I was a kid, I had a babysitter who would make her hot chocolate with cinnamon and ginger. Mrs Fritz was her name, a really kind old lady from down the street. I was her favorite so she made hot chocolate for me all the time and watched me for free whenever my parents went out.”

Taehyung hummed, a small smile on his face as you fondly recalled one of the biggest figures of your childhood. “She must’ve had great taste.”

“Mrs. Fritz had impeccable taste.” You good-naturedly corrected with a giggle. “I miss her. When other kids wouldn’t play with me she would stay inside with me and color or read me these cool stories.”

“I would’ve played with you.” Taehyung grumbled, in all likelihood noting how you grimaced at the memory of not being all too popular as a kid.

“Haha, you definitely wouldn’t have! I was such a dork and actually hated playing outside. Kid me much rather be at home watching some old movies or something. Not to mention I was quite an ugly little girl.” You laughed.

Tae gasped dramatically, “That’s not true! You were adorable!”

“You saw like one picture of me at eight! And my mom did me all up for that picture! Trust me, I didn’t look that good at all.”

Taehyung looked like he wanted to argue further, but realizing you were right he just dropped it with an unconvincing, “Whatever you say.”

“But anyway babe, you really can go back to painting. I don’t want to keep you. If I had any inspiration right now, you wouldn’t be able to tear me away from my laptop.”

His arm tugged you even closer. “Nope, I’m alright where I’m at right now. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I left my sick girlfriend all alone?”

You blushed, logically aware that you could handle yourself but emotionally over the moon that this beautiful man didn’t want you to. Selfishly, you wanted to take advantage of his presence even if it came at the expense of his art progress. So you placed the mostly empty mug on the coffee table, fishing out your phone from your sweatpant pocket and setting it there too.

You then curled up into his side, suddenly feeling so drowsy.

Taehyung held you closer, even playing with your hair as you lost the battle with your increasingly heavy eyelids.

You felt him press his lips against your forehead in a drawn out peck, as his nose ticked the crown of your head. He inhaled deeply, his everlasting love for your shampoo revealing itself once more.

“You okay?” His baritone voice whispered.

“Yeah. I just took some medicine that’s probably making me all sleepy.” You mumbled back.

You didn’t hear anything else, just felt as he rested his head on top of yours, presumably also closing his eyes to rest.

Slowly but surely feeling the mechanisms of your brain shut down, the darkness steadily taking over as the sound of the tv became more and more distant.

A notification from your phone caused you to open a single eye, quickly scanning the screen on the coffee table.

Taebear: Hey almost done over here! Do you mind turning down the TV a bit tho? Kinda distracting :(

Before you can even gasp, the medicine-induced darkness consumed you completely, effectively and brutally knocking you out.

That was the second incident.

–

“So like I was saying, I dumped his ass because what the fuck do you mean you ‘don’t know what we are’? I met his damn parents, Y/n!”

The voice blarred over the phone speaker, as you hummed rather noncommittally. “What a jerk. You can do a whole lot better, Lisa.”

You were in the laundry room, slowly taking clothes out of the dryer and folding them as you spoke on the phone with one of your closest friends. About once a week you two would have a call and catch each other up with your lives. Although, Lisa led a much more interesting life than you and usually had a crazy story to share every week, while you just reacted to it. It was kinda like a one listener podcast, but you didn’t mind as you were always very entertained with her.

“Thank you! I don’t know where I keep finding these guys. You really got lucky with Taehyung, all the other men our age are such assholes.” She groaned.

You wanted to laugh, but at the mention of your boyfriend’s name you froze.

Not catching your silence, Lisa continued, “Anyway, how are you and Taehyung doing? What’s it like to live together only six months into a relationship?”

“Actually…we had our first fight.” You told her. “Maybe. I don’t know. It may not even be considered a fight so much as a disagreement but I’ve been feeling a little awkward.”

“Oooh, what happened?” She didn’t even try to mask her excitement.

“It…I…Something happened and he didnt…I don’t know, Lisa. I’m going to sound crazy but I feel like I’m experiencing a glitch in the matrix or some shit.”

She pushed, “Try me. Remember when I used to be a flat earther? I’ll believe anything.”

Lisa made a good point, she was always down for conspiracies and even proclaimed herself a supernatural expert. So you relented, “Okay. Look, I don’t want you to laugh at me or anything because I’m being completely honest. I’m telling you this because I desperately need theories.”

“I promise I’ll give you a theory! Just get to it!” She barked over the phone, anxiously awaiting your story.

“Um, so earlier this week I went downstairs and saw Taehyung. I talked to him about ordering out instead of cooking, hugged him then went up the stairs. Then not even a second later Taehyung came home with groceries, telling me he wasn’t in the house at all when I said I saw him.” You paused, waiting for her to interject.

“Huh…” She trailed off, stumped herself with what that could mean.

“And yesterday, I went to Tae’s workspace to try to cuddle but he said he needed a bit more time with his painting and then he’d meet me upstairs. I went to the couch to wait and he suddenly came in and apologized for not believing me earlier. We cuddled and talked then…I got a text from Taehyung asking me to turn the tv down because it was distracting him.”

You took a deep breath to calm your rising nerves, not liking how you were managing to scare yourself all over again. “Lisa, how was I in Taehyung's arms when Taehyung wasn’t even in the room with me?”

“How did this other Taehyung act? Was he any different than your actual boyfriend?”

“I mean, the first time he didn’t say a word and I left the room quickly. The second time he was so sweet and…I don’t know. Maybe even nicer than my actual boyfriend but not like suspiciously so.”

“And there’s no difference between him and Taehyung? Same height, voice, birthmarks, everything?”

“Yes.”

A brief silence as she no doubt was working with a theory. “And you’ve never had experiences like this before you moved into that farmhouse?”

“None.”

“Ah-ha! It’s probably a ghost then!” She assured triumphantly.

You, however, weren’t so sure she solved the case. “A ghost that looks exactly like my boyfriend?”

“Well, crazier things have happened. You know, scientists say that each person has around six doppelgangers out there somewhere. What if this ghost was your boyfriend's doppelganger?”

“Still, why would he act like he was my boyfriend? Like, this ghost must have a different name and background than my Taehyung so why does he go along with it whenever I call him Taehyung and treat him like a boyfriend?” You questioned.

“The afterlife can get pretty dull. The ghost is probably just bored and noticed that Taehyung looks alot like him, so he’s using that to his advantage to mess around.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better.” You grumbled, pissed at the prospect of you being a little plaything to a bored spirit.

“I know babe but ghosts are mostly harmless. If it really starts to bother you, maybe get a medium to move him along or whatever.” Lisa advised.

“Yeah, maybe.” – Mom: Look what I found!

The text came with a video attached, and you clicked it without thinking much.

A chubby little girl of about three to five years of age was badly hiding in a school cubby. Her mini feet sticking out and wiggling as the rest of her body was covered by a hung up winter coat. The cameraman sighed dramatically from behind the scenes, asking loudly, “Oh where could Y/n possibly be?!”

The girl giggled and a new figure slowly snuck into frame, approaching the cubby with a large grin.

The preschool teacher suddenly reached into the cubby and snatched the girl up, holding her up in the air as if the toddler was a prize of some sort. “Gotcha!”

The mini version of you laughed in her hold, kicking the air in glee. “Miss Addison you found me! You’ll find me anywhere, right?”

The young teacher nodded as she placed you on your feet. “Of course! I have a really good Y/n sense! I’ll find you anywhere.”

“Even the moon?” Innocent you asked, most likely just having learned about the star.

“Yes, I’ll find you on the moon if I have to!” Miss Addison chuckled.

The video ended and you went to type your mom a half-hearted reply, mostly inquiring how she still even had that clip after all these years.

While doing so, you caught yourself wishing that you could show this to Taehyung and prove that you were indeed not the best company as a child, your teacher had to play hide-and-seek with you because no one else would.

Yet, it wasn’t Taehyung you had that particular conversation with. Rather other Taehyung.

Or as you and Lisa had nicknamed; ghost Taehyung.

You failed to tell your boyfriend about the second incident. He woke you up an hour or so later with his promised bowl of soup, softly scolding you for never turning down the tv.

Deep inside you were sure that he was already convinced you were crazy from the first time his replica showed up. You didn’t seek to push that theory even further. Mostly because you didn’t want him to admit you to a psych ward, but also because of another glaring reason. The first time you were sure that Taehyung himself was messing with you somehow, which prompted you to accuse him, but this time around you knew for a fact he was innocent.

Instinctively, you didn’t feel threatened by the doppelganger spirit. If anything you sorta wished he’d pop up again with a ginger-cinnamon hot chocolate. It was kinda weird that he was acting like your boyfriend when he wasn’t, but he didn’t try to be too intimate with you or anything. The lease on the farmhouse was only twelve months so you could put up with a friendly ghost for a while if need be.

The only creepy thing was that you weren’t sure how you were going to tell if you were talking to the real Taehyung or not. Thankfully, the sick day incident seemed to be the last one, the last few days being almost eerily mundane.

The door to your bedroom suddenly slammed open, revealing your beaming boyfriend.

He held up a champagne bottle with one hand and two glasses in the other. “Guess what just happened!”

You sat up in bed and placed your phone on the nightstand as he giddily approached you. “What? Are we celebrating something?”

“Only the Bauhaus Gallery agreeing to schedule a showing for my latest collection!”

You jumped up in surprise, instantly wrapping your arms around him and plastering his face with kisses. “Oh my god! Tae! That’s amazing! I’m so proud of you! When is it?!”

“Next Friday at eight.” He chuckled through your kisses, fully basking in your attention.

The Bauhaus gallery was an uppity German gallery in town that apparently served as a who's who in the world of painting. Personally, you didn’t get what the big deal was, but Taehyung made it one of his career goals to have a show there. He always said that his career would really take off if he could showcase his work at such a place.

You pulled back and began thinking out loud as Taehyung worked on the bottle, “Wow, okay! I need to get a dress. And we should invite some friends to support you. Oh! Namjoon and his wife would probably try to buy a painting so we should see if they’re free-”

Taehyung cut you off with the resounding pop of the bottle, “Yeah yeah, we can plan that all out later. Right now I just wanna celebrate with my pretty girlfriend please.”

You quieted down and held the glasses as he poured. He then placed the bottle aside, took a glass and held it up for you to clink. You did so while your boyfriend declared, “To my collection and girlfriend; both beautiful and priceless!”

“You better announce that again at the afterparty!” You laughed, covering your blush.

You both finished the drinks rather quickly, him with a refreshing “ahh” and you with a cringe. Champagne really was overrated in your opinion, having no idea why it was the token celebratory drink. The glasses were then shoved somewhere aside, courtesy of Tae.

You laid back down in the bed, Taehyung unhurriedly following suit and even climbing on top of you at a leisurely pace.

Taehyung’s face was now inches away from yours, his every breath tickling your skin. His previous mood of joy shifted into something more…sultry. Cat eyes darkened, fully taking you in with a steadily growing smirk. The artist licked this bottom lip in a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it speed, before quirking one brow up in faux inquiry. His voice was low and husky, purring into your ears, “You know, it’s been a while since we’ve fucked.”

You snorted, “Gee, that’s hard to believe when you put me in the mood like that.”

“You like a man who's upfront.” He shrugged, not wasting a second more as he leaned down to slowly melt his lips against yours.

The intimate sensation felt almost foreign, the last few days having only been filled with obligatory pecks due to you two being so caught up in your work. You almost forgot how talented he was at making you feel special.

You kissed back just as slowly, feeling the intensity of his lips and taking the time to reacquaint yourself with them. It was gentle, deep, and meaningful. He kissed you gingerly, carefully, but that’s not what you wanted. Not after all this time. Pent-up sexual frustration caused you to knot your fists in his shirt, pulling him harder against you.

Taehyung groaned softly, low in his throat while encircling you in his arms to gather you against him. You two rolled over in the bed, tangled in the sheets, still locked at the lips.

His tongue slips into your mouth, tender but demanding. You swirl your tongue against his, moaning into his mouth as his hands snuck up to twist in your hair and grip you impossibly closer. Taehyung’s slight stubble prickles you, but somehow the extra sensation just excites you even more. Your boyfriend's lips pull back and meet their ultimate home at your neck, him now mouthing fervently at the sensitive nerves there as you gasped for air.

As you felt hotter and hotter, Taehyung answered your unsaid prayer and positioned his thigh between your legs, obscenely brushing against the place you needed him most. Knowing you like the back of his hand, he purposefully tensed his thigh as you not-so-subtly grinded against it, all the while he sucked and nibbled at the spot just below your ear.

A tug at your clothes.

Softly biting your earlobe, he whispered, “Be a good girl for me and take this shit off.”

Just when you were about to oblige, an unexpected sound cut through all the haze and caused you both to freeze.

It sounded like a…bang?

From somewhere deep within the house.

It was so loud and shrill, it effortlessly echoed off the walls of your humble bedroom. If you had to describe it, it was as if someone had just thrown a bowling ball with all their might.

Undoubtedly snapping into protector mode, Taehyung immediately jumped off of you and reached under the bed to retrieve a metal baseball bat.

“Stay here.” He ordered, already marching out the door before you could even protest.

You fearfully obeyed, reaching for your phone in case 911 had to be called.

Your once warm and flushed body was now icy with panic. Sitting upright in the bed, you strained your ears for any idea of what was occurring downstairs.

But alas, the house remained freakily silent. Almost as if that brutal sound was in your head and nothing more.

This did nothing to help your anxiety, a cold sweat quickly forming.

Minutes passed, you waited with bated breath for something. Anything.

But nothing ever came.

Your worry grew tenfold.

The longer Taehyung was away, the more you felt weighed down with dread, heart nearly in your throat.

‘What was happening downstairs? Was Taehyung okay? Did he find something? If there was a struggle, surely you would’ve heard it by now, right?’

Then ultimately, as the seconds ticked on, ‘Was your boyfriend going to come back?’

At the ten-minute mark, you made your decision.

Now concerned for your boyfriend’s safety, you sprung out of bed and ran out of the room. Your body purposefully moving too fast for your mind to catch up and halt your movements in the name of self-preservation.

“Taehyung?!” You desperately called out as you practically plummeted down the stairs.

“In here!” A croaky voice answered, sounding like your boyfriend but oddly…defeated?

You correctly traced the voice to his workroom, stepping into the space and seeing a scene that swiftly broke your heart, effectively replacing all your fright with woe.

Taehyung was on his knees in front of an easel, head bowed down.

The easel held a half-done canvas.

It was a sketch of two people, a man and a woman that closely resembled you and Taehyung.

