𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

HP — NSFW + SFW DAYDREAMS

a collection of all the nsfw + sfw thoughts people have shared with me.

main masterlist

— THEO NOTT

NSFW

theo eating you out

cockwarming theo in the common room

corruption kink with toxic!theo

toxic ex-boyfriend!theo getting jealous

best friend!theo fucking you better than your bf

SFW

casual dominance with theo

being in a not friends but not dating stage with theo

— DRACO MALFOY

NSFW

sub!draco being embarrassed of his moans

perv!roommate!draco

draco wearing grey sweatpants

SFW

stay-at-home dad!draco

— DRAGONOTT

rough theo and soft draco

— FRED WEASLEY

NSFW

fred fucking you in the burrow

soft sex with fred

fred getting jealous

SFW

fred trying different accents

— GEORGE WEASLEY

NSFW

george pounding into you when you’re on top

george getting off to eating you out

SFW

sitting on george’s lap

— HARRY POTTER

NSFW

harry being whiny and moany in bed

harry loving his s/o sitting on his face

— MATTHEO RIDDLE

NSFW

cockwarming mattheo while doing his makeup

© rafesmuse.tumblr 2023. do not copy, translate or claim any of my writing or works as your own.

STUCK WITH YOU - GOJO SATORU

summary. Gojo Satoru—strongest, cockiest, and, according to him, the hottest man alive—bows to no one. Until you came along and suddenly, he’s on his knees.

word count. 10.6k (i..dont know)

content. mdni fem! reader, zombie apocalypse au, violence, blood, pet names, satoru is a certified tease, cute banter because we love that here, they're so down bad for each other, smut, oral (fem rec.), p in v, loss of virginity (reader), praise, breeding, creampie, overstim, soft satoru <3

author's note. i miss my man

The sky had been burning when the world ended.

You were fifteen—just a kid with scraped knees and a heart too big for the horrors it was about to witness. 

Sirens wailed through the streets, helicopters thundered above, and the sharp stench of smoke and decay clung to the air like death itself. One moment, your parents were urging you to run, voices trembling with fear. The next, everything shattered. A scream. Blood. The gurgled breath of something that wasn’t quite human anymore.

You had survived. Somehow. Alone.

But the cost of survival was everything.

-

The woods are silent, save for the crunch of your boots over frostbitten leaves. The moon hangs high above, pale and cold, casting everything in an unforgiving glow. You keep your knife gripped tight in one hand, the other cradling your growling stomach. It’s been three days since you last found anything remotely edible.

Every snap of a branch, every whisper of wind feels like a threat. Years alone have trained you to expect the worst.

Then you pause.

Smoke. Just a wisp of it in the air. You sniff again, slower this time. It's faint, but definitely there.

You move like a shadow, quiet and cautious, weaving through trees toward the scent. And then you see it:

A flickering campfire nestled in a hollow clearing, throwing gold and orange light onto the figures beside it. Two men. Asleep—at least, you hope they are. One is lying flat on the ground, the other propped against a log, limbs long and sprawled, a blindfold covering his eyes.

There’s food by the fire. Real food. Bread. Cans. Water.

You inch closer, heart hammering. It’s been years since you’ve seen other people. You don’t know if that makes this moment safer… or far more dangerous.

You creep into the circle of warmth, fingers itching toward the supplies. Just one thing. That’s all you need.

You barely breathe as you crouch beside the campfire, the heat brushing against your frozen skin like a long-forgotten comfort. Your fingers tremble as you reach for a loaf of bread—real bread—but just as your hand closes around it, your boot nudges something metallic.

CLANG.

The tin can hits the ground, and for a moment, silence swallows everything.

Then—movement.

You whip your head toward the two figures by the fire. One shoots upright in an instant, long-limbed and alarmingly fast. The other groans awake, slower, disoriented. You don’t even have time to run.

"Don't move," the taller one says—voice low, commanding. You meet his gaze and—holy hell.

Snow-white hair, cerulean eyes. He stands like someone who’s fought the world and won. His blindfold hangs around his neck, exposing everything. It's him—the one with the voice that makes your skin prickle and a face that doesn’t belong in this nightmare world.

"Well, well," he drawls, taking a step forward. "And here I thought we were the only pretty faces left."

You swallow, frozen. His companion grabs a weapon, steps forward too, more cautious.

"Who are you?" the second man demands.

The white-haired man’s eyes never leave yours. He smirks.

"She’s hungry. Look at her. Poor thing."

You clench your fists. You’ve survived too long to be pitied.

"Touch me and I swear to god—"

The man raises his hands, mockingly innocent.

"Easy, sweetheart. No one’s touching you… unless you want us to."

You scrunch up your face, disgusted and his grin widens just a little.

You lift your knife. “I don’t want trouble. I just need food.”

“I’d say knocking over our supplies in the middle of the night is kinda trouble,” the dark-haired one says. His hair is tied back, strands falling loose around his face, his grip on his weapon steady. “Who are you?”

You swallow thickly. It’s been so long since anyone’s asked you that. Your voice is hoarse. “Just someone trying to survive.”

The white-haired one takes a lazy step forward, hands raised in mock surrender.

“Chill, Suguru. She’s not here to kill us,” he says, and then turns back to you. “You got a name, mystery girl?”

You eye him warily. “…Why do you care?”

He grins. “Because mine’s Gojo Satoru. And this grumpy one is Suguru.”

Suguru rolls his eyes. “Don’t tell her our names, dumbass.”

But Gojo—Satoru, apparently—just shrugs, looking far too amused for someone who just woke up to a stranger trying to rob him.

Your fingers tighten on your knife. But something about him… those eyes… that voice…

“You really gonna stab the guy who might be your best chance at staying alive?” he asks, cocking his head. “Come sit. Eat. Or run. Up to you.”

Your stomach growls loudly.

Satoru grins wider. “That’s what I thought.”

You slowly lower your knife, but don’t put it away—not yet. Your eyes stay locked on them as you inch closer to the fire. The warmth should be a comfort, but your muscles are still taut, ready to bolt at the first sign of danger.

Satoru sprawls back onto a log like he’s done this a hundred times. He’s still smiling—lazy, smug, like he’s enjoying this little show. Suguru doesn’t relax. He stays seated, but his eyes follow your every move, knife still held tight in his hand.

You kneel beside the fire, close enough to reach the food, far enough to lunge away if you need to. There’s a dented pot with some kind of stew, still warm, and a few pieces of bread wrapped in cloth.

“Help yourself,” Satoru says, waving a hand like he’s offering a royal feast. “We even warmed it up for you.”

You shoot him a glare but reach out cautiously, taking just a little. You sniff the stew first. Watch them.

“Don’t worry, it’s not poisoned,” Suguru says dryly.

“That’s what someone who poisoned it would say,” you mutter, tearing off a bite of bread.

Satoru snorts. “She’s got a mouth on her. I like her.”

You ignore that. Instead, you eat slowly, eyes flicking between them. They don’t move. Suguru keeps watch. Satoru lounges like this is the most interesting thing that’s happened all week.

“How long have you two been out here?” you ask finally.

“Long enough,” Suguru says, tone clipped.

"Too long," Satoru says, tossing a pebble into the fire like this is just another lazy night for him. "We move around, but we've got a base. Old prison, about twenty miles from here. You?"

You don’t answer right away.

“Alone,” you say after a beat. “I’ve been alone.”

The fire crackles between you.

Suguru’s gaze softens—just for a second. But Satoru’s smile stays.

“Well,” he says, stretching out his long legs, “you’re not alone anymore.”

You narrow your eyes. “I’m not staying.”

“Didn’t say you had to.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “But something tells me you might not leave either.”

He’s not threatening. He’s just… certain.

You’re crouched by the fire, still tense, still not entirely trusting, when Satoru leans back on his hands, head tilted.

“You should come with us,” he says, like it’s the simplest thing in the world. “You’ll be safer.”

Your eyes flick to Suguru—he doesn’t hide the way his jaw clenches.

“She could be a liability,” Suguru mutters. “You don’t know her.”

“No,” Satoru agrees, grinning at you. “But I like her.”

Suguru sighs, deep and disapproving, but you see it—that soft flicker in his eyes that means he’s already given in.

Satoru turns back to you. “We’re heading out at first light. If you’re in, pack whatever you’ve got.”

You nod, hesitant. But, maybe… maybe this is the start of something.

-

A gentle nudge to your shoulder. Then a voice, light and annoyingly cheerful.

“Wake up, sleepyhead. Big day today.”

You blink awake to Satoru crouching beside you, white hair a wild halo against the rising sun. He grins.

“You snore, by the way.”

“I do not.”

“You do. It was cute.”

You groan, dragging a hand over your face. “Remind me why I agreed to come with you again?”

“Because I’m charming,” he beams. “Now come on. We've got a long way to go—and Suguru’s already in a mood.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Maybe he wouldn’t be if you stopped talking.”

“Ohhh, savage!” he clutches his chest, stumbling back like you just stabbed him. “You wound me, stranger.”

You roll your eyes and sling your bag over your shoulder. “Not a stranger anymore, remember? You practically adopted me last night.”

Satoru grins, falling into step beside you. “True. You’re my problem now.”

“Joy,” you mutter, but your lips twitch despite yourself.

Suguru’s already waiting up ahead, arms crossed, brow arched like he’s already tired of this nonsense. “You two done flirting or should I keep walking?”

You open your mouth to protest, but Satoru gets there first.

“Jealousy doesn’t suit you, Suguru.”

“I will leave you in the woods,” Suguru replies flatly.

“You’d miss me in an hour.”

“You wish.”

You stifle a laugh and glance between the two. “Are you always like this?”

Satoru flashes you a grin. “Buckle up, sweetheart. You haven’t seen anything yet.”

-

The trek through the forest had been relatively quiet—birds rustled above, trees whispering overhead, and Satoru talking your ear off. But midway through the journey, something shifts.

Suguru’s head tilts first, eyes narrowing at the faint crunch in the distance. Not a squirrel. Not a rabbit.

You hear it next.

Low. Guttural.

A hiss.

Then another.

They come from the trees. Slow at first—one stumbles into view, then two, then more. Rotting limbs. Glazed-over eyes. That sickening gurgle of hunger.

“Aw, shit,” Satoru grins like it’s a party. “Looks like we’ve got company.”

Suguru already has his blade drawn, calm as ever. “Don’t play around, Satoru.”

“No promises.” He rolls his shoulders, cracking his neck with a sharp tilt. “Time to impress the new girl.”

The first zombie lunges—and Satoru moves. A blur of motion, too fast to follow. The undead’s head twists unnaturally before it even hits the ground.

Suguru moves more fluidly—clean, precise slashes. No theatrics. Just deadly efficiency. His blade slices through two more, not even a drop of blood on him.

But they just keep coming.

Your heart pounds in your ears. Adrenaline surges. You’d been careful to avoid confrontation all these years, but this is different. You're not alone anymore. And you won’t be dead weight.

You draw your blade—sharpened scrap metal turned makeshift machete—and steady your breath.

One charges. You duck, spin, and drive the blade clean through its skull. Another reaches for you. You kick it back hard, burying your weapon in its chest before pulling it free with a grunt.

Satoru whistles low. “Well damn.”

“Focus,” Suguru mutters, cutting another down.

You move together now, three separate forces of destruction.

Satoru’s grinning like a madman, whirling and laughing with every kill. “You seeing this? She’s got bite!”

Suguru flicks blood off his blade. “You could take a lesson from her.”

Zombies litter the ground within minutes. The forest falls silent again—except for your panting breaths.

Satoru walks over, brushing blood off his cheek. “Well, that was fun. You good?”

You nod, chest still heaving. “Peachy.”

“Okay, badass,” he says with a grin, then nudges your shoulder playfully. “I take it back. You’re not just some lost little stray. You’ve got some claws.”

Suguru simply gives you a once-over, silent approval in his gaze.

You sheath your blade. “Told you I could handle myself.”

Satoru grins wider. “Yeah, and it was hot.”

-

The journey's been long, your legs aching from the endless trek, your guard never once lowered—not even with Satoru’s ridiculous jokes or Suguru’s unnervingly sharp eyes on you.

But when the trees begin to thin and the rusted silhouette of a massive abandoned prison looms ahead—walls towering, fences lined with jagged barbed wire, and lookout towers standing tall like watchful sentinels—you feel something you haven't in years:

Hope.

Gojo stretches lazily, like the walk didn’t faze him at all. "Home sweet hellhole," he grins. "Bet you weren’t expecting this kind of palace."

Suguru doesn’t say much, just gestures for you to follow. The guards on the watchtower whistle low when they see the trio approaching, and the gates creak open. Inside, the prison yard is alive—people bustling, fires burning in steel barrels, children laughing (actual children), and survivors moving with purpose.

You're stunned. You didn’t think this kind of order still existed.

A kid runs up to Gojo. “Satoru! You’re back!”

“Obviously,” he winks, tossing his jacket at the kid. “Miss me?”

You stare, wide-eyed.

“You’re like… respected here?”

“Terrifying, isn’t it?” Gojo deadpans. “Stick with me, newbie. I’ll show you the ropes. Maybe even let you survive.”

Suguru glances back, quiet for a moment. “Don’t get too comfortable. It’s safe, but it’s not paradise.”

Gojo leans closer to you as you're led through the gates.

“Don’t worry. If anything tries to eat you—aside from me—I’ll kill it.”

Your face burns and he just smirks like he’s got you all figured out.

“Aww, don’t get all shy, now. Where’d all that bite from earlier go?” he teases, voice low and entirely too smug.

You shove him with a scowl, cheeks still flaming. “Shut up, lecher.”

He stumbles back with a dramatic gasp, hand clutching his chest. “Lecher? Ouch. You wound me, sweetheart.”

Suguru sighs ahead of you. “Ignore him. He gets like this when he’s not punched often enough.”

Gojo just throws an arm around your shoulders, unbothered and still grinning. “Admit it, you missed human interaction.”

You glare up at him. “I missed silence.”

“Too bad,” he chirps, “you’re stuck with me now.”

You follow Gojo through the looming gates of the old prison turned fortress, the creak of rusted metal echoing off cold concrete walls. The place is… intimidating, but secure. High fences, makeshift watchtowers, guards with weapons patrolling like hawks. Survivors glance your way—curious, cautious—but no one approaches just yet.

“Well,” Gojo grins, throwing his arms out dramatically, “welcome to paradise, sweetheart.”

You shoot him a glare, but before you can answer, a voice calls out.

“Don’t call new recruits that, Gojo.”

A tall woman leans against the infirmary doorway, cigarette dangling between her fingers, lab coat stained with faded blood. She looks you up and down, then flicks ash to the ground with a sigh.

“Ieiri Shoko. I’m the doctor over here,” she says. “You look like hell.”

“…Thanks?”

“She means ‘you’ll fit right in,’” Gojo says brightly, nudging your shoulder. “She’s got a warm heart under all that… nicotine.”

Before you can respond, another figure approaches—sharp, calculating, blond hair swept neatly back and a stern face that reads no nonsense allowed.

“Nanami Kento,” he introduces himself. “I hope you know how to follow rules.”

You stiffen slightly. “Depends on the rules.”

Gojo chuckles. “Play nice, Nanamin. She’s new.”

“And she’ll stay alive longer if she learns structure.”

You barely have time to absorb that before someone barrels into the conversation like a human golden retriever.

“Gojo-sensei! You’re back!”

A pink-haired young man skids to a stop beside you, eyes wide with excitement. “Whoa—new person?! Hi! I’m Itadori Yuji!”

You blink, overwhelmed by the sudden burst of energy.

“Yuji,” Gojo sighs fondly. “Tone it down a little, yeah? She’s been through it.”

Yuji’s smile softens. “Right, sorry. Still—welcome. You hungry? We’ve got canned peaches! They’re not that bad if you hold your breath.”

A scoff cuts through the chaos.

“That’s how you welcome someone? ‘Peaches if you hold your breath’?”

You turn to see a girl with sharp eyes, short auburn hair, and a confident stance stroll up like she owns the place.

“Kugisaki Nobara,” she says, hand on her hip. “Don’t let the dumb smiles fool you—Yuji’s annoying, but he’s not dangerous. Usually.”

Yuji pouts. “Rude.”

And last, from the shadows near the barracks, a low voice.

“Don’t overwhelm her.”

A tall boy steps forward, dark hair, brooding expression. Cold eyes meet yours briefly before shifting away like he’s already bored of this interaction.

“Fushiguro Megumi.”

You blink. “Nice to meet you… all.”

“You’ll get used to the chaos,” Nobara says. “Eventually.”

Gojo’s grin widens, like a proud dad watching his weird little family.

“See? Told you you’d like it here.”

You’re not sure yet. But for the first time in years, you’re not alone.

-

The base is a repurposed prison, all concrete walls and rusted bars, but the way Gojo walks its halls, it might as well be a palace.

“Welcome to paradise,” he grins, pushing open a barred door that creaks like it’s complaining. “Don’t let the charming décor fool you. The rats love it here.”

You roll your eyes but follow him in. He gestures with a dramatic sweep of his arm. “Your very own cell—er, suite.”

The room is small, but clean. A bed shoved into one corner, a patched-up mattress, and even a chipped mirror on the wall. You nod, impressed despite yourself.

He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed. “I gave you the one with a window. You can thank me later.”

You smirk and step back out into the hallway. “Trying to impress me, Gojo?”

“Oh, absolutely. I’m a peacock in the apocalypse, baby.”

You laugh under your breath and follow him down a narrow hall. There’s a dip in the concrete, a crack in the floor you don’t notice until your boot catches—your heart jumps as you pitch forward, but Gojo’s arms are immediately around you.

Strong. Steady. Warm.

“Careful now,” he murmurs, voice all silk and smugness. “You fell for me already?”

You’re pressed against his chest, your breath caught in your throat, face heating up. He doesn’t move right away—his hands settle on your waist, casual and intimate in a way that makes your stomach flip.

You shove him off with a flustered glare. “Shut up, lecher.”

He grins, wide and infuriating. “That’s more like it.”

The rest of the tour is quieter. You pass rooms where others sleep, the mess hall, the infirmary where Shoko’s set up shop. You even glimpse Yuji hauling supplies with Nobara snapping at him in the distance.

But then Gojo stops in front of a heavy iron door—no windows, no markings. His face changes. The joking fades.

“Whatever you do,” he says, voice low, “don’t go into the commissary. Not alone. Not ever.”

You blink, caught off guard by the sudden seriousness.

“Why?”

He doesn’t answer immediately. His blue eyes sharpen beneath his snowy lashes.

“Because even monsters like us keep our secrets somewhere,” he says softly. “And some doors are locked for a reason.”

You stare at him, heart knocking against your ribs.

Gojo Satoru, unshakable, untouchable… looking haunted?

Your skin prickles.

But he flashes you that lazy grin again, like nothing happened. “Now come on. You haven’t seen the courtyard. Yuji likes to wrestle people out there—it’s horrible. You’ll love it.”

And just like that, the moment passes… but the warning stays.

-

The rooftop’s quiet late at night.

The chaos of the base fades into a hush, just the distant hum of wind brushing over cracked cement and rusted fences. You lie back against the cool surface, arms behind your head, eyes fixed on the sky above. For once, it’s clear. A spatter of stars gleam like glass shards across a velvet sky.

You let yourself breathe.

No infected. No screaming. No fear.

Just the stars.

Footsteps approach—light, familiar, cocky.

“I knew you were a stargazer,” Gojo says, easing himself down beside you with a dramatic sigh. “You’ve got that dreamy, melancholic look. So poetic.”

You don’t look at him. “You’ve got that annoying, uninvited energy. So parasitic.”

He barks out a laugh. “Ow. You wound me, sweetheart.”

A beat passes. Then another.

You can feel him watching you, but for once, he doesn’t speak.

And somehow, that’s more unsettling.

“…You alright?” you ask, finally glancing his way.

He’s leaning back on his elbows, white hair messy from the wind, blue eyes locked on the stars—but they’re distant. Quiet. A far cry from their usual teasing glint.

“I’m heading out tomorrow,” he says casually. “Scouting mission. Few days tops.”

You blink. “Oh.”

Something flickers in your chest. It shouldn’t. Not like this.

“Oh,” you repeat, softer. “Right.”

A part of you wants to ask why he’s going. Another part wants to pretend it doesn’t matter. You settle for neither, chewing your lip, trying to ignore the weight settling in your gut.

Satoru glances at you then, his smirk lazy but his voice just a touch softer.

“Try not to miss me, yeah?”

You scoff. “I’ll throw a party the second you leave.”

“That’s what they all say,” he murmurs, leaning just a little closer. “Then they realize how boring life is without me.”

His smile is all mischief—but behind it, there’s something warmer. Something real.

And for once… you don’t fire back. You just look at him.

Maybe you’ll miss him a little. Just a little.

-

You don’t expect his absence to linger. But it does.

You feel it in the small silences—the way the mess hall feels quieter without his dumb jokes echoing through it, how sparring sessions feel colder without him barging in with some smug, offhanded comment about your form.

At night, you find yourself back on the rooftop. The stars are still there, but they don’t sparkle like they used to. It’s stupid, you tell yourself, because what kind of person starts depending on a man like that?

He’s loud. He’s infuriating. He teases you relentlessly.

But… he saw you. When you thought no one ever would again.

Shoko notices the way you’ve been spacing out more. She doesn’t say anything until the third night.

“You okay?”

You nod. Too quickly. “Fine.”

She squints at you. “You’re not fine. You’re moping.”

“I’m not moping.”

She clicks her tongue. “Acting like someone’s girlfriend.”

You nearly knock your cup over. “I’m not—!”

But you don’t finish that sentence. Because the words feel too close to something you’ve been avoiding.

You try to bury it—tell yourself it’s just concern. You’re just… grateful. It’s not like that. You don’t miss his stupid smirk or the way he always stands too close just to fluster you. You don’t care about how his hair always looks so damn soft, or how his voice drops a little when he’s serious with you.

You don’t.

You don’t.

Then the whispers start.

“No signal from the scouting team.”

“They were supposed to be back by now.”

A cold chill snakes down your spine.

You start going to the gate more. Just to check. You pretend it’s coincidence.

It’s not.

You catch yourself gripping the straps of your bag harder than usual. You’ve never hated waiting so much in your life.

Until one evening—

The gates finally creak open.

Your breath catches in your throat as the guards call out a name. Several figures walk through the archway, dust and blood clinging to their clothes.

And there he is.

White hair, blue eyes. One sleeve ripped off, a gash on his collarbone, dried blood staining his neck—but he’s alive.

“Satoru,” you whisper, already walking forward.

His eyes find yours instantly. That grin pulls at his lips like it never left.

“Aww, did you miss me?”

You don’t answer. You just hit his shoulder. “Idiot.”

But then your hands linger, and before you can stop yourself, you’re pulling him into a tight hug.

He stiffens, just for a second. Then his arms slide around you, strong and warm.

“Try not to cry too hard,” he mutters, voice light—but there’s something tight beneath it.

“I hate you,” you mumble into his shirt.

“Sure you do,” he chuckles, and when you pull back, his smile softens.

You don’t know what this feeling is. Or maybe you do. You just don’t want to name it yet.

But you know this: You’re glad he came back.

And for now, that’s enough.

-

You wander the halls of the prison alone, the hum of fluorescent lights above your head flickering inconsistently. Satoru had taken the kids out back for training, and with nothing to do and no one to bother you, you figured you’d finally explore the rest of the base.

The place was massive—too massive. Each cell block looked like the next, corridors looping endlessly into each other until your curiosity outweighs your sense of direction. One door, rusted and slightly ajar, catches your eye.

You should’ve turned around.

You push it open.

Inside is dark, dusty. Shelves line the walls, broken crates and old rations tossed everywhere. You wander deeper, hesitant but unaware. That is…until it hits.

The smell.

Rotting flesh, stagnant air, the thick, unmistakable stench of death.

And then—movement.

Shuffling. A low groan. Shadows twitch. A hand smacks against a shelf and knocks it over with a crash.

They're here.

Your eyes snap wide and panic sets in instantly. There are so many.

You run.

You shove a metal shelf in their path, throw an old stool, anything you can get your hands on to slow them down. Your breaths are shallow, desperate. But just as you near the exit—

Your ankle gives out.

A sick snap, searing pain, and you crash to the floor with a cry. You scramble backward, pressing yourself against the wall, using your good leg to kick anything that comes close.

This is it. This is it.

You squeeze your eyes shut, heart pounding.

Gunshots.

The sound like thunder crashing right next to your ear.

You blink up, barely processing the white blur tearing through the undead like paper.

“I told you not to go in here!” he shouts, voice slicing through the chaos.

“Satoru—!”

The zombies turn just in time for Satoru to drive his fist into the nearest one’s chest, cracking bone and sending it flying back into the others like bowling pins.

“Seriously?” he growls, stepping in front of you, his broad back shielding your crumpled form. “I leave you alone for five minutes.”

One lunges from the side. Gojo ducks effortlessly, grabs it by the throat, and slams it into the ground so hard its skull splits open on impact. Another claws at his shoulder, but he just grabs its wrist, twists, and kicks out its knee in one brutal motion. It collapses, and he doesn’t even look as he drives a sharp piece of wood through its head.

And then—you're in his arms. Just like that.

Lifted effortlessly, pressed against his chest as he strides out of the hellhole.

You cling to him, trembling.

“I didn’t know it was the commissary,” you whisper between sobs. “I didn’t mean to—I didn’t know—I just—God, I’m so sorry, Gojo, I—”

His voice is low, firm, but gentle. “Hey. Breathe. I’ve got you.”

You look up at him, lip quivering. “I—I made you worry…”

“Yeah, you did,” he says with a wry little smirk, but his eyes are too soft, too relieved to match it. “Don’t ever do that again, got it?”

You nod.

“Good,” he murmurs, brushing a sweaty strand of hair from your face. “Because if I lost you... I’d have to kill the rest of the world just for pissing me off.”

Your breath hitches.

You stare up at him, heart pounding, face flushed from more than just the sprint for your life.

“W-What kind of psycho logic is that?” you mutter, trying to deflect, your voice barely steady.

Satoru smirks down at you, still holding you effortlessly in his arms like you weigh nothing. “C’mon, don’t act so surprised. I’m dramatic, haven’t you noticed?”

“You’re insane,” you whisper, trying not to combust under his gaze.

“And you’re blushing,” he points out smugly, nose nearly brushing yours. “Kinda cute, actually.”

You twist in his hold, hiding your face against his shoulder. “Shut up,” you mumble, voice muffled.

He laughs softly, the sound vibrating through your chest. “Can’t. Teasing you is the only thing keeping me sane these days.”

You can feel the tension slipping away, replaced by something heavier, warmer. He lowers you gently onto a nearby bench just outside the danger zone, kneeling before you like it’s second nature, hands skimming your calves as he examines your ankle again.

When he looks up this time, his expression is different. Less playful. More raw.

“I meant it, you know,” he says quietly. “You scared the hell out of me in there.”

You blink, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. “I didn’t mean to—”

“I know,” he cuts in, hand brushing yours. “But next time, brat, wait for me. No solo adventures.”

Your lips twitch. “You’re calling me a brat now?”

“Borrowing the title. Think I earned it after saving your ass.”

You huff a laugh, cheeks still warm. “…Thanks.”

His grin softens. “Anytime.”

And just like that, you both sit there—his fingers still wrapped gently around your hand, his thumb rubbing absent circles over your knuckles—as the adrenaline fades and something else takes its place. Something quieter. Heavier. Charged.

-

Satoru insists on carrying you the whole way to the infirmary, ignoring your every protest.

“This is unnecessary,” you mutter, burying your face in his shoulder to avoid every curious glance.

“You twisted your ankle and almost got mauled. Humor me,” he says, smug but gentle, like the two can coexist in him with ease.

He kicks open the infirmary door with his foot.

“Delivery for one idiot who wandered into a no-go zone,” he calls out casually.

Shoko looks up from her desk, raising a brow at the sight of you both. “Well, well. If it isn’t the base’s golden boy and his damsel in distress.”

“I wasn’t distressed,” you blurt out instantly, wiggling in Gojo’s hold.

“Oh?” she hums, amused. “You sure? Because I could’ve sworn I heard ‘Gojo! Help!’ from all the way down the hall.”

You splutter. “That’s not— I mean—”

“Loudly,” she adds with a pointed smirk.

Satoru just laughs and sets you down on one of the cots, his hand lingering a little longer than necessary on your back before stepping aside.

“She’s fine. Just the ankle,” he says. “But maybe check if she sprained anything else. She fell pretty hard.”

Shoko moves closer, completely ignoring the medical part for now, because she’s too focused on watching the both of you squirm.

“Ohhh,” she teases, eyes sparkling. “Look at the two of you. Cute. Almost like a couple.”

You and Satoru freeze at the exact same time.

“Nope!”

“Not a couple!”

“Definitely not!”

You shoot each other a panicked glance and then immediately look away, flustered messes in stereo.

Shoko snorts. “Uh-huh. Sure.”

You glare. “Can we just focus on my ankle now?”

“Fine, fine,” she drawls, clearly enjoying herself. “Just sayin’. Wouldn’t be the worst match. You get saved, he gets to play hero. Very fairytale.”

“I hate all of this,” you mutter under your breath, while Satoru just smiles to himself, unbothered but definitely pleased.

When Shoko starts wrapping your ankle, he leans against the wall with his arms crossed, watching.

And you swear you see it—that tiny, knowing glint in his eyes.

Like he wants her to say it again.

Because maybe, just maybe… he doesn’t mind the idea.

-

It’s later that night when there’s a knock at your door. You’ve barely had time to settle in, still awkwardly hobbling around on one foot with your bandaged ankle.

“Who is it?” you call.

“It’s your favorite,” comes the unmistakable voice from the other side.

You roll your eyes but can’t stop the tiny smile tugging at your lips. “Didn’t know Nanami suddenly got chatty.”

A muffled chuckle. “Ha. Hilarious. Open up.”

You limp to the door and unlock it. Satoru is standing there, a little disheveled, hands full.

“Brought you dinner,” he says casually, holding out a tray with two mismatched bowls, steam still curling from the soup. “Figured you might be tired of Shoko’s painkillers and snark.”

You blink, caught off guard. “You didn’t have to.”

“I know,” he says dramatically, stepping in without being invited. “That’s what makes me so noble.”

You laugh despite yourself, and he grins like that was the goal all along. He sets the tray down on your little desk, then gestures toward your bed.

“Come on, sit. Can’t have you falling over again. One near-death experience per day is my limit.”

You sit, trying not to look too charmed when he settles next to you—close, but not too close—just enough for your knees to brush.

“I still feel terrible about earlier,” you say after a moment, poking at the edge of your bowl. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“You didn’t worry me,” he says too quickly, too nonchalantly.

