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starryhyuck · 6 months

Text

pairing: ex!jaehyun x afab!reader

words: 9.2k+

summary: you left with jaehyun’s son three years ago. an opportunity arises that may push you together for better or for worse.

genre: angst, fluff, smut

warnings: penetrative sex, rough sex, public sex, daddy kink, pussy eating, cum eating, creampies, breeding kink, spanking, possessiveness, some yandere vibes

“Got yourself all dressed for dad?”

Your five-year-old son hums happily, thumbs looped through his backpack straps like he’s afraid it’s going to run away from him. You smile and comb your hands through his hair, slightly frightened by how fast he’s growing.

The knock on the door takes you out of your head before you can dwindle on how your son is slipping away from you. You smile at Jaehyun behind the door, who offers a tight-lipped one in return.

You kneel down once more and tap on your cheek. “Give me a kiss before you leave, sprout.”

Your son giggles before planting a messy kiss on your cheek, wrapping his tiny arms around your neck.

“Bye, mom! I love you!” He practically hops away from you in excitement, running into his dad’s arms with pure joy.

You nod politely at your ex, who wraps his arms around your son and holds him to his chest.

“Hey, little bear. Missed you,” Jaehyun laughs, kissing your son’s forehead.

“I missed you too, dad!”

You clear your throat. “Do you want me to come pick him up on Sunday?”

Jaehyun’s eyes return to you, cold and distant like they have been for the past three years. “I could drop him off, it’s no issue. I canceled all my meetings on Sunday.” You wonder if he’s trying to imply something, as if the time taken off means anything to you.

You brush it off. “Sounds good. Be good to your dad,” you give a final warning to your son, who does nothing but wave his hand in return.

You’re about to close the door until Jaehyun quietly speaks up. “I needed to ask you something.”

You ignore the loud sound of your heartbeat in your ears. You simply nod, urging him to continue. He clears his throat, feeling a bit awkward as your son impatiently waits for his dad to take him to his other house. It’s rare for Jaehyun to linger around like this.

“My parents — they’re having that annual anniversary party again in Seoul. They asked me to invite you.”

You’re surprised, to say the least. You haven’t been invited to an anniversary party since you and Jaehyun separated. His family was extremely heartbroken when you left and as a result, you haven’t communicated with them since. The anniversary party, however, was a huge celebration in the Jeong family. It was a mark of success since Jeong Corporation opened almost twenty years ago, and the company has now founded themselves as one of the largest in Seoul.

“Um,” you stutter, unsure of what to say. You understood what the anniversary party implied — one whole weekend with your former second family and more importantly, Jaehyun.

“Don’t- You don’t have to make a decision now. You can tell me on Sunday if you’re ready.”

You nod reluctantly, and he sends you another tight-lipped smile before departing. You watch as he and your son drive away, leaving a hole in your heart as they go.

—

“No way. He wants to fuck you again!”

“Johnny!” You scold, feeling extremely embarrassed already. “He is not! He’s just trying to be a good son, you know how he is.”

Johnny laughs sarcastically. “Yeah fucking right. Dude, it’s the Jeong anniversary party. That shit is photographed like crazy. He knows what he’s doing when he’s inviting you to go with him.”

“He’s not inviting me to go with him,” you clarify for him, even though Johnny is throwing you a side eye as you hand him a cup of warm tea. “He’s just inviting me to attend.”

He rolls his eyes. “Please. He’s been waiting for this moment with you for so long. Especially after you left him like that.”

You swing at Johnny’s arm, causing him to clutch it dramatically and hold the end of your kitchen counter as if you just shot him. You glare at him. Even though it was still a sore subject, he found a way to bring it into conversation from time to time since he thought it was the worst decision you had ever made.