It was partly painted, the scene depicting a warm sunny day at the park that looked alot like where Taehyung had taken you for a picnic and officially asked you to be his girlfriend. You were in Taehyung’s arms, kissing his cheek as he smiled his signature box-smile. You could recall that precise moment easily, you had just said yes to being his and sheepishly pecked his cheek, embarrassed by the old man on the bench a few feet away that eyed you two like a hawk.

It was a wonderful piece of unfinished art, not only due to the sentimental value but also the artistry and time that clearly went into it.

If only there weren't angry red sloshes of paint that cut through it, ruining the picture and turning it into something that looked like a horrible bloody mess of goo and not the romantic day it was.

“I-I was going to gift this to you….on our seventh month.” Taehyung’s voice was watery.

You didn’t even know what to say.

All of his hard work and thought was simply…gone. Erased. Ruined.

It would’ve been the equivalent of someone breaking into your laptop and deleting your entire novel’s draft. What would you even do? If roles were reversed, would there even be a way for Taehyung to console you? To make matters worse, it was his gift of love to you. He didn’t make that painting for himself, a buyer, or a collection…he made it for you.

Your empathy made you almost cry for him, but you knew that would be the last thing he’d want to see right now. His guilt would only grow.

You walked further into the room and got on your knees beside him.

Wrapping your arms around him, you cradled his head in the nook between your head and shoulder while rocking the two of you. “Tae baby, I’m so sorry.”

He didn’t say anything for a while, although you felt wet teardrops on your skin.

“Who would do this? It doesn’t make sense why someone would break in, take nothing and just destroy my gift?”

You didn’t know either, but you wanted to make him feel better. “Listen, I think it was the perfect gift. It’s really the thought that counts and I’m just happy that you even thought to make me something like that. Especially in the middle of working on your own collection, it must’ve been hard.”

Taehyung pulled back, regarding you with a tearful but hopeful gaze. “Really?”

“Of course! I was literally going to just get you a watch or something. That gift kinda would have made me look bad.” You attempted to joke.

He shakily smiled, even chuckling a bit before pulling back entirely and standing to his full height. Tae then held a hand out for you, pulling you up as well.

Not wanting to be in the room anymore with that awful mess, you gradually pushed him towards the door, eventually up the stairs and into your bedroom.

You both sat on the bed, him with his head in his hands and you awkwardly suggesting yet another early night in.

But instead of agreeing and attempting to join you under the covers, Taehyung continued to sit almost painfully still at the edge of your bed.

Then, he spoke.

“Y/n, you were lying when you said that guy was probably just a figment of your imagination.”

It wasn’t a question.

He knew.

He believed you now.

–

It was now the official opinion of the house that a ghost was indeed roaming around somewhere.

You wanted to pat yourself on the back because truly, your taste in men was superior.

Taehyung wasn’t one of those horror movie boyfriends that was convinced every unexplainable occurrence must’ve had a logical explanation. It only took that one experience for the artist to admit that something weird was going on, and although he never saw the ghost himself, Taehyung believed you when you said it looked exactly like him.

You were happy that you two were on the same page…well, mostly.

Taehyung reasoned that the lookalike ghost must’ve been the one to ruin his painting.

You don’t know why, but somewhere deep within, that accusation just didn’t feel right. Without thinking much, you had told your boyfriend that destroying his gift didn’t seem like something ghost Tae would do.

Obviously Taehyung was bewildered at your sudden defense of the spirit’s character and demanded to know how you could be so sure that it wasn’t him.

Feeling that your hand was forced, you fessed up to the second incident in which you ran into the other Taehyung. You explained that he was sweet, brought you hot chocolate and even held you as you fell asleep. It was only after the real Taehyung texted you that you realized it wasn’t your boyfriend, but by then it was too late.

Your boyfriend was understandably furious.

For one, you never told him that you were cuddled and taken care of by another man, dead or otherwise. And secondly, this spirit seemed to be taking too much of a liking to you. The artist was a weird mixture of jealous and protective, following you around the house and barely leaving you alone in fear that his replica would show up and snatch you away.

You thought he was overreacting, but Taehyung's determination to get rid of the ghost only grew as the days passed.

One day you took a break from writing and went downstairs to refresh your coffee, when you paused at the sight of your boyfriend waving an odd burning stick around the living room in a fashion that somehow made sense to him.

“Sage cleanses the home of negative energy and basically tells unwanted spirits to fuck off.” He told you as if you were the idiot and not him- wildly thrashing his arm around in a puff of smoke and demanding that his evil ghost twin left the premises immediately.

You shrugged, “Just don’t set off the smoke detector, please.”

The next day, Taehyung informed you over dinner that he called a security camera company and had ordered a set to be installed in your home.

“Don’t you think that’s kinda a big fucking thing to not run by me?”

“I’m sorry baby, but I knew you wouldn’t have agreed.” He apologized without seeming even the tiniest bit apologetic.

“If you knew I wouldn’t have wanted it then why do it anyway?!”

“Because as the man of the house it’s my job to protect us and I would like to witness everything that’s going on. Next time he comes out and tries to touch you, I will be able to see it from my phone and confront him.” He then reached for his water and took a self righteous sip before muttering under his breath, “That is if the sage didn’t kick him out already.”

“Man of the house?!” You echoed incredulously. “You call twirling around with some burning twigs and yelling at a harmless ghost being the man of the house?”

“He’s not harmless! Why are you so convinced that it’s just a casper that we’re dealing with?!”

You opened your mouth to retort, but snapped it shut when you realized you didn’t really have any reason to believe he wasn’t dangerous. So you just focused on the main glaring issue, “Nevermind that. I just don’t like how you made a big decision without telling me. Are we not equal in this relationship? It wasn’t even worth consulting me about?”

Taehyung didn’t say anything.

It would seem that he understood your point, but was stubbornly holding onto his just a tad more.

Appetite ruined, you stormed away in a display of vexation.

Not wanting to go to sleep beside him either, you stayed all night in your office and tried to just focus on editing the latest version of your draft.

Somewhere along the way, you managed to fall asleep on the keyboard.

You blearily awoke hours later to the sound of the door firmly shutting.

Groggily you sat up and twisted to see if anyone else was in the room with you, all the while rubbing off the key imprints on your cheek and leftover drool.

No one was there.

When you turned your attention back to the desk, you softly gasped in surprise.

A plate of grilled cheese sat there, still hot.

Alongside it was a steaming mug of hot chocolate.

One sip and you instantly recognized the ginger-cinnamon.

It wasn’t your boyfriend who left this.

The sage didn’t work.

–

Ralph was a man of about fifty years of age.

Tall, lumbering, calloused and not necessarily easy on the eyes, he shifted awkwardly at the entrance of your delicate farmhouse as Taehyung listed off the places in the home that he’d like covered.

Ralph was to set up the cameras while you and your boyfriend went out for a quick errand.

The gallery showing was tomorrow, and so was the little afterparty that you had arranged to take place. You did so without really realizing all that you would need for hosting. The guest list was an intimate circle of seven, but given you and Taehyung were running out of groceries for even just the two of you, you figured a trip to the market was needed to properly prepare.

You rolled your eyes and waited for your boyfriend to finish his little pep talk, sighing in relief when Ralph was finally free to disappear into the living room with his bag of tools.

“Ready?” You asked Taehyung, not really waiting for an answer as you stomped past him and out the door.

He followed you wordlessly to the car.

The ride into town was stiff and awkward, neither one of you saying anything and music not even playing in the background as Taehyung drove.

You both were still angry at each other.

Well, more like you were angry at him and he was correctly trying to not poke the bear by instigating useless chatter.

The cameras were overkill in your opinion and a giant waste of money. You both were artists, which means a severe lack of steady income. You needed to be smart with what you threw cash at because no one knew if your next book or his next painting would even sell. Nothing was ever guaranteed.

You felt for him that his gift was wrecked, but you weren’t lying when you said that the thought was all that really mattered to you. You genuinely didn’t care either way, it would’ve been nice to have the painting, but it was just as nice to know that he was painting one for you.

If you were a betting woman, you would bet that this was more about Taehyung’s unfounded jealousy than anything else. Usually you would find harmless jealousy kind of attractive, but not when it went into installing cameras into your home at the “low” price of a couple hundred dollars.

You thought of this in a quiet rage as Taehyung pulled into the grocery store.

He parked, you both got out and walked inside before grabbing a cart.

“Let’s split up.” You said, your tone leaving no room for argument.

“Fine. What do you want me to get?”

“Get the drinks. They’re mainly your friends so you’d know what they’d like more than me. I’ll get some stuff for a charcuterie board.” You ordered, just wanting to get back home as soon as possible

He nodded and swiftly went over to the alcohol section as you made way into the food aisles.

You were looking at the different types of crackers and wondering what the fuck the difference was when a sudden call of your name took your attention.

“Y/n?”

The voice was light and airy, tone warm and nostalgic to the ears.

No way.

It can’t be…

You swirled around to face the owner, nearly choking on your spit when you realized your suspicions were correct.

Park Jimin was as gorgeous as ever. The cherub face was just as you recalled, somehow both ruggedly handsome and softly docile. His eyes crinkled behind a pearly smile, a small hand coming up to swiftly brush through his dyed blonde hair as he approached you.

“I thought that was you.” He chuckled. “How have you been? It’s been so long.”

You managed a wry smile.

Jimin was once your college boyfriend of one year, five months, and eight days.

But hey, who was counting?

“I’m doing okay.” You choked out, not liking how he quickly frowned at your strained tone. If there was one man you could never lie to, it was Jimin. “How about yourself? Did you open up that studio you always wanted?”

The truth was you knew he did. Before meeting and dating Taehyung, you were guilty of occasionally checking his social media. It simply couldn’t be helped. Jimin was the longest relationship you ever had. The first man you ever really loved. And your first ever heartbreak.

“Um, yeah I did! I heard you published your first book last year. I bought a few copies myself…” he trailed off sheepishly, suddenly avoiding eye contact. “It uh, was really well written. Are you um, working on anything now?”

You bit your lip, not sure how you felt about the man you were once wildly in love with reading your novel after years of not talking. Much less buying more than one copy to support you. “Y-Yes I’m writing my second book.”

He nodded, a proud expression on his face as he pursed his lips in thought.

“I’m sorry this is…weird.” He finally huffed. “I really didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

You sighed with some relief, thankful he felt the same way. “Same. After you said you wanted to date other people I really didn’t expect to say another word to you like, ever.”

Jimin laughed, “Haha, what? Your memory continues to suck, Y/n. If anything it was you who ghosted-”

“Y/n.”

A much deeper voice cut through the air, bringing all the attention to a new figure descending upon the scene.

Taehyung strode up from behind you, placing an arm around you and regarding the other man with a brooding look of regard.

“Whose this?” Your boyfriend asked, purposefully deepening his already deep voice.

You inwardly rolled your eyes, noting how the artist was practically puffing his chest and glowering at the much shorter man.

“Taehyung, this is my old friend Jimin. Jimin, this is my boyfriend Taehyung.”

The two stiffly nodded at each other, you dodging the questioning look Jimin secretly shot at you for being described as ‘an old friend’.

A pregnant pause hung in the air.

“So…how long have you two been together?”

Before either you or your boyfriend could answer, a pretty lady suddenly skipped into the aisle and grasped onto Jimin’s arm.

“Babe, I can’t find the oat milk! I thought you said- Oh hello!” She just now noticed you and Taehyung, smiling politely and not-so-subtly nudging at Jimin to introduce her.

“Oh, um, this is Molly.”

“His girlfriend! And you two are?”

“I’m Y/n and this is my boyfriend Taehyung.” You introduced. “Jimin and I went to school together.”

“Really? I never get to meet any of Jimin’s old friends! We should have a double date or something!” Molly was an over the top girl, your ears almost ringing at the volume she exuded. But she seemed nice, so you smiled warmly at her and vaguely agreed.

Another brief, awkward and only slightly painful silence.

“Actually…” You trailed off in thought, an idea forming in your head but you didn’t know if it was a good one. Yet it was too late. Before you could even backtrack, all three sets of eyes were on you, eagerly waiting for you to finish the thought. “…what are you two doing tomorrow night?”

“Was just gonna drag Jiminnie to see this new movie! We can totally blow it off though!”

“Well, my boyfriend is a really talented artist and he has a showing tomorrow night. We’d love it if you two could make it.”

You felt Taehyung stiffen beside you, but you paid it no mind.

From what you understood about showings the more people, the more eyes, the better. It was harmless, wasn’t it? Jimin bought multiple copies of your book, and you’d invite him to a gallery showing to please his over hyper girlfriend.

Even, right?

Molly beamed, asking for your number to exchange the details.

You did so, pretending not to notice how both Jimin and Taehyung bore their stares into you.

When finished, you waved goodbye to the couple as they made their way to the dairy section. You and Taehyung then continued your own shopping in a rushed manner- your boyfriend grumbling about having to get back in time for the cameras.

The ride home was a bit more talkative, with Taehyung asking how you knew of Jimin and what made you two friends. You answered the questions rather honestly, just leaving out the parts about how your friendship blossomed into something more.

You weren’t exactly trying to be deceitful. It was just that he was under a lot of stress and paranoia the last few days, you didn’t want to push his poor nerves any further. If he was willing to set up a bunch of cameras to keep some ghost away from you, you didn’t want to push your luck by mentioning that Jimin was your ex boyfriend and longest relationship.

Besides, it wasn’t like Jimin was any kind of threat. You would never entertain the idea of going back to the guy who dumped you. He also now had Molly, so clearly you both moved on.

Taehyung pulled the car into the driveway, asking if you could handle the few bags as he went in to talk to Ralph and sort out the last few steps of installation. You agreed, watching him jog into the home as you gathered all the groceries and took your time to get inside.

You beelined straight to the kitchen with the newly bought food, raising your brows when you saw Taehyung staring at something intently on the counter.

“What is it?”

Taehyung didn’t answer.

You walked up behind him and stood on your tippy toes to spot over his shoulder what he was looking at.

It was a note, in messy and hurried handwriting.

“Sorry but the cameras could not have been installed. It won’t work here. -Ralph.”

–

If there was any man on top of the world tonight- his name was Kim Taehyung.

The Bauhaus gallery was swarmed with countless people, all clamoring to gaze upon the latest Kim collection and ponder the intricate meanings behind each piece. They wore luxury clothes and drank fancy wine that you couldn’t even pronounce, their tax bracket clearly a couple pegs above yours. There was of course some idle chatter, almost every corner of the building being filled with some pretentious snob rambling about the brush strokes, artistic style and commentary your boyfriend was allegedly trying to make with his art.

Such a crowd was not something you were accustomed to.

Thus you clung to Lisa, both idly sipping at wine and watching your boyfriend from afar as he charmingly answered questions.