You glance up. “Liar.”

He sighs and leans back on his hands, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

“Fine. Maybe I panicked a little. Sue me.”

A silence lingers, not uncomfortable. Just… warm.

Then, softer: “Don’t do that again, okay?”

You look at him, really look at him—the shadows under his eyes, the slight dip in his brow, the way his voice softens when it’s just you and him.

And something in your chest stirs. Something that’s been creeping in, slow and steady, ever since he offered you food by a fire that first night.

You nod. “I won’t.”

He glances over, catches your gaze—and doesn’t look away this time.

There’s something unspoken passing between you. Familiar. Intense. Safe.

“You’re really something, y’know that?” he murmurs.

You raise a brow. “That supposed to be a compliment?”

He smirks. “Depends. You gonna fall harder for me if it is?”

You flush instantly. “Satoru—”

He laughs and nudges your bowl toward you. “Eat before it gets cold, princess.”

You grumble under your breath but dig in.

And Satoru?

He watches you with that same lopsided grin, heart doing something stupid in his chest.

Because yeah—maybe you fell.

But maybe he’s been falling, too.

-

It’s past midnight when you stir.

The pain in your ankle has dulled to a throb, but it isn’t what wakes you. It’s… something else. A presence. Warm. Close.

You blink against the low glow of the hallway light seeping under your door, and when your eyes adjust—

You see him.

Satoru.

Slouched in the chair by your bed, long legs awkwardly folded, head tipped to the side, snowy hair falling across his face in soft, messy tufts. His mouth is slightly parted, breathing slow and even. His arms are crossed, like he hadn’t meant to fall asleep there.

Like he was just keeping watch.

Just in case.

Your heart does a little flip.

You shift quietly, trying not to make a sound. But even with all your care, the mattress creaks—barely. His eyes snap open immediately, hand twitching toward a weapon that isn’t there. Pure instinct.

Then he sees you. And relaxes.

“Oh,” he breathes, voice gravelly with sleep. “You’re awake.”

You sit up slowly. “Were you… here all night?”

He rubs the back of his neck. “Not all night. Just since… y’know. Evening.”

You squint at him. “Satoru.”

He sighs. “Fine. Yeah. All night.”

You stare at him. “Why?”

He shrugs, suddenly sheepish. “Wanted to make sure you didn’t wander off again and get yourself eaten.”

You frown. “You should’ve slept in your room.”

He smirks. “What, and miss out on babysitting you?”

You chuck a pillow at him.

He catches it easily and grins. But when he sees you holding his gaze, that grin softens.

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” he admits, quieter now.

Something gentle settles in your chest. You pull your blanket up and scoot slightly to the side.

“…There’s space. If you’re tired.”

He blinks at you. “Are you asking me to cuddle, orrrr…”

You glare. “I’m offering you a more comfortable sleeping arrangement.”

He doesn’t hesitate.

He slides in beside you carefully, so carefully, like you’ll break if he jostles you too much. And then you feel the warmth of him next to you, his presence steady and solid and safe.

“…This okay?” he murmurs, his voice a whisper in the dark.

You nod.

And slowly, slowly, you feel his fingers brush yours under the blanket. He doesn't hold your hand—not yet. Just touches.

Testing the waters.

You don’t pull away.

And in the silence that follows, you hear his breathing even out again.

But yours?

Yours is all over the place.

-

Morning sunlight filters through the barred window, casting soft stripes across your face.

You're warm. So warm.

Your cheek is pressed against something solid. Something that rises and falls gently beneath you. And there’s a hand resting at the small of your back, pulling you closer, keeping you there.

Your heart skips.

Your eyes blink open—and there he is.

Gojo Satoru. Asleep. Face relaxed and serene, messy white hair haloed in gold light. His other arm is curled under your pillow, supporting your head like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And you're lying on top of him.

Your breath catches in your throat.

You should move. You need to move.

But just as you're about to untangle yourself—

Click.

The door creaks open.

You freeze.

“Oh my god,” comes Shoko’s voice, casual, amused, and way too smug. “Well, well—what do we have here?”

You nearly leap out of bed, scrambling to sit up—only for your body to protest painfully, and you wince with a hiss.

Satoru wakes with a start, blinking up at Shoko in confusion before slowly realizing the position you're in.

“Oh,” he says blankly. “Morning, doc.”

You swat his shoulder. “Say something useful?!”

Shoko just leans against the doorway, arms crossed, grinning like she’s discovered the world’s juiciest secret. “No no, don’t let me interrupt. I was just checking on the patient, but clearly, she’s in very good hands.”

You’re burning. “It’s not what it looks like!”

Shoko raises a brow. “Oh, so you weren’t cuddled up like two lovebirds all night? Should I tell Nanami you’ve finally found someone willing to put up with your nonsense, Satoru?”

He stretches lazily and pulls the blanket back over himself with a smirk. “Actually, yeah. Tell him. Maybe then he’ll finally stop lecturing me about responsibility.”

You groan and bury your face in your hands. “I’m never going to live this down.”

Shoko chuckles, walking away. “Nope. I’m telling everyone.”

The door clicks shut behind her.

Silence.

You glare at Satoru through your fingers. “This is your fault.”

He grins. “You offered me a spot on the bed, your majesty.”

You shove a pillow at him. He catches it—again.

And then he smiles, soft and teasing, voice still a little raspy from sleep.

“...So. Want me to sleep over again tonight?”

“Get out.”

-

The first few days are rough.

You try to walk without limping. Try to reach for things on your own. Try not to feel like a burden.

But then there’s him.

You wake up to warm food at your bedside, Satoru leaning against the doorframe with a smug grin. “Brought you breakfast in bed, sweetheart. Don’t get used to it—I’m not always this nice.”

He very much is.

He offers his arm without asking when you need support. Doesn’t mention it when you wince or grit your teeth. Just lets you lean on him, like you’ve always belonged there.

You try to carry something heavy across the hall—he appears out of nowhere, snatching it from your hands. “Tsk. You trying to die or what?”

You try to help in the kitchen. He catches you wobbling and swoops in with a hand around your waist. “Whoa there, Bambi. What happened to ‘taking it easy’?”

You try to sneak off to explore the base again. He corners you in the hallway with a look that says absolutely not. “You’re still healing, brat. Unless you want me to carry you everywhere again?”

Cue your entire face combusting.

He’s annoying. Cocky. Ridiculously persistent.

But…

He adjusts your blanket when you’re asleep on the couch. Tucks a water bottle by your side without saying anything. Teaches you how to balance properly on one foot so your ankle can recover without straining the other.

And at night, when you think everyone’s asleep, you catch him checking on you—quietly, carefully. Making sure you’re okay.

You pretend not to notice.

But your heart notices. It notices everything.

-

You stand in the middle of your room, shifting your weight onto your healed ankle, then back again. No pain. No tightness. Just a deep breath and the quiet realization:

You’re better. Finally.

The door creaks open without warning—because Satoru never knocks—and in he strolls with his usual swagger and two mugs in hand. “Morning, sweetheart. Brought you—"

He stops in his tracks.

You’re standing. Not limping. Not clutching the edge of the bed for balance.

Just… standing.

He squints, slowly lowering one mug. “...Why aren’t you in bed?”

You raise a brow. “Because I’m not dying?”

“Oh no. Absolutely not.” He sets the mugs down and points a very offended finger at you. “You don’t just get to get better without warning me. I was emotionally invested in this arc.”

You laugh. “Sorry to ruin your Florence Nightingale fantasy.”

“Ruin? Excuse you, I was thriving. Who’s gonna let me spoon-feed you now?”

You roll your eyes, limping toward him just to mess with him. “I could pretend, if it makes you feel better.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

He walks over before you can say anything else—his hands hover, cautious at first, then one slides to your waist. “You really okay?”

You nod. “I’m good. Really.”

Satoru lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Then he grins. “Alright. Guess that means I can stop being your personal nurse and go back to being your favorite nuisance.”

You’re smiling. He’s back to teasing. But there’s a softness in his eyes that lingers a little too long, a thumb that brushes your hip before falling away.

He missed taking care of you.

And maybe, just maybe, you kind of miss being taken care of.

-

You’re jogging laps around the edge of the prison yard, the early morning chill nipping at your cheeks. It’s peaceful—quiet enough that your footsteps and the rhythmic beat of your breath are the only sounds you hear.

Until a familiar voice breaks through the silence.

“Well, well, if it isn’t my favorite brat, back in action.”

You slow down, a smirk tugging at your lips as you turn toward the voice—and promptly choke on air.

Satoru.

Stretching.

Shirtless.

His snowy hair tousled from whatever ungodly workout he’s been doing, sweat gleaming on the hard lines of his chest and abs like the universe conspired to craft a Renaissance painting just to spite you. His sweats hang low on his hips, revealing that infuriating V-line that should not be legal in a post-apocalyptic society.

You blink. Once. Twice.

He grins, catching the way your eyes are very not subtly stuck on him.

“Like what you see?”

You scowl, instantly turning your gaze to a very fascinating patch of dirt on the ground. “Please. I’ve seen better.”

“Mmhm.” He takes a deliberate step forward, arms crossing over his annoyingly perfect chest. “Name one.”

“...”

“That’s what I thought.”

You huff and start jogging again, forcing your eyes to stay forward. But then he jogs up beside you—shirtless and smug, of course—and easily matches your pace.

“You sure you’re fully healed? What if you, I dunno… trip and fall again?” he says, tone mockingly sweet. “Need me to catch you, princess?”

“I’d rather faceplant into a zombie.”

He laughs, low and lazy. “I dunno, that sounds painful. Better to land on something soft. Like me.”

You glare at him, cheeks burning. “You’re the worst.”

“And yet,” he nudges you playfully with his elbow, “you’re still jogging next to me. Who’s really winning here?”

You roll your eyes, trying to ignore the warmth crawling up your neck. But deep down, you know.

He’s definitely winning.

-

After the jog, Satoru insists you “cool down” with some light sparring. You roll your eyes, but follow him to the training mats anyway. He’s already bouncing on his heels when you step in front of him, still shirtless, still smug.

“You sure you’re up for this?” he teases. “Wouldn’t want to break you again.”

“I’m more worried about bruising your ego,” you shoot back, taking your stance.

He whistles low. “Feisty. I like it.”

The sparring begins—light jabs, easy dodges. You’re nimble, focused, but he is... effortless. Every time you swipe at him, he ducks with a grin. When you go in for a kick, he sidesteps and lets out an exaggerated yawn.

“You done yet, sweetheart?” he asks, still dancing around you. “At this rate, I could do this blindfolded.”

“Shut up and hold still!” you lunge at him again—this time faster, bolder—but he grabs your wrist mid-swing and spins you around so fast the world tilts. Before you know it—

You’re pinned.

Back hits the wall. His hand holds your wrists above your head, other arm braced beside you. His body is dangerously close, breath fanning your cheek. His tone shifts, deeper. Rougher.

“You keep mouthing off like that,” he murmurs, eyes gleaming, “I might start thinking you want me to put you in your place.”

Your breath catches. “I—”

“Hmm?” he leans in, lips ghosting your jaw. “No witty comeback now?”

You try to move, but his grip tightens just slightly. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to remind you that this isn’t a game anymore.

“I could kiss you right now,” he whispers, “and there’s nothing you could do about it.”

Your heart hammers in your chest. “You wouldn’t.”

He smiles. Slow. Dangerous.

“Wanna bet?”

Your breathing is shallow, heat rising to your cheeks. You’re acutely aware of how close he is, the way his chest brushes against yours with every breath, the sharp glint in his eye, the smirk that’s far too smug for your sanity.

And then—

His lips graze your neck. Barely there. A soft brush of heat against your skin. You flinch—not out of fear, but from the jolt that shoots down your spine. Goosebumps bloom instantly. His breath tickles your skin.

“Sensitive,” he hums, lips ghosting up toward your jaw, “...cute.”

“Satoru—” you whisper, voice barely audible.

He pulls back just enough to look at you. His gaze drops to your lips, heavy and unblinking. And he leans in, slower this time, like he wants you to feel the anticipation. You can feel your heartbeat in your throat—

And then—

“AM I INTERRUPTING SOMETHING?”

You both jolt like you’ve been electrocuted.

Satoru spins around with a groan, still caging you against the wall. “Shoko. Seriously?”

She stands a few feet away, arms crossed, one brow cocked and a wicked smirk playing at her lips. “Wow. Could cut the tension with a scalpel. Should I come back later or just pass you a condom now?”

“Shoko,” you squeak, face on fire, squirming to escape Gojo’s hold.

He lets you go reluctantly, chuckling under his breath. “You wish you caught the good part.”

“I did catch the part where your face was buried in her neck like a starving vampire,” Shoko deadpans.

You bury your face in your hands.

Satoru just laughs. “You jealous?”

“Please. I'd rather not watch my coworkers dry hump in public,” she says, already turning on her heel. “Anyway. You two lovebirds done? I need one of you to help with supplies.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Gojo waves her off. Then he glances back at you, still all flushed and flustered, and leans down one last time to whisper in your ear:

“To be continued, princess.”

And just like that, he strolls off like nothing happened.

You're left against the wall, heart pounding, neck tingling, completely and utterly undone.

-

It’s quiet for once.

Most of the clan is out on a supply run or patrolling the perimeter. You’d offered to stay behind, helping Shoko reorganize her medical supplies before wandering off with a basket of laundry—warm clothes folded under your arm as you pace the empty corridors of the prison, barefoot, relaxed.

You finally set the basket down in the communal quarters, humming under your breath while sorting through what belongs to who. It’s… peaceful. The late afternoon sun slants in through the high windows, bathing everything in warm light.

Until—

“Picking up where we left off?”

You jolt, nearly dropping the shirt in your hands.

Gojo.

Leaning against the doorframe, casual as ever, sleeves pushed up, hair a bit messy like he just woke from a nap. His eyes are glinting beneath the lazy droop of his lashes, and that smirk—that godforsaken smirk—is unmistakable.

He saunters in before you can get a word in.

“Geez, you sneak up on people like a damn ghost,” you mumble, cheeks already burning as you turn back to the laundry.

“Aw, don’t be shy now,” he teases, coming closer. “You weren’t so shy when I had you pinned against the wall.”

You stiffen. “You got interrupted. Big difference.”

“Oh? So you wanted me to kiss you?”

You glare at him over your shoulder, but he’s already behind you, arms slipping around your waist—loosely at first, giving you a chance to push him away.

You don’t.

“I was thinking about you,” he murmurs against your ear. “All damn day. Thought I’d come see how you were holding up without me.”

“I was fine,” you huff, but it’s so breathless it betrays you instantly.

He chuckles. “That right?”

His hands glide up your sides, slow and sure, fingertips teasing the hem of your shirt. “C’mon, sweetheart. Just admit it—you missed me.”

You turn in his arms, glaring—but it’s weak at best. “You’re so full of yourself.”

“Maybe,” he leans in, forehead brushing yours, voice dropping, “but I still remember how fast your heart was beating last time.”

You swallow.

And this time? There’s no Shoko to walk in. No patrols due back. No reason to stop.

You hesitate for a beat.

And then you pull him in by the collar.

The kiss is feral. All teeth and tongue and breathless gasps. Weeks—months—of tension snapping all at once. His hands find your waist, gripping tight as he hoists you up like you weigh nothing.

“Fuck—” he groans against your lips. “You’ve been killing me, y’know that?”

You wrap your legs around his waist and tug him closer. “Good.”

He pulls back, grinning. “Oh, you wanna play it like that?”

You don’t get a chance to answer before he’s kissing down your jaw, your neck, dragging that maddening tongue of his down your collarbone. His hands are everywhere—palming your hips, your thighs, sliding under your shirt like he owns you.

Which, at this point, maybe he does.

“Tell me to stop,” he pants, hovering over your lips again. “Tell me now, and I will.”

You look him dead in the eyes, tug his shirt over his head, and whisper:

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

Your back hits the nearest wall with a muffled gasp, Satoru’s mouth already on yours, hungry and hot. His hands roam your body like he’s memorizing it with touch alone, fingers tugging at fabric with a frustrated groan.

“Off,” he growls into the kiss, already pulling your shirt over your head like it's offended him. He sets you down to pull your pants down along with your panties. And the moment you’re bare before him, he stands back, breath catching in his throat. His eyes—icy blue and blown wide with lust—roam your figure, landing on your chest like he’s just been given the meaning of life.

“…Can I motorboat your tits?”

You blink.

You laugh, startled and breathless. “Are you—are you serious right now?”

His lips curve into a wolfish grin, and he’s already surging forward to kiss you again. “Maybe next time,” he mumbles between kisses. “I don’t think I can wait to taste you now.”

You arch a brow, teasing, breath catching when he trails his mouth down your jaw. “Next time?”

He chuckles, low and dark. “You think I’m letting you off the hook after this?” His hands slide down your waist, thumbs stroking your hips. “Nah, sweetheart. I’m gonna ruin you.”

Then he sinks to his knees.

The grin fades into something hungrier, more reverent as he kisses the inside of your thigh, dragging his teeth gently across soft skin. “Spread ‘em for me,” he says, voice a whisper but firm. And when you do, he groans like he’s just tasted something forbidden.

You cry out the second his tongue touches you, hands flying to grip his hair. He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t want to. It’s slow, torturous—his pace deliberate as he works you open, devouring like a man starved. His moans vibrate against your skin, and when your legs tremble, he just pins them open wider, groaning, “That’s it… let me hear you, baby.”

Your back arches as Satoru licks another slow, devastating stripe up your core, tongue curling at your entrance before he moves to suck gently on your clit. Your fingers tighten in his hair, thighs instinctively trying to close around his head—but his arms loop under your knees, spreading you wider, holding you open like he owns you.

“You're not going anywhere,” he mutters, eyes flicking up, glazed over with lust and something dangerous. “Told you. I’m gonna ruin you.”

Then he’s back at it—slower this time, tongue flattening against you, then circling, dragging soft groans out of you as the tension coils tight in your belly. He eats you out like he’s trying to memorize the taste of you, savoring every movement, every moan he draws. He alternates between deep, dragging strokes and sharp, teasing flicks, lips closing around your clit to suck just hard enough to make your breath hitch.

You cry out, hips bucking up into his mouth, and he growls—low and throaty—as if turned on by how wrecked you already are.

"Fuck—so sweet," he groans, voice muffled against you. “Could stay down here all night.”

And he means it. He shifts slightly, tongue plunging into you now, slow and shallow, nose nudging your clit as he drinks in every sound you make like it fuels him. Every little tremble, every whimper—he devours it.

He doesn’t stop. Not when you start trembling, not when you whine his name in warning. He keeps going, lips slick and relentless, until—

Your vision whites out. Your body tightens, back bowing, mouth falling open on a silent scream as you fall over the edge, pleasure shattering through you like a storm.

Only then does he pull back, lips and chin glistening. He breathes hard, eyes dark and blown, grinning like he just won a war.

“That’s the sound I wanted to hear.”

He stands up again to pick you up, carrying you to the nearby table, settling you on it, completely bare under the low light, legs parted slightly, chest heaving. You’re flushed, trembling—not from fear, but anticipation. Nerves. Heat. It’s all crashing together in your head, and he sees it.

His hands move to his waistband, fingers curling beneath the fabric of his pants. He tugs them down with practiced ease, freeing himself—and your breath catches.

Your eyes drift down instinctively, and your stomach tightens at the sight of him. He’s big. Thick, flushed, already hard and aching.

Your pulse stutters, nerves flickering to the surface. “Oh…”

“Hey,” he says gently, fingers brushing your cheek. “You okay?”

You hesitate, biting your lip. “It’s just… I’ve never done this before.”

Satoru freezes for a moment. His expression doesn’t shift much—but his eyes, bright and blue, soften in an instant.

“…You haven’t?” he asks quietly, tone a stark contrast to the sinful smirk he wore earlier. You shake your head.

He exhales slowly, like he’s grounding himself. Then he leans in and kisses you—slow, patient, loving.

“Well, fuck,” he murmurs against your lips. “Now I really have to behave.”

You blink up at him. “You? Behave?”

He chuckles, brushing his thumb over your lower lip. “Okay, maybe not completely. But I’ll go slow. Make it good for you. You trust me, right?”

You nod.

“Good.” His voice drops a little. “Then let me take care of you, yeah?”

He’s gentle—so gentle it almost breaks you. His lips move from your mouth to your jaw, down your neck, to your chest. He pauses there, kissing over your breasts, fingers caressing your sides as though you might disappear if he’s not careful.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he breathes. “Gonna remember this forever.”

When he finally lines himself up, he doesn’t rush. He keeps kissing you, whispering into your skin.

“Breathe with me,” he says. “Nice and easy, baby. Just relax.”

The stretch burns, but his voice never leaves you. His hands never stop moving—stroking your sides, brushing your hair from your face, thumbing away the tears that prick at the corners of your eyes.

“You’re doing so good,” he murmurs. “So tight, fuck—squeezing me like you were made for me.”

Your breath catches, eyes fluttering shut.

“Look at me,” he says softly, “I wanna see your face.”

You meet his eyes—blown wide with emotion, affection, reverence. And that’s when he starts to move. Slowly, so slowly you can feel everything. Every drag, every pull.

“Feels good?” he asks, and when you nod, he smiles like you’ve just handed him the universe.

“You’re perfect,” he groans, picking up pace just a little. “Takin’ me so well, sweetheart. My pretty girl, lettin’ me be her first.”

You moan—part embarrassment, part bliss—and he kisses the sound from your mouth.

“Can’t believe no one’s touched you like this before,” he mutters against your skin. “But I’m glad. Glad it’s me. Glad I get to show you.”

He starts rolling his hips deeper, each thrust slow and purposeful, coaxing pleasure out of you bit by bit.

“Let go, baby. I’ve got you.”

You’re already gasping—your body burning, overstimulated from the build-up and the way he moves inside you. Every drag of him is a stretch, a delicious ache, and you’re trying so hard to keep up, to breathe, to hold yourself together—but it’s too much.

And then it hits.

Your climax crashes over you like a tidal wave—louder, sharper, more intense than the last—and your body tightens instinctively, your walls fluttering around him like they don’t want to let him go.

“Fuck—” Satoru’s voice breaks, a guttural groan tumbling from his throat as he stills, trembling above you. “You’re gonna ruin me, baby…”

His grip tightens on your waist, jaw clenched as he tries to hold back—but you’re squeezing him so tight, so perfect, and his restraint shatters.

“You’re killin’ me,” he grits out, starting to move again—deeper, slower, more intentional—but there’s an edge of desperation now. His forehead presses to yours, breath ragged. “Feels so good—fuck, I don’t wanna hurt you.”

You shake your head, nails digging into his shoulders. “Don’t stop,” you whimper, barely able to form the words. “Please…”

He kisses you hard—like he can’t help himself, like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded. “You’re doin’ so good for me, sweetheart. So, so good…”

“‘Toru-” you whimper.

That breaks him.

He groans, slamming into you harder, mouth finding your neck as he nips and kisses down to your collarbone. “Fuck. Say it again.”

You whimper again, brain hazy. “‘Toru…”

He kisses you slow then, deeper. Rough pace never faltering, but his hands gentler now—one wrapping around your waist, the other brushing the hair from your face.

“Mine,” he murmurs against your lips. “You’re mine now, yeah?”

You nod desperately, legs locking around his hips. “Yours.”

“Damn right,” he grits, driving into you harder, chasing both your highs with everything he has.

The overstimulation has tears stinging your eyes, your legs trembling, voice catching on every moan. And when that next orgasm builds too fast, too hard—it snaps through you like a live wire. Your body arches off the table, clamping down around him again—

—and Satoru snaps.

“Shit—take it, baby. Let me fill you up, yeah? Gonna make you mine, fuck, you already are—look at you...” he chokes out, thrusting deep one last time before he comes, spilling into you with a long, breathless groan. His arms wrap around you as if to anchor himself, holding you so close, like he needs to feel every inch of you, inside and out.

“Look at you,” he murmurs between pants, pressing kisses across your face. “Takin’ me so well… You’re mine now, yeah? All mine.”

You nod, dazed and boneless, wrapped in his warmth.

And he stays like that, inside you, forehead resting against yours as he murmurs soft, reverent praises—like this wasn’t just your first time.

Like it was everything.

Your body’s still trembling—nerves fried, skin flushed, heart thudding against your chest as if it’s trying to burst free. You’re barely aware of anything except the warm, strong arms pulling you into a careful embrace, the kiss he presses to your temple like it’s the most sacred thing he could ever do.

“Hey…” Satoru murmurs, voice all honey and rasp, rough around the edges but impossibly gentle. “You okay?”

You nod, chest rising and falling against his, cheeks still hot, but there’s a smile on your lips.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “Just… wow.”

He laughs softly, the sound low and breathy as his fingers brush along your spine in lazy, soothing strokes. “You were incredible,” he says, and he means it. Every word. “So good for me. So perfect.”

Your face scrunches with a flustered noise, burying it into his shoulder. “Stop…”

“Never,” he grins, nosing into your hair. “You don’t get to be all pretty and sweet and make those sounds and expect me to stay quiet about it.”

You groan. “Satoru—”

“Shhh.” 

His palm rests on your back as he holds you close, thumb drawing lazy circles. You can still feel the dull, pleasant ache of him inside you, the heat he left behind. His breath is warm against your cheek. Safe. Comforting.

“You did so good, baby,” he murmurs again, pressing a kiss just beneath your jaw. “First time and you still managed to rock my fucking world.”

Your heart stutters. “Wasn’t just the sex,” you say quietly.

He stills for half a second—and then he smiles, soft and genuine.

“I know,” he whispers.

You’re still breathless, body flushed and boneless in his arms when Satoru gathers you close, lips pressed gently to your temple. The air between you is warm, quiet save for the distant hum of life around the base. He shifts a little, glancing down at the table beneath you both, and you catch that flicker in his eyes—guilt, soft and creeping.

“I should’ve…” he starts, voice low, almost sheepish. “Shit, I should’ve taken you somewhere better. A bed, a blanket, something that wasn’t a hardass table. It was your first time and I just—” He pauses, brows pinching like the regret’s eating at him now. “I got selfish.”

You lift your hand to his cheek, thumb brushing over the corner of his mouth. “Hey,” you whisper, leaning in until your lips ghost over his, shutting him up with a kiss so soft, so full of emotion it makes his heart stutter.

When you pull back, your smile is small but sure. “It was more than okay. Because it was with you.”

Satoru blinks, breath caught in his throat. And for once, the man with a mouth like a wildfire doesn’t have anything to say.

Until he pulls you tighter into his chest and mutters, “You’re gonna be the death of me, you know that?”

You just grin into his skin. “Guess we’ll go down together then.”

Then silence. Not awkward, not tense—just full of warmth. Full of everything. His arms around you. Your fingers laced with his.

You don’t say it. Not yet. But maybe one day soon.

For now, the way he holds you like you’re something to be cherished?

It’s more than enough.

author's note. finally have time to post consistently! last month or two were BUSY so couldn't do much </3 i'm proud of how this one turned out ^^ also, shoko is such a baddie i love her

please do not steal, modify, or translate my work.

𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐨 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐟𝐨𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞 𝐅𝐢𝐜𝐬

𝑀𝑦 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒 (𝑠𝑚𝑢𝑡, 𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑠𝑡) posted

𝐻𝑜𝑙𝑖𝑑𝑎𝑦𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝐸𝑛𝑔𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑑 (𝑠𝑚𝑢𝑡, 𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑠𝑡, 𝑓𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓)

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

𝑇𝘩𝑒 𝐷𝑢𝑘𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐼 (𝑠𝑚𝑢𝑡, 𝑓𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓, 𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑠𝑡, 𝑎𝑢) paused

$50,000 immediately dropped into my bank account wouldn't improve EVERYTHING but boy it sure would be a grand, sexy little start to a good, happy life path, don't you think

yummyyy

Cocky!Aonung talking shit about splitting Human!Reader in two and pounding her small demon pussy, but all his control thrown out the window when he bottoms out due to how tight she is. Like it’s driving him fucking crazy and he’s holding back so much. AND READER KNOWS.

She pulls his hand off her hip and glides it over the bulge he’s making in her stomach🥴 she turns her head to look back at him “Your so big stretching me out so good.” She’s just teasing the fuck out of him (Size kink go brrr)

Sincerely,😩

Ruin me

adult Ao‘nung x female human reader

Words: 5k

Summary: Ao‘nung thinks he’s no match to any human males and could easily ruin you for all of your kind. Oh, was he wrong about that.

Warnings: explicit smut, size difference, size kink, belly bulge, Ao‘nung is drunk, dirty talk, slight degradation, cowgirl position, oral, switch!Ao‘nung

adult Ao‘nung art was made by the amazing @Cinetrix 🩵

Translations:

tawtute = human, sky person

paskalin = honey

naer = alcoholic drink

Music, the flickering light of the big fire, the stink of naer [alcoholic drink], some metkayina dancing around the fire place while others told stories that emitted great laughed from all around them. Not exactly something you wouldn’t find enjoyable. Normally. The music was okay, but maybe if the booze wasn’t as disgusting you could find it in yourself to get up and dance with Kiri, but sadly eywa hadn’t granted you this luxury. So you just had to suffer through it, sober and bored, while everyone else seemed to have the time of their lives.

Being the only human in the village sucks. It makes you miss home more than anything, and you can’t help but drift off into happier memories. The omatikaya knew how to celebrate. They also knew how to make you feel welcome. Here, you didn’t even dare raise to your feet and join the cheerful dancing. Not sober, though. Afraid of weird looks from the metkayina that had never before seen a demon this close and still hadn’t grown very fond of you, you decided to stay put for the night.

After a while, Lo‘ak nudges your side and shoves a drink under your nose, but you decline with a put-on smile. Then he shrugs and chucks the liquor by himself. His careless way of drinking the entirely too strong metkayina booze earns him a frown and playful claps to the back of his head by his older brother, and it’s the only thing emitting a slight giggle from you in hours.

So here you were. Stuck between your drunk childhood friends and their new friends, watching people drink and grind (they could call it dancing as much as they wanted, it was obscene grinding and nothing would persuade you of anything different).

The olo’eyktans eldest, Ao‘nung or whatever the brats name was, was standing in front of the group, giving a speech about whatever. You can barely hear the words droning from his mouth, too apathetic to translate them in your head. You lost interest in whatever he had to say a long time ago, not that it was ever there to begin with.

Oh, you could definitely do without Ao’nung. He wasn’t exactly an enemy, but certainly not a friend. Not to you, not after everything he did. Ao’nung was the type of person whose name was known in the village. You realized that on the very first day here. The type of person who everyone loves, mostly because they’re intimated of him. The type of person that could snap his fingers and woman would fall to their knees to please him.