It was three years ago when you left Jaehyun, taking your son and finding a new place all to yourselves. Jaehyun was shocked to say the least, heartbroken that the love of his life took his child and ran. It obviously wasn’t your first choice, but you spent too long waiting for him to come home only to be disappointed continuously. Jaehyun was just starting to become a big name within the company, wanting to work up the ladder and prove himself to his father and to the public. As a result, he spent most nights sleeping in his office and growing farther apart from you and your son. You reached a point where you couldn’t handle being abandoned any longer, leaving him and giving him his first wake-up call.

Jaehyun, like everyone else, thought you were only playing a game with him at first. No one believed you would actually separate from each other, especially because you two were so in love. However, you decided you needed to do what was right for your son. You couldn’t handle the lonely nights when your son would ask when his dad was coming home.

The custody agreement was simple, and Jaehyun agreed to whatever terms you laid out for him. You allowed your son to see Jaehyun every other weekend, and Jaehyun made sure to take work off whenever he had him. He was really trying, which you could see, but it wasn’t enough.

You’re not sure if it’ll ever be enough again.

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea,” you mumble to Johnny, already mentally rejecting the idea of attending the Jeong anniversary party. “I mean, you know us. Our feelings get carried away all the time.”

Johnny frowns. “Are you saying you still have feelings for him?”

You sigh. Johnny has been your number one support system since you left Jaehyun, and despite his help towards adjusting you to a life as a single mother, he always rooted for the two of you to get back together.

“That’s not what I’m saying,” you say clearly, stirring around the small spoon in your cup. You refuse to look up, knowing he can read you like an open book. “I’m just saying that being together for that long can cause cloudy judgment, you know? Plus, I don’t want anything to become confusing for all parties included.”

He shrugs, knowing you’re mainly talking about your son’s inability to understand why his mom and dad are suddenly spending time together. “I think the little sprout would like to have a weekend with both of his parents. He hasn’t had that since two birthdays ago.”

You recall your son’s third birthday party, which was the first festivity after the split. You awkwardly invited Jaehyun to come since you felt obligated, but it only resulted in tension while cutting the cake and opening presents.

“I know,” you whisper, feeling down. Your son asks you from time to time why his dad doesn’t stay when Jaehyun drops him off after a weekend together, and it always breaks your heart when you have to gently explain that his dad has work to attend to. Seeing the dejected look on your son’s face reminds you why you decided to leave in the first place. “But don’t you think it’s weird? Why would his family even want to see me again? I thought they hated me for leaving Jaehyun.”

“Yeah right,” Johnny laughs. “You saw the headlines after you guys split. Jaehyun started fighting so often with his parents. You know they loved you to death.”

“That might have been true before. I’m still the bitch who stomped all over their son’s heart and took their grandson away.”

“Hey,” Johnny scolds, hating when you speak lowly of yourself. “Anyone with eyes could see he was treating you miserably. It was completely fair for you to have temporary space.”

You ignore the fact that he implies the separation is still temporary.

“I’m just not sure, John. I don’t think it’s a smart idea.”

“Well, I think it’s a great one,” he smiles, brushing off your heated glare. “Listen, you can’t keep ignoring him like he’s the plague. If you don’t want the little sprout to have daddy issues when he’s older, you need to start getting along with Jae better. Just act civil, that’s all anyone’s asking of you.”

You chew on your bottom lip. “Will you come get me if I text you?”

“In a heartbeat.”

Your shoulders eventually slump in defeat, and Johnny throws his arms up in victory.

—

You’re extremely anxious when Sunday afternoon arrives, which is usually when Jaehyun comes by to bring your son back. You try to shake the nerves out and remind yourself to do what Johnny told you.

Just be civil. You can do that.

You nearly jump out of your socks when Jaehyun finally knocks on the door. You shakily open it, offering him a small smile as your son comes barging through. He attaches himself to your leg, grinning widely as he waves a new coloring book in his hand.

“Look what dad got me!”

“Wow,” you speak incredulously, kneeling down to give him a kiss. “That was very nice of him. Did you say thank you?”

“Yes!” He exclaims with glee. “Can I go color, please?”