“You know, he’s going to make thousands of dollars tonight.” Lisa thought out loud. “These rich types will outbid each other like crazy.”

You shrugged nonchalantly. You were happy for him, and knew he deserved it but you would be lying if you said he wasn’t in the doghouse.

“Still mad huh?” Lisa correctly assumed, reading your expression. “What happened after the camera dude disappeared?”

“Taehyung was really upset and called the company to demand his money back. They refunded him entirely, apologized and even sent someone to get the company van. I guess the Ralph dude was an alcoholic and everyone just kinda accepts that he skipped town.” You explained. “I tried to calm him down but he sorta snapped at me about how I never even wanted the cameras so I was probably just loving it all.”

Lisa lowly whistled, “Damn. Well, he probably snapped about the cameras but I promise you it wasn’t just about that.”

“What do you mean?”

“You invited your ex to his showing.” Lisa lectured, as if you were a child who didn’t even understand what you did wrong.

You stuttered, “B-But he doesn’t know Jimin is an ex! I told him he was just an old friend.”

She rolled her eyes, “Y/n of course he would see right through that. There's always going to be chemistry between Jimin and you, he probably picked up on it and is aware you’re not telling the complete truth about what you two were.”

“He’s just overly jealous. He wants to fight our ghost too. At this point, every man is a threat to him.”

At the mention of your ghost, Lisa’s eyes practically sparkled. “Oh I can’t wait to go back to your place! I want to feel the haunted energy for myself.”

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes, “It’s just like any other home, Lisa.”

“That’s because you don’t have a psychic sense to save your life, Y/n.”

You didn’t know whether or not to be offended by that, so you decided to distract yourself by scanning the room for your boyfriend’s invited friends.

Kim Namjoon was an old boss of Taehyung that remained good friends with the artist even after he dumped his job to take up painting full time. Currently, he and his wife Jennifer were talking rather seriously to a thin-lipped curator, most likely about purchasing one of the artworks displayed.

Right across from where you and Lisa stood, Taehyung was conversing with his former coworkers; Jin and Hoseok. They appeared to be laughing about something, their lightheartedness standing out in the overly serious room of people.

If you craned your neck a little to the left, you could spot Yoongi and Jungkook hiding in a corner away from everyone else, almost perfectly mimicking you and your close friend. They both nursed their drinks quietly, occasionally sharing words but mainly just waiting out this event.

You always kind of thought that Lisa and Jungkook would make a good pairing if properly introduced and pushed. So you turned to your friend and was just about to suggest you guys walk over, when she made a face at something behind you.

“Uh oh, here comes the ex.” She mumbled.

You turned around to indeed see Jimin and Molly approaching.

Jimin wore a suit, dress shirt unbuttoned at the top to reveal some of his sun kissed chest. His blonde hair was properly done this time, brushed to the side and back to fully expose his forehead. He raised a hand and waved, rings catching the light and nearly blinding you in the process.

Beside him, Molly looked as pretty as ever in a blue sweetheart dress that complimented her figure. Yet, she looked rather irritated. She attempted to give you a smile in greeting, but it looked more like a grimace.

Jimin spoke first, “Hey, I’m so sorry we’re late. I’m hoping we didn’t miss too much?”

You wanted to be annoyed but without meaning to, a giggle escaped you.

“Things really don’t change.” You told Jimin, a knowing look simmering in your eyes. While dating, you guys were often the couple that showed up late to any event. Most people assumed that it was your doing because you were the girl, when in all actuality it was Jimin.

Jimin shamelessly grinned, “I’ve gotten better, I swear.”

You didn’t believe it for a second and he knew it.

You both shared a laugh, staring at each other fondly like old friends reliving the old times.

It was hard to believe that you were joking with the man you once thought you’d never get over or forgive. Countless nights were spent eating your feelings, hysterically crying and obsessing over all the videos or pictures you couldn’t bring yourself to delete.

But there are some people in life that as soon as they come back, it’s like they never left.

And it was almost as if Jimin never left.

You two continued to gaze into each other, lost in your own comfortable bubble when a sudden throat clearing broke the haze.

“Um, actually the showing is almost over.” Lisa informed, her and Molly visibly looking left out of the nostalgia.

Your ex had the decency to look guilty. “Oh no! I’m so sorry! Maybe we can all just get drinks? There’s a nice bar two blocks down. I can buy a round for everyone?”

“That’s sweet but we have a little after party planned back at my place. I live kind of out of town though, so it’s okay if you can’t make it.”

“No! We can make it! What's the address?” Jimin seemed eager.

You told him, him pulling out his phone to save it into his gps system.

Molly was silent all this time, which was kind of worrying as your first meeting with her led you to believe she was the bubbly type. Now that you mentioned it, it looked like she was avoiding looking at either you or her boyfriend, focusing on a spot on the wall somewhere behind you.

You opened your mouth to maybe ask if she was alright, but quickly shut it when you realized that could be overstepping some boundary.

Fortunately, Lisa seemed to have enough of this entire interaction and grabbed your arm while saying, “Me and Y/n were just going to go to the restroom! Please take a good look around and enjoy her boyfriend’s work! See you guys at the after party!”

Your friend then swiftly dragged you away, barely leaving you enough time to smile apologetically at the couple.

When you both entered the restroom, Lisa simply marched up to the sink and began fixing invisible smudges in her makeup as you shifted awkwardly beside her.

“So…” She started, looking you up and down in the mirror. “Please tell me you know Jimin is still in love with you.”

“W-What?! No way!” You spluttered.

“Y/n it’s so obvious. I actually felt bad for his girlfriend. He couldn’t take his eyes off you.” She rolled her eyes, almost disappointed in your lack of awareness.

“It’s just been forever. It’s hard to not hyperfocus on eachother, we’ve both changed so much. Also, why would the guy who dumped me out of nowhere still be in love with me?”

She released a deep sigh, “He knows he made the shittiest mistake of his life and is now regretting it when seeing you and your talented boyfriend doing so well.”

You chuckled at the thought of someone looking at your relationship and being jealous.

“Listen, just remember tonight is Taehyung’s night and fighting or not, he’s still a wonderful boyfriend overall. And Jimin is your ex who broke your heart. Inviting him to your place after this might’ve been too much. I suggest you keep your distance.”

“Lisa, thanks for the advice but I honestly was just being friendly. He seemed sorry that he missed most of the showing. Besides, I’m going to be too busy hosting to have a deep heart to heart with him or anything.” You explained, a little offended that she thought you were going to play part in some dramatic reconciliation.

A sudden announcement echoed outside the restroom doors, your ears straining to hear a gallery worker asking everyone to gather on the main floor for the artist’s speech and thus the final part of the night.

Saying nothing more, Lisa and you made your exit to join the audience.

– The clock was nearing midnight.

Your usually quiet farmhouse of a home was not at all quiet.

Your boyfriend's friends were merrily talking and drinking, once in a while their masculine laughs would sync up and reverberate through the halls. They all conversed and lounged in the living room, the largest part of the house that could fit all of them comfortably. Yet, you and Lisa stayed in the kitchen, making the drinks and finger foods, as you indulged in harmless girl talk.

“The one with tattoos is so hot, Y/n. Please tell me he’s single!”

“Jungkook? I’m pretty sure he is. Taehyung told me that Namjoon is the only other one in the friend group that’s in a relationship.”

“Okay, so far so good.” She paused to pop a stuffed mushroom in her mouth, humming in thought. “What’s his type though? Like, would I have to make the first move? Does he like a straightforward girl? Because he hasn’t so much as looked at me tonight.”

“I’ve only met Taehyung’s friends once before so I don’t know their types or anything. I do think Jungkook looks a lot manlier than he actually is. He’s very kind but shy so you’ll have to talk to him first.” You explained while opening another bottle of wine for the two of you.

Lisa frowned at the thought, not used to being the one that had to chase.

You poured two glasses, handing her one with a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, I can introduce you two. It’s kind of a good thing he’s avoiding you like the plague, Tae once said he only acts like that with pretty girls.”

Your friend lit up like the fourth of july.

“Hey babe!” A familiar deep voice called out.

You looked around to see your boyfriend stepping into the kitchen, a buzzed smile on his face and a slightly glazed film over his eyes.

Moments like these made you realize how much of a lightweight your boyfriend was. It only took one or two drinks for him to get tipsy. But it was still his night and he was already home amongst loved ones, so all you could do is smile endearingly at his slightly intoxicated self.

“Yes, handsome?”

His boxy grin grew, “The boys want more beer.”

“Already?! I put out a twelve pack! People need to be able to drive home, ya know!”

He laughed, “Baby, my friends can drink a gallon each and still be able to drive home with their eyes closed if need be.”

“Well I don’t have any more beer up here. Just wine. There might be some more in the basement, though.”

He nodded in thanks, turning his back to presumably go to the basement and retrieve the drinks.

Lisa waited for him to get fully out of earshot before leaning over and dramatically whispering, “How is Jimin and that Molly girl doing?”

You shrugged, “Last time I was in there, Hoseok was making conversation with Jimin and Molly was all over Yoongi.”

“Damn, trouble in paradise?”

“I don’t know. He didn’t seem too bothered and she seemed a little drunk. She might just get overly friendly when she drinks.”

“And you’re still convinced that he’s over you?”

You rolled your eyes but ultimately stayed silent, aware that the couple was acting sorta strange but also not so sure that you were the cause. You took your wine in one hand and a plate of appetizers in the other, motioning for Lisa to grab the rest and follow you.

When you both entered the living room, you were thrilled to spot Jungkook sitting alone on one of the loveseats. You quickly set the food down and pulled Lisa along with you, approaching him with a friendly smile meant to put him at ease. Considering the way his eyes widened at the sight of your friend, you didn’t know how successful you were.

“Hey Jungkook, it’s been a while!” You greeted.

“Y-Yeah it has been. How’s your erm, book going?”

“It’s doing okay, thanks for asking. Have you met my friend, Lisa?”

He briefly scanned your friend, nervously gulping before saying quietly, “…No I haven't.”

“Oh well, Lisa was just saying how much she liked your tattoos.” You nudged her, prompting her to say something.

She just nodded in agreement, suddenly meek.

He blushed, “Thank you.”

“Actually, Lisa, weren't you saying that you were thinking of getting a tattoo?” You pretended to think out loud, as if you weren’t outright playing them. You didn’t wait for her to answer the rhetorical question, “Jungkook, don’t you do tattoos now?”

Now on a topic of interest he was for sure confident in, Jungkook practically jumped in his seat, “Yeah! I do! I’ve only tatted myself and some friends but I hope to work on more people.”

You watched with a smirk as Lisa moved to sit next to Jungkook, her now explaining what she’d like done and Jungkook asking questions about placement, size and color.

You felt sure enough in them to leave them alone, now inhabiting your little corner as you finished your wine while taking in the scene.

Yoongi and Molly stood by the window, and were obviously the most inebriated. He was the type to ramble pointlessly when tipsy, and she giggled at every little thing he said, playfully shoving his shoulder once in a while. You knew for a fact that Yoongi was too deep in his own self-epiphanes to notice her bad flirting, either that or he was just trying to talk to anyone who was willing to listen.

Namjoon and Jennifer were sitting on the couch and talking to Jin, laughing at whatever odd impression he was attempting. Beside them on the loveseat, Hoseok was politely nodding along to small talk from Jimin. Being one of the friendliest and most calming of the group, it made sense that Hoseok was the one trying to make your ex boyfriend feel included.

Content to just watch your guests for a while, you stood by your lonesome and slowly sipped at the remnants of your wine.

Playing host wasn’t exactly your forte, so you were enjoying the little lull while it lasted. Unlike your boyfriend, your social battery tended to max out at the two-hour mark when in group settings.

And as much as you loved the people in your home (with maybe the exception of your ex and his girlfriend), you couldn’t wait for them to get out so you could take a long, hot shower and head to bed.

The stress of the last few days was really tiring you, and you just knew that as soon as the excitement of the showing and sold paintings wore off, Taehyung was going to continue his spat with you about the cameras.

When you and Jimin dated, you two were always on the same page. Fights very rarely happened. And Jimin was such a people pleaser that if literally anything slightly upset you, he would practically fall over himself to make you smile again.

Taehyung was the first boyfriend to genuinely pick a fight with you, being more stubborn than you about matters you didn’t necessarily want to back down from either. Your relationship conflict resolution skills were being tested, and you just didn’t have the patience or experience to keep fighting much longer. You would call a truce or some type of compromise, if it weren’t for the fact that there was no way to really keep both of you happy.

A few minutes passed as you pondered this to yourself.

Seemingly materializing out of nowhere, a mysterious arm wrapped around your waist.

The suddenness of it all caused you to jump and release a very unflattering squeak.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

A deep chuckle rumbled beside you, Taehyung smirking lazily before diving face first into your neck and nuzzling it in some sort of drunken stupor.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that!” You groaned, trying to forcefully shove his face away from you. “Where’s the beer you went to fetch?”

Your boyfriend expertly dodged your shove and dove back into your neck, mumbling against the skin something about not being able to find more drinks.

The vibration of his lips on such a sensitive spot made you want to squirm, but his halfhearted mumbles took your attention a bit more.

“No beer? I could’ve sworn-”

“Hey Y/n!” Someone interrupted with a call across the room. You looked up to see Lisa trudging over with a determined look on her face and a fogged up look in her eyes, perhaps a bit more tipsy than you remember leaving her. “Aren’t you going to show me where exactly you saw the ghost?”

Your dear friend most likely thought she was being discreet and having a normal conversation at a perfectly appropriate tone. But no, she was actually speaking way above a conversational volume, causing everyone else in the room to halt their conversations and turn to look at you.

“Ghost?” Jin laughed.

“You saw something in this room?” Hoseok inquired with a trembling voice, most likely regretting having come over. Beside him, Jimin quietly shook his head to himself.

“No way, Y/n doesn’t believe in stuff like that.” Your ex confidently informed the group.

At the sound of your past lover’s voice, you felt Taehyung stiffen beside you. The artist untangled himself from you, standing to his full height and facing the guest with an unknown expression.

“We had a little bit of a ghost problem, but it’s taken care of now.” He paused, and you could nearly hear his smirk when he went on to declare, “I got rid of it.”

Yoongi laughed boisterously, having to hold himself up with the wall to prevent falling over. “I’m sorry, but the image of little Tae boxing a little sheet with two holes for eyes is really sending me.”

Half your guests laughed at the thought. The other more believing half still stared at you inquisitively.

An awkward silence.

“Ghosts are real.” Jennifer started, effortlessly drawing all eyes to her. “I used to live in a haunted house when I was a kid.”

She put her drink down and folded her hands across her lap, suddenly immersed in thought and careful about what she was about to share.