Technically, he had never been rude to you. But that didn’t matter. He was a horrible person by pure association.

Ao’nung carried himself like he owned the island. Well, perhaps he would, someday. But leading and owning are two entirely different things. Something it seems he hasn’t realized just yet. So yes, he’s an asshole. A cocky asshole that has no idea what it’s like to be thankful. What it’s like to be appreciative. He gets everything handed to him on a silver platter and is constantly showered with admiration and attention. And the worst thing of all is, that he believes he could own you, too.

"Oh I could", Ao’nung chuckles, and it’s the first thing he said that you actually registered. You catch the way Neteyam rolls his eyes shortly after giving you the look, and it’s just now that you snap out of your thoughts and realize what was being said must’ve been about you.

"What?" You frown.

"Ruin her", Ao’nung says completely over your head. He’s grinning, talking about you as if you weren’t even here with them and it’s only making things worse. "I could ruin her for all of her kind with ease. Just look at her, she’s so tiny. She probably can’t even take all of it."

"Bro", Lo’ak makes a face of disgust before breaking out in laughter, "don’t be fucking weird."

You sigh, heavily, and then roll your eyes so hard it stings a tiny bit. Not this again, you think.

"What? You don’t think I can, little demon?"

It’s not the first time this topic was bought up by the metkayina man and you know for a fact that it won’t be the last. And what only makes this worse is, you can’t even blame his words on the alcohol flowing through his system. Yes, he’s clearly a bit tipsy, but it seems this has been a topic he frequently occupied himself with. Like a challenge. And maybe that’s what it was for him. Truthfully, you were something new to him. Something exciting. Certainly a new way to proof himself to be the best, a challenge to see if he could actually ruin you. To have the foreign little demon submit to him.

"Fuck off", you tell him with a smile, the english rolling off your tongue so smoothly it makes Lo’ak and Neteyam stifle a laugh to not give away what you just said.

Ao’nung, completely oblivious to your words, grins even wider. His tail wags behind his back and his ears perk up and god, he looks so much like a stupid little puppy waiting for a treat. And as much as watching Ao’nung embarrass himself further because he once again tried and failed to sweet talk his way into your pants, it was late and you only had so much patience left in you today.

So you got up, excused yourself, turned around and walked away, back in the direction of the little camp that was set up for you on your stay with the metkayina.

Except you were stopped just a moment later, by a hand around your wrist, spinning you around and nearly making your mask go flying.

"Whoah, whoah, where do you think you’re going?" Ao’nung laughed, just a bit too loud in his drunkenness. "Party isn’t over yet, paskalin."

"Let me go", you sighed, trying to wriggle yourself free, but his grip was like iron.

"Oh c’mon, loosen up a little. It’s like you don’t know how to have fun! Do I really have to teach you?” Ao’nung shook his head, making soft yet still very audible tsk-tsk sounds. He then lifted the cup in his hand and held it in your face. "Drink."

“No thanks", you politely pushed his hand away. "I prefer the omatikayas naer. It’s sweeter."

This made him laugh again, as if you had just made the best joke he’d heard in ages. “Oh, pretty, you don’t drink for the taste!” He emphasised the word taste, making it sound as if he was trying to explain something to a six-year old. The way your rolled your eyes at him made his face break into a sharp grin, and at this point you genuinely wondered if he thought rolling your eyes at someone was the human equivalent to flirting.

"Okay, no drinks, I get it. Then what do you say about us ditching the others and have some private fun instead, hm?"

"You’re drunk, fish lips, and you know my answer. It’s the same as always."

"And? C‘mon, I’ve been dying to get a taste of you", he chuckles, cocking his head as he looks down at you. "Let me show you how good I could make you feel. I mean what I said earlier, and you know it." For the last part, he leaned down enough so his lips brushed the lobe of your ear as he spoke lowly, "Don’t be shy, let me ruin that pretty little tawtute pussy. I know you want it."

God, he was so insufferable. You knew that you would probably never hear the end of it if you didn’t finally do something against this...

Glancing back over your shoulder, you watched the others lost in their drunken chitter chatter, too distracted to pay you both any mind. Good. "You know what? Fine. Let’s go somewhere else", you said with a shrug and to your amusement, looked back at Ao’nung at the exact moment his brain had processed what you had just said. There was a split second in which his face dropped in utter confusion, before he proudly puffed his chest out and licked his lips in anticipation.

Saying he was like putty in your hands was a fairly humble brag at this point. In truth, he was all yours– fully and completely yours. He just didn’t know it yet.

Watching his wide curious eyes scan the makeshift labs full of sky people technology was a sight better than anything you could’ve ever dreamed about. You love that the big cocky guy seems so out of place here, as he clumsily ducks under the doorframe to your bedroom. Closing the door behind him, you then feel his gaze on you. Ao‘nung doesn’t make much of an act around hiding the lust in his eyes as he watches you discard your mask to the little table next to the door, practically eye-fucking you already.

"Sit down", you tell him, biting the inside of your cheek to hide the amused smile wanting to spread on your lips. You want to play along for a while longer, just for the fun of it. "Straight to the point, huh?" Ao‘nung smirks as he does as instructed, the bed creaking under his weight. "I knew you wanted this just as much as I did."

You shake your head with a giggle as you step closer between his spread thighs. "You’re just so tall", you bat your pretty long lashes at him, talking in your most seductive voice as your hands reach out to wander from his board chest to his shoulders, before your arms encircle his neck. "It’s easier for me to do this when you sit down", you say in a hushed whisper, before pressing your lips against the corner of his mouth, then one more properly on-center. Ao’nung parts his lips, greedy and desperate, but you just ignore him, kisses his bottom lip and bites it softly. Bites it again, harder this time, raking with your teeth until he can feel it swelling up a bit.

And then you kiss him nowhere near chastely. A sigh escapes you and you let it ebb into a soft moan when he slips his tongue into your mouth. His mouth is messy and clever, but you’re making these little noises that are starting to turn him on so damn much, you just know he’s going dizzy with how good it is.

Ao‘nung groans into it, his hands immediately running up your thighs and backside, boldly grabbing a handful of each one of your ass cheeks. He‘s greedy in the way he kisses, taking control of all movements and you let him. For now. Until his mouth’s almost numb from kissing.

Ao’nung hasn’t done this much kissing since he was fourteen and had his first girlfriend, and he definitely hasn’t ever been kissed like you kissed. It’s the perfect mix of submissive, yet so filthy and dirty, it makes him as hard as a rock. Your ass fits right into his palms and he kneads the supple flesh, attempts to spread your cheeks and nearly rips the seams of your jeans.

He‘s so impatient, it would’ve been cute if it didn’t worry you that he would skip the foreplay completely and just pound you into the mattress. This guy needed some relief first, you decided.

After a while of sucking on each other tongues, panting against each others lips and kissing so hungrily, there’s spit running down his chin, you gently push yourself away with a hand on his chest. His eyes are still half lidded and his lips are parted once you’ve put some space between you both and you can’t help but giggle at the sight of his desperate state. He’s so easy, you think to yourself.

Your hands then wander from his tattooed chest, further down his toned stomach, skimming over his muscles and past the cord that holds his loincloth together. The sound of him sucking in a sharp breath once your palm runs over the outline of his hard cock makes goosebumps appear all over your body. God, no wonder he was acting so cocky all the time. Ao’nung was huge. More than just proportional to the rest of his body.

The look in your face must’ve given your thoughts away, because the metkayina man then grins and chuckles, "I told you, paskalin. I will ruin you."

A smile pulls at your lips at that and then you sink to your knees between his spread thighs. It takes both of your hands and a little help to get him out of his loincloth, but the effort is rewarded with a mouth watering sight.

Ao’nungs cock is long and thick, the same pretty cyan as the rest of his body, hard and flushed and standing upright, slowly dripping pre-cum. You could even see it twitch to the rhythm of his rapid heartbeat, wordlessly begging to be touched. You lick your lips at that, a movement that doesn’t go unnoticed.

"You want to suck my cock, hm?" Ao‘nungs hand reaches out to cup your cheek, his thumb running over your kiss-swollen bottom lip. "Think you can take it?"

"I can try", you say in hushed whisper, smiling up at him with those big doe eyes you know will drive him insane. His cock throbs heavily as you run your small hands up the inside of his thigh, then grabbing his length with both of them. He’s too thick to close your hands entirely around him, but that only adds further to the exciting flutter in your stomach.

It’s just a lick, from base to tip, at first. One quick run with your tongue. Ao‘nung makes a noise, clearly made in an effort to keep himself from moaning and you grin mischievously. You start shallow and easy. Somewhat slow and lazy. Just working him up with kisses on his smooth tip and kitten licks along his shaft. As a reward, he makes soft, low groans every now and then. It encourages you to pick up the pace and go deeper.

Your lips wrap around the head, tongue glued to the underside and then you slowly suck him in as far as he could go before making you gag -which wasn’t much, considering that his tip almost filled your mouth out completely. But you managed to make it work, your hands coming to help and stroke every inch you couldn’t reach.

Ao‘nung let out a strangled moan at the tight heat your throat formed around him and then tangled his fist in your hair. "Fuck, that’s good…"

A glance up reveals a pair of lust darkened eyes staring down at you, his bottom lip sucked in between his sharp canine and his eyebrows drawn together in pleasure. You chuckle and hum around his cock, tasting the musky, earthy tang of his pre-cum dripping onto the back of your tongue as you suck and slurp around his cock.

Ao’nungs noises are slowly growing louder and more frequent, but they aren’t out of control. Yet.

You let the tip of your tongue flick against his slit, and this time the metkayina didn’t even try to hold back a moan. "Great mother– shit, keep that up and you‘ll make me come!"

At this, you pull off and look up with a wicked grin that quickly turns into a little pout. "Not yet, big boy. I want you to hold it.” Your tongue darts out again to give the head of his cock a seductive lick. "Hold it so you can come inside me, yes?"

Ao‘nung swallows thickly, trying to compose himself and keep his calm, and then nods. "Get up here then, c‘mon", he huffs, sounding a little too breathless for his own liking as he grabbed your wrist and pulled you up to your feet. Your clothes were off faster than you could even process with the speed of an extra set of hands that were just itching to feel every inch of your exposed skin.

"What a pretty little demon", Ao‘nung cooed as his eyes raked over your body, his hands groping at your ass and hips, one of them running up to knead your tits. "Always knew you’d be a sight." He then places a couple of open mouthed kisses on the warm, soft skin of your breast, his lips closing around a nipple to gently suck before he released it with a wet pop.

"We should make sure to get you ready for me", Ao’nung whispered before he continued to lap at your tits. "Get you all nice and wet, stretch you out for my cock", he said after a long drag of his tongue over your sensitive skin.

"Yeah", you breath softly, letting your head fall back as you enjoyed the feeling of his tongue tease one nipple, and then the other. "We should."

"How does the tiny human want me then, hm?"

A mischievous smile spread on your lips as you straddled the big na‘vi, making sure to shuffle in position by letting your cunt drag over his cock which emitted a sharp hiss from the man under you. Both of your arms were now back around his neck, your chest pressed tight against his as you arched your back for him.

"Want you to finger me before I ride you", you whispered lowly into his pointy ear, before licking along the soft shell. You giggle at the way it twitches in excitement of hearing your desires, before Ao‘nung wraps a strong arm around your middle and reaches between your thighs from behind with the other.

He makes a low sound, between a groan and a growl, as his finger glides through your slippery folds. He locates your clit with ease and teases the little bundle of nerves by drawing featherlight circles on it. Sweet gasps of pleasure tumble from your parted lips and directly into his ear and he grins. More arousal seeps out of you the more he plays with your clit, and it doesn’t take him very long to grow impatient and let his fingers wander to the source of it. Your tiny hole clenches with the need to be filled and Ao‘nung let’s out an appreciative hum as he pushes his index finger past your entrance with minimal resistance. You’re so wet, so ready to be taken, he thinks. But you’re also tight, he realizes quickly.

Wriggling the second finger inside is more of a challenge, but you still take it. Your moans grow louder as he begins to push his fingers in to the last knuckle, thrusting them in and out slowly, curling them just right for your legs to tremble.

Once he deems you ready enough and his impatience seems to get the best of him, Ao’nung retreats his fingers and grabs your hips to position you right above his cock. He presses you down to where it lays hard and heavy on his stomach, then guides you by the hips to run your cunt up and down his length, lubing himself with your arousal.

"Think you’re ready for me, paskalin?", Ao’nung asks, but his voice sounds more strained that he would like admit. He’s so precious, holding himself back so much. And he’s was doing so well there. He’s not even inside you yet but you can feel his cock pulse, so close to the finish line already.

For a moment you debate if you should shake your head and make him eat you out first, just to see how long he can hold it in. You knew that would be mean. But that was exactly the point. He might be as hard as a rock, but you had the patience of a saint, and could easily drag this out. But the thought of him finishing early over how tight you are is just so much better.

"See for yourself", you purr into his ear, before leaning back with a hand on his chest, the other one grabbing his length and positioning it to nudge against your entrance.

"Go slow, tawtute. We wouldn’t want you to get hurt, do we?" Ao’nung chuckles confidently, but the sound is quickly cut off once you lower yourself onto his cock. "F-Fuck", he gasps, his hands on your hips suddenly tightening. He groans through gritted teeth, feeling your warmth embrace the tip of his cock. Letting him stretch your tight hole, you pause every couple of inches, just slowly making progress. But it was enough to get Ao’nung on the verge of loosing his composure.

Squeezing his eyes shut, all he could feel was the suffocating heat all around his cock, swallowing him whole, inch after inch. All he could do was lay there and try to control his rapid breathing, groaning loud and deep the further you sank down.

You’re so tight, so incredibly tight, it’s like nothing he has ever felt before. It was a vice like grip that squeezed his cock for all it’s worth and you hadn’t even started to move properly. Exhaling another shaky breath, he finally felt you snug against him, which made him pry his eyes open slowly.

"What’s wrong, hm?" You said, cocking your head at the man below you. "You’ve always got such a mouth on you, pretty boy, what happened?"

Ao’nung couldn’t even react, his breath cut off completely and his eyes rolled back into his head as he felt your hot walls pulsate around his length.

"Bit off a bit more than you could chew, huh?" You giggle softly. Looking down at yourself, you couldn’t just feel but see the very prominent bulge of where his cock was nestled deep inside you.

"Fuck, you’re so big", you said with a smile. Ao’nungs eyes were so heavy with lust as he stared at you, biting his bottom lip hard enough to taste copper in order not to loose himself right here and right now. But you weren’t making it very easy for him.

"Look how much you’re stretching me out", you whispered, before taking his hands from your hips and repositioning them to rest and the bulge of your stomach. "You’re so deep inside me, can you feel it?"

And then, torturously slow, you lifted your hips up. The combined feeling beneath his big palms and also his cock, of him sliding out of you, drove Ao’nung close to madness. He was almost completely out, only the tip resting inside you, when you stopped. You could see the self-restraint in his feverish gaze, his pupils grown so much his eyes were almost fully black now.

"Ready, big boy?"

He wouldn’t possibly know what to be ready for, so he just nods, drunk of lust.

You don’t sink down nearly as slow and carefully as just a few minutes ago when your body still had to adjust to his size. You slam yourself down and Ao’nung makes a sound that’s close to a punched out moan. He feels the head of his cock nestled against your cervix, pressed right against the opening to your womb and it makes him physically shudder.

His back arches and then your hands find leverage on his chest and you start bouncing on him.

"Oh eywa", the metkayina gasps loudly, "Are you trying to kill me?" The soft, velvety walls of your cunt squeeze around him at his words and his eyes almost cross at that. "You– shit, you feel so good. You’re so– so tight, fuck!"

Instead of a verbal response, you just grin and decide to let your body do all the talking for you. Starting with a pace that he least expected now, moving your hips hard and fast— lifting yourself up and down on Ao‘nung cock and spilling moans that he felt deep to his core. His cock almost slips out each time, before you slam your hips back down, turning him into a moaning, whimpering mess.

Ao’nungs toes curl at the feeling of your tight heat swallowing him over and over again, and you felt the way his cock throbbed heavily inside you. He was so close, so so close. His mouth was slightly agape as he watched your breasts bounce with every thrust, providing the perfect view of yourself, moving how you pleased without a care for anything else. There was so much salvia pooling in his mouth, Ao‘nung felt like a starved man forced to stare at his favorite dish right in front of him.

With the way you plunged his cock into your pussy over and over again, deeper with every thrust, he was certain that it must feel like he was already in your stomach. And you were moaning like that was the case. The sounds you knocked out of his throat were a mixture of groans, grunts and sweet whimpers, whenever his dick knocked on your cervix like an iron hammer –until it was all too much for the poor man.

"I- Stop, shit, slow down", he managed to force out, his hands squeezing your hips so hard you knew they would be bruised by tomorrow. That didn’t stop you from riding him, though. "Eywa woman, you’re gonna make me–"

"You’re eating your words yet, hm?" You cut him off, switching from bouncing to grinding yourself against him, circling your hips as if you were trying to spell his name.

"H-Huh, what?", he tries, but fails to understand what you were trying to say, once your walls seem to suffocate him, squeezing around his length particularly hard. "Oh sh-it!"

A smile pulls at your lips. You’re enjoying this far too much.

Leaning forward you press your lips against his, then move from his mouth to his jaw, places open mouthed kisses on his throat and up to the tip of his ear. Your blunt teeth graze his lobe and then you whisper, "You said you would ruin me for all of my kind. But who’s ruining who now?"

"Okay, I- I get it", he says in a breathless moan. "Shit, please, you–"

"Say it", you demand with a harsh thrust. "Who’s ruining this big, strong warrior for all of his kind?"

"Y-You!" Ao’nung groans, his hips raising off the bed as if to chase the tightness of your cunt as you lift yourself up and then down again. "You do, fuck, you’re ruining me!"

"Hmm, you’re so loud", you hum, "It’s like you want everyone to hear how good the little tawtute’s making you feel."

It's not enough, the slow drag of you pulling out, and then the harsh thrust of him filling you up again. It’s not enough but it's also too much, too good! Ao’nung can't take anymore.

"I– I’m gonna come!" He groans, throwing his head back in bliss. "I can’t– ca- hngh– you just feel so good, I’m gonna fucking come!"

"What, already?", you giggle, "That’s so sweet."

His excitement suddenly overwhelms your control, and he thrusts up into you, fast and hard as he begins to come. He drops his head onto the mattress, suddenly weak with the pleasure rushing through him, and his cock jerks inside your warmth. You feel the pulse of his blood pounding, pounding, and Ao’nung pushes in one last time as deeply as he can.

"C‘mon, do it then", you say between moans, your voice bouncing from the sheer force of his jackhammer-like thrusts. "Come for me, baby. I want you to come inside me, make me feel good."

Sweat was already beading at his forehead, curses being hissed through clenched teeth as he held you steady and plunged his cock into you over and over again.

Ao’nung couldn’t think straight anymore. You were still so tight, so good, every inch of his cock sliding into you made his brain turn into goo. It felt like waves of water rushing over him, drowning him in the feeling before something pulled him out and his lungs finally filled with air.

Ao’nung comes hard, shaking and squirming beneath you as his hot seed fills ever inch inside you there is to fill. The sheer intensity of it is enough to help you tumble over the edge with him, and you find his lips just in time to moan into each others mouths, tongues curling and lips sucking the other in. It’s so filthy, so wet and messy, it takes you a hot minute to realize the na‘vi underneath you has grown limp before you stopped grinding against him.

You go still for a minute, just smiling at the mess you’ve made out of the man that had so much to say about ruining you earlier that night. And then, almost casually, your hips roll up in a gentle thrust. Ao’nungs breath catches on a noise, and even he isn’t sure if it's pleasured or pained, nerve endings still flayed and raw-open. He’s so overstimulated from the tightness of your human cunt, he shudders when you finally lift yourself up and off of him.

Finally, Ao’nung pushes himself up to one elbow, words forming on his lips, but they're lost on a ragged gasp as you gently push him back down by his shoulders.

"What- what are you doing?" He chuckles in disbelief, his eyes eagerly following your every movement. His cum still oozes out of you in a thick flow, the sight alone so obscene it makes his cock already half hard again. His hands reach out to hold you, but you remove them, before shuffling to straddle his head.

"You can still talk, Ao‘nung. And when I say I’ll ruin you, I mean it. Now lay back down and let me see what else that dirty mouth of yours is good for."

Mean! Perv! Billy Hargrove x innocent! Pastor daughter! Reader

♡masterlist♡

MINORS DNI

Contains: Dub con, somnophilia near the end

༺*:ﾟ･✧･:*:ﾟ･♡ readmore ♡･ﾟ:*:･✧･ﾟ:*༻

♡ He would see you around town with your short dresses and the rosary hanging around your neck

♡ he thought you were so cute but you stayed away from him like the plague, your father told you all about billy hargrove how he was a womanizer, too consumed by lust, how he was no good.

♡ you had never actually spoken to billy, you had made eye contact a few times but you would quickly run off, that is until he was dragged to your father's church by his dad

♡ there he saw you standing near your mother at the front of the church, while your father gave a speech about something he didnt care about. He watched your doe eyes wonder around the church paying more attention to the stained glass windows

♡ he came up to you as everyone was talking, he stalked behind you noticing you were nervously playing with your fingers as if you didnt know what to do with your hands. You jumped when you felt his breathe on your neck

♡ shocked to see billy Hargrove of all people behind you, he cornered you against the wall trapping you from escaping.

"I- um cant talk right now m-my dad is probably wondering where I am I have to go-"

"Hold your horses princess, I just want to talk about our lord and saviour"

"You can talk to my dad he- um he knows a lot more than me"

♡ he somehow manages to keep you talking to him, enough to get you to ramble and prolong the conversation

"That is a lovely dress, it looks so beautiful you"

"Thanks my mom got it for me- actually she gets all my clothes, I'm not allowed to buy myself clothes without her permission- BUT I- i dont mind, I like what she picks out, makes me look nice a-and I dont like choosing things I'm very indecisive and I would probably be there all day so I'm actually happy she chooses my clothes because-"

♡ he simply stares at you while you talk not interrupting simply listening to you speak. He knows he makes you nervous, the way your eyes dart everywhere except his is laughable

♡ unfortunately the conversation is cut short by your father and his dad

"Billy hargrove, come to make a mockery out of my daughter?"

"No sir I've actually seen the light, your daughter was just telling me about you gorgeous church and how much of a loyal man you are to god. Honestly sir I have so much respect for you"

"I- well thank you- I've been doveted to our lord for as long as I remember it's nice for someone to finally acknowledge my efforts. I'm happy to help you find your way to god and banish those demons for good, your father and I were just talking about hanging out at my house perhaps you can come along, I'm sure Y/N is happy to help you with your journey"

"That would be lovely sir"

♡ who knew it sould be so easy to get access to you when he fuel your father's ego?

♡ the next week billy happily went over to your house, you were sat at the dining room table with a bible infront of you as well as some other books and sheets once again refusing to make eye contact with him as your father lead him to you.

♡ you meekly asked him a few questions about how much he knew and where he would like to start off on

"Wherever you would like doll"

♡ billy didnt pay attention to anything you were saying this time, too busy looking at the photos around your house and the decor. He only looked back at you when stumbled over your words and looked like you were on the verge of tears

"What's wrong sweetheart? You okay?"

"I- um I just dont think I'm the person you should be doing this with- i- I dont know why my dad put you up to this- I've never done this before I dont know what I'm doing"

♡ he smiled as tears rolled down your cheeks, your lips forming a pout which sent a shock down to his forming hard on. He placed his hand on your thigh causing you jolt

"That's okay, you're doing so good for me already. I already feel like a worthy man"

♡ you placed your hand on top of his, playing with his fingers as he massaged circles into your soft skin.

♡ he slid his hands further between your thighs, now feeling up your flesh and slowly making his way to the flower in between your legs

"Y-you cant do that you shouldnt be touching there- I- were not married- I'm going to go to hell if you do that-"

♡ you made no actual attempt at removing his hand, simply holding his wrist as he stared at you smirking, he glanced around to see if anyone was near.

"You're not going to hell it's not like we're doing anything against the lords rules, I'm just touching you. It cant be bad if it feels good, can it?"

♡ he grazes his lips over yours letting you smell the cigarettes and mint gum on his breathe, soon removing himself from you and turning to the table as the adults walk in

"Everything going okay In here?"

"Absolutely sir, Y/N here was just telling me about easter"

♡ your meetings soon became a scheduled event and nothing else had happened since that first meeting

♡ that was until your father had left you alone with billy, a horrible mistake on his part

♡ when he first noticed the quietness in the house he was worried he got the wrong date that is until you meekly walked out of the shadows and lead him to your usual spot at the dining table

"Where's your parents?"

"Hes out with your dad I- i think they're fishing.."

"What about your mom?"

"Shes at her book club..."

♡ the giddiness in billy was comparable to a child on Christmas. over the weeks he had gained your trust, convincing you that he was serious about god

♡ so when he suggesting going to your room instead you agreed (although hesitantly)

♡ walking into your room he immediately noticed the cross hanging above your canopy bed which was pushed against the wall. The curtains around it almost highlighted your sleeping area.

♡ he quickly noticed how embarrassed you were, perhaps it was the stuffed toys, or the light colours, or the photos on the walls?

♡ you ushered him on the bed quickly preferring him to not stare at the immature state of your bedroom, although you would prefer posters of your favourite singers, pictures of your friends you were unable to at wishes of your father

♡ much like your first meeting billy let's you ramble, his eyes focused on your lips, he isnt sure what you're talking about especially when you bite your lip when reading out your notes

"Have you ever kissed someone before?"

♡ the question makes you choke on your breathe, whipping your head to face him. spluttering out a sentence

"What?! Why would you ask me that?! I- cant kiss anyone- I- I'll be in so much trouble- I'm not allowed to kiss anyone-"

"Would you like to?"

♡ that quickly shut you up as you looked up at him, he tilts his head at you and moves closer to you, his breath making goosebumps rise on your skin

♡ he kisses your unresponsive lips, too shocked at what is happening to kiss back (not that you knew how)

♡ when he pulled back you were staring at him, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. He grabbed your stuff and set it on your vanity, his hand traveled to your side and pushed you on your back

♡ he towered over you, your breath hitching in your throat, his arms either side of your head. He leaned down and pressed his lips against yours, it took a while for you to relax and try to follow his movements but you eventually got the hang of it.

♡ just as the man himself things got rough quickly, his hand in your hair and his tongue entering your mouth. You melted against him wrapping your arms around Billys shoulders

♡ when you broke apart for air your lips were puffy and swollen, billy was looking no better his hair was disheveled and his eyes were half lidded.

♡ he kissed the side of you face travelling to your jaw then towards your neck, where you gripped his shirt as he licked a stripe over your neck.

♡His hands wondered down to your chest, pulling your sundress down to reveal your bra to him

"Wait! Wait wait I- billy i cant- we shouldnt be doing this we should stop"

"Sh sh shhh just take what I give you"

♡ his hands continued their exploring, flipping your bra to reveal your soft nipples, leaning down his breath soon hardened them making you whimper

♡ he kissed your right nipple while rolling the left in his hand, the hand unattended drifted down your thighs and under your dress

"Billy stop- we cant do this i- I- I'm gonna get into s'much trouble"

"It cant be wrong if it feels good baby"

♡ he continues kissing and fondling your breasts, his hand slipping to your underwear pressing a thumb against your clothed clit making you jolt your hips with a loud whine.

♡ he chuckled against your chest moving his face to meet yours

"That feel good? Want me to do it again?"

"I dont know- I dont know! Feels weird.."

♡ he kissed your mouth and let's his other hand wander to your thighs. he pulls back to get a full view of you, your thighs spread, your lips puffy, your tits out. A sight that would make the devil groan, which is what he did.

♡ he plays with your thighs and your clothed cunt, soon sliding the piece of fabric to the side to get a better view of your forbidden fruit. He watches as your fluids leak from you, clamping around nothing and clit twitching from the harsh temperature of the room

♡ he places his thumb over your clit watching you jerk against him, clearly not used to stimulation, he circles around it then leans down pressing a kiss against it (maybe a quick suck too)

♡ the action makes you cry

"Billy 'is dirty"

♡ he slides with finger in you, the heat and tightness of your body almost making him cum in his pants. You're mewling underneath him and he gives you feelings you've never experienced

♡ his fingers work you open aiming to make sure you're able to fit his cock. When he pulls pants down to his thighs and grips his cock, your eyes are wide and full of second thoughts. Being the gentlemen he is he grabs your hand and makes you feel it

"S'hot, 'n it feels weird"

"Supposed to be hot gonna make you all warm"

"S'not gonna fit, your fingers felt too much, cant take this.."

"Cant take my cock?"

"Dont say that! That's dirty!"

♡ he drags his cock head over your clit, the heat of it shutting you up.

"I'll make it fit baby"

♡ he pulls your thighs apart and wraps his arm around your head, his body encapsulates yours as he pressed his cock inside of you. The stretch hurts and leaves you grabbing as much as billy as you can, he whispers praises to the side of your neck as he desperately tries to hold back.

♡ after an intense 5 minutes of him rubbing your clit and getting you to relax he starts thrusting, soft and slow but soon picking up as you unconsciously buck you hips into his. Your bed shook and you cried into his neck as he defiled you for any other man

"That feel good?"

"Ah- Feels big! 'Feel so full ngh- too full!"

"Yeah? Ya think your god would like this?"

"Gon' be In so much trouble billy"

"Ngh fuck- I'll be your god baby, I'll never get mad at you- fucking take it for me- you'll be my most devoted follower, c'mon say I'm your god, say it, say it for me baby 'n I'll make you feel so good c'mon say it"

"My god- y- your my god"

"Good girl, fuck-"

♡ as you reached orgasm you tried to push him off telling him that you were gonna pee, luckily for him you werent strong especially when you were getting your beliefs banged out.

♡ you came with a wail wrapping your legs around his waist, trapping him inside you, his hips stuttering as he came inside you.

♡ thus a sneaky beautiful relationship began

♡ hed take you for dates at his favourite cafe ordering milkshakes then stealing the cherry placed on top of yours then making jokes about once again "stealing your cherry"

♡ he steals your underwear especially when hes been teasing you all day, he likes the juices you leave behind, likes sucking on them, cumming on them, keeping them for himself and returning them soiled

♡ let's you come to the pool after hours just so he can fuck you in the water

♡ definitely buys you thin white bikinis just so he can see what's underneath when they get wet

♡ has grabbed a lollipop from your lips and pretended to fuck your mouth with it, you're none the wiser and assume he wants you to get the most flavour out it

♡ touches you in church and whispers how gross you are

"You're disgusting, really letting me touch you in the house of god?"