You laugh. “Give your father a kiss goodbye first, sprout.”

Your son hurriedly kisses his father’s cheek when Jaehyun leans down, rushing off to his room afterwards.

You chuckle again. “You didn’t have to do that. Thank you.”

Jaehyun hums. “Of course. He really wanted it, and I wanted to do something special for him.”

You nod and the conversation settles into unbearable silence. You start gathering the courage to accept Jaehyun’s invitation before you wimp out but he talks before you can get the chance.

“Listen, about what I said on Friday, you can forget about it if it makes you uncomfortable. I didn’t want you to feel obligated, I just knew if I didn’t pass along the message, I would get hit on sight.”

You smile, thinking about how dangerous his mother could be when her son disobeys. “No, it’s completely fine. I mean, if it’s still okay with you, I would like to go.”

His eyes light up in surprise, and it’s the first time Jaehyun’s let his guard down with you in a while.

“Really? I didn’t think you’d want to.”

You shrug. “I think it would be nice. I’m sure the little sprout would enjoy a weekend with both of his parents too.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, smiling genuinely. You forgot how much you missed seeing him so happy, dimples peeking out. “I know he would. He was talking about how excited he was today, getting dressed in a little suit and everything.”

Your heart warms at the thought of your son dressed so handsomely. “He would be adorable. Center of the party, I’m sure.”

“Of course. You know my mother never misses a chance to show him off,” he chuckles.

“Well, I look forward to seeing what they’re going to try and pull off this year. I’m assuming your mother is making it as lavish as possible,” you joke, knowing how elated his mother was when the Jeong Corporation finally gained enough funding to throw a large-scale party.

“You know it,” he agrees, eyes sparkling in the way they used to. “I could, um, I could give you more details if you’d like.”

“Oh,” you say, feeling slightly flushed. “Sure, that sounds nice.” You open the door wider for him, stepping back so he can come inside.

It’s the first time you’ve really invited Jaehyun in. He came once for your son’s birthday party and a few other times because your son really wanted to show Jaehyun some toys from his room, but never once fully initiated by you.

“Can I heat up some coffee or tea for you?” You ask politely.

“Coffee would be wonderful, thank you,” he says, following you to the kitchen.

He takes a seat on one of the kitchen stools — the same spot where Johnny told you that Jaehyun clearly wanted to fuck you again. You clear your throat, tossing the memory aside.

“So, is there a dress code for the party? Do I need to go out and get anything?” You question, starting to brew Jaehyun’s favorite blend. The both of you choose to ignore the fact that you still remember how to make his coffee just the way he likes it.

“They were endorsing a blue and white theme this year, but you don’t have to follow those rules, of course,” he assures you.

You shake your head, turning back to him and smiling. “I will one hundred percent abide by that dress code. You know how picky those businesspeople are.”

He chuckles to himself, fiddling with his fingers nervously. You wonder if he’s just as anxious as you are.

“Right, forgot about that. So I’ll come pick up you and the little bear Friday night?”

You nod. “That would be nice. Thanks, Jaehyun.”

“Of course,” he replies, thanking you when you hand him his coffee. “The party shouldn’t last for more than two to three hours on Saturday, but you know how my father gets with the speeches.”

“He’s just proud, that’s all. It’s not everyday a company you built from the ground turns so successful.”

He nods. “Every company comes with its sacrifices though.”

You swallow at him alluding to your separation. Luckily, you’re saved by your son, who comes running into the kitchen.

“Dad!” He exclaims happily. “You’re still here!”

Jaehyun laughs. “Just having a conversation with your mom, little bear. Did you color something already?”

Your son nods, already eager to showcase his coloring skills. Jaehyun situates him on his lap, listening as your son details the process of what colors he chose and what the monkey is doing exactly in the picture.

You grow fond at the sight, not seeing Jaehyun with your son like this in so long. You never doubted that Jaehyun loved him with his entire heart, you just always wished he made more time for the both of you.