“In my childhood home, there was a garden in the backyard. Almost everyday, at sunset, I’d look out the window and see this lady circling the flowers and humming to herself. After ten minutes or so, she would disappear into thin air. I told my parents but they never believed me.”

She paused, either for dramatic effect or to recollect.

“Until one day, my mom saw her too. And when she went out to confront what she thought was an intruder, the lady disappeared before her eyes. My mom then did some digging about the history of the house and it turns out, the previous owner was outside gardening when she had a heart attack and died.”

A pregnant pause hung in the air as everyone silently digested the anecdote.

“That’s fucking terrifying, please tell me your parents moved houses after that.” Hoseok broke the silence first, pleading with watery eyes.

Namjoon’s wife laughed, reaching for her drink once more. “How is it scary? The lady was just checking on her garden in the afterlife. However, I then grew up really interested in supernatural stuff.” She turned to you. “There’s some tell-tale signs that a home has a spirit attached to it. Cold spots, shadow figures, whispers, scary dreams and the biggest of all: always feeling like you're being watched, even if there’s no one else in the room.”

You quietly thought to yourself. Were there any cold spots in the home? No. Any shadow figures? Nope. Whispers and nightmares? Nada.

But…the last one, being watched when no one is there.

If you really focused on your intuition, you faintly felt that even now amongst all these people, you were being watched by something unknown.

Goosebumps raised on the surface of your arms.

Chills ran down your spine and you shivered, the reaction causing Taehyung to grasp you tighter against him in what was supposed to be comfort.

You felt even more cold.

“We haven’t had any of that. Really guys, it’s taken care of.” Your boyfriend told the room, effectively shutting down the paranormal subject.

You assumed Taehyung felt a bit defensive of his ghost expelling skills, either that or he genuinely wanted another topic of discussion.

You then felt a little bad, it was still his night after all and here you were unintentionally ruining it with your little ghost stories. The focus of the room should be on him and his achievements, not everyone's supernatural beliefs and stories.

“Taehyung is right, it’s all resolved. But I’d like to ask all of you to fill up your glasses one last time, and raise them with me, ” While they did that you quickly scanned the room, “Um, except maybe you, Yoongi. Feel free to sit this one out, bud.” You laughed as the drunk man just grumbled at you, defiantly snatching another beer and holding it high while swaying on his feet.

Hopefully he wasn’t the one driving home.

You cleared your throat, “I'd like to propose a toast to our own Taehyung. Everyone in this room knows it was only a matter of time before your artistic genius was recognized by the world, but that doesn’t make us any less proud than we are of you tonight. To the first of many showings! To Taehyung!”

“To Taehyung!” the room loudly parroted back, everyone thrusting their drinks of choice in the air before knocking them back.

The artist beside you laughed and shook his head, “Really, guys it’s no big deal. Just a few paintings that I’m lucky even got sold. But thanks so much for making it. Most of you-” he snapped a side eye where Jimin sat, “have supported me so much, I’m just happy to have such a great group of friends.”

Said friends all smiled and nodded, although a few caught on to Taehyung’s subliminal dig and warily looked over at your ex.

Jimin pursed a tight smile, clearly trying to be nice and not make it obvious that he was the outsider at the party. You caught his eye and shot him a sorry look, but he shook his head in what was clearly meant to say “don’t worry about it.”

Your boyfriend continued, “However! ‘Friends’ don’t really beat ‘love of my life’. So without getting into all the lewd details of how I plan to spend my night celebrating, I’m going to need you all to start clearing out,” Taehyung smirked. “Y/n is a screamer.”

“Ew!” Lisa shouted, beside her Jungkook was suddenly unable to make eye contact with you.

The older men in the room just cackled. You slapped the artist's chest while trying to hide your blood red face.

Taehyung ducked and mouthed at your ear to whisper, “Sorry baby, but you know it’s true. And don’t act like you don’t want them out sooner rather than later.”

You wanted to be mad, but understood he was tipsy and riding on the high of his showing. So instead you played along and harshly whispered to him, “I doubt you can make me scream tonight. It’s not right to be misleading to your friends.”

He tiled your head to make you face him.

Taehyungs’ left brow twitched in vexation, his lips pulling back in a little growl. He looked around to make sure the guests were distracted with finishing their drinks or saying their goodbyes to each other. When he confirmed no eyes were on you two, he secretly placed his hand at the back of your head, running his long fingers through your hair and stopping right at the ends, to quickly form a fist and pull.

It was just one short tug, but the power of it made you gasp.

You would be lying if you said it didn’t make you a little wet too.

You had no idea where this came from. He never pulled your hair. Your boyfriend wasn’t rough and was one of those really progressive artists types that viewed any kind of manhandling in the bedroom as sort of sexist. But when you peered up at him, with the doe eyes he said he loved so much, and saw the clouded nature of his gaze, you just knew that inebriated Tae was very different from sober Tae.

Black and white, really.

‘I’m in for quite the night’ you thought to yourself while biting your lip, inwardly smug at how Taehyung transparently honed in on the action.

“Um, hey I think I’ll take my leave first.” You looked up to see Jimin awkwardly shifting in front of you two, a blacked out Molly in his hold.

“Oh god! Is she okay?” You exclaimed, noting the poor girl looked dead.

The dancer chuckled, “Yeah, she just gets really hyper when she's drunk then passes out after a bit. Ironically, sleep is all she needs I guess since she always wakes up good as new. No hangover.”

“Here let me show you out. I can help put her in the car.” You offered, already detangling yourself from Taehyung. He made a small sound of protest and made move to hold you tighter.

You placed a hand on his shoulder and consoled him with a smile, “You wanted people to leave, so we should help everyone get home safe. Can you check on Yoongi and maybe see if Namjoon and Jennifer can take him home?”

He looked conflicted, carefully sizing Jimin up through his peripheral. You wanted to roll your eyes. Although tipsy Taehyung was apparently a sexy beast, he was also an immature toddler who needed to be tricked.

You got on your tippy toes to whisper in his ear, “The quicker we get people out, the quicker you get me all to yourself.”

That seemed to convince him as he reluctantly stomped away in the direction of the couple, shooting one more guarded look at the dancer.

With that you led Jimin to the front door, even helping him put Molly’s heels back on before stepping out into the driveway and walking him to his car.

Silently, he opened the car and laid her in the backseat, tucking her in with his jacket. Then he shut the door, but instead of walking around to the driver spot, he turned to you and sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck.

“So….”

“Look, I’m sorry about Taehyung. I didn’t even tell him you were an ex but he’s just been really possessive and weird lately. It’s not just you.” You informed him, hoping to make him feel better.

Jimin just waved it off with a chuckle, “No, I get it. You’re really gorgeous, kind and talented. I also struggled with jealousy when we were together. Can’t really blame him.”

You hoped your blush wasn’t too prominent as you said, “Yeah, but you were always nice to people regardless of feeling possessive. He was just rude. Again, I’m sorry.”

“Well, you can’t really date someone breathtaking if you’re going to be an insecure prick about it.”

You gaped like a fish at the implication you were still breathtaking in Jimin’s eyes. Words were suddenly hard to come by.

It was silent for a moment, the tension between you two as thick as it can possibly get for two past lovers.

“Y/n…why didn’t you tell him we dated?”

“L-Like I said, he’s already been acting jealous and I didn’t want him to focus on that when it was his night. Besides, It’s not like-”

“I broke up with Molly.”

“…What?”

“It happened on the way to your after party, she was upset that I still held a candle for you. And yeah, I couldn’t drag her along when I never felt half of what I felt for you, for her. I just said it without thinking, terrible timing of course. But that’s pretty on brand for me, I suppose.” He attempted a joke.

You smiled politely, although you had no idea how you should feel.

He continued, “I just thought I should say sorry because the reason she was such a drunk and sloppy mess in your home was because I carelessly dumped her on the way there.”

“It’s um, okay Jimin. She wasn’t the only drunken mess tonight. I hope you two manage to stay friends.” You said, then after a beat added, “And that you find what you’re looking for.”

“Listen, I know you're with Taehyung and happy but, I think there was some kind of misunderstanding about our breakup. I’m not trying to be a homewrecker or anything, but can we get a coffee sometime and just…talk?”

You smiled, finding no harm in the offer. “Sure-”

“No.”

You gasped and whipped around to see Taehyung standing behind you, arms crossed and hell in his eyes as he glowered down at Jimin.

How did he get there without being spotted or heard?

It's like he fabricated out of nowhere.

“I suggest you get in your car, leave and never speak to her again.”

Your ex held his hands up in surrender, “Look man, I wasn’t trying anything-”

“What kind of guy goes to their ex when she’s clearly in a happy and healthy relationship, and tries to drudge up the past in the name of closure? Fuck your closure. You lost her, and now I have her. And trust me, she has better things to do than getting coffee with the guy who broke her heart.”

“Please, Taehyung-”

You were cut off.

His voice was the lowest you’ve ever heard it, eyes pitch black and face blank as he calmly finished, “It’s pathetic. You’re pathetic. And if I see you again I’m going to break your kneecaps and skin you alive, you little spineless boy. Run along now. While you still can.”

The threats were so visceral and promising, coupled with a man who looked downright murderous yet somehow calm. As if he had done it before and doing it again would be more so an inconvenience than a whole life-ending ordeal.

In this moment, you didn’t know your own boyfriend and you were terrified with this new persona.

No one moved or spoke, in fear one step or word would make Taehyung good on his promise.

You and Jimin were paralyzed, like two helpless deer in the presence of a blood thirsty wolf, the only hope was to stay still and go unnoticed. You met your ex’s eyes and while he did look afraid, he was focused only on you and your proximity to Taehyung.

Jimin was fearful. Not for himself, but for you.

And while you wanted your ex to run away, you were also scared to be left alone with someone so different from your usual Taehyung.

How could a few drinks and some jealousy cause such a behavior?

“Hey what’s going on here?”

Namjoon and Jennifer were babysitting a toddling Yoongi, the couple was also making way to their vehicle when they spotted the scene. The so-called ‘leader’ of the gang was quick to pick up on Taehyung’s aggressive stance, probably prompting him to get involved.

You felt your body lighten in relief.

Namjoon was always good at calming people down and taking control of situations.

Like a switch was turned on, your boyfriend grinned at the oncomers and nodded over at the dancer. Seemingly happy as a clam he chirped, “Nothing, hyung! Jimin here was just leaving. His poor girlfriend had too much, I think.”

Namjoon didn’t quite believe that, you and Jimin still looked rigid with alarm after all. Nonetheless, he played along for everyone’s sake. “Really? Maybe you should leave now then Jimin, get her in bed as soon as possible. It was nice meeting you.”

Jimin took the hint with grace and wordlessly ducked into his car, not acknowledging anyone else as he mouthed to you “call me”.

He started up the car, then slowly backed out of the driveway, and eventually down the road.

“Dude, are you sure you’re okay? It looked like you wanted to kill him.” Namjoon asked the artist.

Before hearing whatever bullshit was going to spew out of his mouth next, you promptly whipped around and stormed back into the house, making sure to purposefully shoulder-check your boyfriend as hard as you could in the process.

What the fuck was wrong with the bastard?!

Talking as though he was some offender or even a murder, just because your ex wanted to catch up?

You were so dreadfully embarrassed! Jimin must’ve thought you lost your mind after him and went off to date some real weirdos.

If you weren’t already on a lease with the man, this probably would’ve been the part where you blocked him and made it your personal mission to never see him again.

Instead, you busied yourself in the kitchen and washed most of the dirty dishes your guests left behind. You hoped Taehyung was wise enough to leave you alone, if the jerk knew what was good for him.

About 15 minutes had passed, and the kitchen was nearly as spotless as it was before the party had started, thanks to your furious cleaning and scrubbing. The house was now silent, and you were just debating putting all your spices in alphabetical order when you heard a shuffle behind you.

You snapped around and instantly scoffed at the sight.

Taehyung was leaning against the doorframe, hands in his pockets and fixing a sheepish look at you.

“So…that got a little out of hand.”

You barked a disbelieving laugh. “More like you got out of hand, Taehyung. Threatening people like you’re some felon! Wouldn't be a surprise if there’s a rumor spreading about me dating a serial killer now."

“Y/n, I’m sorry. But please let me make it up to you.”

“Make it up to me? Your actions cannot be undone Taehyung! I cooked and cleaned after your friends and tried to make this night special for you. I just wanted you to have a nice night and be nice, and you flip out over a platonic coffee date? Who do you think I am? A slut who will open her legs to any ex who talks to me?!”

“W-what? No- Of course not! Please don’t think-”

“What the hell am I supposed to think, asshole?! Even if Jimin still had feelings for me, it would take me reciprocating them for anything to happen! You clearly don’t trust me, and if that’s the case, then what are we doing here? Should we just become roommates or something?”

A painful struck his face, watery eyes met yours when he choked out, “Do you even hear yourself? Why would I try to fight your ex if I truly didn’t love you? You’re mine, and I love you so much it’s just…I can act a little crazy sometimes.”

You sighed, turning your back on him to lean on the sink in exhaustion.

“I thought you were different from other guys, Tae. That caveman shit is extremely degrading to not only you, but especially me.”

“I’m sorry…it’s just a primal part of me that I can’t turn off. Give me a chance to make it up to you.”

You shot a look over your shoulder at him, still pissed.

He shot his hands up in the air, as if in defense. “You can still be mad at me all you want.”

“You’re sleeping on the couch for a week.”

“Done.”

“And….And you’re forgetting all about those stupid cameras.”

He quirked a grin, unknown mirth dancing in his eyes. “Sure.”

“At the end of the week, you will personally apologize to Jimin via a phone call or letter.”

His smile dropped, your glare sharpened, “Umm..fine okay. It won’t be sincere though.”

You rolled your eyes, “Doesn’t have to be, it’s the right thing to do so you’ll do it.”

“…anything else?”

“Not for now. I’m going to bed soon so if there’s anything you need from the room, get it now.”

He wordlessly turned around, and you then faintly heard him going up the stairs.

Biting your lip in deep thought, you proceed to wipe off the last of the counters.

Could you forgive him? When he was willing to do all that to appease you?

If you were being honest with yourself, you could feel the irritation already start to melt away a bit. You hadn’t expected such a 180 in his stance, he went from threatening Jimin with murder to begrudgingly agreeing to apologize within only a matter of half an hour or so. You thought you would have to at least give him the silent treatment for a bit before you could even bargain a “sorry” for your ex. Taehyung was usually much more stubborn…

Nonetheless though, you were still upset and embarrassed about the scene.