♡ flips up your skirt all the time, he blames the wind even if theres no breeze.

♡ he had dinner with your parents and had his fingers knuckle deep inside you the entire time, liking your juices if his fingers when dessert came out

♡ comes in through you window just so he can see you without prying eyes, he either wakes you up like a normal person or he wake you up by eating you out/ fingering you

♡ has had phone sex with you multiple times, he treats it like a confession booth and hes mostly degrading you the entire time

"You're fucking disgusting thinking about my cock, you're supposed to be a child of god" - says the man with your panties wrapped around his cock

♡ has gotten you drunk before and made you grind on his foot while you suck along his cock

♡ chokes you with your rosary when hes fucking you from behind, pulls on it like a leash

♡ taught you how to masturbate by sitting you infront of a mirror and touching you, you never fully learnt because billy has no self control

♡ bites you in places that arent visible to your parents, says you've been bitten by the devil

♡ spits in your mouth all the time

This long-distance relationship just wasn’t working for Sukuna anymore.

He can’t see you. Can’t touch you. Can’t put you in a headlock, smack your ass, bite you, or flick your forehead. At this point, are you two even together, or is this just an overpriced pen-pal situation?

He calls you clingy, but let’s be real—anyone with half a brain cell and a functioning set of eyes can see that he’s the real problem here. And the worst part? He knows exactly what he’s doing. He just doesn’t care. He does not want to be saved.

This man is glued to his phone every single minute, refreshing your messages like his life depends on it. And if you don’t answer fast enough? He turns into a grumpy, overgrown toddler, making everyone around him suffer.

At this point, it’s not just him begging you to visit—it’s his friends, his brother, maybe even some strangers off the street. They’re exhausted. They have had enough. Somebody, please, for the love of all things holy, put this man out of his misery and just go see him before they all lose their minds.

After two months, you finally decided to just surprise Sukuna. It was early in the morning, and you didn’t tell a single soul you were coming. Not even his friends— they would’ve blown your cover out of sheer relief. You missed him too, sure… just not as much as he missed you.

You let yourself in with your key, slipping inside like a thief in the night (except this was your man and your house, so..?). He was still asleep, sprawled out on the bed in nothing but black boxers and a tight black T-shirt that was clinging to him a little too well.

And this? This right here is where you questioned everything.

How did you pull this man? Seriously. What divine force was on your side that day? He looked so damn good, it was criminal. His tattoos. The way that shirt stretched over his muscles. The black boxers. The absolute mess that was his pink hair. It was all too much.

You wanted to jump his bones on sight, but you contained yourself. Barely.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, you gently rub his back, whispering softly, "Sukuna… baby, wake up." He doesn’t move a muscle. When he’s asleep, he’s as still as stone, completely unreachable—unless, of course, the air shifts in the room just right. Then, he’s up in an instant, sharp and alert, like a predator on the prowl. But right now? Nothing. Not a twitch.

You try again, your voice softer this time, "Love... baby... Suku... wake up... mm, I'm here..."

At the sound of your voice, he stirs. A low grunt escapes his throat, and his eyes flutter open, but the confusion on his face is enough to make your heart melt. He blinks, disoriented, as if trying to process what’s real. And in that moment, you can’t help but smile. He’s so adorable, even in his most groggy, unguarded state.

The fact that you—just you—can see him like this, can call him any type of names and still think he's the cutest thing alive, fills you with a warmth you didn’t know you needed.

He groggily shifts, trying to register what’s going on. But when his eyes finally meet yours, that familiar spark of recognition flickers in them. It’s like everything else fades away.

“Y/N?”

His voice is always deep, but in the morning, it’s something else entirely—low and rough, the kind that you can feel vibrating in your chest.

“Did you miss me?” you tease, a small smile tugging at your lips.

For a good thirty seconds, he just stares at you, blinking slowly, his red eyes still heavy with sleep. And then—without a word—he grabs you, pulling you down onto the bed with him.

The hug alone could’ve crushed you. His arms lock around you like a vice, his grip unrelenting, like he’s afraid you might disappear if he lets go. His face remains serious, unreadable—but inside? Oh, inside, he’s jumping up and down like a kid on Christmas morning.

He is this close to giggling, to kicking his legs like a teenage girl with a hopeless crush.

But he won’t. Absolutely not.

Instead, he just holds you tighter, burying his face in your neck, pretending like he’s not about to combust from how happy he is.

You can feel the way his breathing evens out against your skin, like he’s grounding himself with your presence. His nose brushes along your neck, slow and almost lazy, but there's a little tremble in the way he exhales, like he still can’t believe you're actually here.

“I thought I was dreaming,” he mutters, voice muffled into your shoulder.

You run your fingers through his hair, gently scratching at his scalp the way he likes. “You always say that when I show up.”

“Because I never think I deserve it,” he says, so quietly you almost miss it.

Your heart clenches.

You pull back just enough to look at him. His eyes are still heavy-lidded, lashes fanning over flushed cheeks, but there's something softer in them now—something he only shows you.

“You’re ridiculous,” you whisper, brushing his hair back from his forehead. “You’ve been acting like a feral cat in a thunderstorm for two months straight. I was afraid your friends were gonna start sending me ransom letters.”

That earns the tiniest twitch of a smile. Barely there. But you caught it.

“I wasn’t that bad,” he grumbles.

“Oh, you were worse,” you laugh, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Suddenly, he pulled back—and in one swift motion, yanked his shirt off and tossed it somewhere across the room.

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

He smirked like the devil himself. “Now that you’re here,” he said, voice dropping, “let’s get down to business, woman.”

You frowned, crossing your arms. “Business? I just got here.”

“And I’ve been waiting months,” he said, already reaching for you again. “You think I’ve been sitting here practicing patience and self-control? No, sweetheart. I’ve been suffering.”

“Suffering?” you scoffed, though your cheeks were already warm.

“Agonizing,” he corrected, deadly serious. “Like a man dying in the desert. And you—” he pointed at you dramatically, “—are the only oasis that can quench my thirst.”

You stared at him.

He stared back, completely unapologetic.

And then you burst out laughing. “You’ve been watching those trashy romance dramas again, haven’t you?”

“Shut up and take your clothes off,” he growled, yanking you back into his chest.

--

Well, he put you through it.

The second things started, he didn’t let up—wouldn’t even let you move. Like he was trying to make up for all the time apart in one night. No breaks, no mercy. Just Sukuna, with that feral look in his eyes, making it very, very clear just how much he’d missed you.

When it comes to sex with him, there’s no such thing as “taking it slow.” He’s intense. Greedy sadistic bastard.

By the end of it, you were completely spent—legs shaking, voice hoarse, body humming with overstimulation—and he? He came so hard he passed out on top of you. Just collapsed like a full-grown jungle cat that wore itself out hunting. Arms wrapped around you, dead weight pressing you into the mattress, and a low satisfied grunt rumbling in his chest.

So yeah. He missed you. A lot.

You laid there for a few minutes, trying to catch your breath, hair a mess, skin sticky and flushed, heart still racing. His head was tucked into your neck, breathing deep and slow, already asleep.

You shifted a little beneath him, tapping at his back.

“Sukuna. Hey—get off, you’re heavy.”

He didn’t move. Didn’t even flinch.

“Suku. Babe. You’re crushing my lungs.”

A beat of silence. Then, a soft, almost childish grumble: “Mine…”

You blinked. “What?”

He nuzzled deeper into your neck, voice sleepy and muffled. “Mine. Stay still.”

“You’re literally crushing me—”

“Die then. Still mine.”

You snorted, trying not to laugh, even as he wrapped one of his massive arms tighter around your waist like a damn seat belt. It was useless. You were trapped. Claimed. Claimed by a half-conscious, overgrown menace of a man with not enough self-control.

“…Fine,” you sighed, brushing his hair back from his face. “But if you drool on me again, I swear to god—”

Extra:

3 hours later...

You were still drifting between sleep and reality, body aching in all the right places. Sukuna was no better—completely sprawled beside you, arm draped over your waist like you were his favorite plushie. His breathing was slow, warm against your shoulder. He hadn’t even moved yet.

Eventually, he lifted his head groggily from your skin, eyes heavy-lidded, hair wild like he lost a fight with a thunderstorm. Lips red and swollen, scratch marks visible on his chest and neck. He looked wrecked.

In the best possible way.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight of him.

“Why are you laughing?” he murmured, voice still thick with sleep and pure bass.

You were about to answer, still giggling like a fool under the covers, when—

BANG.

His bedroom door slammed open.

“Oh my god, it’s too early for this—Sukuna, please, stop moping—” “Bro, we brought you breakfast ‘cause you haven’t eaten in like, two days—” “IF YOU’RE GONNA DIE OF HEARTBREAK, DO IT QUIETLY—”

The room exploded with voices as Uraume, Gojo, Geto, and Toji stormed in like a damn intervention squad, expecting to find Sukuna in his usual spiral: half-dead, face-down in takeout, and angrily listening to toxic love songs.

What they didn't expect… was you.

Or him. Completely naked. Tangled up with you in the aftermath of what could only be described as biblical levels of destruction.

They all froze.

Eyes wide. Mouths open. Silence like a slap.

Sukuna sat up, completely bare-assed and utterly unfazed. He looked over his shoulder at them slowly—murder in his eyes, sleep still in his bones.

You scrambled, yanking the blanket up to cover your very exposed self, cheeks flaming.

He didn’t care. Not a blink of shame.

“Get the fuck out,” Sukuna grunted, dragging the comforter up higher over you—only you. His back muscles flexed like they were doing it on purpose. “You can scream later. She just got here. And I’m not done.”

Geto immediately spun on his heel. “Nope. Nope. I saw ass. I’m out.”

Gojo gagged dramatically, covering his eyes. “I think I just went blind. Why is your whole spine flexing like that?!?”

Toji just whistled low, grinning. “Damn. No wonder he’s been out of commission.”

Uraume didn’t even flinch, deadpan as always. “Do you want me to bring water or a priest?”

“DOOR.” Sukuna roared.

It slammed shut behind them.

You lay back down, breathless with laughter, still hidden under the blanket. Sukuna rolled over, eyes half-lidded, grin spreading across his stupidly handsome face.

<><>

an: i had a plot and I lost it so.....

❝My love is mine all mine❞

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Draco Malfoy x Hufflepuff! Reader

synopsis “Where Draco Malfoy has loved YN since first year and doesn’t plan on telling her until she comes back from holiday and comes back dating someone new.”

contents “Very cutesy female reader, 18 years of age for both, Angst, Mentions of cheating, smut: vaginal piv sex, mating press, vaginal fingering and eating, blowjob, lowkey dirty dirty sex, praise, hair pulling, drool, making out, reader is on birth control (but is not openly said)”

notes “Lowkey inspired by the Rachel and Ross and Julie episodes of friends. Lets all pretend that Draco was not building a special special cabinet and that he was not a death eater, and voldemort is not a thing Okay! Also...I JUST HAD TO MAKE DRACO A LIL MUSHY GUSHY ALRIGHT?”

————————————————————————————

He was running. He never thought he would ever be running for anyone, especially a girl. Well, woman now. But he was still running, nevertheless. Running because he realized that now was the time was right. He, Draco Malfoy was running to the Hogwarts Express to finally tell Y/n L/n that he was downright in love with her, and had been since the moment he laid eyes on her.

The Hogwarts Express sat there in all its glory as students flooded out. All were happy as the snow that was falling around them caused a few to slip around as they giggled with their friends. Draco had just made it as he began to search desperately, accidentally running into Blaise as he held hands with Pansy. “Draco, Mate, what's the rush?” Blaise said as he turned around to get no answer, and instead watched the back of Draco.

He was whipping his head around, feeling his robe fluttering behind him as he walked briskly through everyone, still searching for the girl that was engraved into his head 24/7. Everyone moved out of the way, and some were pushed, but even through all that, he still couldn’t find the girl, but the moment he did.

Oh, he wished he didn’t.

“Hi, Draco! I thought you stayed at school for a holiday?” She exclaimed the minute she saw him. “I-I did.” He was stuttering, not good. A look of concern crossed her face. “Are you alright?” She said still holding the hand of the brunette next to her.

‘Fucking Harry Potter, out of anyone else, she chose the fucking guy he hated with his whole being.’

“Yeah, I'm okay. I was just looking for Blaise.” The Blonde said with a deep frown, completely masking his heartbreak. “I think he was back-” She got interrupted as Draco briskly walked past her. She watched him walk away as a flicker of hurt flashed in her eyes. “You okay, Sweetheart?” Harry asked as he looked at the girl, smiling quickly and she shook her head shyly.

° ⁎ ✧ ✧ ⁎ °

A week later he saw the two again in the library, Potter blabbering on with Weasley and Granger about something Snape said. Of course, he didn’t pay too much about him but rather to the girl dressed in Hufflepuff robes.

Y/n was studying next to the boy, Draco knowing the pressure of getting good grades as she too is a pure blood with pressuring parents. A look of annoyance crosses her face and Harry knocks her arm as she’s writing what he can assume is an essay for a class. “Sorry,” Harry muttered looking at her and then looking back at his friends.

A following week later, He saw them again at a party in the Ravenclaw Dorms. Harry had his arm around her as he talked Vividly with Cho Chang. The girl looked out of place at the party, even though there were other Hufflepuffs, some even eyeing him up as he stared at the other girl across the room.

Y/n did not look like she enjoyed being at this party, the girl was dressed in a pastel pink dress a pretty pink ribbon in her hair, and pretty ruby red Mary Jane heels. She bit her lip as she looked at her boyfriend again as he continued to just talk to Cho completely ignoring her as he hovered in tipsy euphoria. Then her pretty doe eyes caught his. And she smiled. And waved. And he waved back with a smile as well.

And did Harry hate that? The minute he recognized the blonde he had started to argue with the girl. Tears and yelling, a lot of yelling actually. Mostly from Harry though as he wouldn’t let the girl get a word in. And to end it, out of pure spite, he kicked Y/n away and onto the curb like a sad puppy. Draco had watched the whole thing, and although he had to hold his tongue. He opted to turn the boy a bright shade of red by punching him in the nose and running after Y/n who had run out crying moments before.

“Y/n?” Draco called out as he saw the girl in the corridors staring out the window, cold air flowing through as the snow fell outside the school. The girl looked at him as her glittery eyeshadow ran down her cheeks, looking as if she cried tears of diamonds.

“It's cold out tonight.” He remarked walking to stand next to her as she leaned into a column next to the open expanse of the building. She was sniffling lightly as she continued to let her tears flow freely in a glimmery river.

Draco sighed and took off the coat he was wearing and draped it over her shoulders. He continued to admire her, And That's when it clicked for him. “Y/n…” she looked at him with such a sad look. He took a deep breath before gently grabbing her face, and kissing her deeply.

The girl's eyes widened and she let out a gasp and pushed him away gently. “Draco, wha-why?” She stuttered out, covering her mouth as more tears started to trail down her face. “Y/n.” He breathed. “I’ve loved you since the first year. You deserve the world. I don’t know what else to say without sounding completely foolish but I am so in love with you that you should not be with someone as idiotic as fucking Potter.” She continued to cry as she continued to look at him.

“I love you so much and I would treat you the way that you deserve to be treated, like a princess. A way that Potter is not. I would kill for you, I would die for you, Move the heavens and earth for you. I love you.” He spewed out. Breathing heavily as the girl removed his coat and gently handed it to him, walking away a few paces ahead of him, before turning to face him.

“Draco. I love you too.” Y/n whispered, “But I can’t be with you. I’m with Harry. I'm so sorry.” She whispered before briskly walking away from him. And Draco felt his heart break even more, so he turned and walked towards the dungeon. He hadn’t felt heartbreak before and he didn’t know that his tears would flow with it. So he walked away, hands stuffed in his pockets as he muttered to himself.

Y/n regretted walking away the minute she turned away from the blonde. She had loved him for the longest time but just never wanted to tell him for fear of rejection and losing the soft spot he had for her while he continued to keep his mean demeanor for everyone else. She loved him so much. She fantasized about being his, and no one else's. She fantasized about the relationship that would've bloomed for the two. She fantasized about him meeting her family, formally as hers. She fantasized about being used by him in the midnight hours when her roommates were out, folding her in half and into his mattress, cock slotted perfectly between them, connecting them intimately. Moans and groans and handsy touching, and him whispering about how good he felt.

She made it back to the party to try to talk to Harry, to apologize. The crowded room was full of drunk students, suffocating in the room as she continued to search only to run into Hermione and Ron, looks of hurt and shock as they saw the girl. “Y/n, what's the matter?” The brunette asked her as Ron also looked at her in concern as he took a tissue out of his pocket to hand to Hermione, to wipe her glittery river of tears. “Just a fight with a friend and Harry is all. Where is he?” sniffling as she held Hermione's hand gently. “I don’t exactly know,” Hermione answered looking towards Ron who just shrugged. “We could help you look.” Ron finished.

“Oh, that's quite alright. I think I can manage-” The girl was cut off as a storage closet opened to reveal Cho Chang with none other than her Boyfriend, Harry. People were either gasping or cheering for the golden boy as he stumbled out with a goofy grin as Cho hung off of him. Clothing touseled, and makeup and hair smeared as they giggled to themselves.

“Oh, Y/n.” Hermione gasped as she hugged the girl who just stood in shock while staring at the two. Filled with boiling anger as she recounted the numerous hidden arguments between the two talking about his relationship with the said ravenclaw. She didn’t even move as frustrated tears flooded her cheeks for the third time that night. Before even moving towards the two or removing the brunette that was comforting her from the side, Ron was the first of the three to move. “Fucking hell Harry.”

“What? We were just having some fun.” Cho replied drunkenly. “With a man in a relationship no less.” Ron’s voice grew in decibels, causing others to look towards the commotion.”Then we can keep it a secret.” Harry replied with an eye roll as he stumbled forward, hand groping the breast of the raven-haired girl next to him. “Well, the secrets’ out.” Y/n scowled out. Both Harry and Cho’s faces paled at seeing the girl. Who as the author must say, is the prettiest girl in all of Hogwarts.

Sharply wiping her eyes, she walked up to Harry and slapped the boy back to Hogsmeade. “You bitch.” Cho slurred as she went to grab Harry. “Says the one that goes after people's relationships,” Y/n growled. “Harry when you are fully sober, find me tomorrow so I can properly break up with you.” And she strutted off. Straight to the Slytherin quarters.

Draco had just got to the hallway of the Slytherin dorms when he heard his name being called, inhaling sharply as he heard her sweet tone call for him. He rubbed his hands on his face before turning towards the voice. There she was still in the pretty baby pink slip dress and red heels as before. “Y/n…” He said waiting for her to answer, pretty pissed from their earlier talk. “I-” she stuttered as she grew shy under his scrutinizing gaze. “Well, get on with it. I don’t have all night.” Draco snapped, crossing his arms over his strong chest.

She walked up to him until they were inches from each other. “I love you, Draco Malfoy. So fucking much.” she threw her arms around his neck as she pulled him down towards her awaiting lips. His eyes widened as he gripped her hips tight enough to bruise. She opened her mouth to allow his waiting tongue in. Sucking, moaning, and dirty mess as they separate breathing heavily. “What happened to earlier?” He asked heavily. “I realized that you were completely right,” she answered shakily as she tried to catch her breath. “I deserve better, and I love you, and you love me.”

She took a deep breath as she looked up at his grey eyes as he kept his grip on her hips. “You said you would kill for me, and die for me, move the heavens and earth. Draco Lucius Malfoy, I love you,” She finished as he looked down at her hungrily. “And I want you to treat me the way that I know I deserve, and like a princess.” He learned to push her up against the wall as he began to nibble and kiss at her neck, causing her to let out sweet moans as she gripped his broad shoulders. They continued to kiss heavily as they swallowed the arousing noises any of them would make.

“Draco,” She whimpered as he stopped to look down at her through his lashes. “Please.” She begged quietly as she gripped his black button-up and began to get on her knees to please him. “Anything you want, Princess.” He groaned as she made haste for his buckle not even caring that anyone could walk down the hallway and catch them. She had finally freed him from his trousers, feeling the heavy weight of his pretty cock in her smaller hands.

“Whatever you want,” Draco said as he looked down at her, moving the hair to go behind her ears, careful of her pretty pink bow that rested in the pretty little updo she wore. He gasped quietly when she took the first lick towards the leaky head. “Just like that Darling. So good.” He groaned as she swallowed around his thick girth. A slobbery mess of spit and precum turned into a pretty clear gloss on the girl's lips as she deepthroated him, careful of any gagging.

Soon the blonde let out a deep groan as his milky white filed into her mouth, down her throat. He let out a deep chuckle as he pulled the girl up by her chin and kissed her again, tasting his own self on her tongue. They disconnected as Draco fixed his pants and flipped the girl so that she was the one with her back leaning against the wall. He gets on the ground and lifts the skirt of her dress to pull her pretty pink panties down her legs, to see that they too had a bow in the middle. “Such a pretty girl with pretty panties.” He says against her thighs as he pulls the skirt to go over and cover his blonde locks.

She had felt his hot breath on her puffy pussy as it swelled up from having no friction. He gave a quick kitten lick before completely burying his tongue in between her. Sucking hard on her clit and fucking her deep with his tongue with her leg hoisted above his shoulder and hands covering her mouth as she shyly let out sounds of pleasure.

“Draco,” Y/n whined as she let her senses heighten as she began to reach her peak. “Yes, Princess.” He smiled up at her as the dress fell off his head, showing his messy hair and glossy lips with her own sweetness. “I need it.” She said as she stuttered and tears pricked her eyes once again. “Need what, hmm?” Draco said as he bunched the dress up her waist and held it there.

“Need you to make me cum, please.”

“So dirty,” He said leaning to let her watch him lick her clit, “But so polite, I might consider it.” He said looking up at her and letting one of his hands flow down her navel to wear his mouth is, collecting the slick. Then letting two fingers enter her and fuck her gently. The loud squelching of her wetness and his own slurps as he continued to eat her. The pressure built up quicker than she thought, and she came in a silent scream as her cum began to dribble down her thighs and down Draco’s mouth. He let go of her pussy as he continued to thrust threw her orgasm, staring up at the girl with hazy grey eyes and mouth open in a wide grin as he watched his lover who held a scrunched-up face and tears flowing and drool dribbling down from her mouth.

Feeling the overstimulation, Y/n cried out as she gripped Draco’s wrist as he continued to thrust his fingers into her, smiling coyly up at her as he slick continued to drip onto the ground. “D-Draco,” She gasped out as she continued to grab at his hand, “Please, j-just fuck m-me already.” He finally stopped, getting up as he pulled her dress down, looking down at her pretty ruby red Mary Jane that was wet with droplets that dripped from her. He pulled her towards her roughly to messily kiss her again as he felt the intense heat that radiated from her. Gripping her and scratching at her back as they moaned into each other's mouths.

“Come one, let's give my princess all the pleasure that she can take.” He rasped between their lips quickly grabbing her by the hips and leading her into the next hallway where the Slytherin dorms were. “Pure-Blood.” He replied gruffly when they approached the stone wall to the Slytherin common room.

The common room was empty as most of the occupants were still at the Ravenclaw party, the only people in the common room were just Pansy and Blaise. “Y/n what sight to see.” Pansy chuckled in her position on Blaise's lap as they never expected to see the shy Hufflepuff in their common room, with Draco nonetheless. “Hi,” Y/n said quietly as Draco led her straight to the stairs going toward the Male Dormitories. “Bye,” The couple said as they watched Draco push the girl out of the Common Room. “Well, they look like they are having fun,” Blaise remarked. “What if we go have fun while your people are still out,” Pansy smirked as she got off his lap and waited for him to follow her.

Draco pushed Y/n into his single dorm prefect room, panting heavily as he began unbuttoning his shirt. Lifting the dress above her hips, Y/n paused as Draco stopped her. “A princess shouldn’t need to undress herself. Let me.” he pulled the silky pink above her head as she stared at his bare chest. Muscles bulging as he maneuvered himself to push her onto the edge of the bed as he stared at her bare chest. “So pretty.” He watched as she covered herself with her arms, watching as he kneeled on the ground to remove her heels, now only in her white calf-high socks.

He grabbed her hands as she went to take out her bow. “Keep it on.” He said before kissing her chest, sucking on her pretty nipples. Y/n could only sit there, arching her back as he sucked bruises into her skin. He unbuckled himself and began undressing so that he was bare with her as he began to fondle her breasts as well. She arched herself into Draco as he gripped her bare back.

“Draco, darling please just fuck me already.” She moaned out after pushing him away, gently giving sweet kisses against his lips. “Alright, Alright, just be patient yeah?” He chuckles as he pushes her back, crawling onto the bed. Slotting himself between her legs, folding her legs so that her thighs meet her own shoulders, just like in her fantasies. He sits back on his haunches as he holds her knees together with one big hand, taking his cock in the other and trailing it back and forth against her slick pussy, watching as more slick gushes out of her as she moaned quietly to himself.

Then he slid himself in, groaning at the tightness and how warm it was inside her squishy walls. “My princess feels so good, squeezing around me. I’m gonna fill you up so good.” He groaned out throwing his head back. Sliding back out to just fuck the tip in and out of her. She felt her walls stretching to their limit by just his tip, feeling the fullness already even if it was not his full length. “D-Draco, so big.” She moaned out feeling the stretch as he dragged his cock into her again. “I know sweetheart, be patient.” He cooed as he stared at the girl's face before fully pushing in.

The mating press he had her in making the both feel how full and deep he was in her. Her cunt hugging his cock as he hammered into her, surprised by how pliable the girl was. The stretch felt as amazing as ever and the tightness having them both rolling their eyes.

“cumming.” the girl whimpered. “what was that?” he answered smirking as he pushed in balls deep and began rubbing her clit in tight , fast circles. The girl began crying again and stuttered out “cumming.” once again as her slick began to rush out like a fountain.

Draco didn’t stop thrusting as the girl still remained crying out , clawing at his biceps from the overstimulation. “Can you keep going, pretty?” he tilted his head at her, awaiting her answer. And she just nodded with a look of awe at the mess he made of her.

This time he folded her up in his lap in a full nelson. Full pussy and loving how she was manhandled. and it wasn’t even 5 minutes of thrusting before she was squirting again, making more of a mess as it dribbled down his own cock and down his legs. “Darling, you really need to stop making such a big mess.” He grabbed her chin to kiss her again.

“I’m almost finished with you, are you able to keep going?” Draco said after putting her legs down so that she was sitting there on his dick. “mhm.” she said as she just looked at him, before kissing his neck. “where do you want it?” he said as he slowly thrusted in her as she was in his lap.

“inside please.” she said as he laid back, keeping her on his dick and putting her in a cowgirl. “So polite.” he muttered as he put his hand around her neck, choking her softly. Propping his knees up so that she was chest to chest with him, he used his free hand to hold her hips down to meet his harsh thrusts.

“Draco, please cum in me .” she mewled as he was grunting underneath her. “Don’t worry, I plan too.” and she soon felt herself tighten around him again, this time he was nearing his own peak as he bit into her neck. “Please!” she screamed out as she came on him, this time she felt herself being filled up by his own cum as he groaned against her neck.

slouching on top of him, the actions of them finally set in, where she covered her face and cowered away in embarrassment. Trying to ease herself off from the impalement , the blonde pulled her close to him , groaning softly at the way the girl lightly clenched on him.

“Draco..” the girl whispered, looking him in the eyes. “We can’t stay like this.” She said referring to the indecency they were in. Although the boy had a private dorm, she did feel a bit awkward with the way that she was still naked. Then of course there are certain things that did need to be discussed.

The two had finally unsheathed and began to dress again. “Draco..” the girl said as she sat there in her dress watching as he buttoned up his shirt halfway, letting the rest stay unbuttoned.

“What does all of this mean?” She said watching as he lifted his head, smiling slightly. “The sex, the ‘I love you’s’?”

“It means I love you… Y/n.” He said approaching her. “It means I want to be with you, share experiences with you. Give you every ounce of my love.” He said as he lifted her head, kissing her gently again.

“But what about Har-“ “He can’t appreciate you like I do darling. He showed that at the party with that filthy Ravenclaw.” He said holding her in his arms. “I love you Y/n and I plan to show you as well as the rest of the world.” he chuckled “It’s a plus that I can show that Potter that too.”

° ⁎ ✧ ✧ ⁎ °

That next day he did in fact show Harry, by placing a big kiss , slightly embarrassing the girl as others watched in enjoyment.

“You cheated on me!” Harry blubbered on, Cho standing behind him, looking as if she got slapped. Standing next to other Ravenclaws as everyone watched as Hermione and Ron held the brunettes from pulling out his wand in his fury.

“Potter, don't flatter yourself. Yesterday night I, as well as everyone in this courtyard saw you kissing that girl behind you. And right in front of Y/n I might add.” Draco said, pushing Y/n behind him as he pointed at Cho.

“Merlin, you’re crazier than I thought.” Y/n whispered behind him smiling. He looked behind himself to smile at her. “You have no one to blame but yourself.” He said taking one last look at Harry before bringing Y/n to the dining hall, Showing their love more and more.

---

XMAS DINNER GOES WRONG – 정우영

⋆ synopsis. it seems like your husband can’t keep it in his pants, not even on a fucking christmas dinner with his family. but, as the lovely wifey you are, you gotta give him some relief, right?

pairing. husband! jung wooyoung & fem! reader.

wc. 3,2k

warnings. smut (mdni!), suggestive language, cussing, almost!! getting caught by wooyoung’s mom (oops), pet names (love, babe, my wife, pretty girl & more), nipple play, wooyoung sucks your entire skin (neck, collarbone, tits and the list can continue…), teasing, wooyoung tears your panties to shreds heh, not dirty—NASTY TALK, begging, yn at some point says “stop” but it’s bc she’s far too blissed out; not bc she actually wanted him to stop, this is alllll consensual!!, unprotected sex, praise ofc, squirting, gut-wrenching fluff in the end ‘cause love him too much.

nic’s notes ⋆ first ff of the xmas event yes sir !! i felt some shit writing this istg (๑/////๑ " )

you know holidays, right?

the perfect opportunity for the entire family to gather and celebrate achievements, blessings, and thousands and thousands of other things. cousins, nephews, aunts, uncles, and even great-grandparents were reunited in that cold and windy winter night. an entire feast was splayed on the table for everyone’s delightfulness, different kinds of foods and smells mixing and creating a delicious, toe-curling experience for anyone’s nostrils.

the hours you had spent shopping for every ingredient for each dish, cutting the vegetables, cooking everything to the exact, perfect point and term really paid off once your and your husband’s family were brought together at the large, dark oak table to celebrate your very first holiday — both families now joined together as one.

nothing could go wrong. the chatting flew as calm and joyful as spring water, sharing experiences and old memories pleasingly, smiles spread like the most enchanting disease—as well as the wholesome ambience, and everything was accompanied by a delightful meal, the well-deserved five star bonus of the evening.

so, if everything was meant to go perfectly, then why the hell was your husband staring at you with the most explicit, sluttiest “fuck me” eyes you’ve ever seen?

wooyoung sat in front of you, his two cousins sitting each on his sides. his plate was rather full, and that had an explanation: he was far too gone and busy burying heart-shaped daggers into your eyes while his hand cupped his cheek, head tilting to his right — his tongue glided over his dry bottom lip every now and then. you’d bet that none of his thoughts were in the bible. ‘cause fuck, even his younger brother would guess that something’s odd about him. that that’s not the usual behavior of his dear older brother.