“And who did you color this for, little bear?” Jaehyun asks softly, kissing his son’s temple.

“Mom, of course!” Your son says with certainty, and Jaehyun helps him rip the picture out of the book so he can hand it to you.

“Thank you so much, sprout. I’ll cherish it forever,” you promise, clutching the paper to your chest.

Your son has an affinity for coloring and drawing, and as a result, most of your fridge and walls were covered in his artwork.

“I’ll make one for you too, dad,” your son swears, wiggling out of Jaehyun’s arms until he’s back on the floor. The both of you watch him zoom off, warning him not to run too fast.

Jaehyun smiles. “I should get him those coloring books for adults. I feel like he would love them.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Yeah right. He only enjoys these because they have animals in them. Give him a crazy pattern and he’ll give up coloring forever.”

He laughs before agreeing with you. A part of you missed this — the happy laughter and talks of your son with someone who also wanted the best for him.

“My mother’s set up a private cabin for us for the weekend,” he shares, avoiding your stare. “But I can always have the driver take you and the little bear back here if that makes you uncomfortable.”

“Oh,” you say, briefly surprised by the fact that Jaehyun’s mother set all of you together. You would think she wants you as far away from her son as possible.

Jaehyun takes your response badly, face twisting into a grimace. “It’s no problem. I’ll tell Doyoung that you would prefer coming back here instead of staying the weekend.”

“No!” You exclaim, flushing by how loud your voice rose. “I mean, I was just shocked your mother did that for us. I thought she didn’t like me anymore.”

Jaehyun’s eyebrows shot up. “My mother? The same one that wanted to buy us an island when we told her about the pregnancy?”

You chuckle. “That was out of the kindness of her heart, Jaehyun.”

“Please,” he scoffs. He takes the coffee mug you hold out for him. “She loves you more than anything. Nothing between us would change that.”

You smile, ignoring the nerves slowly creeping up every inch of your body.

—

“Johnny, put that back!”

“Why? It’s sexy!”

You grab one of your throw pillows and chuck it at Johnny’s head. He dodges just in time, rolling his eyes and putting your lingerie back in your drawer.

“I’m just saying, you never know what’s going to happen. You’ll regret it later when you’re trying to fuck Jaehyun and you have nothing but granny panties.”

“I regret asking you to help me pack,” you sigh, trying your best to fit everything you need this weekend for you and your son in a small suitcase.

“I’m going to ignore that comment since I’m willingly giving up my Friday afternoon for you. When was the last time you went shopping?” He asks.

It actually takes you a minute to stop and think about your answer. Ever since your son was born, your wardrobe has mainly consisted of haphazard pajamas. The only time you really went out and purchased clothes is if you were attending one of Jaehyun’s fancy events.

“All of these clothes are way out of season! How have I not noticed this before?” Johnny complains, rifling through your drawers. “We need to go shopping.”

You groan. “It’s too late for that. Jaehyun is picking us up tonight!”

The doorbell rings and you sigh again, massaging your temples in an attempt to make the headache go away. Johnny takes pity on you and answers the front door himself. You hear hushed whispers before he comes back into your bedroom, a smile on his face as he carries a large box in his hands.

Your eyebrows furrow. “What’s that?”

“A special delivery from one Mr. Jeong Jaehyun,” Johnny replies, a smirk evident on his lips.

You’re still trying to recover from the shock of Jaehyun sending you anything before you realize Johnny’s ripping open the box. He looks like a kid on Christmas morning and you can’t help but lean over to see it too.

In the box is a beautiful, satin white dress that looks like a red wine lover’s worst nightmare. However, you can barely focus on the color when you can recognize exactly where this dress is from.

“Dude,” Johnny says in a small voice, sounding breathless. “It’s your wedding dress.”

And if this wasn’t your wedding dress — it sure as hell looked a lot like it. You remember the day you picked it out, insisting on going for a modern style instead of a princess ball gown. It was a simple, off-shoulder, stark white dress that you envisioned yourself wearing while walking down the aisle to Jaehyun.