You hated when men got violent around you, it made you feel so unsafe and small. You thought Taehyung was different, him even poking fun at the meatheads who would pull stuff like that at the local bars you would frequent while dating. So what changed?

Footsteps slowly descended back down the stairs, telling you that Taehyung had returned from your bedroom and it was safe to go up.

You left the kitchen, turned off the lights and passed through the hallway. Briefly you stopped, just short of the stairs, to see your boyfriend grumbling to himself while arranging some blankets on the couch.

A sudden and chilling thought ripped from your lips before you could even quietly ponder it.

“Taehyung…how did you know Jimin was my ex?”

He stopped in his tracks, slowly turning to face you with a blank look.

“Uh, Lisa might have slipped up and told me.”

You relaxed, unknowingly releasing a breath you had been holding. “Hmm, okay. We’ll talk tomorrow then. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight baby.”

“Oh! Let me get some water first, can you check that the doors were locked?” You asked while skipping back towards the kitchen. You hated waking up with a dry mouth and always kept a glass of water on your nightstand, restless bathroom trips be damned.

You didn’t hear any response to your request, but you paid it no mind, assuming Tae probably already double, if not triple, checked the locks being the worrywart that he was.

Right next to the kitchen entrance was the basement door, and it was shut.

Yet, something stopped you in your tracks.

The light under the basement door…it was on?

“Well I don’t have any more beer up here. Just wine. There might be some more in the basement, though.”

It couldn’t be….could it?

Your intuition was hollering at you from within.

A force greater than you pulled you to the door handle.

Against yourself, you opened the door to the basement…

And choked back a horrified scream.

At the bottom of the stairs lay Taehyung.

Unconscious, pale and bleeding horrifically from some head wound that was forming an inky pool under his crumpled form.

It wasn’t your Taehyung that returned upstairs.

So...this has been sitting in my drafts for over a year lol. I do have a dramatic ending in mind and some final scenes but yea, I don't think I could finish this unless people actually wanted it so let me know if this is a plot you kinda liked? I never tried flat-out supernatural horror like this. Anyway, happy October guys! Love you all. Luna :)

#yandere bts #yandere taehyung #bts taehyung #kim taehyung #taehyung x reader #bts fic #bts x reader #yandere au #bts #bangtan boys #male yandere #taehyung fanfic #yandere taehyung x reader #kpop fanfic #taehyung fluff #yandere imagines #yandere fanfiction

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myosotisa · 1 year

Text

Us versus Them - e.m.

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

‖ summary: You made the mistake of telling your boyfriend Eddie you were having trouble using one of your toys because it was too strong. He's determined to help.

‖ notes: smut, it's porn without plot, graphic sexual content. 'sir' kink, rope bondage, overstimulation, sex toy use, spitting, slapping (face and body), choking, degradation (slut, whore, etc.), praise, unprotected p in v, implied creampie, implied squirting, mean!Dom!Eddie (with aftercare). it's messy y'all, let me know if i missed anything.

‖ word count: 2.6k

‖ this was written for @ghost-proofbaby because i said i would use all her kinks against her and this is my attempt. so here you go, babe. thanks to @fracturedarkness, @blue-mossbird, and @abibliophobiaa for proofreading and helping me write the ending. enjoy!

“If you don’t stop pulling on the rope it’s gonna break your skin, baby. Maybe I should get you some nice padded cuffs so you can struggle all you want without hurting yourself. But we can’t do that right now so,” the only warning you receive is the meat of Eddie’s palm touching your inner thigh, lining up the shot, punctuating the next 3 words with harsh slaps, “stop fucking squirming.”

“I’m sorry, sir, I’m so sorry! It’s just so, so much,” your voice breaks into a croak at the end, catching on the end of the sentence as your back arches away from the toy that Eddie holds relentlessly to your clit. He tied you up what felt like hours ago and has barely given you a chance to fucking breathe since he’d gotten the Rose Toy in his hand.

He pushes up onto all fours, moving from his prime viewing angle between your quivering legs to hover over your tear stained and flushed pink face. “Poor baby,” he coos in a mocking tone, his free hand running knuckles down your sweating cheek. “Too sensitive for her new toy. I told you I was gonna help you, didn’t I? Told you I was gonna tie you up and get you used to it, didn’t I?” The relentless buzz sends your eyelids fluttering again, a whimper crawling its way out of your throat as you try to process what he’d asked you.

The next slap hits you across the cheek, lighter than the smacks on your thighs, but still harsh enough that your eyes shoot back open and your cracked lips break apart in a gasp. Eddie’s thumb and forefinger press into your cheeks on either side, locking your jaw wide as he leans in even closer. Reeling back an inch, he spits hard into your open mouth, hitting the back of your throat and triggering your gag reflex. “I asked you a question, dumb whore.”

“You did,” you mumble out through the way he grips your jaw, struggling to swallow the thick saliva that pools in the back of your throat from yourself and him. “You told me, Eddie.”

“There we go, now was that so hard?” He asks, eyebrows raising to let you know he does expect an answer. You shake your head the best you can given his hold and he rewards you with removing his hand and the press of a button, making the vibration swap from a constant swirl to a pulsing vibration that you feel from your scalp to your toes.

“Edd-ie!” You keen, your back bowing as your body tries to pull away from the overwhelming sensation. He’d learned that if he left it on one setting for a long enough period of time, it would start to lose potency, almost like a numbness, which made swapping the pattern that much more powerful.

“Eddie!” He parrots back to you in a high pitched tone. “Aw baby, you’re drooling all over your chin. Messy girl.”

Eyebrows pinching tight together, a broken moan echoes out into the room as your pussy clenches down hard on nothing. “Please, sir, it hurts.”

“You can’t handle it? It hurts?” His voice pitches up in a taunt, clicking his tongue and shaking his head in disappointment. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth and bite down hard, tears spilling out from the corner of your eyes as you nod. “That’s a shame baby. Because I need you to squirt all over your pretty blue bed sheets before we’re done.” The idea of needing to hold back in order to achieve that has you whimpering in the back of your throat – your last 3 orgasms had torn out of you like wild animals.

“I can’t – I can’t do it, Eddie. I can’t,” you babble, the words stuck on your tongue like a skipping record as your hazy and sluggish brain tries to make sense of anything.

A ringed hand grips your throat, not cutting off air or blood flow, but with enough pressure to pin you down and make you really feel it. There’s an absolute inferno of lust in his eyes, pupils blown out in an oil fire that shows no signs of stopping any time soon.

“You can, and you will.” His command is deep gravel, sending an electric shiver down your spine. “Don't be ungrateful baby, you take what I give you, understand?”

A sob tears from your throat, tears falling freely as your thighs clamp down on Eddie’s hand and the toy it holds. But you don’t answer fast enough, Eddie’s other hand tightening on either side of your neck to stamp the blood flow to your brain. “You really have lost all your manners, haven’t you, sweetheart? Not a single brain cell in that whole noggin’.” He lets go quickly after, huffing a little laugh at how you suck in air, and then flicks your temple with his middle finger. “Just a stupid slut that can’t think of anything other than how much you want to be filled up.”

The idea of some kind of stimulation other than the Rose has you begging before you can even second guess it. “Please, please sir, want to be filled up so bad. Want your fingers or your cock or your tongue, please, just anything.”

“Anything, huh?” He asks, manic gilt in his eye as his plump lips spread in a sharp grin. “Anything at all?”

“No, no no no no, please, want you Eddie! Want you inside me, please!” You know he would comply maliciously to your request unless you scrambled your thoughts together enough to make a more specific one. Attention wavering from your own body to him as you try to ignore the pressure building in your abdomen for the who knows how many-th time.

“Sounds so pretty, baby,” his sharp grin goes soft, just a bit of teeth behind bitten red lips. “Beg for it again. Better this time.”

The vibrator switches patterns on cue.

“Please!” Comes out as a screech, a burn crawling down your vocal chords that you know you’ll be feeling tomorrow. “Please, sir, want you to fuck me so bad. Want your cock, want your cum insi-ide me. Please, pleasepleasepleaseplease-”

A whispered “fuck,” is the first sign you get that Eddie’s resolve is crumbling. It has you gasping out, fingers twisting in the rope that still binds you to the headboard in anticipation. Whenever he got like this, wanting to bring you to tears and desperation more than anything else, it was hard to get him to change his mind. But once the first pillar cracked, betraying his carefully curated domineering persona, it was a short matter of time until all that remained was splinters.

His free hand flies to his belt, fumbling fingers trying to pull it loose. “Okay, baby, I hear you. I’ll give you what you want if you give me what I want, okay?” You nod harshly, a full body shiver coasting through you as another moan hits the air. Then a sharp pinch on your inner thigh has you yelping. “I said, okay?”

“Okay, yes, yes, whatever you want,” you rush out, the words tumbling over each other in your haste to not halt the progress of getting this adventure to finally be over, “I’ll do anything.”

“Good girl,” he hits a little love tap right where he pinched, sending another shock straight to your cunt, before he goes back to yanking his belt free. It takes an awkwardly long time for him to do with one hand but you know better than to tease him for it now. You just wait as patiently as you can while he undoes his fly and shimmies his pants and boxers down just low enough for his fat cock to hit the air. Just the sight of it, skin tinted with an angry red and pearly white pre-cum pooled in the foreskin that covers the tip, has your toes curling and your thighs tensing. All you can do is watch as he wraps his long-fingered hand around the top of it, easing the skin back so he can spread the substance down his shaft, a shaky exhale leaving him as he pumps his fist a few times before tilting his hips down toward you.

Realizing he’s going to fuck you fully dressed while you lie naked on your bed has your breath catching again before you even feel the hot mushroom head of him press into you below where the Rose still buzzes relentlessly. “Fuck! Baby, you’re so wet – shit, so fucking t-tight.” He stutters out, clearly affected as he starts to feed inch after inch of his hard cock into your fluttering cunt with a hand gripping the base to stop him from finishing before he can even get all the way inside.

The feeling of him splitting you open, how your own slick pushes its way out of you in rivulets as he bullies his way inside almost threatens to undo you immediately. Your gasp comes out as a croak, your eyebrows drawing tight together in near agony as he bottoms out.

“Sh-shit. Baby, I’m not gonna last. I can-” he cuts off with a groan as you clench down on his length when the vibrations come back to the forefront of your attention. “Can feel the vibe. Feel how close you are.”

“Eddie, please,” you whimper, fingernails digging into your palms as you lose the only control of yourself that you had left when he starts to pull back. He rears back only a scarce inch or two before his hips rush back forward, lips parting soundlessly as his face contorts in feeling. You prepare for the onslaught but curse loudly when he pulls all the way out, leaving you feeling even more empty and bereft than before. Before you can openly question it, he grips your leg and folds it back, knee towards the bedside table, and wedges himself beneath your hips and the bed. He reaches over and hitches your other leg up similarly, using the elbow of the arm that is still wedged between your legs to keep it in place.

Hips tipped up, he forces himself back inside your awaiting hole without warning. Positioned like this, he rubs directly up against the spot on the front wall of your cunt that has you seeing stars and trying not to scream. “There she is,” he sighs out, a satisfied smile gracing his face when he sees your eyes roll back. His hand goes back to gripping the underside of your thigh, pressing the fold deeper as he grinds down into you. “Now we’re giving her what she wants, isn’t that right?”

It takes you a moment to realize he’s talking about your pussy and that knowledge sends you spinning, barely keeping afloat as he begins to fuck into you in earnest. “Fuck, baby, never gets old,” the rough material of his jeans rubs against your ass, the metallic clatter of his belt slapping the sides of your thighs each time he bottoms out. “Like this pussy was made for me.”

“Yours,” you manage to squeak out, trying to focus on the way his cock splits you apart instead of the numbing pain of the Rose that still swirls against your overstimulated clit. “Yours, yours, yours.”

“That’s right,” a throaty laugh rumbles through him as he looks down to where the two of you are connected, “my pretty pussy that’s gonna gush all over me, just like I asked.” The vibrator swaps patterns again, the new one way past too much for you, and you can’t stop the scream that forces itself out of your dropped jaw. Eddie groans above you, feeling both the new vibration and how strongly your muscles clench around him as it reacts to the stimulation. “Can feel you, my little slut.” His fingers dig into the meat on the underside of your quivering thighs as he settles into a bruising pace. “You gonna give me what I want? Gonna soak my cock, make a mess of your pretty sheets?”

“Eddie!” Is the only response you have to offer as your eyes pinch closed, trying to focus on letting the pressure within you build beneath the pain of the overstimulation.

“Right here, baby,” he confirms, cold rings rubbing along your thigh to soothe you, “I’ve got you. Just gotta give it to me, sweetheart. Give me what I want. Make a mess.”

The wet squelch of your pussy is obscene as you squeak out an exhale each time he drives home, pressure tipping higher and higher until your fingers, toes, and lips go numb. “E- euh,” you try to get out his name, let him know you’re going to come, that you’re going to give him what he wants, but all you can do is moan out. Loud and long, voice pitching up as his satisfied grin returns again. It only takes a few more rolls of his hips against yours, the curls at the base of his cock flattened wet with your own slick, before you lose yourself entirely.

Vision whiting out, back bowing, muscles in your body clenching tight as all sensation centers around your bullied cunt and then explodes outwards in a rush of endorphins you simply cannot feel. If there was ever a moment that you would describe as ‘leaving the Earth’ it would be this one – and in the overwhelm of that rush, you abandon the ground, floating up amongst the stars until all goes dark.

Did so good for me, sweetheart.

So pretty, so perfect.

Come back to me, baby. Nice and easy.

When your eyes blink back open again, all you can see is the side of Eddie’s head, his hair tucked behind his ear. He’s looking down your body, and as you follow his gaze, the feeling returns to between your legs, where he is carefully wiping you clean with a warm, wet cloth. You're unable to stop the whimper from coming out as you instinctively twitch away from the gentle touch. His big, brown eyes shoot to yours at the movement, pulling the soft cloth away from your sensitive skin. “I know, I’m sorry, baby. I’m almost done. Doing so good.”

Nullified by his praise, you grit your teeth and bare it as he does 2 more soft swipes across your swollen folds and then tosses the rag back toward your bathroom with a wet slap. “Okay, now some water.” A hand tucked behind your shoulder to lift just your head off the mattress, a cold glass of water presses to your dry lips. You take a few grateful gulps before pushing back against his hand to let him know you're done. Not wanting to push you to drink more, he sets the glass down on the bedside table and reaches for your hand, gripping the tender skin of your wrist between his own fingers and pressing a kiss to the marks the rope left behind. “What else do you need, anything?”

Swallowing hard to attempt to find your words for the first time, you shake your head. “Just you, Eddie. Just you.”