“yn? darling?” the voice of wooyoung’s mother dragged out quickly of your insulation bubble. her tilted head clearly showed that she had been trying to talk to you for a while. a soft, warming hue of red struck your cheekbones.

as you gyrated your head to meet her worried gaze, you replied. “yes! mrs. jung, ‘m sorry. what were you saying?”

“are you doing fine, sweetie? you were gone for a bit.” she stared at you intently, genuinely worried about her daughter in-law. oh that woman was almost a fallen angel—if not one. if only she knew it was his own son who was to blame—the very last person she’d suspect, and oh, how deliciously ironic that was.

the figure of your husband’s shit-eating grin could be seen out of the corner of your eye—a sight that ignited a fiery rage within you, yet one you couldn’t help but savor, lingering on the view as long as possible before responding to your sweet mother-in-law. “oh, it was nothing. i’m prolly just zoning out because of how tired i am. y’ know, spending the entire day in the kitchen was exhausting.” the cherry on top of the excuse was the little, innocent giggle you emitted by the end. the woman gave you the most pitiful, yet endearing look. she lifted her arm, indicating with her open palm the white stairs, the reflection of the christmas-decorated banister lighting up her eyes.

“oh, sweetheart. you should go rest, it’s pretty late after all.” her gesture softened your heart, chest clenching a bit.

this woman was going to be the death of you! … uhm, never mind. first place is taken by wooyoung, who seems quite excited with the idea of going upstairs with you, by the way. take a guess at what his mind is scheming.

you shook your hands in front of your chest, quickly denying the opportunity. “thank you really, but i’m okay. i’ll just go wash my face.” you excused yourself, hovering your leg over the other and getting yourself up. “maybe that way i can wake up completely.” ending with a little giggle, you started walking towards the staircase when suddenly, the voice of your dear husband rang inside your ears.

“excuse me. i’ll go help my wife.” his foxy eyes curved into crescent moons, and his lips stretched wide, forming an upward line. oh fuck, you were done for.

“oh yes, i was about to ask you to do the same. please, son.” she stated, nodding approvingly. oh what a gentleman she had raised.

you resumed your steps quickly, arriving to the second floor in less than you expected. you turned your head, only to be met with an empty corridor. thank goodness he hadn’t gotten there yet.

or so you thought. ‘cause when you refocused your attention to your front, a pair of arms grabbed you by your waist and swung you around the air in a swift motion as he dragged you to an empty room. the last sound heard in the corridor was the slam of a closing door.

your breathless body was pinned against a cold wall, trapped between two quite familiar, tanned arms. simultaneously, your disoriented irises tried to adjust to the darkness of the room and focus on the feverish, hungry eyes standing in front of you.

“wh… what the fuck was that.” you muttered as the remains of your breath flew away. wooyoung seemed enchanted by your current state though.

“heeey, don’t curse at me like that.” his gentle, cocky voice penetrated your mind like a bullet. knuckles crept up the sides of your exposed arms, providing soothing strokes — goosebumps prickled to life in response. he opened his warm palms and reached to your also bare shoulder, massaging them. “after all, ’m jus’ here to help you.” he pulled his secret weapon and started making out with your neck, licking your flesh like a starving man and spreading wet kisses all over it.

“help me? how are you helping me like this?” you uttered as your breath hitched, head leaning to the side at the right angle to give him enough space.

wooyoung sucked that sensitive spot that always made your eyes roll to the very back of your head, dragging a whine out of you successfully. his chuckle and victorious smirk didn’t go unseen by your already blissed-out self. he leaned back a little to admire you. just for a bit, palms not leaving their place. “you’ll know when we’re done.” his hands moved in a swift motion, arms wrapping around your thighs and shoulders, lifting you effortlessly in a princess carry. “for now, just shut up and enjoy it, hm?”

“w-wooyoung—you know we can’t do this now— angh!” your anxious, flustered self made a futile attempt to reason with wooyoung, hoping he’d remember that both your families were gathered downstairs for a fucking christmas dinner—while he, entirely unbothered, seemed more than eager to spend the evening thoroughly ruining you in the bed just one floor above. and that was clearly shown when he threw you to the bed as if you were the lightest feather and immediately crawled to you.

“c’mon, love. i just wanna help you stay awake” his gravelly voice purred gift next to your ear as his taunting hands played with the sides of your dress, fingertips aching and itching to rip it off you.

he had you underneath him, completely flustered and nervous. he knew you were really anxious about the dinner—you’d spent a whole hour straight ranting about how nerve-wracking the preparations were, only to end up feeling physically ill from the overwhelming surge of dopamine flooding your system. but your reddened cheeks were smiling at him and your plump lips were whispering nasty things to him. holy fuck, how couldn’t he be tempted?

he needed to be balls deep in you. now.

his skillful tongue found home in your neck and collarbone, sucking cute love bites all over. but, your body was still tense, too uneasy at the thought of the possible scenario of someone entering the room and catching the two of you in such a compromising position.

“b-babe, please—hmph”

in a sultry tone, he muttered, “already begging. so fucking cute.” a smirk was drawn on his lips before his hands reached to your cleavage and popped your tits out of your low-cut dress. “y’ want me to fuck you? ‘s that what it is?”

before you could even think of an answer, he dived right into your breasts, licking your sensitive nipples as though they were his favorite toy — because they absolutely were.

god, the incessant thoughts that ran through your head and his tongue lapping around your buds were too much. everything was starting to be too much, and he hadn’t even taken your clothes off. with heightened sensitivity, your lips fell open and a beautiful, sweet melody of your moans and whimpers escaped through them — a delightful melody for your husband’s ears.

impatient hands stripped you of your glittery dress, leaving you with nothing but your black, thin panties. wooyoung took a moment for himself — well, more accurately for you, to admire and revel in your beauty as he should. a rush of blood surged to his cock, making it throb even harder than before. he was no more than a man, overwhelmed by desire. “you’re fucking irresistible, y’ know that?” he started down to where your and his crotch connected, brows furrowing when he saw your clothed pussy. “i think it’s time for this to go.”

a sharp rrrrrip! bounced through the walls and brought your attention. “woo did you just—?!” you followed the movement of his hands, which discarded the shreds of black fabric to the floor. “that was my—! hahh” and his thumb flew right to your already swollen clit, stimulating it with circling motions.

“why’re you whining when you know i’ll buy you ten more pairs,” he whispered as he soaked in the unsteady shiftiness of your body — and for that, he posed a strong yet harmless grip on your waist. his fat thumb worked nonstop over your bud, sending sparks right to it. your body jolted upward at the feeling of his middle and index fingers tracing soft lines up your pink folds. the sight of your walls clenching and relaxing around nothing spun him. “ooh, what a greedy wifey i got.” he chuckled under his breath, gaze stuck to his home — and i mean your cunt. “sooo desperate for my fingers, huh?”

at this point, any sense or unsteady thought had already vanished away, completely replaced by a selfish state of mind. you wanted him to finger you, fuck you, drive you insane. and you wanted it right fucking now. and so you mewled, “god, please just do something.”

“got the name wrong, darling.” and with that, he pushed two fingers at once inside your fluttering walls, tugging a satisfied moan out of you. “it’s wooyoung. or hubby” he giggled. he fucking giggled as he rammed those fingers mercilessly, shooting stars and fireworks filling your vision.

“w-wait stop— baby, please— fffuck!” stuttering words and incoherent gibberish spilled from your swollen lips, too red and slick from how often and harshly you’d bitten them; eyes welling up with tears from the intense pleasure overload.

“stop?” a chuckle rumbled through his chest. “fine then” he withdrew his long phalanges, leaving you empty. completely fucking empty, with velvety and throbbing walls already missing him. you cried as you felt the void of your pulsating pussy, but before you could coax a desperate “please” from your lips, wooyoung grabbed you by the waist. you gasped, as he manhandled you, positioning you on top, naked folds grazing his clothed sex.

you pouted and wooyoung laughed. he was finding this shit way too funny. “since you so nicely begged me to stop, then put your back into it, mm?” a loud smack! reverberated through the walls as his heavy palm landed on the flesh of your ass. “fuck yourself on my cock, pretty girl.”

and did he have to tell you twice. desperate, shuddering hands worked on his dress pants, quickly undoing his belt and zipping it down just enough to uncover his rock-hard bulge. you grabbed the band of his boxers and pulled it down as well, his cock springing finally free. with a smooth movement, you took his member and positioned it below you. and just before you sit down on him completely, someone knocked on the fucking door.

the surprise caused you to jolt and lose control, sinking in a faster and sloppier motion than you intended — a loud cry resonating through the thin walls the moment his tip kissed your cervix perfectly. with eyes wide open, you slapped a hand over your mouth, cursing yourself for being so fucking noisy and sensitive and—

“yn? are you in here?” the muffled voice of wooyoung’s mother echoed from the other side of the door.

shit shit shit.

“y-yes, ma’am! i… ’m kinda busy over in here—ugh!” you tried to speak as loud and clear as you could, but wooyoung seemed to be unbothered by your efforts since he grabbed your hips and started swaying your core up and down his girth. up, down, up, down.

you stared at your husband with glaring eyes, stabbing knives into his. fuck, did this man even care about being heard by his own mother? now, with all doubts gone, you’re certain you’ve married a freak.

“are you okay, sweetie? what’s going on over there?”

and you swear you heard the door creaking open, so you exclaimed. “no! everything’s fine!” you yelped, your voice higher-pitched than you intended. “please don’t come in.”

wooyoung chuckled underneath you, soaking in the sight of your nervous self trying to mute your cries as your tits bounced right on his face. he could die right there and then and he’d be happy. “what’s wrong, baby? can’t take it?” he whispered as he gazed directly into your tightly scrunched eyes, your partially open mouth releasing nothing more but silent cries and pleas.

“fuck you, fuck you, fuck you.” you hushed soundlessly, yet willingly bouncing up and down his length. the low, manly giggle he uttered spun you. fuck, he had you wrapped up around his finger.

“oookay? uhm, do you know where my son is? is he there with you?”

he grinned. that shit-eating grin you hated so damn much appeared all across his face. “c’mon pretty, tell her the truth. tell her how good i’m fucking you, how good you’re taking my cock, hm?” he growled into your ear, his voice low and raspy, sending shivers down your spine. the sound was intoxicating, clouding your thoughts and turning your mind into mush.

your throbbing walls clenched around him subconsciously, his head rocking back in reaction. “he’s… he’s here with me, h-helping me like he said he would.”

wooyoung seemed utterly satisfied by your answer, his grin only spreading wider. “that’s my wife. so beautiful.”

“perfect then! i’ll see you in a bit then.” after those words, no other sound was heard — other than the wet clapping of your flesh against his hips.

“‘s she gone?” your half-lidded eyes stared down at your husband, who was hugging you by the waist, face deeply buried in your bobbing, soft tits. your hands flew to the back of his head, cupping his neck whilst caressing his raven hair fondly. at your words, his head lifted, and took a glance at your divine expression.

“baby, i didn’t care, not even a second, if she was hearing or not.” his intoxicating, dark irises sent love letters to yours, utterly drunk in love. “i jus’ wanna cum inside your sweet pussy.”

skillful fingers crept to your hardened, overstimulated nipples and all the way down where your bodies collided, positioning right on your clit. his left hand stroked your firm nipple and played with one breast, letting wooyoung’s tongue take care of the other whilst his right hand shifted rapidly over your bundle of nerves.

he fell in love with you again as he saw your back arching into a perfect crescent moon. “good girl.” your loud whines and moans only encouraged him to keep going. “so responsive to me.” he exhaled breathlessly. “fuck, are you about to cum, baby?”

“y-yeah, fuck— woo, i-i’m gonna cum, ‘m gonna fucking cum” you yelped as your bounces became sloppier, more desperate and more reckless. wooyoung motivated you by whispering sweet things and heart-melting praises right into your ear.

“cum, baby. cum for me, milk me dry.” and with one last bounce, you sprayed your juices all over him, soaking his pants and white shirt even more.

exasperated grunts and exhales left your husband’s mouth at the sensation of your folds clamping down on him — you definitely understood the assignment of milking him dry. ‘cause your pussy received the hot ropes of cum that his dick spurted out with great pleasure, sucking the life out of his poor, now softened length.

you crumbled down on him, your weakened core landing on top of him with his dick still inside you. your head found home in the crook of his neck as his hand reached to your back, wrapping your waist safely whilst the other provided soothing ministrations to your face. with your last ounce of strength, you pulled the sheets over your naked bodies, an even warming sensation drowning the both of you.

“fuck” was all you could mutter. “how’re we going to get back there, they’re waiting for us.”

wooyoung hummed thoughtfully, the vibrations rumbling through his chest and brushing against your skin. “we could pretend we fell asleep. with that, they shouldn’t suspect a thing.”

“hey that’s actually a great id—“

the door creaked open and your bodies jerked softly. the both of you knew exactly what to do, so your eyes flew shut. wooyoung even started snoring quietly to add a spec of realism to the scene.

the sound of your mothers’ voice echoed through your ears. “she said wooyoung was helping… her” wooyoung’s mom immediately lowered her voice as she took in the scene. an almost soundless aww escaped your mom’s lips.

“well sure he was helping her.” your mother sighed at the wholesome moment she had the luck of appreciating.

“i think he was massaging her. ‘cause when i knocked on the door, i could hear like— muffled sounds, that seemed like moans.” she stated, and you froze in place — well, not like you could move an inch. “at first i was confused, but then she clarified that wooyoung-ah was helping her “like he said he would”” she remarked your words as if she had studied them.

“oh i see.” your mother spoke. “i think we should let them sleep. my poor yn had a long day.”

and with that, the door shut closed with a soft click.

wooyoung giggled under the covers as your face burned from the embarrassment.

“massaging? well, that’s a way to put it.”

“wooyoung, babe, as much as i love you, please shut the fuck up.”

he laughed wholeheartedly, a gut-wrenching sound that never fails to make you smile. “you embarrassed, my love?”

you slapped your open palm against his exposed chest as you whined. “stoppp.”

his small, soft giggle buzzed inside your eardrums before he left on the top of your head a kiss full of fondness and affection. “cutie.”

| masterlist

green gables. (m)

pairing: e2l!jaemin x afab!reader

words: 22.9k+

summary: your search for a family lands you at green gables, where you learn to adapt to the new challenges that come your way.

genre: fluff, angst, smut

warnings: takes place in the late 19th century, mentions of death, mentions of bullying, bigdick!jaemin, creampies, fingering

inspired by anne of green gables, anne of avonlea, anne of green gables (1985), anne of avonlea (1987), anne with an e

For your entire life, you dreamed of having a home to call yours.

Your parents passed when you were only an infant, leaving you to be handed off to the local orphanage who barely had enough funding to keep their heads above water. Most of the adults who came to visit were only looking for boys that could help around the house. It was rare for anyone to come in and request a girl, unless they were a newborn mother who couldn’t handle the constant screaming at night.

Still, despite every year passing with no sign of a couple willing to adopt you, your optimism never wavered. You imagined a great big life with green pastures and parents who wanted to shower you in the utmost adoration.

Until that day comes, you’re forced to face the reality of your current situation.

A mop drops in front of you, cracking at the base and standing on its last leg. Mrs. Baek gruffly orders, “Go clean up the kitchen. One of the boys was nauseous last night and it’s starting to smell rancid in there.”

“Yes, Mrs. Baek,” you reply obediently, taking the mop from the floor and trudging off to the kitchens.

Another downside of not being adopted yet is the constant onslaught of chores. Being one of the only grownups left in the orphanage, tasks were assigned off to you in lieu of the other younger children. Mrs. Baek always reminds you that she only has to pay for your housing for another year before the government allows her to start collecting dues. You try not to think about how you’ll possibly locate the compensation, hoping someone will come to take you into their home before then.

You clean up the sick from the kitchen floor, pinching the bridge of your nose to stop the smell from invading your senses. Mrs. Kim pops in, eyes narrowing at you. The elderly woman has never been very fond of you, blaming your lack of adoption on your incessant need to dream. She thinks if you were a little more grounded in reality, an expecting mother would have hired you into her household by now.

She calls your last name with a huff. “Put that down and come with me. A request has come in for you.”

Your heart beats rapidly in your chest. A request could mean two things — a mother finally caved in and asked for a helping hand or a family has decided to come rescue you from your misfortune. You skip to Mrs. Kim’s office happily, grinning at her when you take a seat across her desk.

“A pair of siblings have called in, asking for a farmhand to help around their estate,” she informs you, unbothered by your excitement at the prospect. “We’ve agreed to send you, as they need an older girl with more labor intensive experience. You’ll depart for the station tomorrow.”

“Oh, Mrs. Kim, thank you, thank you!” You leap up, rushing around her desk to envelope her in a hug. She grunts at you, pushing you away with a sneer.

“Don’t get yourself thinking this means they’ll adopt you. They could very well change their minds after hearing you talk for an hour,” she grumbles. “Now go pack your things and prepare for bed. You have a long trip ahead.”

You decide not to bother her any further, running back to the sleeping area and grabbing your suitcase. The other girls in the orphanage don’t care much for you, loathing your sheer positivity, which contrasted against their evident cynicism. You used to mind it when you were younger, lamenting over not having a close friend as they all deemed you too odd. Now, however, you’ve grown accustomed to fending for yourself.

“And where do you think you’re going, princess?” Ara mocks, watching as you lay your suitcase open on your bed. You grab what little clothes you have and shove them inside. “Off to your make-believe castle?”

The other girls echo her laughter, but you don’t allow their comments to dig under your skin. You focus on the joy of living with a new family, even if they decide not to keep you.

Anywhere is better than here.

“Oh, look girls,” Ara says as she jumps down from her bed. She dangles one of the strings of your tank top on her finger. “Maybe the little miss is off to find herself a boyfriend.”

You glare at her. “Give it back.”

She smirks when she pulls the reaction she wanted out of you. “Why? Need it for your date tonight?”

You lunge at her and she screams, attracting the attention of the caretakers in the next room over. They find you wrestling with Ara on the floor, the both of you resorting to a screaming mess as you yank at each other’s hair. The other girls cheer at the spectacle, forming a barricade around your blurry figures before Mrs. Baek invades the scene. She grabs the back of your shirts and hauls you apart, panting as if she ran across the orphanage just to break up the fight.

“That is it! I’ve had it with the both of you!” She growls, eyes darkening to a frightening shade of black as she looks at you. “I have every nerve not to send you off to your new family tomorrow.”

Your jaw drops at her words and Ara follows suit, albeit for a completely different reason. “She got adopted?” Ara shrieks, flabbergasted by the thought.

You smile proudly while Mrs. Baek replies, “Yes, she did. And if you had only held your tongue for another day, you wouldn’t be cleaning the washrooms tomorrow.”

Ara grows flustered at being disciplined in front of everyone. It’s enough to keep her mouth shut. Mrs. Baek yells that it’s time for lights out, and some of the girls complain due to not having their dinner yet.

“Then you should’ve been fretting over your empty stomachs rather than inciting this ridiculous squabble. For heaven’s sake, most of you will be of the age next year where you have to earn a sufficient wage on your own. I’m horrified by the thought.”

She ensures the room is tucked into bed before closing the door and shutting off the lights. You dig your head into your pillow, the corner of your lips twitching upwards at the thought of boarding a train in the morning. You’ve never been on a train before, and you wonder if it’s as glamorous as they say. Your eyes flit downwards to check on your suitcase stuffed under your bed, which was hastily packed by Mrs. Baek before she barked at you not to cause any more trouble. You feel Ara’s glare from behind you but you ignore it, dreaming of your new life away from here.

—

Your new family is late.

It concerns you quite a bit but you make an attempt not to show it, speaking to the policeman at the train station with much fervor. You rattle on about your first experience on the train and how it was dazzling to see all of the passing views of nature. He nods politely at you, allowing you to talk as freely as you wish.

The clock continues to tick slowly by, but you assure the policeman that your new family will be here to collect you soon.

The last train departs before you see a haggard man walk up the steps, a slight limp in his left leg. Your hope rises that this may be the new man who will whisk you off to his home. However, he stops and asks the policeman you were conversing with earlier, “Excuse me, sir. I’m looking for a young boy.”

“No boy here. There’s a girl sent from the orphanage down south. She’s been waiting since midday.”

“A g-girl?”

You jump off the rickety bench, gripping your suitcase tightly in one hand and strolling up to the questioning man. You put on your best smile for him as Mrs. Kim taught you.

Keep your hands folded together and bow your head kindly. It shows you’re going to be a good girl for them to host.

You offer him your name. “It is such a pleasure to meet you. I have been waiting awfully long and worried you were injured along your journey. But then I got swept up in the cherry trees we passed on the train ride… Oh, have you ever ridden a train before? It was quite a lovely experience, you see, and I’d love to tackle it again if given the chance.”

The man blinks heavily at you while the policeman’s eyebrow quirks up in amusement. The man clears his throat, his wrinkled hands wiping away the sweat building from his brow.

“I’m Ilnam of Green Gables,” he introduces, glancing at the clock hanging nearby. “Let’s get going then. I’ll help you take your bag.”

“I got it!” You reply cheerfully. “I’ve got all my worldly goods from the orphanage here, but it isn’t heavy. They didn’t give me much.” You bid goodbye to the policeman and follow Ilnam to his buggy parked nearby. You continue to ramble even though you know Mrs. Baek would be scolding you by now for not understanding social cues. “Mrs. Kim from the orphanage told me it would be a long drive to Green Gables, isn’t that right? About ten miles. I don’t mind, honestly, as I love rides where I can get to fully invest my thoughts into the surroundings. Oh, I’ve heard Green Gables has beautiful trees around the estate, is that true?”

Ilnam gives a curt nod, gently placing your luggage in the back as he helps you into the buggy. You notice he’s not a man of many words, but you deem it to be fine considering you have plenty of words to share yourself.

You provide him a reprieve from conversing for half of the trek, admiring the blooming fauna around you. When you’re only two miles away from Green Gables, you reach your hand out to brush it against one of the trees covered in white snow, slowly melting due to the seasons changing.

“What do these trees remind you of?” You ask him, eyes sparkling.

He turns to look at you, both of his hands still gripping the reins of the buggy as the horse trots along. “What?”

“The trees, Ilnam,” you say softly. “Don’t they remind you of a winter wedding? A bride dressed head to toe in white, trying not to shiver as she walks down the aisle to her lovely groom? And as soon as her father gives her away, her husband-to-be whispers that she’s just as beautiful as the falling snow?”

He chuckles. “You’ve got one hell of an imagination.”

“Thank you,” you reply proudly, beaming at his acknowledgement. “The other girls at the orphanage didn’t care for it much. I’m glad I can settle in with a new family who appreciates it.”

At your words, Ilnam tenses suddenly, but you fail to notice it as your eyes are drawn to a shimmering lake over the hill.

“Oh, how beautiful!” You exclaim, nearly toppling over the buggy as you lean forward to take a look. Ilnam grabs the back of your dress to block your fall. “What is that lake called?”

“That’s Noh’s pond,” he says, keeping a stray eye locked on you in case your clumsiness pops up again.

“What a dreadful name,” you state with a frown. “Not very creative at all. I think we should call it the Lake of Shining Waters. Yes, that’s it! That’s a better suited name, don’t you think?”

He shrugs. “Better than Mr. Noh’s pond, I suppose.”

“And who is Mr. Noh?”

“He lives just up that hill,” he answers, gesturing to the great big house with his chin. “He’s got a daughter around your age, ready to graduate next year. Her name’s Hyojung.”

“Wow,” you murmur under your breath, sweeping yourself away in fantasies of Hyojung rushing over to Green Gables and declaring you to be friends. “I hope we’ll get to meet one day. It would be decadent if we could eat near the Lake of Shining Waters.”

“There’s Green Gables, up ahead,” he remarks.

You stretch your neck upwards, carefully balancing yourself on the seat of the buggy to not give Ilnam another fright. A grin stretches from ear to ear when you see the white house dressed with a green-gabled rooftop and window shutters. It sits on acres and acres of land, all with well-maintained grass that you assume Ilnam has been taking care of.

He brings the buggy to a halt when you approach the entrance, and a grey-haired woman dashes out, a scowl on her face when she spots you.

“Seo Ilnam,” she says condescendingly. “What took you so long? And where is the boy?”

Your heart falls when you recollect Ilnam’s earlier questioning to the policeman. Had they not been expecting you?

“No boy,” Ilnam replies gruffly, hopping down from the buggy. “I went to the station and there was only her.”

“No boy?” The woman repeats in exasperation. “There must have been a boy. We requested a boy.”

“No boy. Only her.”

You dig your face into your hands, erupting into sobs. “You don’t want me! I should’ve known that Mrs. Kim made a mistake. Of course you don’t want me! You want a boy!”

The woman clicks her tongue, holding the end of her dress as she comes around to you. She helps you step down and chides you. “Now we will have none of that,” she says, taking your hands away from your face. “We’re not going to turn you away for the night. We’ll bring you back to the station in the morning to get this sorted. What’s your name?”

You tell her despite your mouth feeling like it’s been shoved full of rocks. She guides you inside the house, and you would normally marvel at its beauty, but you’re so caught up in wallowing in your pain that you don’t get a chance. Now you’ll have to return to the orphanage and hear Ara’s speech about how you’ve never been destined for a family.

“My name is Ilkyung,” the woman introduces herself, sitting you down on the long dining table. She pours you a cup of milk. “Tell me exactly how the orphanage sent you here.”

You sniffle, staring down at the cup pitifully. “Mrs. Kim specifically mentioned you requested a farmhand to help around the estate. They decided to send me since I’m one of the older girls there.”

“There wasn’t a boy they could send?”

Your bottom lip quivers. “All the older boys have already aged out, ma’am. The oldest one we have now is only seven years of age.” She swears lightly, shaking her head and sitting across from you. You try to vouch for yourself. “I can be a good farmhand, ma’am, for you and Ilnam. I’m a good cook and I can learn how to work in those fields.”

Ilnam enters the house, giving Ilkyung a look that you can’t quite detect. She stares back at him with narrowed eyes, and you realize they’re having a wordless conversation. It brings a smile to your face.

“It’s exquisite to have a kindred spirit you can speak to without really speaking,” you comment. Both siblings turn their attention to you. “I’ve never seen it before, only read about it. I-It’s nice.”

A few moments of silence passes before Ilkyung sighs. “We’ll eat supper and then I’ll show you to your room for the night. I’ll bring you to Mrs. Park to discuss this ordeal in the morning.”

Your dream of having a home to call yours crumbles around you.

—

Mrs. Park is not a very pleasant woman.

She brushes off Ilkyung’s complaint swiftly. “Ilkyung, I told the orphanage what you directed me. Word for word, line for line. It’s not my fault they sent a girl to your quarters.”

Ilkyung has the patience of a saint, which you quickly learned after she handled your pathetic cries the entire night. She places her hands over your shoulders.

“I understand that, Hwayoung. No one is shifting blame here. I simply want to get the issue corrected with the orphanage.”

You shirk at being referred to as an issue. Mrs. Park exhales, taking a break from cleaning the buckets on her front porch. You don’t even want to ask what used to be contained in them, the smell being enough to ward off your curiosity.

“Well, if you don’t want her, I could use another hand around the house. My girl just gave birth to another son,” Mrs. Park says just as a sharp cry rings from inside the house. A girl slightly older than you stumbles out, hair sticking up in different directions and her clothes in disarray. She pleas for Mrs. Park to take care of the baby upstairs. “No need. Mrs. Seo is offering us a girl who will help.”

You look at Ilkyung with wide eyes and she understands your concern.

“Now, Hwayoung, I didn’t say that we wanted to give her away-”

“Ilkyung,” Mrs. Park scoffs. “Your eagerness to waste my morning is truly astonishing. Either leave the girl here or return to Green Gables. I don’t have the time to write to the orphanage again for you or dawdle while you decide whether you and Ilnam want to keep her.”

Ilkyung smiles tightly. “Have a good rest of your morning, Hwayoung.”

You don’t question Ilkyung’s decision as you travel back to Green Gables. You keep your mouth shut for the first time, perpetually worried she’ll turn the cart around and force you to live with Mrs. Park and her numerous grandchildren.

“Tell me about your time at the orphanage. I would like to learn,” Ilkyung requests as you come up to the Lake of Shining Waters.

“I was dropped off at the steps when I was a baby. They say my father was a bank worker and my mother was a gardener. Don’t you think that’s so romantic? She was probably planting roses when he came by from his shift at the bank,” you murmur happily. “Mrs. Baek says they were as poor as church mice as my father made very little wages. I would like to think we would’ve come across a great fortune if the fever hadn’t taken my mother so poorly. I was only three months old when she passed and my father handed me to the orphanage. I don’t blame him in the slightest — what was the man to do when the love of his life disappeared and he had no coins in his name to take care of their child? Frankly, I just wish she lived long enough for me to remember calling her my mother.”

“I’m sorry she didn’t,” Ilkyung says apologetically, but you beam at her.

“Oh, it’s no worry at all! I know she would have loved me. Mrs. Baek at the orphanage was the one who raised me, and I was taken into another house when I was eight to help a mother raise her children. She had so many twins, three sets of them! It was such a beautiful thing but she didn’t have much time to look after them. I told her firmly that she mustn’t keep having children as it was growing too much, but her husband was always drunk and didn’t take kindly to me.”

“They didn’t treat you well?” She asks, disturbed by the idea.

“They meant to, they really did! I could tell they wanted to treat me well but it wasn’t easy for them to divide up their attention, you see. The babies were always crying and taking up most of the day. They were good people, I just know it.”

Ilkyung swallows at your positivity, holding the reins of the buggy tighter. “And did they put you through school?”

You shrug. “It wasn’t a priority for them, which I understand. I learned to read at the orphanage after the family moved away and decided they didn’t want to keep me. It’s been my favorite pastime when I’m not assigned chores.”