And three years ago, you cried when you donated it to a local thrift store, refusing to continue to store memories of what could’ve been in the back of your closet.

You thought you would never see it again.

“He said the theme was blue and white, right?”

Johnny brings you out of your train of thought. You cough, avoiding his questioning gaze.

“Yeah.”

“Hm.”

“What?”

You narrow your eyes at his suggestive tone. He shrugs.

“I think you’re going to have an interesting trip.”

—

“Hi, dad!”

“Hi, little bear!”

Your heart melts at the sight of Jaehyun and your son together. Jaehyun’s all smiles while he straps your son into his carseat, dimples peeking out. Once he’s settled, he turns to you as he shuts the car door. You awkwardly step around each other as he helps you with your bags and you slip into the front seat.

The drive to the cabin you’ll be staying at for the weekend is about an hour from your place, which means you have two choices — you could pretend to sleep and avoid speaking to Jaehyun altogether, or you could bite the bullet and make as much small talk as you possibly can.

Jaehyun makes the decision for you.

“So how’s work?”

You muster a smile. “It’s alright. I think I’m going to get promoted soon.”

He laughs. “It’s about time. I’ve never seen anyone else at that company work harder than you.”

You stutter at the compliment. You always forget how charming Jaehyun is, and how easy it is for him to make you feel like a teenager all over again.

You can’t hold back your next question. “Where did you find it? The dress?”

His fingers tighten on the wheel.

“It’s just a dupe I found online.”

But the response sounds too rehearsed. Too practiced. It’s almost like he had been preparing himself for when you would inquire about it.

“Jaehyun,” you whisper, and he knows you can tell that he’s lying.

He sighs, looking through the rearview mirror to check if your son has already drifted off before proceeding. “When you donated it, Doyoung found out and I asked him to buy it back. I know it’s your dream dress, and it’s my fault you never got to wear it. I just wanted you to have a night where you could finally show it off.”

You don’t know why, but you feel tears welling up in your eyes. The idea that Jaehyun kept your dress for you all these years tugged at your heartstrings. If the dress was a reminder to you of your failed relationship, you can’t imagine what he felt when he came across it in his own home every single day.

You turn your head to look out the window so he wouldn’t see your crushed expression.

“You didn’t have to.”

“I did. You deserve at least that, and so much more. For now, unfortunately, this is all I can give you.”

The two of you remain silent for the rest of the trip and you’re relieved when he pulls into the cabin’s driveway. You both fall into a familiar pattern as you get out to grab your son and he heads to the trunk to take out your luggage. You’re careful to unbuckle your son from his carseat in fear of waking him, and you relax when he’s in your arms, still sound asleep.

Jaehyun opens the front door and you marvel at the beauty of the cabin once you’re inside. You’re not surprised in the slightest that Jaehyun’s mother hooked you up with an extremely lavish place for the weekend.

“Upstairs, first door to the right,” Jaehyun whispers, and you realize he’s telling you where your son will be sleeping.

After you’ve tucked him in and made sure he’s out for the night, you tiptoe back downstairs.

Jaehyun looks like he doesn’t know what to do with himself, fumbling around with the television remote, pacing in front of the entertainment dock.

“So, um, what room will I be in?”

“Oh yeah,” he says uncomfortably, quickly grabbing your luggage. “Let me show you.”

He leads you down a hallway off from the living room, opening one of the many doors and setting your stuff inside.

“Here’s your room. I, um, I’m just across the hall. There’s also another room upstairs if you want to sleep closer to the little bear but it’s a lot smaller and doesn’t have a connecting bathroom so I figured-“

“This is great, Jaehyun. Thank you.”

He clears his throat and nods, quickly shuffling out of the room. He pauses in the entryway as he’s closing the door, something clearly lingering on his mind.