- - -

Sneaking back into your shared apartment a few weeks later, you’re careful not to let the plastic bag in your grip make too much noise as you run as quietly as you can to the bedroom.

Your new purchase is a bit different than the toys you and Eddie have played with so far, but your excitement is almost beyond measure.

After all, payback is a bitch. And it’s you versus him.

let me know if you enjoyed, thanks for reading :)

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #dom!eddie munson #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #mean!eddie munson #myos ideas #i tried my best!!! and no one can fault me for that.#myo4munson

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faevi · 6 months

Note

can u do make up sex with saturo

SAPPHIRE LOVE. - (gojo smut)

Scenario: Gojo Satoru is your boyfriend and you were excited to celebrate your fifth year together in a fancy restaurant. It’s a pity that work seems to always come first. Satoru accidentally missed the date and left you feeling insecure. Can he make it up to you?

Word Count: 9,230 words.

Content/Trigger Warnings: female reader (she/her), angst-ish (not too bad imo), sadness, over-thinking, insecurities, fear of losing one another, fluff (does this need to be warned?), cheesiness, romance, love, sex, unprotected sex, consenting sex, make up sex, cum inside, cock-warming, praise, teasing, finger sucking, cunningulous, fingering, handjob, big dick, mentions of bulging (it’s fiction ok, it’s hot), side by side sex position, intimacy, crying, absolutely smitten for one another.

I think that’s it…? I never know what needs to be warned, lmao. Please (kindly) let me know if I missed anything!!

Note: I hope you like it, anon!! Please do let me know if you do (: Or well, that goes for anyone. HAHA, i’m a sucker for praise so I get happy if I hear someone enjoyed it. Personally, don’t think it’s my best work and that I can always do better ; ; . So forgive me. I’ll continue to try hard! Please enjoy <3333 Thank you for the request!

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS, PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT!!!

Your soft hands cup your own cheeks as you continue to sit at the reserved table, customers slowly filtering out of the restaurant around you. Sadness clouds your gaze, staring blankly at the candle that is slowly melting away. It’s already closing time and the staff are looking at you with nothing but pity. It’s embarrassing. You keep your head tilted down, taking the last gulp of wine before you sigh heavily. He’s not coming. How foolish of you to think he would.

You bunch up the tightly fitted red dress that you decided on for this special occasion before you stand up, ignoring the ache in your feet from wearing heels and grab your glittery clutch that matches the shade of your dress. Everything new, bought for this special occasion. Tears burn your eyes but you hold your head high, refusing to let the humiliation overwhelm you. You approach the counter, pulling your wallet out of your clutch.

“Oh, you don’t have to pay, it’s on the house.”

You stare at the waitress, soon glancing around to other staff members who pretend to look busy with cleaning and stacking dirty dishes. Humiliating. “I wasn’t stood up by a first date if that’s what you’re thinking. My boyfriend is just— a busy man. Let me pay, please.” You insist gently, silently wondering why you defend your boyfriend out of instinct. The waitress nods before preparing the machine and gesturing for you to tap your card, smiling. You hold it until you hear the beep before moving towards the door. “Thank you.” You say, ignoring how your voice wavers and finally part from the restaurant. You practically had to run out in hopes of ignoring their hushed whispers. You’re sure you’re their entertainment for the night. The girl who gets stood up for the night.

It’s not the embarrassment of being noticed that gets to you. No. It’s the fact that it happened. Your boyfriend not turning up. The pair of you had this dinner planned for months. It’s one of those restaurants that are just booked out every single night. Hell, both of you were excited to try the food… and to celebrate the fifth year together. You grip your clutch tightly to try and prevent your hands from shaking as tears blur your vision. It’s hard to walk in the heels on the pavement and you debate about taking them off. You should be calling for an Uber. It’s far too dangerous at night and you could practically feel eyes in the alleyways undressing you, but you just struggle to think of anything else. All you can think about is him.

Why? Why did this have to happen? You know that Satoru is a busy person. Incredibly busy and there were times in the past that he ended up accidentally missing, but he insisted that he’d be there for this one. Maybe that’s why it hurts so much. He said he’d be there with you. Still, even with your heart aching and tears down your cheeks, smearing your make-up; you found yourself not feeling angry. It’s more of a disappointment and a reminder that maybe you’re a lonely person despite having a loving boyfriend. He’s barely around, even when he tries. Insecure thoughts start to blossom in your mind. Is he intentionally avoiding you? Did he find someone else? Does he not want you anymore or worse… Does he not love you anymore?

A small hiccup escapes, trembling hands coming up to rub at your eyes frantically, smearing the make-up and teeth gritting. You shouldn’t be looking so vulnerable and easy for the taking on the streets that you continue to walk on. Would he even care if something happened? You start to feel a struggle to even breathe, chest so tight with heartache and worries. Butterflies are dead in your stomach.

“Y/N!”

You whip your head around from hearing a familiar voice. His voice. Satoru is standing there, hunched over with his large hands gripping onto his knees and panting heavily. He’s in his work clothing, tie loose around his neck. Hope briefly sparks at the sight of your boyfriend before it comes crashing down from realisation. He missed the anniversary date. You look away from the white-haired male, avoiding eye contact. You don’t want him to see you in such a mess. “Did you forget about me?” You ask quietly, voice wavering. He’s only able to hear you speak because it’s so late at night and the roads are quiet.

“What? No! Babe, I tried— Work was so busy, they kept asking for me. It’s hard to say no.” Satoru tries to explain, his own heart clenching from witnessing you look so miserable in front of him. He exhales out shakily, standing tall as he approaches, his hand reaching out towards you. You angle yourself away, arms crossing across your body as a way to protect yourself or more of a way to try and contain your insecurities and overthinking thoughts. You don’t want to bother him with them. Work is more important than you, after all.

It’s like a sharp stab to his heart, hand dropping to his side and already looking defeated. You’re angry with him and rightfully so. Satoru won’t try to argue back this time. He fucked up. You went out to buy a new dress for the special night. Even bought a clutch to match and styled your hair. You were clearly looking forward to it. Satoru can’t deny that he was also excited but, when an entire company relies so heavily on him… He forgot momentarily what really mattered to him. You keep your face tilted away, your hand wiping at your clammy face. “I’m really sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean to cause you pain. I never want to see you in pain and to be one that caused it— I won’t let it happen again.” Satoru says softly, hastily stuffing his hands into his pockets to restrain himself from touching you.

“Work seems to be more important than me, Satoru. It’s always work. You’re always there. Rarely with me. Is it selfish of me to wish I was prioritised first? I feel like you don’t love me anymore.” You mumble out quickly, feeling defeated. Satoru’s crystal blue eyes widen with absolute horror at those words. He feels outright disgusted. Never by you, but the fact that he’s somehow forced you into a position where you think such nasty things. Awful lies. “Y/N, please. You are the most important to me. Don’t love you? That’s not tru—”

“I’m going to stay at a friend’s place tonight, okay? We can talk about this later… I just— I can’t do it tonight. Not after being left alone… I understand it was work.” You say quickly, pulling your phone out to call for an Uber. Even that feels like an impossible task because of how hard your hands shake. You feel like you’re too deep in your current heartache to be able to process anything he says. The insecurity triumphs over the truth. Satoru’s long fingers push through his hair, turning away for a moment as it’s too painful. Hearing those words and you pulling away from him. Fuck. It’s all his fault.

“Okay, can we talk tomorrow? Please?” Satoru pleads, nails scratching over his scalp and he shivers at the burning sensation. He’d rather have any form of physical pain than this mess at the moment. You look over at him briefly, phone clutched to your chest. His brows are knitted together to form a frown, lips puckering slightly. It’s hard to deny him. Always has been. “Tomorrow.” You confirm quietly, looking down at the screen. Thankfully, an Uber driver accepted that it was just around the corner. You won’t have to stand in awkward silence. The silver vehicle slowly pulls up in front of you and before you can reach for the handle, Satoru is already opening the door, gaze intensely focused on you. “At least text me when you arrive safely, too. I need to know that you’re safe.”

Your heart jumps a little, the gesture reminds you of when you first met him. He accidentally slammed a door in your face before frantically yanking it open. Since then, he always opened doors for you. Your free hand rests over his larger one on the car door, staring down at the touch you give. “I’ll text you.” You promise before pulling away to settle down in the back seat of the car. Satoru’s eyes are filled with sadness; desperately hoping that he’ll be able to fix this. He closes the door gently and watches the car drive off, hands pulling at his white hair in frustration. He severely fucked up.

---------

A day ended up being a few days before you were ready to face the music. It simply took you this long because you found yourself worrying that everything would turn for the worse and you’d end up losing him. Funny how your brain works when he is the one who missed the anniversary date. You should be the one who is angry and making that giant of a man drop to his knees and beg for your forgiveness. Anger just isn’t who you are, though. Never. If you’re haunted by negativity, it’s always sadness. Insecurities and doubts. Jealousy. You turn into this little monster of overthinking and tears. Why would he want to be with someone like that? Especially when you had to ask just for a few more days.

Satoru eagerly obliged your request and you wonder if it’s because he wanted a break from you. In reality, you wish your mind would just agree that it’s because Satoru is secretly a gentleman and an amazing lover. He would agree with anything you say, even if it pains him. It’s funny how different he is with you compared to when he is with others. That should just be a clue shoved in your sniffling face to know how he really feels.

You sigh out softly, mindlessly rating the Uber driver the typical five stars and a tip, before pushing the door open and stepping out. It’s evening already on a Friday night. You doubt Satoru is home, but you’ll wait for him. The sun is already slowly starting to set, the sky a gorgeous hue of pinks mixed with reds. Thankfully the sun is low enough behind the apartment building that you don’t have to squint. Your hands tighten on your handbag and you enter the apartment complex after typing in the code to the building. Quietly, you entered the elevator that was already on the ground floor and pressed for your floor. You slump against the elevator wall, watching the number increase. Even your heart starts to increase, anxiety pumping through your veins.

You hate feeling so nervous. Your hands start to feel clammy and your knees tremble. What if he really does leave you after realising there’s no point trying? What if work is more important? You exhale out a shaky breath, cursing to yourself and bring a hand up to wipe the tears that threaten to spill. The elevator doors slide open and you’re finally on the floor of the apartment that you share with the white-haired male. He won’t be home yet, even though you messaged him that you were coming home a few hours ago. You’ll have to wait up on the couch, watching each minute tick by until he’s home as well. Sometimes you wish you could choke his workforce.

You slide the key into the slot and twist it around until you hear a click, slowly opening the door. Out of habit, your gaze focuses first on the alarm and is ready to type in the code; except the alarm wasn’t on… You see glimmers of light in the corner of your eye and finally turn your head to look. You choke on your own gasp of shock, hand coming up to cover your mouth. Tiny candles in glasses line up along either side of the hallway, rose petals of red and white scattered across the wooden floor and gentle music filtering through from where the spacious lounge and dining room are.

“What…” You mutter, soon letting out a small laugh of disbelief as you slip out of your shoes at the entryway and begin to walk down the hallway, eyes fixated on the petals and trying not to crush any of them. Does this mean Satoru is home? Surely, he’s not that reckless to leave unattended candles and… does this sweet gesture mean something good? You finally enter the main area of the apartment and Satoru is standing there, looking rather awkward yet hopeful as he gazes at you, hands twisting.

Satoru is beyond nervous. He has been since watching a stupid Uber drive you further away from him. It’s his fault, he knows. He heard you enter and the gentle shuffling of your feet down the hallway and here you are, right in front of him. You look beautiful, even in ordinary clothes. Your gaze is brief on the surroundings. More candles are scattered around the apartment, bouquets of roses in vases and you even notice a small box on the coffee table. You look at Satoru, confusion on your face as you move closer to him, heart swelling at the sight of his nerves. Satoru is never nervous.

“I thought you’d be at work.” You begin, dropping your bag on the couch and standing in front of him, smiling softly. Your insecure thoughts begin to gently wash away and ease your mind. Satoru laughs, rubbing the back of his neck for a moment. ‘Stay calm’, he thinks to himself. He towers above you when he’s closer, coaxing you out of your jacket, smiling. “Took the day off. Actually, took all of next week off, too.” He responds, draping your jacket over the edge of the couch. You stand there, mouth gaping and watching as he casually steps behind you, large hands clasping your shoulders and guiding you over to the dining table. Satoru never takes days off.

That’s when you notice that dinner has been prepared, and displayed so beautifully. It’s spaghetti and garlic bread. Something simple and smells so good. Most friends and co-workers always doubt if Satoru has a romantic side and you’re just thankful that it’s a private side that you get to see. Although, it’s usually just very small gestures. Nothing this grand. You wonder if he thought all of this up by himself. You press your lips together, not daring to ask yet. Satoru is clearly on edge and you start to feel guilt bubbling up inside of you. You made him wait anxiously, which feels so wrong; even if you were drowning in your own doubt and sorrow.

Satoru could practically see the wheels turn in your head, giving your shoulders a gentle squeeze before moving to slide your chair out. “C’mon, sit.” He says, nodding towards the chair. You smile softly before you sit down, shifting as he pushes the chair in. “Satoru, honey. You— You didn’t have to do this. I’m sorry—“ You pause when he raises his hand to stop you, settling down across from you. Satoru knows you like the back of his hand and just knew you’d try to apologise when you’re not to blame. Rarely to blame for any conflict. This is his fault and while he can be often clueless to how people feel; it’s like he’s hardwired to be aware of your feelings. Hence his desperation to make up to you.

“I suck at expressing myself, you know that. But, I want to try right now.” Satoru says, crystal blue eyes steady on your face. He reaches out across the table to tenderly take your hand in his. “I shouldn’t have missed our date, Y/N. Simple as that. I shouldn’t ever be so busy that it gets in the way of time with you. You have always been my priority. The most important part of my life. It’s not an excuse when I say that work tends to manipulate my ass into staying busy— Yeah, the strongest being manipulated sounds like a lie.” He chuckles softly when he sees you raise your eyebrow in questioning, thumb caressing lovingly across your knuckles. “Truth is, I let it happen because all I can think about is being able to support us in the future… It just bounced back hard in my face. Again, not an excuse. This is on me entirely.”

You sigh softly, squeezing his hand. “Satoru, it’s okay..” You trail off and Satoru shakes his head. “You forgive too easily, y’know? It’s one of the things I love about you.” He expresses, gaze softening. You feel your cheeks heat up, flustered by the accurate callout, but also that it’s rare to hear him be so serious with his feelings. Satoru is never shy nor backs down from expressing his feelings. It’s just not so often like this. It’s often playful or to reassure you. Naturally, though, it does reassure you now. You always found it nice that he didn’t have some fragile masculinity despite being the charming male you first met him as and other people often assuming he’s a stereotype. A man who isn’t afraid of feelings. You adore it.