“Well, as long as you’re living under our roof, I’m putting you through your proper studies,” she says definitively.

A spark of hope blooms in your chest. “Oh, does that mean you’re keeping me?” You clasp your fingers together, pinching yourself in case this turns out to be another dream.

She stutters over her reply. “I’m surely not allowing you to stay with Mrs. Park to raise her grandchildren. We will run a test trial for now, as long as you display good manners and listen accordingly. And I won’t have that imagination of yours running wild every second of the day, you must promise to be focused and attentive.”

“Yes, yes, thank you, Ilkyung!” You yell as you launch yourself at her, wrapping her in a firm hug. She gasps at the sudden contact but pats your back assuredly. “I won’t let you down, I promise! I’ll bring you and Ilnam the best grades in school, I swear it.”

She peels you away. “Now don’t promise what you can’t guarantee. We’ll start off small — you’ll help me in the kitchen before assisting Ilnam with the lighter tasks around Green Gables.”

Your dream begins to rebuild itself.

—

You slowly adjust to your new life at Green Gables.

Ilkyung teaches you how to sew in the mornings before you help Ilnam with the livestock in the afternoons. Then you assist Ilkyung with preparing supper in the evenings, allowing you to brush up on your cooking repertoire that you picked up on at the orphanage.

Ilkyung never voices her concerns directly, but you know she’s worried about you attending the local school. You’re coming in quite late in the year, and the students have already grown up with each other and are ready to embark on the next chapter of their lives. To assimilate you, she brings you over for tea at the Noh residence, where you have a direct view of the Lake of Shining Waters.

Mr. Noh is a stout man with a curly mustache. He has a wife and two daughters, who all look like they should be on display at a beauty parlor. Mrs. Noh greets you with a smile, kissing both of Ilkyung’s cheeks.

“It is so nice to see you, you and Ilnam never come around for tea,” she murmurs.

Ilkyung rests a hand on your back. “Apologies for our absence, we’ve been busy with running Green Gables. I wanted to introduce you to our new girl.”

“Oh yes,” Mrs. Noh says as she turns to you. Ilkyung fashioned you a new dress just for this occasion, and although the greedy part of you would have liked it to have puffy sleeves, you didn’t put up much of an argument. Mrs. Noh examines you carefully, assessing if you’re the right fit to mingle with her daughter. Ilkyung warned you that the town had certain assumptions when it came to adopting orphans, but you take it in stride. “It is very nice to meet you. Hyojung has been waiting for your arrival.”

Hyojung shyly smiles at you, her hands folded over her stomach properly. Her long black hair reaches her waist, tied up neatly in a giant blue ribbon. Her matching blue dress has the puffy sleeves that you adore, and you try not to sulk at your own frumpy brown dress. Her sister, Chaeyoung, is at least ten years younger as she stares off with a bored look. She’s dressed very similarly to Hyojung, except her ensemble is in pink.

“Why don’t you two take a walk through the gardens?” Hyojung’s mother suggests.

Once you’re outside, Hyojung has a hard time finding the right words to say. You, on the other hand, seem to be saying all the wrong things.

“-I’ve just never had a friend of my own before. It’s odd, I know, but the girls at the orphanage despised me and mocked me endlessly. But I can already tell you’re nothing like them. Do you happen to know what a kindred spirit is?” She shakes her head and you grin. “Ilkyung and Ilnam are kindred spirits. They can sense what each other is thinking without having to say it out loud. Their souls are more attuned to the other, intertwining in this beautiful harmony. I-I’ve never found a kindred spirit of my own, I must confess, but I was hoping it could be you.”

“M-Me?” She stutters, laughing softly. “Oh, I’m not too sure. I’ve never been someone’s kindred spirit before.”

“It’s easy!” You say, taking her hand and leading her to the Lake of Shining Waters. “What do you see when you look out here?”

Hyojung shrugs. “A lake.”

“Not just any lake, the Lake of Shining Waters! See, look at how the sunlight beams across the water and reflects into a million dazzling lights. Doesn’t it make you think of a picnic in the summer, feeling the breeze nip at your face while the birds chirp around you?”

She giggles at you. “That sounds nice.”

“It is nice, Hyojung. And that’s what the lake represents — the happiness you feel when you see the shining waters.”

She purses her lips before looping her arm through yours. “I think we will be great kindred spirits. You should know the hierarchy of the classroom before your first day though. Soeun runs a tight ship and she has a crush on Na Jaemin, so don’t even bother looking in his direction. She can sense it.”

“Who’s Na Jaemin?” You inquire with furrowed eyebrows.

She scoffs. “Who’s Na Jaemin? He’s the most desired guy in our year. Top of the class, good looks, heading off to medical school next year… he’s everything a girl wants. Soeun’s been trying to win his affections since we were children, but it hasn’t really been working out for her.”

“Well, I’ll do my best to stay far from him.”

The Noh family dines you and Ilkyung for the evening before you’re finding your way back to Green Gables. When Ilkyung asks you if you’re getting along with Hyojung, you excitedly relay to her how you’ve finally discovered your kindred spirit. It eases her worries regarding your isolation from the rest of the other students.

You walk arm in arm with Hyojung on your first day, not revealing to her how you stayed up the whole night speculating on the different ways today could go wrong. Ilkyung reminded you over breakfast to hold your tongue and be mindful of when others need to speak their turn.

“I’ll introduce you,” Hyojung whispers to you as you step inside the schoolhouse, hanging up your hats together. “Soeun might make a fuss, but she’ll get used to it.”

The classroom is small, nearly the same size as the dining room of Green Gables. There are sixteen tables total, divided on each side of the room for the girls and the boys. The girls are already huddled into a circle in the middle while the boys throw around a ball in the corner. Each eye turns to you as you enter, and Hyojung squeezes your arm in reassurance.

“Girls, meet our newest member,” Hyojung says as she introduces you to the group. The girls assess you with an inquisitive raising of the eyebrow, and the one with the frilly yellow bow in her hair speaks first.

“We heard you came from the orphanage.”

“Soeun,” Hyojung scolds. “Where have your manners gone?”

“It’s fine,” you say, resting a hand over hers as you watch her scowl at Soeun. “Yes, I was orphaned when I was an infant after my parents passed. But now I live at Green Gables with the Seo’s, and I would much rather focus on the present than the past, don’t you think?”

Soeun narrows her eyes but doesn’t utter another remark about your upbringing. “Anyways, we were just talking about how Mark plans on asking Sookyung if he can walk her home.”

The girls in the circle squeal while one of them blushes beet red. She hits Soeun’s arm playfully and whines in embarrassment.

“And what about you, Soeun? When is Jaemin finally going to ask you out?” Another girl asks.

Soeun waves her off. “We still have time. Don’t you girls worry about me.”

The teacher starts the lesson and you scramble into your seats. Hyojung smiles at you when you occupy the seat next to her, and you offer her a grateful grin in return.

“Today, we will be discussing the history of the late war,” your teacher drawls, his eyes sunken in and bored by the sound of his voice. He begins reciting whatever’s written in the text in his manual while you take notes on your blackboard slate. You hang onto his every word, intending to fulfill your promise to Ilkyung to bring home the best grades in the class.

The local community of mothers was the one who decided whether or not to bring you into the schoolhouse. There were doubts due to you being an orphan and slowing the rest of the students down. Ilkyung attended many meetings to vouch for you, and it relieved some of the members to know you already learned how to read and write. You were set on not only proving them wrong about their initial presumptions, but also showing up at the top of the list compared to your fellow classmates.

When you’re dismissed for lunch, the girls are a giggling mess, curling in on themselves over the stray crumbs dusting the teacher’s mustache. You join in on their fun as you gather around outside, opening your lunch boxes and conversing together. Soeun and Sookyung dance around in a circle, recreating what they believe your teacher gets up to in his after hours.

You chortle as you sit at the end of the line, watching them with gleeful eyes. You’re about to jump up and join them when an apple suddenly rolls in front of you.

“Sorry,” a tender voice apologizes, leaning down to pick up the lonely fruit. Your eyes raise to meet ones that sparkle just like the Lake of Shining Waters. His smile stretches from ear to ear, radiating the most gorgeous features you’ve ever seen in your life. “The boys never watch where they’re throwing-”

“Jaemin,” Soeun murmurs, abruptly ceasing her hopping.

He snaps his head up to look at her as the reality of his name crashes down around you. You scurry away from his figure as if he’s burned you, and he glances back down at you in confusion.

Hyojung senses your cry for help. “Um, girls, perhaps we should head back inside.” She gives them an aggressive nod of her head before they all get her message, following you inside the schoolhouse while leaving Jaemin and Soeun to their own devices.

You fail to recognize Jaemin’s eyes trailing you the entire way, only focused on the fact that you dodged a bullet out there with Soeun. The other girls are whispering to themselves about the possibility of Jaemin and Soeun getting together. When Soeun comes back in with flushed cheeks, she refuses to tell the rest of you what occurred outside. Jaemin floats in shortly after, eyes locked on you. You rapidly dart your gaze away, sitting ramrod straight in your seat.

The day passes by successfully, and you nearly believe you’re in the clear until the last lesson of the day. You’re so excited to recant to Ilkyung about your new friends and your ability to hold in your tongue like you promised. It’s all thwarted when a singular piece of chalk gets thrown at your head.

“Psst,” a voice hisses, and despite only hearing him talk once, you can already guess who it is. The teacher’s back is turned, writing a few arithmetic equations on the board. A couple of the boys chuckle at Jaemin. “Hey, psst.”

Another piece of chalk is flung from across the room. Hyojung gives you a concerned look. You ignore it, drilled in on solving the equation in front of you.

“Hey, princess.”

You’re instantly swept in a flurry of bad memories of Ara taunting you.

“Aw, girls, look at this! The poor princess has her nose in a book again. You can keep reading but no prince is going to jump out and save you.”

“Do you see that, girls? The princess here is dreaming of a big white castle with a family at the end of the rainbow.”

“What’s the matter, princess? Did the big scary monster come to assign you chores?”

Before you can fully register your actions, you find yourself striding to him, bringing your slate down over his head and cracking it in pieces.

“How dare you!”

The entire classroom falls into a deadly silence. The girls are covering their mouths to prevent a gasp from escaping while the boys are snickering to themselves. Your teacher spins around, eyes blazing with fury. He growls out your name.

Before he can reign fire down on you, Jaemin stands up with dust littered in his hair as he says, “It was my fault, sir. I was picking on her.”

“To witness such a temper stem from a pupil of my own astounds me beyond belief. Go stand on the platform in front of the blackboard for the rest of the day.”

“But sir-”

“And I’ve heard enough from you, Na Jaemin. I expect more from our top student.”

You shamefully spend the rest of the day standing in front of the blackboard. You keep your eyes planted on your feet, curling your fingers into your palm until your nails dig into the skin. When class is eventually released, Hyojung rushes over to you, handing you your book bag. You keep your head held high while you walk away, disregarding Jaemin’s attempts to apologize.

“I really am sorry, I didn’t mean to get you in trouble. Let’s not hold grudges.”

You huff and tug on Hyojung’s arm, declining to look in his general direction. Hyojung mumbles your name. “Come on. You can’t be mad at him forever. Jaemin makes fun of all the girls! Soeun’s not even upset with you over it.”

“I shall never forgive Na Jaemin,” you tell her with certainty. “Until the day I die, the iron has entered into my soul where it shall remain forever.”

“Oh, you’re so dramatic.”

—

The school days with Na Jaemin don’t grow any easier.

By the third week, due to you running late from Green Gables, your teacher forced you away from Hyojung and sat you directly next to Jaemin. The boy was kind enough not to pester you, keeping his attention on the lessons at hand. However, every now and then, you often find a tiny heart-shaped candy underneath your arm that only he could leave behind for you. You usually throw them on the ground in front of him and dig your heel into it until it crumbles into powder.

He even manages to hold his top spot in the class with you right below him.

You complain to Ilkyung about it constantly, who does nothing but stare at you fondly. “He is the most aggravating boy I have ever met in my life! Everyone thinks he’s a saint, Ilkyung, but I know better! That Na Jaemin is nothing but a troublemaker out for my blood. He plans to use my sorrow to dangle my failure in front of everyone, I just know it. He’s at home planning my demise as we speak!”

“You’ll do better in your studies if you focus more on your books than the likes of Na Jaemin,” Ilkyung advises with a knowing look in her eye. Ilnam walks in, brushing off the snow starting to come in on his jacket. “Ilnam, tell her how she should be emphasizing her attention in school rather than boys.”

Your jaw drops open. “I do not enjoy your implication! Na Jaemin is not just a boy, he’s… he’s…”

“Mr. Na is a good man,” Ilnam comments, not fully registering Ilkyung’s ask paired with your frustration. “His boy is alright as well from what I’ve heard. Decent head on his shoulders, top of his class, and it would do the town some good to have a well-bred doctor in such close proximity.”

You throw him the most menacing look you can conjure. Ilnam clears his throat.

“B-But of course, he’s nothing compared to you, sweetheart. Smartest girl I’ve ever seen, isn’t that right, Ilkyung?”

Before you can unleash another set of choice words against Na Jaemin, Ilkyung instructs you to help Ilnam sort through the hay in the barn. You pout as you work, imagining all the ways you’re going to study hard enough to beat your enemy.

Ilnam tries again while you’re raking through stacks of hay. “As much as I love you bringing home good grades for us, I hope you’re not losing any sleep for the Na boy.”

You sneer. “He wishes I was.”

Ilnam smiles. “You know, when I was younger, there was a girl my age who didn’t like me very much. She always thought I was too quiet and hiding behind Ilkyung’s coattails. I never understood why she despised me until she got engaged. She told me she wished I was the one who proposed.”

“Oh, Ilnam,” you squeal, clutching your fingers together. “That is so romantic. Did you sweep her off her feet and pick a fresh bouquet of daisies for her? Tell her to leave the other man and run off with you in the sunset?”

He chuckles and shakes his head. “No, I told her it was a good idea to marry him. I had to take care of matters at Green Gables after our parents passed, and I had no time to entertain her fantasies. But the point is that she treated me poorly because she didn’t know another way to convey her feelings.”

You furrow your eyebrows, about to question what he could possibly mean by that statement before Hyojung rushes in the barn. She’s panting, holding her chest as she gasps, “Chaeyoung is sick! S-She keeps coughing and can’t breathe and I don’t know what to do! Father and mother have gone into town and there’s no one to call for the doctor.”

You drop your rake and bolt to Hyojung’s side, holding her shaking form. Ilnam is immediately throwing on his coat before mounting one of the horses in the stables.

“He’s going to fetch a doctor,” you say to Hyojung as Ilnam rides off. “We’ve become such kindred spirits that I can read his thoughts. It sounds like Chaeyoung has the croup. What have you tried to cure her?”

Hyojung hiccups between sobs. “I-I don’t know. Our aunt, Nayoung, is in town and she’s opened all the windows to help with C-Chaeyoung’s breathing.”

“You mustn’t forget I used to care for multiple pairs of baby twins. They got croup all the time. Let me find a bottle of ipecac in the house and we’ll head to Chaeyoung straight away.”

Ilkyung yelps when you burst through the door and rifle through the medicine cabinet. “Chaeyoung’s sick with the croup,” you explain to her while Hyojung continues to cry in the doorway. “I’m going over to help and Ilnam’s gone into town to get the doctor. Hyojung’s parents are out having dinner.”

Ilkyung inhales, dusting her hands over her apron as she turns off the stove. “Well, someone needs to inform her parents. I’ll take the buggy.”

As soon as you locate the clear brown bottle, you grab Hyojung’s hand and throw a scarf around your neck. You race towards her house, your boots crunching against the snow as you sprint. You find Chaeyoung releasing weak coughs as she lays on the Noh’s living room sofa. Hyojung’s aunt, Nayoung, hovers over her with a worried expression.

You swiftly get to work as Hyojung clarifies the situation to Nayoung, divulging about your past with caring for small children.

“Hyojung, go boil some more hot water for Chaeyoung. Miss Nayoung, please add more wood to the fire, she’s grown too cold,” you instruct as you twist the cap of the bottle in your hands. You elevate Chaeyoung’s head and pour a few drops of ipecac down her throat. She groans at the taste but you force her to swallow.

The rest of the night is filled with much uncertainty. Hyojung and Nayoung kept to their tasks, with Hyojung serving her sister and Nayoung filling the fireplace with new logs of wood at every given chance. By the time Ilnam returns with the doctor two hours later, the worst of Chaeyoung’s sickness has passed.

You jump up when they enter, rapidly explaining the story to the doctor. He kneels down to check on Chaeyoung’s temperature as you say, “Her cough was getting worse and worse and I had great fear due to the bottle of ipecac running out. I didn’t want to worry the others but I was not certain of her state when I gave the last dose. Luckily, she started to cough up the phlegm immediately afterwards and has been recovering since then.”

When Mr. and Mrs. Noh return with Ilkyung in tow, the doctor swears that if it wasn’t for you, Chaeyoung would have been in a state he’s not sure he could’ve saved her from. Mrs. Noh envelopes you into her arms with a sharp cry, thanking you over and over again for saving her child.

Exhausted beyond belief, you smile and tell her, “It was nothing. I would do anything to help your family.”

Before Ilkyung and Ilnam escort you back home, Nayoung gives you a firm pat on the shoulder. “You’ve done great work here, girl. Please come visit me in the city any time you wish.”

And when you sit at your desk the next day, Jaemin murmurs to you, “I heard what you did for the Noh family. How did you ever think of using the ipecac first?”

Thinking he’s making a show just to point out your flaws, you raise your chin high in the air as you reply, “I’ve had experience with the croup before. Many children in the orphanage caught it during this time of year.”

He grins. “Well, I think you’re brilliant. I certainly would’ve never thought of it first.”

Your shoulders deflate as you let your walls down slightly. “Really? But you’re going to be a doctor.”

He winks. “I won’t say anything if you don’t.”

You clear your throat and return your attention to your blackboard, ignoring the way your stomach erupts in butterflies.

—

Your first Christmas morning with the Seo’s is perhaps the most delightful holiday you’ve ever had.

Ilkyung and you have been cooking for what feels like a week, preparing to host the Noh’s. The morning, however, is just for you, Ilkyung, and Ilnam.

Although Ilkyung warned you that they may not have the funds for gifts this year, Ilnam hands you a beautifully wrapped box. You blink at him with wide eyes from your spot on the floor in the living room as they sit on the couch.

He smiles and nods sheepishly. “A C-Christmas present for you. I know you’ve never had one before.”

“Oh, Ilnam,” you wheeze, feeling as if your heart is about to beat out of your chest. “You didn’t have to do this. Thank you.”

You unbox the gift, slowly peeling back the wrapping paper before gasping when you see what lays inside. The dress is the same shade of brown Ilkyung uses to sew your current wardrobe, but it has the gorgeous silk lining you see in Hyojung’s dresses with a fanned out skirt and a lacy ruffle neckline. The sleeves are the best part, puffy and pleasing to the eye.

You burst out in tears, alarming Ilnam. “Do you not like it?”

“Like it? I can never thank you enough for this. I’ve never owned something so exquisite in my life. I really do believe I could never be happier than I am right now.”

“It’s a wonderful gift, even if it did cost more than expected,” Ilkyung says, raising an eyebrow at Ilnam. “Dry up your tears, child. The Noh’s will be here soon.”

The Noh’s arrive in the middle of you hugging Ilnam to death, thanking him over and over for his gift. Ilkyung chides you as she pries you off of him, lecturing for you to say your proper greetings. Once the adults are off setting the breakfast table, you squeal to Hyojung about your new dress.

“That is perfect,” she replies with sparkling eyes. “Because Aunt Nayoung was here a week ago and she left you a gift of her own.”

“What? For me?”

Hyojung passes you a ravishing pair of silk-covered heels, pointed at the toes and embroidered with a soft lace. You’ve never seen a singular piece of footwear look so fine.

“Hyojung, my gosh…”

“I know, aren’t they so elegant? She wanted to thank you for all your help with Chaeyoung. She said she felt quite useless until you arrived, and she’s never seen someone so brave,” she giggles. “They’ll couple so nicely with your new dress.”

“I’ve never been given so many cherished items at once. I’ll remember this day forever, I swear it to you.”

The rest of your Christmas afternoon goes off without a hitch. Chaeyoung is teetering with excitement, a contrast from her fragile form weeks ago. Ilnam shows Mr. Noh the horses in the stables while Ilkyung teaches Mrs. Noh her pie recipe. You and Hyojung converse gleefully in your room, discussing your plans after schooling.

“My mother wants to marry me off so I can run my own household,” Hyojung remarks, balancing her chin in her palm as she stares out your bedroom window. “I only hope I marry a man as good as my father. He doesn’t have to be handsome. I just want him to be kind.”

“I would never allow an evil man to wed my kindred spirit,” you declare while you sit criss crossed on your bed. You chew on your lower lip. “Will you really not pursue your studies any further?”

“Not all of our parents are as open-minded as Ilkyung and Ilnam. My mother’s raised me a certain way since I was a baby, I hardly think she’ll relent on her ideals now.”

“I’m not one to sit idly by and let you become engrossed in embroidery,” you huff. “You know what? We’ll start a book club. It’s about time the women in this town got their fair share of education.”

“That’s a splendid idea! Mother barely lets me rifle through our history books and- Is that Na Jaemin?”

Your head snaps up. She looks out the window, squinting slightly. “My word, that really is him.”

You dash down the stairs, and something deep in your chest flutters when you see Jaemin standing in the doorway, handing Ilkyung a fresh plate of cookies. “They’re my mother’s recipe,” he says with a grin. “I’m not as good of a baker as she was, but I didn’t want to come over empty handed for the holidays.”

“These are just lovely, Jaemin. Thank you,” Ilkyung says before gesturing for him to come inside. “It must have been a long walk for you, I’ll make you a cup of hot cocoa.”

You and Hyojung stand at the bottom of the staircase facing the door, wide eyed at the sight of him. He’s wearing a turtleneck green jumper, paired with black slacks and a long heavy coat. You didn’t even know that he knew where you lived, but you suppose in a town as small as this one, it isn’t that difficult to figure out. He discards his boots by the door and unwraps the scarf from his neck, beaming when he sees you.

“Merry Christmas, ladies,” he greets. “Have you been staying warm?”

At your sudden bout of silence, Hyojung pipes up, “Merry Christmas, Jaemin. What brings you all the way to Green Gables?”

“My father and I always bake cookies and hand them out to our neighbors. It’s a Christmas tradition,” he shares.

Hyojung nudges you in the back, ripping you from your daydreams as you state, “But your house is miles from here. Farther than the Lake of Shining Waters and the school.”

“The Lake of Shining Waters?”

You purse your lips. “It’s a nickname.”

He nods as a faint blush colors his cheeks. “W-Well, the walk was good for me. Cleared my mind and everything.”

Hyojung’s eyebrow quirks up. “You’ve never come by my house to give my family cookies.”

“That’s because- That’s, um-”

“Girls,” Ilkyung interrupts, laying a hand on Jaemin’s shoulder and handing him a cup of hot cocoa. “Don’t pester our guest. We’re very grateful for his decision to trek over here.”

You help her prepare the table settings for supper. Mrs. Noh happily displays her roasted chicken in the center while Ilkyung fills the empty space with her side dishes. Ilnam and Mr. Noh sit at the heads of the table and you take your seat next to Hyojung, startled when Jaemin immediately slides into the spot next to you.

“What are you doing?” You hiss lowly at him.

He blinks twice. “Sitting?”

Mrs. Noh claps her hands to gather everyone’s attention, freeing Jaemin from your inevitable wrath. “I want to say a huge thank you to Ilkyung and Ilnam for allowing us into their home this Christmas. And of course, I’m indebted forever to their dear one, who saved our Chaeyoung from her terrible illness,” she says with her hands clasped together, glancing at you with shining eyes. You smile softly at her. “We would have been in such a wretched heap of despair if it wasn’t for your brilliance.”

Jaemin begins to clap and the rest of the table follows in pursuit. You laugh shyly, shaking your head at their gratitude. You look up to see Jaemin smirking proudly at you and you swallow nervously, wondering what you could have possibly done in your previous life to deserve such acclaim from him.

“Please, it was honestly a return of affection for everything Hyojung’s given me since I arrived at Green Gables. I could have never believed I would arrive in this town and make a home. It’s been a dream come true.”

The table smiles at your statement, and you catch Ilnam wiping his tears away out of the corner of your eye. Ilkyung jokes for everyone to start eating before the food is covered in tears.

While you’re dining, Jaemin quietly asks you, “What type of field are you striving for after school? I think you would be a great addition to the local college here.”

You put away your supposed hatred of him for this one exchange. “I don’t think it’s in our budget right now,” you say, recalling Ilkyung’s earlier remark about your dress. “But I did want to pursue teaching, and try to write if I have the time.”

“They’re always giving scholarships away. With your grades and talent, I’d be shocked if they didn’t give it to you on a silver platter.”

You cough awkwardly at his blatant praise. You try to divert the subject away from you. “D-Did your father not want to join us for supper?”

The question has his expression falling slightly. He pokes at the chicken on his plate. “He’s under the weather. Didn’t want to bring the mood down, that’s all.”

Hyojung pokes at your side. “If you’re done flirting with Na Jaemin, can you please pass me the potatoes?”

You glare at her, ignoring her teasing giggle.

After supper, you say your goodbyes and escort the Noh’s to the door. Hyojung kisses your cheek, making you swear to start the book club as soon as the holidays are finished. Jaemin trails behind them, wrapping his scarf back around his neck.

“It really was a tasty dinner, thank you for having me,” he says to Ilkyung and shakes Ilnam’s hand. He swivels around to you. “And I hope you like the cookies. I can make more if you ever need it.”

“O-Okay.”

When Ilkyung shuts the door, she throws you a suggestive look. You scoff and occupy yourself with cleaning the table.

“Come join us in the living room. We have something to share with you.”

When you gather together, they stand you in front of a large book perched on a stand in the corner of the room. It’s flipped open to a page full of names, with Ilkyung and Ilnam’s being the last ones.

“We’ve been speaking with the orphanage these past few weeks,” she says, brushing your hair away from your face. You inhale at the revelation. “And finally got your adoption paperwork settled. This book has been passed down in the Seo generation for centuries. Every new child signs their name when they come of age. We saved a spot for you right here.”

She points at the blank area below Ilkyung’s name. Your eyes well with tears, overwhelmed by the thought of being accepted into their family. Ilnam chuckles, patting your head affectionately.

“Go on, sweetheart. Seal the deal.”

As you shakily pick up the quill pen and inscribe your name, Ilkyung and Ilnam wrap you in a warm hug. It’s then that you officially decide you’ll never have a better Christmas.

—

“You have to be the one. There’s no way I’m getting in that boat!”

“You’re such a coward, Soeun.”

“Then why don’t you try it, Sookyung?”

“You’re all ruining the vision,” you scold, gripping a handful of daisies. “We’re supposed to be girls who have been widowed by our one true love. We’ve succumbed to our tragedy, accepting our fate by floating out into the river, where the Earth will decide how to dispose of our bodies.”

Ever since Soeun’s uncle passed away shortly after the new year and the poem you’re reading for your book club discusses the fate of a widowed bride, you’ve all become obsessed with glamorizing death. In the poem, the girl sealed her devastating fate by climbing into a boat, holding a bouquet of flowers, and drifting away into the night. She was never heard from or seen again.

The girls insisted on recreating the moment, leading you to the lake. Hyojung borrowed a small canoe from her father and Sookyung picked the flowers from her mother’s yard. However, once you got to the final step, all of them chickened out of actually playing the role of the widow.

“I’ll be her,” you proclaim, and they exhale in relief. “But you must say the lines, and with fervor. It’s only right that we recreate the scene exactly. Wait for me at the other side of the river.”

With help from Hyojung, you step into the canoe, laying down as you rest your hands over your chest. You close your eyes when Soeun begins the rehearsed dialogue.

“Sister, farewell forever,” she murmurs, throwing dried flower petals over your form.

“Farewell, sweet sister.”

“And she lay as though she smiled,” Hyojung finishes, giving a small push to the canoe.

You start floating down the river, exactly like the poem describes. You marvel at the solitude, listening to the birds chirping in your ear. It’s all straight out of a novel if you’ve ever read it, but it’s abruptly disrupted by a stream of water soaking your dress.

You shriek, eyes popping wide open as you sit up. Water continues to fill the boat, progressing fast enough where you understand you won’t possibly make it to the other side. As you come up to the nearby bridge, you quickly grasp the foothold, holding onto it tightly as the canoe sinks.

You hear the girls begin to scream loudly when they don’t see you return. You ponder on if they’ll get help and save you from this uncomfortable experience, but another boat slowly comes up beside you.

Na Jaemin says your name with amusement. “I must say, I did not expect to find you here on my Sunday afternoon.”

You roll your eyes. “Are you going to just sit there or help me like a gentleman?”

He laughs before extending his hand. You take it gratefully, stepping into his boat. You sit across from him, drenched from head to toe. You cross your arms over your chest and don’t utter a single word to him.

“So you’re not going to explain-”

“No,” you gruffly reply. “But I am very much obliged to you.”

He sighs. “I don’t want you to feel obliged to me. Can’t we be friends already? You know I was only joking with you on your first day. I didn’t mean to mock you by calling you a princess, even if I think you look exactly like one. Let’s forgive and forget, please.”

You stare at his hopeful countenance, remembering how kind he was to you over the holidays. You also craved his cookies for weeks after, resisting the urge to walk over to his house and ask for another batch.

“Fine. Friends. And friends only.”

He beams at you, grinning widely. He begins to row the boat back to shore, and you avoid his inquisitive gaze. The girls are in hysterics when you arrive, pulling you out and hugging you tightly.

“We thought you had drowned and died,” Hyojung sobs into your shoulder. “It wasn’t romantic at all! Nothing like the poem.”

You assure them with gentle pats, and Jaemin anchors the boat to the dock. Soeun perks up when she sees him.

“Oh Jaemin, were you the one who saved her? A true knight in shining armor, indeed!”

He nods. “I’m happy to help.” The girls move to take you away and leave Jaemin and Soeun on their own, but he clears his throat to stop you. He addresses you by calling your name before questioning, “B-Before you go, I wanted to ask if you had any plans for Valentine’s Day.”

Hyojung and Sookyung’s jaws drop while Soeun acts as if someone just stabbed her in the back.

You stutter. “I- That’s- I’m not-”

“She’s going to my Aunt Nayoung’s annual Valentine’s party. You should come too, Jaemin. It’s at her big mansion in the city,” Hyojung invites.

You shoot her a bewildered look while he replies, “Are you sure? I wouldn’t be imposing?”

“Of course not. She would be happy to have you.”