“You don’t have to wear the dress tomorrow, it was inconsiderate of me to assume you would want to. I’ll have Doyoung pick up something different in the morning for you to wear.”

Before you could protest, the door shuts. You sigh and run your hands down your face.

This was going to be a long weekend.

—

You and Jaehyun barely exchange any words the next day.

As promised, a new, navy blue dress hangs outside your door when you wake up. You fail to confront Jaehyun about it since he spends most of the morning playing with your son at a nearby creek. In all honesty, you want to wear your wedding dress. On the outside, it wasn’t too flashy since you refused to add a train or any embellishments, and it was perfect for a formal event like the anniversary party. On the inside, everything Jaehyun said yesterday was correct — this was your dream dress, and you wanted to just have this one occasion to finally show it off.

You call Johnny before Jaehyun and your son return, and he happily picks up on the second ring.

“Got fucked yet?”

“You’re despicable.”

Johnny’s joyous laughter is grating to your ears.

“It’s so awkward, Johnny. We had this weird conversation about the dress so he had Doyoung get me a new one, but I actually really want to wear my wedding dress. Is that crazy?”

“Nope,” he replies, popping the last syllable for emphasis. “I think you’re just afraid of what wearing the dress means for you.”

“What are you talking about?”

He clicks his tongue, and you can picture him shaking his head at your alleged stupidity. “Think about it. The last time you wore this dress, you were engaged and about to marry the love of your life. Don’t you think wearing it again is going to spark up any old feelings?”

You ponder over the idea for a moment before shaking your head. Johnny was wrong — you just wanted to wear this dress because you liked it. You convince yourself there are no lingering feelings you should be worrying about.

“You’re full of shit.”

“Uh huh. We’ll see about that.”

However, later that night when you slip into the dress, you understand exactly what Johnny was talking about. You used to have vision boards of this dress plastered on your living room walls, picking what flowers and color scheme you wanted to compliment it. You remember Johnny even photoshopping you in this dress next to Jaehyun in his suit, the both of you standing in front of what was supposed to be your dream venue.

The memories come back to you like a tidal wave. Jaehyun planning the perfect dinner for the two of you when you were six months pregnant. Jaehyun proposing to you that night, tears in his eyes as he confessed how much he loved you. Welcoming your son into the world three months later. Trying on the dress again after his birth, worrying your body would look too different. Jaehyun getting the dress re-tailored for you when your insecurities started to affect your daily life. Your son crying night after night while his father stayed late working in his office. Postponing the wedding every year because Jaehyun was too busy. Shoving the dress in the back of your closet because you couldn’t stand to see it any longer. Finally getting the courage to pack up your things and leave, taking the dress with you. Giving it away when you felt like you needed to close this chapter of your life. The chapter where Jaehyun was supposed to be your eternal love.

You don’t even realize you’re crying until the door creaks open.

“Mom, why are you sad?”

You immediately straighten yourself and wipe away your tears, turning to see your son at the door with his head tilted in concern. You laugh when you see his suit is half buttoned.

“I’m not sad, little sprout,” you smile, walking over to him and scooping him in your arms. “I’m so excited for tonight! Look at my handsome boy!”

He giggles when you press kisses to his cheek.

“Mom,” he whines. “Help me!”

You keep your smile on as you help him fix his suit, and you hear the door creak open again when you’re on the last button.

If Jaehyun notices the redness in your eyes, he doesn’t comment on it.

“Little bear, why don’t you finish your dinner before we head out? Don’t want you getting hungry.”

Your son obediently follows Jaehyun’s orders once you’re finished buttoning his suit, running to the kitchen to eat his meal.

You walk back to the full length mirror in the corner of the room in an attempt to make yourself look as presentable as possible. You can feel his eyes on you, burning a hole in your back.

“You look beautiful.”

You falter, fingers shakily trying to put your earring on. “Thank you.”

“I thought you wanted to wear a different dress.”

“No, I actually want to wear this one.”