“I am sorry, Y/N. That I missed our anniversary and caused you to be in such a humiliating position. I know it probably wasn’t easy sitting there alone. It was a special night and I ruined it. I’m sorry that I caused insecurity— Nah, you don’t even need to tell me. I just know you felt them.” He sighs out softly, letting go of your hand. Satoru reaches for the bottle of wine, already popped and ready. He pours the deep red liquid into each glass. “I want to be a better boyfriend. Really. No more missing dates. More time with you. Fuck work, honestly.”

You let out a laugh, startled by his change of attitude. “You love that job, Satoru. I’m no fool.” You say, taking hold of the glass of wine, and gently swirling the liquid. “Yeah, but I love you more. I told work that no more calling me in on the weekend and that every second Friday was off. They can try and reject it… They won’t, though. They need me too much.” Satoru says rather cockily, grinning against the rim of his glass of wine. You widen your eyes from hearing the news, almost choking on your wine. “Y- You don��t have to do that!” You express hastily and the white-haired male shakes his head, broad shoulders shaking.

“I don’t, but I want to. I care more about you. Simple as that. This may be me trying to make it up to you, I won’t deny that. It’s also that I want more time with the one I love. We won’t live forever. Time is precious.” He says, taking a sip of his wine. “Try the food. I struggled over the stove for this.” Satoru jokes and you roll your eyes. Satoru is good at everything. Including cooking. It’s all a breeze for him. You sit up in your chair and twirl your metal fork in the noodles before leaning down to slurp them up, moaning at the delicious taste of the sauce.

Satoru shifts in his seat from hearing you, taking a gulp of wine before setting the glass down. “Good to know it was a success.” He snorts quietly and you kick him lightly under the dining table. You smile towards him before looking down. You should be honest. You quietly eat, trying to gather your thoughts before you speak. “You know me too well, Satoru. Sometimes it’s like you can see right through me. I did end up being insecure. Instead of being angry, like most would be… It’s like my mind instantly just goes down the other route. I worried that I was too much, I expect too much and want too much. When you didn’t show up, I blamed myself. I even worried that you found someone else… I panicked that you were going to leave me tonight. That our relationship was too much of a hassle.” You distract yourself by twirling your fork through the spaghetti noodles, unable to meet his sad gaze. “I could never be angry at you, but I’m selfish. I do want more time and I find myself hating your work.” You confess quietly, tearing off a piece of garlic bread to nibble on.

Satoru’s long fingers stroke down along your forearm before taking hold of your free hand. “Work won’t get in the way anymore, I promise. No more fuck ups, unless it’s together.” He jokes lightly, prompting you to snort with amusement. It’s even the little things that he says that make you feel better. “I could never be out of love when it comes to you. It’s like you produce an infinite amount inside of me.” Satoru continues, not expecting you to toss your garlic bread at him, feeling flustered. “What’s with the cheesiness? Come on, eat this delicious meal you cooked.” You whine and Satoru chuckles, wiping crumbs off of his shirt. Deep down, you love the cheesiness and maybe that’s why it’s easy for him to say it.

You both continue to eat the dinner he prepped, not afraid of the silence that falls between you both. It’s comforting, really. You feel as if the weight is lifted off of your shoulders, worries wiped away from not only his promises but also for the evening he prepared. Eventually, you set your fork down in the empty bowl and lean back, hands rubbing your stomach which now feels full. “Did you plan this all by yourself?” You ask, watching Satoru awkwardly puff his cheeks out and look off to the side. “Partly. I may have googled for ideas on how to make my girl happy, after causing her unnecessary sadness... Though, I think I could have easily come up with this on my own.” Satoru grumbles lightly, toned chest puffing out.

Your smile is soft, endeared by his childish behaviour sometimes. It’s cute that he wants all the credit. “Google isn’t taking any of this away from you, baby.” You say, voice laced with sweetness. “I love it, really. It’s sweet of you to do this. Better than a dinner in a fancy restaurant.” You continue and Satoru rubs his hands along his toned thighs. Still, he regrets immensely for missing such an important night. “Google didn’t help me with one idea, at least. It was all mine.” The white-haired male stands up, shuffling over. He didn’t bother with pulling your chair outright. Instead, his arms loop under your armpits to easily hoist you up, coaxing out a few giggles. “What are you doing?” You laugh, feet dragging along the wooden floor as he moves towards the couch, dropping you onto it.

Satoru, pleased by your adorable giggles; leans down to press a kiss to the top of your head. “Wait there for a moment. I know if we leave the dishes out, it will drive you crazy.” He teases, moving to the dining table to stack up the empty dishes before bringing them to the kitchen. Satoru finds himself quite frantic as he stacks them into the dishwasher, not wanting to be away from you. He already had to suffer a few days without you. You stretch your limbs out across the couch as you wait for your boyfriend to return to you, thinking that you shouldn’t have left for a few days. Why did you do that? Especially when it feels like you can’t breathe when he isn’t around to provide you with life itself.

Satoru sets the dishwasher before eagerly returning to yourself, nearly slipping on a few of the rose petals. “Fuck—” He blurts out, laughing along with you. The tall male sits next to you, large hands reaching to pull you in close by your waist, refusing to leave a gap. The knees had to at least be touching. Butterflies begin to flutter in your stomach when you notice the way Satoru is gazing at you. With all of the warmth in the world. Everywhere out of this room must be so cold. “You’re the prettiest, you know that? When I first met you, everything just clicked and I knew you had to be mine.” He says, voice low and soothing. You glance down out of shyness, nudging the tall male. “You slammed a door in my face.” You remind him and he grimaces, large hands cupping your cheeks. “Forgive me for that. For everything.”

You lean forward, nose nudging against his before pecking his lips. “Always. That’s what love is about.” You whisper against his lips. Satoru pulls away for a moment, grinning. “Love, right.” Satoru pauses before he reaches for the small box on the coffee table. “Before you go freaking out, it’s not what it looks like. I wouldn’t want to do that after we had a moment of falling apart.” Satoru says, opening the box to reveal a simple silver ring. It has two dainty flowers wrapped around one another, sapphire stones sparkling gently in the middle. “Satoru..” You breathe out in complete awe from such a pretty ring. You couldn’t even process the fact that he’s already starting to slide it onto your finger. “A promise ring. Eternity ring? It’s whatever. It’s me saying that I promise to love and be with you for eternity. To never leave, yeah? A promise to spend more time with you, because I want to.” Satoru says softly, thumb gently gliding across the ring on your finger. One day, he really will marry you properly. Not just some promise ring.

You feel your bottom lip start to tremble, eyes fixated on the sapphire ring before you launch forward, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your body against his bigger frame. Satoru arches an eyebrow, soon grinning towards you. “I love you. I’m going to find my own ring for you. I want to promise that I won’t ever leave you either. You’re mine.” You whisper, fingers tangling into his silky hair before you press your lips against his, pouring every bit of love you feel for the male and hoping he can feel it all.

He can. Satoru, a man who is an absolute sucker for your kisses; slowly melts into the couch, hands on your waist as he returns the loving kiss. His soft tiers move slowly against your pair, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. He could taste the red wine that lingers on your lips, but it was not the alcohol that left him feeling intoxicated. It’s you. You both seem to kiss for a long time, tongue sliding into your willing mouth, exploring every inch of it and happily tasting more. He finally manages to part from the kiss, now swollen lips dragging along the length of your jawline as he whispers. “Let me make it up to you further, Y/N. Let me show you how deeply I love you.”

You whine softly, fingers curling into the fabric of his dress shirt to pull him against you, lips forming a natural pout. “You don’t need to make it up to me anymore… I’m not against you showing that, though.” You purr softly, nipping at his sharp jawline, nose nuzzling against his cheek. Satoru chuckles, hands sliding down to firmly cup just beneath your ass and lifts you up with ease. He blindly carries you to the shared bedroom and you can’t stop the giggles from escaping when he accidentally bumps into the walls several times. “Hush, hush.” Satoru groans dramatically, smiling against the side of your neck. He adores your giggles.

Your arms are draped over his broad shoulders, leaning into every kiss that he plants against your lips, sighing out softly. He’s always been an amazing kisser. It reminds you of your first date with him and how you couldn’t get off his lap because you just wanted to spend those hours lost in a kiss with the white-haired male. Satoru lowers you onto the bed you share together, one arm wrapping around your waist to hoist you up further until your head meets the pillows. His long fingers dip beneath your shirt to soothingly stroke, free hand planted against the pillows near your head.

“You’re going to be my pillow princess tonight, understood? Your pleasure is mine.” He mutters, eyelids feeling heavy as he glances along the length of your body beneath him. Fuck, he’s missed you. You huff, fingers already twitching with the need to touch but if there’s someone who is more stubborn than you; it’s definitely Gojo Satoru. He won’t even let you near his cock until he says so and it just feels so unfair that you can’t provide him with pleasure in return. Even if he claims that he finds it through blessing you with pleasure. It’s also not fair simply because you’re obsessed with his pretty cock. If it’s not stuffed inside of you and filling you up to the brim? You want at least some sort of body part touching it.

A grin lingers on his visage when he witnesses your mental struggle, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. “You’re too cute,” Satoru says before he begins to leave a trail of wet kisses along your jawline, teeth scraping against the sensitive flesh. You squirm a little as he travels down further, lips refusing to leave your neck. Instead, he sucks gently on your skin, tongue gliding across the warm surface and pulls back slightly to blow against the wet saliva that he left behind. You whine from the cold sensation, fingers curling into the front of his dress shirt. Satoru murmurs his praise and you’re barely able to process it. You just feel all floaty and good when he touches you.

Satoru’s cheeks hurt from smiling too much. Relief tends to wash over him in soft waves when he realises that you still belong to him and that you didn’t leave after his mistake. Final mistake. He doesn’t want to hurt you anymore. Not that he wanted to hurt you in the first place. He shakes his head to snap out of his thoughts, strands of hair tickling you. It’s over now. What’s important is to show you how much you mean to him. His lips latch onto the side of your neck once more, this time to suck harshly enough for a hickey to appear, repeating the action a few more times.

“Feeling possessive?” You pant out, toes curling as a pitiful way to contain yourself through his loving abuse. “Mm, always.” Satoru purrs, utterly oblivious to your hand skillfully unbuttoning his shirt until he feels the fabric drape against you. He pulls away to kneel above you, looking down at his now exposed upper body. You hungrily take in the beautiful sight of his chiselled abs and unblemished skin. So soft and begging to be touched. Your index finger playfully drags along the v-line that leads down towards…

He snatches your hand up, fingers curling around your wrist and pulling away. “You sneaky minx.” Satoru laughs, endeared by your cheeky behaviour. “Can you wait your turn like a good girl?” He asks, waiting for you to huff and nod your head. Satoru lets go of your hand before deciding to shrug out of his shirt, tossing it to the side to forget about it completely. Large hands caress along your sides. “I’m not wearing a bra.” You comment ever so casually and soon met with your shirt being peeled off of your body, lifting your arms to help with taking it off. “Fucking hell, you’re not.” Satoru groans, cock twitching in his slacks from just gazing down at your pretty breasts.

His hands were quick to cup them, eager to squeeze the squishy mounds and watch as they filled up the gaps between his fingers. Satoru’s hold is firm and his massaging is a mixture of gentle and rough, wanting to coax out your needy, filthy sounds. They slip from your couplets easily. You arch up into his touch, brows furrowing when he pinches the sensitive buds and twists until you cry out from the aching pain. He continues to tease your nipples, sliding his body down until he’s half laying on top of you, tongue flicking against the bud. A numbing sensation spreads from your nipples and pleasure straight to your core. You’ve been the sensitive kind since you could breathe and despite that, you always chase for more. Especially by your boyfriend’s hands.

“Is teasing making up to me, ah…” You moan out breathlessly, one hand fisting the blankets beneath and Satoru laughs, the sound muffled as his tongue continues to sweetly drag and swirl around each of your nipples. “In a way, yeah. ‘Cause you’re a little masochistic princess who enjoys being riled up and teased.” He says as he presses your breasts together to bury his face against your soft mounds. Flustered, you nudge your knee against his crotch, causing him to grunt out loud. You could be just as ‘evil’ with your teasing.

Satoru’s hands continue to tenderly squeeze and massage your breasts as he presses kisses down the length of your body, lips parted to allow saliva to seep out, each kiss left against your skin wetter than the one before. You giggle softly, feeling a light ticklish feeling spread across your stomach. Blindly, fingers thread through his silky hair to pull on, nails scraping along his scalp. Satoru has many addictions and each one involves you. Always you. Even when he continues to kiss up and down your midriff, silently worshipping your beautiful body with his touch. His tongue danced along your warm skin and teeth latching onto the softness so he was able to suck harshly, craving to mark you all over.

“Baby, come on..” You whine out quietly, feet kicking against the mattress. “What is it? Want more? Mm…” Satoru trails off, fingers hooking beneath your pants and begins to tug them down. “Bet you’re already soaked,” Satoru whispers, excitement pumping through his veins at just the thought. Fuck, he wants to see. You manage to help him tug your pants off until you’re only left in a pair of cotton panties in a soft red. His grip on your inner thighs forces your legs to spread and he lets out a low whistle of approval, lustful gazes fixating on the dump patch across your panties. You seem so needy just from how it nearly covers the expanse of your panties.

“Barely touched you and you’re soaking. Way to boost my ego, baby girl.” Satoru chuckles, shifting himself low enough so his face is directly in front of your covered pussy. He tilts his head to pepper kisses along your inner thighs, edging closer towards your womanhood. Of course, being an impatient girlfriend; you try to angle yourself so he’s already touching you where you deeply crave him. An utter failure as he easily pins you down with a hand against your hip, not needing to use much strength. You’re just so weak compared to him. You love it.

“You’re so pretty, Y/N. How did I get so lucky..” His voice is low and hushed, nose pressing against the damp patch and inhaling deeply. You smell delectable. The flat of his tongue drags across the covered pussy several times, eyes on your body to watch as you squirm, clearly chasing for more. Too cute… The tip of his tongue presses against the fabric until you gasp from the scratchy feeling of the panties making contact with your throbbing clit. His palms stroke along your thighs as he’s relentless with his teasing, refusing to move the panties.

Needy whines spill from your lips frustrated that you’ve yet to feel his actual mouth on your dripping cunt. It seems he finally takes pity on you, lifting his head. “Do you value these panties?” He asks, finger running along the edge of them. “Nn, no…” You answer, almost sounding like a question. One rough tug and you process the sound fabric ripping before you realise what just happened. Satoru rips the panties with ease, thinking it is far easier than having to move you around just to slide them off delicately. “That was hot.” You blurted out, watching him toss them to where the other discarded clothing lay.