He smirks. “Perfect. I’ll be there. Now if you ladies don’t mind, I have to get back to fishing.”

When he drifts away in his boat, Soeun stomps away from you, grumbling to herself. Sookyung throws you an apologetic look before following after her. You pinch the bridge of your nose in exasperation.

“What was that?” You bark at your best friend. “How dare he ask me that in front of everyone like- like-”

“Like he likes you?” Hyojung finishes.

You glare at her, still soaked from the lake. “No. And how could you invite him to your aunt’s party? You know I haven’t even asked Ilkyung if I can go yet.”

“She’ll let you, come on,” Hyojung insists as she helps you trudge back to Green Gables. “If not, I’ll have my mother convince her. Plus, how can you not see how head over heels Jaemin is for you? That boy looks at you constantly and Christmas? Don’t even get me started. His house is miles from here, there was no other reason for him to stop by than to see you.”

“I won’t let you go on any longer. I have never harbored any affection for Na Jaemin and I never will. Have you forgotten about my dreams, Hyojung? I don’t want to be the wife and mother. I want to write and teach and earn enough income so that Ilkyung and Ilnam can retire comfortably.”

“Silly girl,” she murmurs as she nudges you playfully. “You can have all of that and Na Jaemin too.”

When you arrive back to Green Gables, Ilkyung gasps in shock as Hyojung escorts you in. “What in heavens have you done to yourself, child?”

You narrow your eyes as she grabs a towel to dry you off. “Hyojung got me into a giant mess.”

“Don’t listen to her, Ilkyung,” Hyojung says. “What she meant to say is that my Aunt Nayoung invited us to her Valentine’s party next weekend. Could we please go together? My parents will be tagging along, and Aunt Nayoung already approved of her staying for the weekend.”

A worried expression falls over Ilkyung’s face as she swaddles you in one of Ilnam’s jackets. “I’m not too sure. Your parents will be there the whole time?”

“Yes,” Hyojung confirms. “I won’t take my eyes off her, I promise.”

Ilkyung exhales. “I suppose you are old enough…”

“I really don’t have to go, Ilkyung, if you think I shouldn’t-”

Hyojung pinches your forearm and you squeal. She smiles at Ilkyung.

“I’ll come pick her up next weekend!”

—

Ilnam starts to cry when you walk down the steps of Green Gables, wearing the ensemble gifted to you on Christmas.

“Oh, please don’t cry,” you say, watching as he blows his nose into his handkerchief.

“He’s a big teddy bear for his daughter,” Ilkyung remarks with an affectionate head shake. She swipes a light pink powder over your cheeks. “Be on your best behavior for Hyojung’s aunt. And I want to hear all about your adventures when you return.”

You ride with the Noh family in their huge buggy to Nayoung’s estate. It’s as lavish as Hyojung described, with massive gardens and towering columns. Hyojung told you on the way that her aunt never married, settling by herself in her big house. She was also very fickle and quick to anger, which is why Hyojung guesses she’s chosen to be alone for the rest of her life.

“There you are,” Nayoung mumbles as she walks down her long hallway to greet you at the door. Her cane taps loudly against the wood flooring. “Kept me waiting long enough.”

“Sorry, sister,” Mr. Noh says, offering her a kiss on the cheek.

She waves him off. “Nothing to do about it now. Suyeon will show you to your rooms. The party begins in an hour.”

You and Hyojung yelp joyously when you’re placed in the same room. You jump on top of the bed in a massive giggling fit.

You look at her mischievously. “What if tonight’s the night you find your dashing suitor? I can picture it now — the clock will strike midnight while you two are dancing in your own little world. Nayoung will tell you the party’s over but he won’t be as willing to part from you. He’ll drop down on one knee right there and demand for your hand in marriage.”

“You’ve been driven to lunacy,” she says, tickling your sides as you erupt in laughter. “Pure lunacy. Nayoung would never invite that many men close to our age. Her friends are more of the decrepit type, standing on their last good leg. I believe the only viable suitor attending this party will be Na Jaemin.”

You scoff, pushing her away. “I still cannot fathom the reason why you invited him.”

“You have to dance with him if he asks.”

“I will do nothing of the sort, Noh Hyojung!” You heave, appalled by her pronouncement. “Just because I agreed to be friends with him does not mean I will follow him down the aisle. He’ll probably get wed to a sensible, well-bred girl with a massive fortune to her name. It seems rightfully in character for him.”

She catches the forlorn look in your eye. “You’re jealous! You’re jealous of a girl who might not even exist.”

“Not true!”

“So true!”

“And what might you ladies be discussing here?”

At the sound of Nayoung’s voice, you both spring up from the bed, smoothing out the fabric of your dresses. She analyzes you with an uptick of her eyebrow.

Hyojung stammers, “O-Oh, nothing of importance, Aunt Nayoung.”

“You better run downstairs. The guests will be arriving soon,” she says. Hyojung scuttles off and you shadow behind her, but Nayoung stops you with the tapping of her cane. “I was delighted to hear your mother allowed you to come today.”

You graciously smile. “I was thankful to be invited, Miss Nayoung, and I must express my appreciation for the gorgeous pair of shoes you sent me for Christmas. I’ve never owned something more divine.”

“You have a brilliant mind in here,” she says, knocking lightly on your temple. “I hope Ilnam isn’t treating you like my son is with his daughters. A girl with your brains should be more than a housewife.”

“I plan on a higher education, ma’am, if the fates will allow. A scholarship would be the only way I could afford to go,” you reveal. “Ilkyung and Ilnam pour every ounce of themselves into maintaining Green Gables and selling off necessities to the market in town. They didn’t exactly plan to adopt an orphan girl and pay for her schooling.”

“Easy solution then. I’ll pay for your schooling.”

“W-What?”

Her expression shifts into something more stern. “I have a large fortune and no nieces to spend it on. Hyojung and Chaeyoung will be betrothed to good families and I want to make sure you are taken care of. I’ve never seen someone so young step up to such a big challenge like you did that night. It should be rewarded.”

“Oh, Miss Nayoung, I really can’t-”

“Protest all you want, dear. It won’t change my mind. Now get downstairs and dance with that boy you’re so keen about.”

The party is already in full swing downstairs. Most of the guests have arrived, chatting avidly to one another over their glasses of champagne. You spot Hyojung in the corner, attempting to keep Chaeyoung under control. Then, as soon as you reach the end of the staircase, Jaemin walks in.

He’s wearing a black suit and tie, handing off his coat to the worker nearby. You inhale, slowly making your way across the room. The bottom of your dress drags over the floor and you scan your puffy sleeves out of the corner of your eye, verifying that they are indeed still there.

When you land in front of him, his jaw drops open. “W-Wow. You look beautiful.”

“Thank you,” you reply curtly, trying not to show how much his statement affects you. “You don’t look half as bad yourself.”

He glances down at his ensemble before chuckling. “Thanks. W-Will you save me a dance later?”

You swallow. “Sure. That’s what friends do, right?”

He smiles. “Yeah. That’s what friends do.”

When you try to catch your breath at the refreshment table, Hyojung eyes you in a superior manner. “I thought you said you wouldn’t accept a dance with Na Jaemin if he asked?”

“I recommend keeping your smug comments to yourself, Noh Hyojung.”

A few of Nayoung’s friends request a dance with you, only being able to sway slightly back and forth due to their arthritis. The older women inquire about your studies, and some of them question you regarding your previous life at the orphanage. You even observe Hyojung speaking to a young gentleman out of the corner of your eye. A blush spreads across her cheeks the longer they converse, and the red hue only deepens when he takes her out on the dance floor.

“Ready for our dance?”

You nearly spit out the contents of your punch when Jaemin appears in front of you. He’s holding a singular rose, half-shy as he extends it to you. You’re about to accept it when he breaks off the stem, tucking the flower behind your ear and admiring you. Your face grows warm underneath his touch.

You take his hand and rest your palm on his shoulder, ignoring the way your heart pounds in your chest when he wraps an arm around your waist. The string of the violin fills your ears as you twirl around the ballroom with him.

“I wanted to thank you for saving me down by the lake,” you say to him, lost in his unrelenting stare. “I wasn’t as appreciative as I should have been that day, and I acknowledge that. I probably would have been left hanging on that bridge until one of the girls had the sense to call someone for help. Then I really would’ve gotten in trouble with Ilkyung.”

He laughs, giddy as he spins you around. “It was my pleasure, really. There haven’t been many days since your arrival that you’ve asked me for help. I cherish those moments more than anything.”

“Why are you so nice to me? I’ve given you nothing but grief since I arrived at Green Gables, yet your enthusiasm has never wavered.”

“I like you, is that so hard to believe?”

His eyes pierce through yours and you start to feel that pull you’ve read in your romance novels. A string of fate ties your heart to his, urging you closer to the man you once vowed to hate. The looming thought of grades and graduation slip from your mind as the jabbering of the crowd fades away. His gaze flickers down to your mouth, and you find yourself leaning in-

A body abruptly slams into yours and you gasp, clinging onto the lapels of Jaemin’s suit to ground yourself. An elderly man apologizes to you for his clumsiness, but the moment between you and Jaemin has already passed. You scurry away from him, trying to calm the adrenaline spiking through your veins.

“I-I should go check on Hyojung,” you murmur, wiping the sweat from your brow.

“Yes, o-of course,” he stutters, quite pink in the cheeks himself. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Na Jaemin.”

—

“I can’t look! Please, just seal my monstrous fate and allow the Earth to swallow me whole. It’s my destiny, and I should very well accept it at this point.”

“I’ve never met another soul as dramatic as you,” Hyojung says with a roll of her eyes. She holds your letter between her fingers, and you shut your eyes in fear of its contents. “We all know you’re a shoe in for the girls’ college. I don’t know why you insist on giving yourself such a fright.”

“Just open it, Hyojung. Tell me if my fortune ties me to a state of devastation.”

She breaks open the seal, fanning out the paper in front of her. She scrutinizes the first few lines before jumping up and down, her shrieks echoing throughout the schoolyard.

“You did it! You got in!”

The rest of the girls circle around you, laughing and squealing at your victory. Tears fill your eyes, running down your cheeks in happiness. You had been waiting for the results for weeks after your entrance exam. You walked in with confidence after learning you secured first place in class, skimming by Jaemin with half a point higher.

“Congratulations,” Soeun says. She forgave you concerning the Jaemin incident once Lee Donghyuck began showing an interest in her. Since then, you’ve speculated that she’s even forgotten Jaemin’s name. “I think you’ll be one of the first girls to attend college from our town in years!”

Mark approaches your group with his hands stuffed in his pockets, and Sookyung straightens her posture at the sight of him. “Hey guys,” he says with a timid smile. “Happy last day of classes.”

“Oh Mark, do tell us where Na Jaemin has gone. We must share the news of his so-called rival,” Hyojung teases, and you elbow her playfully.

“You didn’t hear?”

Your merry expressions falter at his somber tone. Sookyung speaks up, voicing the question you’re all dreading to ask.

“Hear what?”

“Jaemin’s father passed away last night. He was sick for a long time, but was trying to hold on until graduation.”

Your stomach drops at the news. Hyojung immediately glances at you in concern. Soeun and Sookyung gasp, and you realize no one actually knew how ill Jaemin’s father was.

You excuse yourself from the group, dashing to Jaemin’s house as fast as you can. He lives the furthest out of all your classmates, but you’re determined to reach his place before sundown. A nagging voice in the back of your head scolds you for not checking in on him. Another part of you grapples with the idea that he’s been harboring this grief with himself for years.

When you knock on his front door, you panic slightly. What if you were completely crossing a line and he didn’t want to see you? What if he was in the middle of his mourning period and you were disrupting his reflection time?

As soon as he opens the door, you blurt out, “I’m sorry.”

He’s startled when he sees you, but a kind smile spreads across his face. “So you heard,” he remarks, his eyes baggy and red.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I’m so sorry, Jaemin. I had no idea he was that sick.”

He gestures for you to step inside. His home smells like him, as odd as that sounds coming from you. The scent of pine needles and embers from the fire waft through your nose. His dining room is small, having nothing but a long table and a kitchen with dirty dishes stacked high in the sink. Stacked boxes fill the hallway leading to what you assume used to be his father’s bedroom.

He rifles through the fridge while you take a seat at the table. “Apologies about the mess. I’ve been trying to sort through dad’s stuff over the past year but it hasn’t been easy.”

“It’s fine, you don’t need to apologize to me,” you say as he pours you a cup of orange juice.

“So did you get your results yet? Come on, don’t leave me hanging,” he chuckles.

“Oh, it’s not that important-”

“Not that important?” He scoffs, sliding into the seat across from you. “You’ve been working for this all year. Of course it’s important. And you finally accomplished your goal of getting to first place.”

All of those end objectives seem insignificant now compared to the problems Jaemin’s been dealing with. But he stares at you like he wants nothing more than to hear about your results, forcing you to reveal, “I got in.”

He slams his hand down on the wood table cheerfully, rejoicing loudly. “That’s wonderful! I knew you would get in, I never doubted it for a second.”

“Jaemin, I really am awfully remorseful over what happened to your father. To think that we are celebrating my achievements while you have been going through this all alone-”

He speaks your name firmly. “I have known for years that my father would one day pass. It is a tragedy, yes, but I know how hard you’ve been striving for this and I’m not going to let it overshadow your moment. Please, for today, can we focus on you? I can mourn my father all I want at his funeral tomorrow.”

You hesitantly agree to his terms and somehow find yourself roped into an ordeal of teaching him how to bake Ilkyung’s famous peach pie. You snigger when he continuously pours too much flour into the bowl and cuts his hand trying to slice the peaches.

“They say you’re brilliant in the classroom but I guess no one’s seen you outside of your studies,” you joke, pulling stray flecks of flour out of his hair.

He narrows his eyes at you before throwing a handful of flour at your face, causing you to squeal at his attack. You look at him with your jaw dropped open while he snickers at your predicament. You reach into his bowl of peaches, smushing them in your palm and launching the mess into his shirt.

You giggle. “Oops.”

He gapes at you before his kitchen becomes the site of a chaotic food fight. Eggs and butter splatter against the walls and flour coats the kitchen floor. You know Ilkyung’s going to give you a hard time when you return home about the stains in your dress, but you’re feeling so euphoric that you can’t be bothered to care.

You find a way to combine your leftover ingredients into a pie, and Jaemin takes it out of the brick oven when it’s nicely browned at the top. He hands you a fork to taste, and when you both dig your utensils in and scoop it into your mouth, your faces twist in horror.

“That’s awful!”

“What in God’s name did we put in there?”

You take one look at each other, with you seeing his hair covered in flour and specks of eggshells painted on his shirt. He finds you with dripping egg yolk in your hair and dried peaches clinging to the skirt of your dress. You burst out in laughter, clinging to your stomachs as you double over.

“Y-You look l-like we put you i-in the oven!” You pant, cheeks hurting from your hysterics.

“Me? You look like you rolled into a bakery on the wrong side of town!”

When your giggling fit dies down, he flings you a pensive expression. “Promise me we’ll hang out this summer before we leave. I-I don’t want to lose touch with you as soon as we go to college.”

You grin. “I don’t want that either. I promise to hang out with you all summer.”

His vision drifts down to your lips, and you’re thrown back to Valentine’s Day, when you almost kissed him. There’s nothing stopping you now, and the silence of the house surrounds you.

“Jaemin,” you murmur, and his hand snakes around your middle, pulling you to his body as his mouth envelops yours.

Kissing is much more sensual than you originally thought. The books you read describe it as a slow, languid action with enough time to breathe. You discover that’s not true at all as Jaemin backs you up against the table, lifting your hips onto the wood. He rests his palms on both sides of your legs as his tongue swipes over yours. You moan into his mouth, tangling your fingers through his hair as you let him devour you.

Your conscience screams at you that this is not a good idea, but the longer you feel Jaemin’s hands on you, the longer your common sense is muted.

His fingers hike up your dress, exposing your bare legs for him to view. He kisses down your jawline until his teeth graze your neck.

His hands grip the inside of your thighs as you release a breathy, “We shouldn’t.”

He shushes you gently. “Don’t think about anything else. No grades or college or parents. Just you and me.”

You empty your mind per his request, closing your eyes as you savor his hands freely roaming your body. He tugs down your undergarments before unbuckling his own set of trousers. A part of you is terrified by the act of sex, only having seen explicit diagrams in medical journals. But you also trust Jaemin and you understand the boy would never hurt you willingly.

You chew on your lower lip when he unsheathes himself. You’ve never encountered the opposite sex’s naked lower half before, but his cock stands proudly, longer than several inches and thicker than you imagined. His tip is red and leaking, desperately asking for attention. He wraps a hand around his base and lines himself up to your entrance.

“It’s going to hurt,” he warns, analyzing you carefully. “I’ve read it doesn’t always feel good for women, and I apologize about that.”

You smile shyly. “It’s okay. I trust you.”

Fire blazes underneath your skin as he pushes into you. The pain is excruciating but you clench your jaw and power through it, not wanting to ruin this moment with him. He distracts you with kisses, lips intertwining as he slides into you inch by inch.

When he bottoms out inside you, you swear you’ve never felt more full. It’s powerful — the way he towers over you in this moment yet subtly ensures you that you’re in complete control of the situation. His eyes search yours in assurance, finding nothing but a reflection of lust and hunger.

You hold him close as he thrusts into you, whimpers spilling from your mouth at the sharp spike of pain. “What can I do to make it better?” He questions, groaning lowly. “I wish you could feel how I do right now.”

“I-I don’t know.”

He tries different angles, scattering love bites across your neck, but it isn’t until his hands wander down to your core and circle around an area that has you gasping.

“Here?” He asks, pressing his thumb down harder over your clit. You squeak and nod, the pain shifting into blinding satisfaction.

It's the combined chaos of Jaemin rutting against you while you grind down on his hand, chasing your highs together. The unfamiliar sensation has your head spinning, and the pent up frustration in your stomach begins to unravel.

You whine his name. “I feel- I feel-”

“It’s okay,” he soothes, sensing your panic. “I’m right here, it’s okay.”

You dig your nails into his broad shoulders, yanking him close to you as you gush around his cock. The heightened pleasure leaves you a mewling mess, moaning and whimpering into his ear as you bury your head into his neck. He swiftly pulls out of you, jerking at his length until he spills white over your thighs.

Clarity strikes you. You blink away the aftershocks of your intense orgasm, registering the consequences of your actions. You push him away, startling him as you locate your undergarments.

“What’s wrong? What are you doing?”

You shake your head, redressing yourself as tears sting your eyes. “We shouldn’t have done that! We’re going off to college soon and we’re not even together-”

“Then let’s be together,” he states, frowning as you jump off the table. “I want to be with you, I thought I’ve made myself clear. You’re the only one for me.”

“Jaemin, don’t.”

His expression turns sour. “So what? You’re going to pretend that this hasn’t happened? I love you! What’s so wrong about us being together? I was ready to marry you yesterday!”

“Stop it,” you wheeze, combing down your hair in an attempt to regain your composure. “Jaemin, just stop it. You’re not supposed to marry me. You’re supposed to wed a beautiful girl from the city, a well-bred woman with a good head on her shoulders. I’m supposed to finish my schooling and help Ilkyung and Ilnam with Green Gables. I’m not destined to become a housewife.”

“No one’s asking you to! Do you really think that low of me to believe I would request for you to give up your future to stay at home?”

You rush to the door, wrenching it open and dashing down the steps of his home. He calls after you the entire way but you keep your feet moving, not stopping until you’ve run across the town and to Green Gables.

Later, when Ilkyung scolds you for the state of your dress and you rid yourself of the evidence of your passion between your legs, you vow to never accept a proposal from Na Jaemin.

—

“I can’t believe you’re married.”

Soeun smirks as she twirls in a circle, the train of her dress eagerly following behind her. “I know!” She remarks in a high-pitched giggle. “Oh truly, girls, I hope the rest of you experience this kind of happiness someday. You deserve it.”

Hyojung side eyes you with a look that says, Can you believe she just said that to us?

Donghyuck proposed to Soeun shortly after graduation, and due to his bride’s eagerness and her parents' insistence, they were wed only a month later in her backyard. Soeun was over the moon, corralling the three of you into wedding planning for most of the summer. You assisted with every detail, from the flowers down to the flavor of the cake.

The wedding party also acted as a pseudo farewell gathering for you, as you leave for the girls’ college in the city the following day. Hyojung was in shambles over it, pleading for you not to bring it up until reality finally strikes her.

“Oh look, there’s Jaemin,” Sookyung murmurs, and the statement has your blood running cold. You all raise your heads to see him across the garden, a cup of tea in his hand as he speaks to Soeun’s cousins. “Why, I haven’t seen him since his father’s funeral. He must have been secluding himself since graduation.”

“Can you blame him? You know his father didn’t leave him much in his will. Jaemin was probably working all summer to put himself through college,” Soeun says.

You look away in shame while Hyojung eyes you warily. You’ve kept a tight lip regarding the subject of Na Jaemin, leading her to believe something occurred after the end of term. You never confirmed her speculation, mortified by your actions.

Jaemin wrote you a letter everyday since your entanglement, prompting Ilkyung and Ilnam to raise their eyebrows every time they returned from town with a stack of letters. You never replied to him, afraid of encouraging his fantasies of you ending up together.

“I should go,” you state as Jaemin’s consistent presence makes you wary. “It really was a lovely ceremony, Soeun. I have to help Ilkyung with packing up the rest of my belongings.”

Hyojung begins to tear up at the mention of your departure, and you roll your eyes and pat her back teasingly.

“I will see you tomorrow before I leave,” you laugh, and she grumbles as she wipes away her tears.

You say your goodbyes to the rest of the party, exiting the gardens and locating the shed where they’ve kept the buggys. You find Ilnam’s old horse, giving him a soft pet to his snout and untangling his reins.

Before you can climb in, a voice hollers out, “You look beautiful.”

You purse your lips. “Thank you.”

His front presses against your back and you inhale at the close proximity. He swipes your hair away from your neck, nudging his nose against your skin. You tightly grip the reins in your hands, knowing you should get inside and steer far away from him.

“Jaemin,” you say in warning.

His hand draws around your waist, playing with the ribbons of your corset. “I’ve dreamt of you every night, thinking about you when my mind gets too greedy. Do you think about me too?”

“I leave for the girls’ college tomorrow,” you say through gritted teeth, trying hard to contain your desire. “And my thoughts haven’t changed. We can’t be together.”

“I heard Hyojung’s engaged to Lee Jeno. You don’t think less of her for wanting to marry, do you?”

“Of course I don’t,” you bite back. “But this is different. You know it’s different.”

“Tell me that you think about me too. I need to hear it,” he mumbles as he mouths kisses over your skin.

Your heart beats in your chest rapidly. “I never wanted to make you care for me so. I kept away so you wouldn’t.”

He sighs at your stubborn nature. “The medical school’s accepted me for their fall term.”

You spin around at his revelation. Pride flutters in your chest. “Oh, Jaemin, that’s wonderful!”

He rests his forehead against yours, clutching your hands. “I’m sorry for all the letters over the summer. I only wanted to show you how much I care,” he says, his eyes locked in on yours. “Maybe you don’t think I’m good enough for you now, but I will be someday.”

You shake your head. “That’s not it at all. You’re a great deal too good for me,” you say, stroking his hair back and relishing the way it runs through your fingers. “You need a girl who’d be happy just to hang off your arm, who will build a home for you and dote on you faithfully. I can’t be that girl for you.”

“That’s not what I’m looking for at all-”

“We wouldn’t be good together. We’d end up fighting all the time!” You say to convince him, but he doesn’t look moved by your spiel. “I’d end up regretting falling in love with you, and you’re not a person I would ever want to regret.”

He stands firmly. “I can’t go away knowing that if I had just tried a little harder-”

“I promise I’ll always be here for you,” you say. “Good friends are always together in spirit.”

“You also promised we’d hang out the entire summer before we went away,” he recalls, taking a step back from you.

“Don’t do this, Jaemin.”

He bites down on his tongue like he’s holding back the tears threatening to spill out. “I can’t just be your friend. I love you too much to torture myself like this.”

“Jaemin, please-”

You choke back your sobs when he strolls out of the shed, refusing to hear your pleas. You climb into your buggy, attempting to pull yourself together as you tug on the reins. You loathe your tearful ride back to Green Gables, and Ilnam watches you approach from his spot in the fields. His lips curl downwards when he helps you out, wiping your tears away.

“I’ve done it again and messed it all up,” you tell him, crying into his chest. “Oh Ilnam, when will I ever do something right?”

“Sweetheart,” he coos, stroking your back in comfort. “As far as I’m concerned, you’ve never done a single thing wrong since I’ve known you.”

His blatant lie forces a chuckle out of you. Ilkyung steps out of the house, hands on her hips as she examines the situation. “What are you two doing?” She questions sternly. “We have less than twenty-four hours before we need to be on that train.”

Ilnam mutters, “Go inside before she has both of our heads.” Before you depart, he grips your hand passionately. “You’ll still write to us every week?”

You detect the hesitation in his voice and you kiss his cheek in affirmation. “Of course. I’ll write until you grow tired of my stories. My hands will ache from the repetition but it can’t stop me from keeping close to you.”

The sides of his mouth wrinkle when he grins at you. As you help Ilkyung in folding your clothes upstairs, you wonder if she’ll miss you as much as Ilnam will. She’s always been the tougher one to crack in terms of displaying her emotions, and for the past few days leading up to your departure, she’s barely said a word to you that hasn’t been laced with venom. You suppose it’s her way of coping with change.

“Have you ever been in love?”

She’s taken aback by your question. “I hope this isn’t regarding the Na boy. My arms still hurt from carrying his letters back home.”

You sit on the corner of your bed. “I used to think love was something you didn’t feel until you were older and more mature. In all the stories I read, loving someone so young ends in an unexplainable tragedy. It’s completely selfish of me, Ilkyung, but I couldn’t stand it if he found someone else. I think it would break me, yet at the same time, I know there’s someone better out there for him. A girl who won’t squabble with him over being called a princess.”

She exhales as she places your dress in your suitcase, walking over and taking a seat next to you. She tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear, smiling softly.

“When I was your age, shortly after I also finished my education, I befriended a boy who became my closest confidant. His name was Na Juwon.”

Your head snaps up. “Jaemin’s father?”

She nods, her face twisting into a grimace. “Yes, that’s him. We got along very well, and most people even called him my beau,” she says with a nostalgic look in her eyes. “But we fought, and back then, I wasn’t so quick to forgive. Letting him walk away is one of my greatest regrets. I wish I had just pushed aside my headstrong personality for one second to see the bigger picture. We ended up losing touch and he fell in love with someone else.”

“You never told me that,” you say. “I-I didn’t know you were so close with Jaemin’s father.”

She takes your hands in hers, squeezing them tightly. “Some advice for you, child — a letter can go a long way when you’re separated for that long. He may be cross with you and you may be stuck on your ideals now, but you’ll both learn that a love like yours isn’t easy to find.”

“Thank you, Ilkyung.”

She kisses your forehead. “Now let’s finish your packing. I can’t believe my girl is heading to college tomorrow.”

—

September 12th

Jaemin,

Is it safe to assume the girls at this college dream of me making a complete fool out of myself? I hardly think they have to dream for long considering I’m doing such a great job of it on my own. For women so properly educated and professional, I never imagined most of them haven’t ever picked up a romance novel. I spent the first twenty minutes of my class babbling about the forlorn monologue of the reader and how it translates to her unrequited love before I realized no one agreed with me.

I know we left on bad terms, but I can only hope this letter arrives to you safely. A response is not required, yet I’m obliged to tell you I miss the sound of your voice.

October 22nd

Jaemin,

I’ve been writing again recently. A habit I disregarded briefly to focus on my studies, but as I’m certain you’re well aware, my imagination urges me to capture my visions on paper. It’s nothing fancy, simply romance tales I’ve been daydreaming about. I honestly don’t believe anyone could understand them except for you and Hyojung. Have you heard yet that she and Lee Jeno are to be wed next month? I never thought when they met on Valentine’s Day that their betrothal would come so quickly. She told me she sent you an invitation, but I know you’re probably too busy in medical school to attend.

Do write back to me if you get the chance. I would love to hear how you’ve been.

December 2nd

Jaemin,

Ilkyung told me you won the scholarship for your spring term. I offer my best congratulations to you. I can’t think of anyone more deserving of the award. My hats off to you since I already know you worked so hard for it. I plan on returning to Green Gables for the holidays. Ilnam has taken up a fever and Ilkyung’s growing worried about his health. I’m not sure if I’ll return for my spring term if he’s not well.

I tried submitting my writing to be published in the local town newspaper, but was swiftly rejected due to my stories containing too many embellishments and not enough relation to the character. I think it’s a sign that my writing is not destined beyond Green Gables.

Will you be coming home for the holidays too?

February 25th

I apologize for my late reply. Thank you for your continuous letters. My studies have kept me preoccupied as of late, but I know it’s a horrid excuse for my absence.

I was sorry to hear of Ilnam’s passing during the holidays. I tried to make it out to Green Gables to see you but the trains were blocked here due to the heavy snow. I’m wishing you and Ilkyung all the best.

As for your writing, I’ve always thought you were a spectacular writer. You’re correct in assuming I would most likely be one of the only ones who could understand your romance folly. I think you should write about Green Gables. Your story deserves to be heard by many around the world.

I’m also writing to inform you of my engagement. It’s sudden, I know, and I want to apologize for my foolish behavior last summer. You were right about us, and I see it now.

Regardless, I miss you always, princess.

—

“Don’t lift that, Ilkyung, it’s too heavy. Let me help you.”

You take the box of milk bottles from her hands, setting them on the dining room table. Ilkyung sighs, resting on a nearby chair and pinching the bridge of her nose. She wipes away the dust coating her eyelashes with the back of her hand.

“You have to take it easy, you heard what the doctor said,” you say sternly, narrowing your eyes at her. “It’s why we hired Jisung to help. You’re supposed to call for him if you need anything.”

She waves you off. “I’ll call him when I’m dead.”

“That’s not funny, stop it,” you reply, holding back the onslaught of tears that spring up.

She hears the quiver in your voice and exhales, standing up and teetering over to you. She wraps her arms around you, and you lay your head on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry, you’re right. I’ve become very insensitive to your feelings. I know it’s been difficult for you without Ilnam here,” she murmurs, stroking your hair gently. “He would be very proud of you.”

The front door creaks open and Jisung’s head pops in, grimacing when he observes your fragile state.

“Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“It’s okay,” you dismiss, wiping away your tears. “Come in please. Ilkyung needs help with taking the milk bottles to town.”

Jisung obediently follows your directions, grabbing the heavy boxes and loading them into the buggy outside. You hired him shortly after Ilnam’s passing when you registered that Ilkyung’s health was also deteriorating rapidly. She got constant migraines that impaired her vision, forcing her into bed for most of the day. With Ilnam gone and no one to care for Green Gables, she considered selling the house before you decided to move back. She protested, of course, and you fought for weeks until she relented.

She despised the fact that you dropped your studies but you were not going to allow your first home to be auctioned off like careless livestock. You took a teaching job in the city that provided you enough time to care for Ilkyung accordingly. It also offered you enough time to start writing again. During this go around, fueled by no longer having Ilnam’s presence around, you write about Green Gables like Jaemin suggested.

…And Na Jaemin. You don’t even want to begin to think about the headaches he’s caused you.

Once Jisung departs for town, you begin making supper and instruct Ilkyung to lie down. A knock on the door interrupts your cooking and you’re surprised to see your heavily pregnant best friend behind the door.

“Hyojung!” You scold, helping her inside. “You’re supposed to be resting. The baby’s due any second now.”

She scoffs at you. “He expects me to be a sitting duck at home and I can’t stand it! I need to get out and talk to another human that isn’t my husband.” You help her rest by the fire to keep warm, fetching her a cup of tea. She chews on her lower lip carefully before blurting out, “Soeun saw Na Jaemin walking around with his fiancée in town.”

You pause your slicing of vegetables, raising your head to look at her. She smiles sadly at you.

“That’s- um, that’s wonderful. I’m happy for him,” you say, swallowing your nerves.

“You never told me what occurred between you and him. Every time someone utters anything related to his engagement, you clam up and refuse to speak. From what I recall, the last time we spoke you were letting your petty grudge go and finally starting to be friends with him.”

You sigh, throwing the handful of vegetables into the pot on the stove and stirring carefully. “I have forgiven him, Hyojung. That childish banter is in the past.”

“Then what is it? What has you so on edge around him?”

A flash of breathy whines and heavy groans plays across your mind, along with the heat of Jaemin’s touch and his mouth on your skin.

“It’s nothing. Please, Hyojung, just drop it.”

She lets the subject go for the rest of the night, not owning the same willingness to fight you as she once had due to her pregnancy. She stays for dinner, and Ilkyung walks downstairs to greet her briefly before the lighted candles in the kitchen grow to be too much for her migraine. After eating, you escort Hyojung back home, where Jeno is pacing in worry over his wife.

“Christ, Hyojung. You can’t walk out like that and not inform anyone about your whereabouts,” he says, helping her walk up the steps of the staircase. He smiles politely back at you. “Forgive my crass language.”

You shake your head, waving him off. “No worries. I wanted to see that she made it home safely. I hope you two have a lovely night.”

“She’s going to have a lovely night dreaming about Jaemin!” Hyojung calls when she’s already up the stairs, and Jeno throws you another apologetic look.

You leave the couple to their own devices after rejecting Jeno’s suggestion to stay the night in their guest room. You trudge back to Green Gables, wrapping your arms around yourself as the wind nips at your cheeks. Your mind drifts to Jaemin the entire way, much like it’s been doing since you returned home.

When you received that letter from him in February, in the midst of still grieving over Ilnam, it felt as if he punched you in the gut. You weren’t so shocked to learn he was engaged to someone else, knowing he was making himself a fine catch in medical school and the girls nearby had to be swooning over him. Regardless, the revelation stung. It reminded you of Ilkyung’s story, where she lost Jaemin’s father due to her own stubborn nature.

You contemplated if you were repeating history. If perhaps you and Jaemin are destined to be together, yet the only thing preventing it from coming true is you.

A rough hand tugs on your shoulder and you gasp, spinning around to face the assailant.

Jaemin holds his hands up to profess his innocence. “Sorry. I was calling your name but wasn’t sure if you could hear me.”

“J-Jaemin?”

He chuckles at your astonishment. “Hi,” he says awkwardly, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his coat. “We came into town yesterday and I wanted to come see you. Ilkyung said you were walking Hyojung home.”

You blink in rapid succession, still trying to register that he’s actually in front of you and not a figment of your imagination. You pinch your upper arm just to double check.

“Y-Yes,” you stammer, unable to form coherent sentences. “She’s pregnant, you know? About to pop actually. Jeno’s been like a hawk watching her but you know how Hyojung can be. I mean, I guess you two aren’t really that close but-”

“Are you okay?” He asks, examining you with concern over your verbal incompetence.

You laugh clumsily. “Yes! I apologize, I must be tired. It’s been a gruesome day.”

“I won’t keep you long then. I heard that you stopped attending college to restore Green Gables?”

You nod in affirmation. “I felt it was only right to, especially after Ilnam left us. Jisung has been a great addition, he’s our new farmhand.”

“I want to help finance you.”

“W-What?”

“I’ve been earning my keep with a local doctor while pursuing my studies. He’s been paying for me to shadow him, provided if I assist him where needed. I want to give the money to you so you don’t give up on your dreams.”

You purse your lips, ramming against his shoulder as you begin walking away. “Absolutely not, Na Jaemin.”

He follows after you. “Don’t act this way, please. I want to help you! You can’t give up on college, you’ve worked too hard for it.”

“Nayoung has already offered and I have refused. Besides, what would your fiancée think? Using your hard earned money on a girl you barely know.”

“Yoojung would understand,” he reasons, and you visibly recoil at her name. “And how can you say that? Of course I know you.”

“Do you?” You scoff. “My unanswered letters say otherwise.”

“I apologized for that already. Please, let me take care of you.”

You spin around, digging your finger into his chest. Your eyes blaze with fury, and he flinches at the sight. “You have no right to take care of me. I have never needed your help, and I certainly won’t be requesting it now. So run back to your fiancée and spend your money on your wedding, like a true gentleman would.”

His hand wraps around your upper arm, holding you in place. “Have your feelings changed since the summer?”

He has that optimistic look in his eye, the same one from the night he took you on his dining table. You squash it immediately, enraged by his carelessness for a fiancée you’ve never met.

“No. And you’re a fool for thinking they have.”

You hike up your dress and stomp away from him, ignoring his cry of, “You can’t throw away your dreams! I won’t let you!”

—

“I could stare at his crying face for hours and he would still be the most adorable baby I’ve ever seen.”

Hyojung laughs at you. “You wouldn’t be saying that if you had to hear him wailing relentlessly.”

She lays on top of her shared bed with Jeno as he presses a cloth to her forehead to wipe off the remaining beads of sweat. Chaeyoung had dashed to Green Gables as soon as Hyojung’s water broke, startling both you and Ilkyung as she screamed at the top of her lungs that the baby was coming. The nearest midwife in town rushed at the news after Mrs. Noh pounded on her door furiously.

The newest baby Lee arrived safely into the world, surrounded by a love you could only dream of having. Half of the women in town gathered at the Noh doorstep to offer baked goods and words of comfort to the new mother. Overwhelmed by the influx of support, she only allowed you inside the room, and you held her hand the entire way of delivery.

You shush the sweet child in your arms, whispering softly to him about how you’re going to cherish him forever. Jeno leaves briefly to handle the incoming guests downstairs, and Hyojung stares at you.

“How come I’m the one who’s just given birth yet you look like the most disastrous one here?”

You sigh, knowing she can see the huge bags underneath your eyes, which are slightly red from the crying. You had been relaying your conversation with Jaemin in your head all night, scolding yourself for once again treating him so poorly. You still stand firm on your decision to not take any of his money, yet the heartbroken look on his face after you rejected him lingers.

“I just couldn’t sleep, that’s all.”

“Mrs. Park, could you please give us a minute?” Hyojung asks, and the midwife in the room nods patiently, exiting and shutting the door behind her. Hyojung glares at you. “Give me my baby and start explaining.”

You stride over to her, handing her the small bundle of joy. You take a seat on the chair next to her bed, twiddling your thumbs nervously.

“I ran into Jaemin on my way home.”

Her head snaps up, eyes widening. “And?”

“…Something happened between us last summer.”

“I knew it!” She whisper-shouts, being mindful of the sensitive ears of her new son. “Gosh, I knew you had been keeping it a secret. You acted as if he brought on the plague whenever Soeun mentioned him. What happened?”

You chew on your lower lip. “Everything.”

Jeno strolls back in, giddy as he carries a basket of fresh bread. His smile falters when his wife scowls at him.

“Jen, I love you more than anything and I’m so thankful we brought this child into this world, but I need you to leave us for at least ten minutes. And guard the door so we aren’t disturbed by anyone else.”

Your best friend’s husband gapes at the instruction, but darts his eyes between a heartbroken you and his determined wife. He awkwardly leaves the room.

Hyojung surveys you with the quirk of her eyebrow. You disclose it all to her, from the night in his kitchen to his proclamations of love in the summer. She listens to you with an open jaw, in pure disbelief by your connection with him.

“I’m not going to take his money, Hyojung. I can’t. For heaven’s sake, can you imagine what his fiancée would think? It astounds me that he didn’t even consider her feelings regarding the matter. If I didn’t accept any type of financial compensation from Nayoung, he’s a dunce for believing I would take it from a struggling medical student.”

She grins at you. “You love him.”

You frown. “Is that truly all you heard from that story?”

“You love him and you’re hurting yourself by not confessing it to him. What’s preventing you from finally seeking your true love? You read about love, you write about love, and you dream about being loved. Yet, when it’s served in front of you on a silver platter, you run from it. How is that going to solve anything long term?”

You shake your head. “He has a fiancée. I’m not going to become the woman in the story that intrudes on the heroine’s happy ever after. Why, I’d be no better than the poem where the town watched as the beautiful woman succumbed to her sorrow for her unrequited love. How could I allow myself to become that person, Hyojung?”

“He wouldn’t have offered to pay for your schooling if he didn’t still care for you. Even if he has betrothed himself to another, his heart calls for you. And only you.”

The sharp cry of her newborn has her exhaling, and Jeno enters the room hesitantly. Hyojung nods at him and the man circles the bed, taking the babbling child from her arms. You decide to offer them a few minutes of privacy, brushing off the heated stare Hyojung throws at you that indicates this conversation is far from finished.

She spends the rest of her evening thanking her guests for stopping by. It provides you enough time to slip out unnoticed, even by Ilkyung, who chats with a few other women in the kitchen. You pass the Lake of Shining Waters as you find your way back to Green Gables. You settle into bed but sleep doesn’t find you so easily.

You toss and turn as memories of Jaemin swirl in your head, refusing to quiet its intensity. The sudden flash of a dining table has you squeezing your thighs from arousal, leaving you ashamed of fantasizing about a taken man. You swallow down the feeling as your hand snakes down your lower half, slowly brushing over your throbbing core.

You shut your eyes and dig your teeth into your pillowcase, grinding your hips downwards as you think about the ridge of Jaemin’s cock stretching you out. You gasp silently as you replay his grunts in your ear, breathless from the way he takes you so roughly, like you belong to him. You feel him peppering kisses down your neck, cooing softly in your ear and encouraging you to welcome the pleasure.

You clench down around nothing as you heave, whimpering to yourself in the empty room. You blink heavily as you maneuver through your lust-filled haze, empowering the mortification to seep through.

You shove aside the guilt to provide space for your drowsiness, your mind abruptly settled after entertaining the delusions of Jaemin’s love.

Over the following months, Hyojung doesn’t get another chance to interrogate you. She’s caught in a whirlwind of caring for her child, who hasn’t adjusted to a normal sleeping schedule. Jeno and her are constantly invited to new events held by other mothers in town, desperate to make connections and expand their club to the new generation.

You’re thankful for the reprieve, slightly regretting informing Hyojung of the whole ordeal in the first place. You spend your time caring for Ilkyung and assisting Jisung out in the fields. You fret over her declining health, begging the heavens above to grant your family a break from the stress. You often find yourself sitting in the living room late at night, speaking gently to pictures of Ilnam and hoping he can somehow hear you.

“Ilkyung tells me she’s fine but her migraines are getting worse,” you murmur to the framed photo in front of you, stroking its ends and staring at the solemn gaze of your father. “I don’t know how to discipline her. She won’t relent, you know how she is. I can’t lose her too. I wish you were here to yell at her. She would have called you ridiculous but I know she would’ve listened to you.”

You pause, checking the kitchen to ensure Ilkyung’s not lurking nearby. “You were right about Na Jaemin. I care for him more than anyone else, and he’s a good man. I deluded myself into thinking my feelings could easily vanish, but I know now that isn’t the case. It’s far too late to admit my wrongdoings, for he’s engaged and last I heard, thriving in school. He’ll graduate in the spring and it’s definite he’ll be a married man by then. I’ve accepted my fate to resign as a single woman. It’ll do me some good to look after Green Gables, and I’m almost finished writing my book about the town. I’m not sure it’ll get published, but I must say I believe it to be the best piece I’ve written to date. I wish you here to read it.”

You sniffle, wiping away the stray tears that have fallen. You set the frame back on the table, picking up the candle lighting the room and heading towards the staircase to go to bed.

A knock on the door interrupts you. You’re surprised to see Jisung standing on the other side, smiling awkwardly.

“Jisung? What are you doing here? It’s nearly midnight.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles with a blush painted on his cheeks. You learned over time that the boy tends to grow embarrassed quickly. “I was in town and the postmaster said you’ve been receiving urgent letters. He didn’t know who else to give them to.”

You take the pile from his hands before reprimanding him for staying out so late. He runs home with flushed cheeks while you fan out the letters across the dining table, the candlelight illuminating the ink splattered across the front.

You furrow your eyebrows when you realize most of them are addressed from the girls’ college. Multiple envelopes spanning over different dates. With Ilkyung’s illness boarding in full force, you haven’t had enough time to swing by town and grab the mail.

You open the latest one first, sent only a week ago.

This is the third notice to the Seo household regarding the spring term. Payment has been received and a spot has been reserved. Please reply at your earliest convenience with confirmation of attendance.

Your blood runs cold. You rip open the other letters, each detailing a similar notice for you to arrive at the girls’ college for the spring term, which begins in less than three weeks.

The last envelope, however, is smaller than the others and you recognize the familiar handwriting. You shakily pry the seal off, already guessing what lies underneath.

Don’t be upset. A nurse is set to arrive to care for Ilkyung the week before you leave. I’m not letting you give up.

You crinkle the paper in your palm, laying your hands on your forehead as you take a deep breath.

Why, oh why, did Na Jaemin have to fall in love with you?

—

“Alright, ladies, please pair off and discuss the latest chapter. We’ll regroup before the end of the hour.”

Doyeon turns to you, a grin stretching across her lips. You already know what she plans to ask, letting her wrap an arm around your wrist and race to the back of the room.

As you set your books down and sit far away from the teacher, she continues where she left off before class began. “And then he asked if he could court me officially. I wasn’t exactly in a position to say no.”

“We’re supposed to be discussing the latest chapter,” you remind her. “I, for one, think the hero was far too arrogant to be flaunting his wealth in front of the local commoners.”

She glares at you. “The fact that you still do the reading astounds me.”

“I have people counting on me.”

The three weeks after discovering Jaemin’s secret plot were filled with heated arguments with everyone involved in your life. Ilkyung and Hyojung were pleading for you to take the opportunity and go, insisting the only way you could fulfill your dream of writing was to finish your education. You refused to spend Jaemin’s hard earned money, but the fare for the train ride you needed to get to his medical school to confront him cost too much. You wrote him many strongly worded letters that never received a reply.

It wasn’t until the live-in nurse arrived to care for Ilkyung that you realized you didn’t have much of a choice. Jaemin had already paid her wages for the entire year.

Nayoung even traveled down to knock some sense into you, lecturing you about the need for more female academics. She threatened to write a check that tripled the amount of Jaemin’s if you were really so bothered by him being the sender.

You returned to the girls’ college and resumed your studies at the start of the spring term. You devoted twice as much time as you did in your first term, worrying that Jaemin’s efforts would turn out to be futile. You received the top marks in every class, and a part of you yearned to have a smiley boy sitting next to you, fueling your need for competition.

You finished writing your book about Green Gables after spring had come and gone. You spent weeks speaking to multiple publishers in town, shocked by the popularity of your work and their eagerness to disperse it. By the time classes resumed, you were nearly done finalizing the contract to officially publish your book.

On the other hand, your roommate, Doyeon, had only been sent to college because her parents believed it would market her as a better match for potential suitors. She cared very little about her work, but she became a great friend to you when you needed someone to loosen you up.

“The girls are heading to this parlor after class,” she giggles. “You have to come.”

“I have to finish my essay after class.”

“Come on,” she whines, tugging on your arm. “Just this once. Indulge me!”

She drags you into town that afternoon, pulling you into a circle of girls chatting in the middle of a tea parlor. All of them are dressed in colorful gowns with puffy sleeves, wearing hats with obnoxious feathers decorated on the top. You awkwardly attempt to cover your brown ensemble, with sleeves not as puffy as theirs and no hat in sight. You recognize a few of their faces from your classes but some are unfamiliar to you.

Doyeon sits you down and forces you to make conversation with those around you.

“It was simply tragic,” a girl murmurs from beside you, her hand delicately balancing the saucer under her teacup. “I mean, I felt bad for him but I was not about to become a widowed girl before I turned twenty years of age. Can you imagine the pressure I was under?”

“You’re so brave,” another girl replies, the feather in her hat blocking the view of her right eye. “He was perfect on paper for you.”

“Girls,” Doyeon interrupts cheerfully. The circle turns their attention to her. “I finally convinced my roommate to join us.”

One of them gasps. “So this is her! The esteemed author!”

You stare at your roommate, dismayed by her lack of filter. She smiles sheepishly at you.

“That was meant to be a secret,” you say, laughing shyly. “The book hasn’t exactly been published yet.”

“Oh, but it will be soon, won’t it?” Another person pipes up, eyes sparkling. “Can you believe this, girls? We’ll actually know someone famous.”

You shake your head nervously, bashful at the sudden attention. The girl next to you nudges your side.

“What was your name again?”

When you provide your answer, the group falls into a sudden hush. The girl next to you stiffens completely, her fingers nearly breaking her porcelain teacup. Doyeon is just as confused as you. “What’s happened?”

“You’re her,” the girl beside you whispers. “You’re the girl.”

Your bewilderment only grows tenfold when she stands and sneers down at you. “What’s it like to receive a free education?”

“W-What?” You stutter, taken aback. You haven’t told anybody about your ordeal with Jaemin or the real reason why you’re attending college. How is it possible that this stranger knows your circumstances?

She scoffs in disbelief at you. “Do you know how much pain you’ve caused me? How much heartache you’ve brought to my family?” At your continued hesitation, she snaps. “Does the name Choi Yoojung mean anything to you? Or how about Na Jaemin?”

The puzzle pieces click together. The woman in front of you is Jaemin’s fiancée — the beautiful girl who he fell in love with after you broke his heart. You had assumed they married months ago, but by the way venom drips from her voice when speaking his name, you guess it didn’t go as planned.

“Yoojung,” a girl speaks gently, trying to calm her down when she identifies the fear flash across your face.

She doesn’t relent. “Congratulations to you. He’s driven himself to death in his mission to take care of you. Now neither of us can have him.”

A chill rushes down your spine. You stand, staring at her as your demeanor switches into something more serious. “What are you talking about?”

She snorts. “You didn’t even bother to check on him, did you?”

“I write to him every week,” you retort, curling your lip. “He never responds.”

“Because he’s working! He’s always working. He never stopped because you needed the money,” she snarls. “He only quit when he contracted typhoid fever last month and returned home. I imagine he’s been dead for weeks already.”

You swear your heart stops beating. Doyeon grasps your hand in concern but you shrug her off. You struggle to control your breathing, panicking at the thought of Jaemin slaving himself away at the hospital just so you could go out for tea on a midday afternoon. Doyeon places her hands on your shoulders, troubled by your anxiety.

“Yoojung, back off,” she warns.

The girl listens, gathering her things and storming out of the parlor. The other women follow in pursuit, leaving only you and Doyeon.

“I have to go home,” you say, feeling as if your heart has plummeted three stories down. “I-I have to see him.”

She has no idea who you’re referring to, probably lost for most of your conversation with Yoojung. Regardless, she nods and helps you to the door, rubbing your back soothingly. You pack your belongings in record time, locating the money you have as an advance from the publishing company for a train ticket home. Doyeon calls for her buggy and gives you a ride to the station, and you kiss her cheek and thank her for her assistance.

You spend the entire journey exhausting yourself with images of a sickly Jaemin, but you force your thoughts not to stray to the notion of his death. Once you offboard, dread sinks in when you register that you have no ride back, not giving Hyojung an indication that you would need a buggy at the station.

The universe seems to save you when you spot Soeun and Donghyuck carrying their newborn through the train platform.

You call her name desperately, and she spins around to face you. Her expression lights up. “Oh! I didn’t know you were back in town-”

“Is it true? About Jaemin?”

Her face falls and she glances at her husband with apprehension. You repeat her name, glaring at her with one of the strongest looks you can muster.

She caves in. “Hyojung told me not to say anything, I swear! We didn’t know how bad it had gotten until a week ago.”

“Is he alive?” You ask, your heart thumping furiously in your chest in anticipation of the answer.

“…Yes. But I’m not supposed to tell you-”

“Take me to him.”

Soeun and Donghyuck allow you to squeeze into their buggy, making the expedition to Jaemin’s home and dropping you off. She gives you a pitiful look, kissing your cheeks gently in farewell.

You take a deep breath as you walk up the steps, knocking on the door. The house has perished quite a bit over the years, with grass growing out of the floorboards of the porch and the paint slowly peeling. When the door opens, however, it still smells exactly like Jaemin.

An older man stares back at you, eyebrows furrowed. “May I help you, madam?”

“Na Jaemin. I’m here to see Na Jaemin,” you say, breathless and choking back tears.

He smiles. “Ah, you’re her. I’ve been waiting for someone to inform you. He wouldn’t let me.” He ushers you inside, helping you place your luggage aside. He outstretches his arm to take the book in your hands but you clutch it tighter to your chest. “I’m Dr. Lee, I’ve been Jaemin’s mentor since he began his schooling. I put a pause on my practice to nurse him back to health.”

You sniffle, disregarding your manners out of impatience. “Is he here?”

He smiles softly in understanding, gesturing his head towards the back of the house. “He’s in his father’s room.”

You swallow as you walk down the hallway, the flickering candlelight illuminating the dusty room. You inhale sharply when you see Jaemin splayed out on the bed, face completely drained of color. He’s tucked completely in the blankets of his father’s tiny bed, barely big enough to fit him. You rush to his side, gripping his hand tightly in yours.

He blinks lethargically at you before mumbling, “Princess?”

You wipe your tears away. “You’re an idiot. The most reckless person I know.”

A smile spreads across his chapped lips. “I’ve missed you.”

You quell the urge inside you that begs to argue with him, to scold him for not taking care of himself and putting his life at risk. But you don’t want to waste your precious moments with him by fighting, so you show him the book in your arms instead.

“I finished writing about Green Gables, just as you said I should,” you mumble through blurry vision. “I’ll be a published author soon. I dedicated the inscription to Ilkyung and to Ilnam and… to you.” You open the first page of the book, unveiling his name. You choke out, “I was planning on sending it to you as a wedding gift.”

“There’s something you should know,” he croaks. “About me and Yoojung.”

You shake your head, swiping back the hair matted to his forehead. “I already know,” you say. “W-We had an unfortunate run in.”

“You understand now then. You understand that there’s never been anyone for me but you.”

You shut your eyes tightly, bending down and pressing your forehead against his cheek. You rest your hand over his chest and feel the way it rises and falls. “You have to get better,” you say sternly. “You have to get better so I can tell you how I really feel.”

You make a home out of Jaemin’s room for the next few weeks. Dr. Lee and you take turns watching over him, and he locates a spare cot in the storage closet for you to sleep on. You set it up right next to Jaemin’s bed, holding his hand as you doze off. You feed him and read him stories, although his number one request has been to hear your book.

Dr. Lee recounts his memories with Jaemin, and how he’s never met a student more hardworking. He reveals that Jaemin always spoke about you, referring to you as the smartest girl he’s ever known.

By week four, Jaemin regains the color in his cheeks and is able to sit up in bed on his own. You’re attempting to spoon a hearty soup into his mouth but he’s making it into an impossible task.

“You said you would tell me how you feel if I got better,” he whines. His hands snake around your waist, pulling you closer to him as you gasp, trying not to spill the piping hot bowl on him. “I kept up my end of the bargain.”

“Jaemin,” you huff, scooting back before you’re sitting on his lap. “You’re still not back to complete health. Can you please finish your dinner?”

A knock echoes on the door, and you turn to see Dr. Lee smiling at you both. He’s carrying a suitcase in his hand and has a coat draped over his frame. “Well, it’s been a joy to help my young prodigy, but I really must return to my practice.”

Your eyes widen. “You’re leaving?”

He chuckles at your reaction. “He hasn’t shown any symptoms for three days, which leads me to believe the worst of it is over. All he has to do now is get plenty of rest and drink lots of fluids. And luckily, he has a beautiful nurse here to help him.”

Jaemin beams, grinning while you look away in embarrassment. “Thank you, Mr. Lee. I owe you a great deal.”

“Nonsense,” the doctor brushes off. “Considering you fell ill on my watch, I would declare I owed this to you.” You walk him to the front door, thanking him for watching over Jaemin. He winks at you before he climbs into his buggy. “You’ll take even better care of him, I’m certain.”

You observe as he rides away, waving his hat in the air as a salute to you. You smile before returning inside, gasping when you see Jaemin leaning on the dining table.

“What are you doing out of bed? You can’t be strolling around the place just yet-”

You’re effectively silenced when he boxes you in, his lips descending over yours. You crumple up the fabric of his sweater in your palm, relishing the way he runs his tongue over your bottom lip.

Your nagging continues as he peppers kisses down your jaw. “You really should not be out of bed right now. You need to save your strength and energy for recovery.”

You whimper when his fingers sneak underneath your dress, stroking your clothed core. He props you up against the table, and you’re suddenly thrown back in time.

“J-Jaemin, we shouldn’t-”

“Unless you plan on confessing your feelings for me, I would rather not hear another peep out of you,” he says, swallowing you with his frame. “I’ll make exceptions, of course. Like this.”

His fingers press harder against your folds and you whine, arching into him. It’s not long before your undergarments are discarded on the floor. You haven’t been intimate with someone since Jaemin, causing goosebumps to rise over your skin when his digits brush over your entrance.

“Tell me,” he grunts lowly in your ear. “Tell me how you feel. I need to know.”

Two fingers slide in easily, and you immediately clench down on him, your mind swirling in exhilaration. He pulls back to watch your reaction, smirking when he sees your jaw dropped open. He leans forward to capture your lips in his again.

“Tell me,” he whispers in between his tongue exploring your mouth.

He curls his digits, rubbing against your walls perfectly. You’re ashamed to hear the sound of your slick filling the room. His other hand works at untying your corset, loosening your dress just enough to expose your breasts for his viewing.

“Jaemin,” you exhale when he takes the hardened bud of your nipple into his mouth, sucking gently. You grind down onto his hand as the pleasure begins to strike in full force. The combination of his fingers caressing you and his tongue flicking over your stiff peaks is enough to drive you to the edge, mewling loudly as you soak his digits in your arousal. You pant as you confess, “I love you.”

His head snaps up, grinning wider than ever. You squeak when he launches himself at you, spreading your back across the wood of the dining table. You giggle as he attacks you with an onslaught of kisses.

“Say it again,” he says, quickly pulling his length out of his trousers.

When he thrusts inside you, a moan falls freely from your lips, accompanied by another “I love you.”

It’s swift and desperate, the way he harshly ruts into you as you sing sweet noises for him, praising him while his cock abuses your pussy. You’ve never wanted anyone the way you crave him, keeping him as close as possible in fear of him leaving you. He assures you with the skin of his teeth, grazing your neck as he marks you as his.

When he spills inside you, you swear you’ve never been this happy before. He doesn’t retract from you, burying his head into your shoulder as he wraps himself in your scent.

“I’ll make you a promise,” he murmurs. You tangle your hand through his hair, scratching his scalp affectionately. “I’ll let Nayoung pay for your schooling and I promise not to work myself to death at the hospital. But after graduation, we take our vows and move back to Green Gables. We start a new life with each other.”

You laugh, giddy over the thought. Just last year, you were convinced you would retire as a lonely spinster, reminiscing over your lost love. Yet now he lays on top of you, fulfilling your dream of forever in a great big home.

You nod. “That sounds beautiful.”

—

A scream erupts throughout the house and you pinch the bridge of your nose in exasperation. Hyojung sits next to you in her rocking chair, chortling with glee at your misery.

Ilkyung strides by, carefully balancing herself with her cane. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Thank you,” you call after her, watching as she corrals your two toddlers in the kitchen.

“Five children is just too much,” Hyojung remarks with the click of her tongue. “How could you let Jaemin talk you into another one?”

You stare down at your growing belly, resting your hand over your bump. “He’s very convincing.”

Your husband barrels through the front door with your six-year-old son attached to his back while your eight-year-old daughter curls around his leg. He’s laughing, pretending to make them fly as your two other toddlers rush over to him, eager to join the scene.

You married Jaemin shortly after graduation, sealing your vows next to the Lake of Shining Waters. Ilkyung was delighted when you chose to move into Green Gables as Jaemin landed a position as the town’s new doctor and your second book was about to be published. You finished the girls’ college with high marks, securing a teaching spot at the best college in the area.

You lived in pure bliss. You kept the nurse who looked after Ilkyung in your absence, and she eventually became a helping hand to your rowdy family. Jisung still assisted you and Jaemin with maintaining the farm, even stepping out of his comfort zone every now and then to chase your children around the yard.

You thank the universe everyday for granting you a second chance at happiness. Jaemin constantly dotes on you, fretting over your every need. He’s a perfect father, never losing his temper with the children and cooing at them in soft voices. It’s perhaps why you’re so inclined to keep giving him more.

He staggers over to you after he manages to pry your rambunctious children off his body, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips.

“Are you two enjoying yourselves?”

Hyojung smiles. “We would be if your wife’s feet weren’t swelling enormously, Dr. Na,” she says with a teasing tone. “You should rub her feet to make her feel better.”

He’s quick to follow orders, sitting on the carpet and getting to work.

“Anything for my princess.”

You throw Hyojung a look. “Now you’re just misusing our power.”

You glance over at your children, who are flocking towards their grandmother and asking her for a snack. Then you look at your beaming husband and your mischievous best friend, the true kindred spirits of your heart. And it’s all topped by the puffiest sleeves a girl’s ever owned, sitting proudly on your arms.

Your dream of having a home to call yours has finally come true.

this fic was posted for early access to the $5 tier on my patreon, which you can access here!