Lips twist to form a smirk from your words, though he’s distracted. Completely. All he can focus on is the gorgeous sight of your bare pussy, dripping with your juices. “Fucking perfect and all mine to devour.” Satoru groans and wastes no time to dive in. He’s a pussy eater through and through. The world would have to try and take him down to stop him from eating you out. Sometimes, he thinks he’s made for exactly this. He refuses sex if there’s no chance to eat you out. This is a need. Your high-pitched moan laces with his breathless one, head tilting back on the pillow as his tongue eagerly laps up your juices, dragging between your slick-covered folds.

Already, your sweetness coats his lower face as he keeps his face buried between your quivering legs. Long fingers part your folds, tongue breaking the strings of slick before his wet muscle swirls around your bundle of nerves. You feel sharp shocks of pleasure spread from your core, whimpering loudly. Your fingers grip hopelessly onto his white hair to try and ground yourself as Satoru’s lips move against your sopping pussy. He always eats you out like he’s a man who’s been starved for weeks, refusing to pull away, even as he feels the painful tug on his hair. You taste so sweet, filling up his mouth as his tongue easily gathers enough of your juice to swallow. Always happy to consume.

Satoru’s nose rubs light against your clit now, moving his mouth until his tongue could drag along your hole, swirling around the tight rim of it. You feel too blissed out to even be flustered by the sounds of him slurping, the tip of his tongue pressing against your entrance and sending vibrations as he moans. Two hands come up to cover your face momentarily, unable to truly contain the pleasure you feel as it washes over you in constant waves. “Satoru…” You moan out sweetly and it encourages him to grind nice and slow against the mattress to feel some sort of ease for his raging erection.

The friction of the fabric rubbing against his cock leaves him moaning your name, already feeling the eagerness to be buried inside of you grow. No. He must take his time making love to you. His thumb presses against your clit to rub in a circular motion, soaking in the sight of you squirming against the bed and unable to escape. Not that you’d ever truly want to. It’s just when your body feels so sensitive to the pleasure; you need Satoru to pin you down. His tongue continues to lick nice and slow, only flicking quickly against your clit between movements of his thumb rubbing it.

“P-Please, just let me touch you somehow..” You beg through a whimpering moan, eyes threatening to roll back from the ecstasy. Satoru hums, deliberately slowing himself down before pressing a loving kiss to the bundle of nerves and pulling himself off. Your body that’s been sent through a high slows down, feeling sad that you couldn’t orgasm. Still, maybe this means he is obliging your needs. You smile, eyes full of love swirled with hope and doing the grabby hand gesture towards him.

Satoru melts at the sight. How could he say no to his girl? “Alright, alright. Miss needy. We’re doing it my way, though.” He warns lightly before his hands roll you onto your side and you raise an eyebrow in questioning. Satoru simply flashes his signature grin, unbuckling his pants before swiftly kicking them off, along with his underwear. He sighs with relief from his length finally being free. Instantly, you look down towards it hungrily, already wishing to wrap your fingers around the fatness of it, fingers tracing along the protruding veins. He says nothing as he lays down next to you, facing you. Your face heats up when you realise his lower face is still wet from being busy between your legs. You feel your pussy clench from it. “What? Getting shy on me?” Satoru says rather teasingly, guiding your leg upwards slightly.

With the way Satoru positions himself, his throbbing cock is now pressing against your stomach and his hand has complete access to your pussy, despite your thighs clenched around his wrist. “Come on, baby girl... You’ve been wanting to touch me.” He urges, long fingers gliding up between your dripping folds once more before he begins to gently rub your clit. You tremble, mind wiped blank momentarily from the tiny jolts of pleasure. Soon, you manage to wrap your fingers around the base of his length, always admiring how the tips of your fingers were barely able to touch. Your boyfriend has not only a pretty cock, but a big one, too. All yours to have.

Your hand strokes upwards, noticing the pre-cum beading at the tip and rubs the head lightly with your palm, watching the way Satoru’s brows already begin to furrow and biting down on his lip. The head of his cock is your favourite to tease. “You’re so big, Satoru..” You whisper, pressing your body up against his cock, slowly grinding down against his fingers that tease your entrance. If there’s one thing that really gets Satoru going, it’s praise. Whether for his bedroom skills or just how obsessed you are with his cock. His heart jumps from hearing your words, grinning a little. “Mm, yeah? Bet you can’t wait for me to fill you to the brim then. You always get so needy, even when I’m already fucking you.” Satoru mocks, sounding like someone knocks the wind out of him just from you spreading the leaking pre-cum along his cock as you stroke him, nice and slow. The white-haired male looks down towards your hand, finding it looking so cute wrapped around his cock. Barely. Even cuter with the glittering ring on your finger. All his. Forever.

You gasp softly, feeling two of his long fingers finally press against your entrance until they sink in slowly, velvety walls stretching around the new invasion and you squeeze around him. Satoru curses beneath his breath, already desiring to be inside of you with something much bigger. He can’t, though. He wants to take his time with making love to you tonight. You lean forward to press a loving kiss to his bare shoulder, nose lightly nuzzling against the warm skin. You close your eyes, focusing on how heavenly it is to feel his fingers pump in and out of you slowly, slightly restricted by your clenched thighs. Clearly, he refuses to let that stop him entirely.

His loving gaze refuses to leave your visage, taking in everything. The way your eyebrow twitches when he pushes his fingers in deeper or how your eyes widen in awe from the way he seems to finger you so perfectly compared to previous shitty partners. It’s like he knows everything about your body without question. What leaves you breathless and your mind spinning. Quietly, he angles his wrist, fingers searching for— Ah, there it is. You cry out suddenly, walls clenching around his fingers that are relentless with rubbing against your sweet spot. Thighs quiver and stroking hand stutters along his thick cock. It’s so hard for you to focus, your hand movements becoming sloppy as you curl forward, grinding down against his digits.

Satoru didn’t care about the sloppy handjob. Hell, it still feels good. The warm and snug feeling wrapped around his length leaves him craving for something more. He wants you. He wants to make love to you until all you can see is him amongst the stars. To feel nothing but sweet ecstasy. He stretches his fingers out slightly against your snug tight walls that are coated with your own excitement. You rub your palm weakly against the head of his cock, face tilting to bury into the pillows, muffling your filthy moans. The white-haired male is gritting his teeth, feeling his cock throb more than ever before. “Now…” You manage to moan out, looking towards him in a daze.

Usually not one to take orders, Satoru obliges. He slides his fingers out, rubbing them together to feel your slippery juices coating the length of them. Quietly, he leads them up to your face, tapping against your lower lip. Your face feels hot and never one to disobey, even his silent commands; you wrap your lips obediently around his two digits, moaning at the taste of your own sweetness. You eagerly suck on them, tongue dragging between and along each finger. Satoru watches with complete fascination, lips parting slightly in admiration. Fuck, even prettier when you suck on his fingers like some needy creature. Your lips are snug around his fingers, sliding off until there’s an audible pop and all you can taste is yourself, a string of saliva connecting from your lips to his fingers.

“Fucking hell… No condom, right?” Satoru hastily asks, eager to get going. Usually, neither of you wants the use of a condom, but it’s sweet that he still asks you. “Nn, make love to me and breed me, handsome.” You whisper, arms snaking around his neck. A string of curses falls from his lips, adjusting himself against the mattress. He guides your leg further up and around his waist, giving him access to position the tip of his throbbing erection against your pussy. Unable to resist, he grinds slowly to feel his length rub between your folds, enjoying the sensation. “Satoru.” You whine, giving his shoulder a squeeze.

A low chuckle escapes. “Impatient.” He scoffs lightly, though soon positioning himself properly; the head of his cock pressing against your tight entrance. One hand rests against your bare thigh, holding your leg against his waist and he leans in to rest his forehead against yours. His eyes meet yours, coaxing your heart into beating faster. You keep your body relaxed as much as you can, knowing that it’s always going to be a stretch with him. “I love you..” Satoru says quietly and before you could respond, he presses his hips forward and you feel the head of his length push in until finally, his cock sinks into you, stretching your snug tight walls out completely. A silent cry is ripped out of you, hopelessly clinging onto his muscular body, nails digging into his back.

No matter how many times you both sleep together. The stretch of your walls always feels so new, the pleasurable feeling becoming addicting. He groans quietly, forehead still pressed against yours as your slick-covered walls clench around his throbbing cock. Your breath mixes with his as you both pant. His hand on your thigh caresses soothingly to ease your body back into relaxing, cause fuck sometimes he swears if it wasn’t for his amazing stamina; he might come like some virgin feeling pussy for the first time. You’re so tight. Amazingly tight. Warm, too. He wants to keep himself buried inside of you at all times, if he could.

You keep your arms wrapped around him, leg hooked around his waist and a breathless moan of his name leaves your tiers when you feel him start to move, his cock thrusting slowly. The white-haired male’s fingertips dig into the flesh of your thigh, the other arm wrapped around your middle, between your body and the mattress. He groans, feeling your tight walls drag around his cock as if your body alone is refusing the mere idea of not being able to feel his throbbing thickness. Satoru keeps his thrusts slow and deep, refusing to go too rough. Maybe it’s silly but, he genuinely wants to show his love for you and if it means not doing the usual eagerness to break you in; he’ll do the opposite. Besides, his heart feels elated to just exist along with you. To connect with you.

You both embrace each other lovingly, your hand rubbing along his back and enjoying the gentle waves of pleasure that leave you all tingly, toes curling. His cock refuses to go halfway. No, he slides all the way out, hips pushed back before slowly pushing in until you feel full to the brim, hand against your lower stomach to feel it bulge from his thickness. No one’s ever reached so far. He grunts when you push down, feeling your walls wrap tight around his slick-covered cock, prompting him to tighten his hold on you as a pitiful way to contain himself. “You’re so beautiful, you know that?” He pants out, leaning forward to scatter light yet loving kisses all over your face, smiling when you giggle between your needy whines.

“You’re— ah.. more beautiful… love you so much..” You manage to mewl out, eyes rolling when you feel the head of his cock meeting that sweet spot every time he thrusts into you deeply. Drunk off of the pleasure, all you can do is cling to him, babbling out your love for him between moans. Your sweet reactions, along with your tight womanhood; make it so difficult for him to keep it slow, hips stuttering as you squeeze around him. “Fucking hell..” Satoru moans out, letting go of your thigh to take hold of your hand. His eyes fixated on the sapphire ring, pressing a tender kiss to it. You witness the sweet gesture and your heart just melts for this man. For Gojo Satoru.

You should never have doubted him. Why would he ever leave you when he makes love to you so sweetly? When his kisses leave you breathless and positively dizzy? When he goes out of his way to make a romantic dinner. You forgave him that night. The second you saw him holding onto his knees and panting heavily. He tried to make it in time. Even if it did hurt you. At least, he promised work won’t ever get in the way of your love journey anymore. You love him. You’re so in love with this man that you’d die for him. Not that he’d ever let that happen. With the overwhelming love and pleasure, the tears that made your eyes sting, spill down your cheeks.

“Pretty girl.” Satoru laughs, letting go of your hand to tenderly cup your cheek, thumb wiping away the tears. It didn’t stop him from fucking you deep. Utterly endeared by you, Satoru leans in to capture your lips with his own, kissing you sweetly. He didn’t care about the saltiness of your tears mixing with the lingering taste of your juices as he kissed you, lips moving against yours and tongue easily sliding into your mouth. Your moans are muffled, responding to the kiss with eagerness as you begin to roll your hips, meeting each of his heavy thrusts and squeezing so tightly around him. It’s like constant jolts of ecstasy that leave you tingling and crying into the kiss, loving the feeling of his length stretching you out.

“F-Faster, ‘Toru, wan’ feel you pump me full.” You whine against his lips, tongue rubbing against his in a lewd manner. It didn’t take much begging, really. You have him wrapped around your pinky and he’s eager to do whatever you crave. He loves you deeply and is even driven by relief that everything worked out between you both. He shouldn’t have worried, knowing you were made for him and he was made for you. Soulmates. His hips begin to snap forward, both arms wrapped around your middle now as he fucks into you, his throbbing cock sliding in and out of you steadily, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the bedroom, laced with heavy panting and loud moans.

Your breasts are unable to bounce from the hard thrusts, pressed against his chest as you both continue to cling, refusing any form of gap. Sweat coats both of your bodies, head tilting back and eyes rolling from feeling his cock pounding into your velvety tightness. You’re so wet because of the white-haired male, that the sounds of squelching are unavoidable. He’s panting heavily, swollen lips dragging along your bare shoulder. You don’t know how much more you could take, desperately trying to hold your orgasm back. “Don’t hold back, Y/N—” Satoru pants out, crystal blue eyes focused on your face and you whimper, face scrunching up.

With his thickness steadily pounding into you, it only takes one more deep thrust to send you swiftly over the edge. You choke on your gasp, nails clawing down his broad back as you desperately try to hold onto him through your orgasm. It crashes into you hard, leaving you breathless and your body feeling electrifying as you tremble hard. Your walls around his thrusting cock clench repeatedly, causing him to grit his teeth and fuck you hard just a bit further, his stomach feeling tight. “Good girl, fuck— so good. Love you— fuck.” He groans loudly before a final thrust has him spilling into you, thighs tensing up and shaking. Satoru holds you against his body, keeping his cock buried deep inside of your hole as ropes of sticky cum shoot from the tip of his cock and fill you up.

You feel even more full, not thinking it could be possible. You moan out sweetly, feeling a complete daze as you slump against the tall male. His hands are gentle as they caress along your bare back, pressing soft kisses to your shoulder between his heavy pants. Slowly, he continues to thrust into you, riding out his orgasm. His cum now paints your inner walls white and sticky, dragging along his length. Your leg manages to stay hooked around his waist, head dropping onto the pillow as you sigh happily. Quietly, Satoru makes movement to slide out of you. You refuse it by squeezing around his length in warning. You love the feeling of being so full of him.

“Stay inside of me..” You mumble out shyly, refusing to meet his stunning blue eyes. His gaze softens with the love he holds for you and naturally, he stops. Cock-warming? He wouldn't refuse staying inside of your tight pussy. He lays down properly next to you, head sharing the same pillow. Blindly, he finds hold of your hand, thumb caressing the ring momentarily before he laces his long fingers with yours to give a squeeze. Your eyes meet his and you smile, leaning in to peck his lips. Satoru leans in, craving to kiss you further and you giggle softly. Everything feels good between you both now. Comforting to know, that you both made up to each other and no insecure thoughts linger in your mind. You love each other; that is definitely proven.

You couldn’t wait to spend eternity with this man, Gojo Satoru.

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