“Oh, okay.” A pause. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Jaehyun. Can you make sure Doyoung has coloring books and crayons in the car? In case the little sprout gets bored.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I can do that,” he nods, and you lock eyes with him in the mirror.

He doesn’t say anything else but you know he’s worried about you. He purses his lips before closing the door, and you sigh in relief when you hear his footsteps fade away.

—

“Nice to see you again.”

You grin as you envelope Doyoung in a hug. The last time you saw Jaehyun’s assistant was almost three years ago at the last anniversary party you attended. Doyoung had always been a very loyal right-hand man to Jaehyun, and he used to be one of the constants in your life.

“You look gorgeous,” he compliments, his bunny teeth peeking out.

You thank him and he helps you and your son climb into the car, Jaehyun following after. Doyoung takes the driver’s seat and rolls up the partition so you can have some privacy. You wish he would do the opposite and make small talk with you, especially since you could cut the tension between you and Jaehyun with a knife.

Your son is seated between the two of you and he plays a helpful role in the awkward atmosphere. He starts asking Jaehyun questions about the party and who will be there, which Jaehyun answers patiently as your son bombards him with question after question.

You start fiddling with the fabric of your dress, the satin slipping between your fingers. When you look up, you see Jaehyun’s eyes locked on you, and it makes you wonder how differently this picture would have looked years ago.

This car would’ve been driving to your wedding venue with your son as the ring bearer. You would be leaning over to capture every moment of Jaehyun’s lips before you would have to kiss in front of hundreds of guests, a thought that always rattled you. You would have a bouquet of daisies bunched up in your hand, similar to the ones Jaehyun gave you on your first date. You would be scared of your veil tearing, trying your best to make sure your son didn’t accidentally rip it. All while Jaehyun stares at you like you hold the world in your hands, his fingers interlacing with yours to assure you everything would be okay.

You imagine he’s thinking the same as you if the longing in his eyes is anything to go by. But then the car hits a speed bump, forcing you to break eye contact. He returns to answering your son’s questions and you start playing with your dress again.

When you finally arrive at the Jeong Corporation building, you’re immediately greeted by your former mother-in-law.

She wraps you in her arms as soon as you step out of the car, and if you didn’t know any better, you would say she’s trying to strangle you by the sheer force of her strength.

“My favorite daughter!”

You flush at the greeting, remembering it was her favorite nickname for you. You catch Jaehyun carrying your son from the corner of your eye, his ears blooming red from embarrassment.

“Hi, Mrs. Jeong,” you reply, reciprocating her embrace.

She releases you to step back and take a look at your form. She looks exactly the same as she did three years ago, and you feel her manicured hand stroke your cheek.

“Look at you. Still so beautiful.”

You smile, slowly feeling your nerves dissipate. Maybe Johnny was right — maybe Jaehyun’s family didn’t actually hate you, they just missed you.

Her gaze flickers to her grandson, and she coos at him as she takes him from Jaehyun.

“And here’s my strong tiger! So handsome tonight!”

“Grandma!” Your son exclaims happily, chubby hands wrapping around her neck.

She gestures for you and Jaehyun to follow her inside the building as she begins walking. You share a glance with him before coming to a silent agreement, looping your arm through his in an attempt to show solidarity. You ignore the ache in your feet and the thumping of your heart, keeping your eyes trained on Jaehyun’s mom animatedly speaking to your son. She guides you to the conference room on the main floor, where the party is being held.

She turns to you once you’re at the entrance. “I’m going to take him to meet Yoojin, she’s been begging to meet my grandson. And don’t you two worry, I’ll take him back with us when the party’s over. He needs to spend some quality time with his grandparents! Have a fun night together!”

And before you can protest, she’s disappeared into the crowd, taking your son along for the ride.

Jaehyun curses. “I’m sorry. Let me catch her and let her know we want him to come back to the cabin with us.”

You stop him with a firm tug on his arm. He stares at you in confusion.

“It’s okay, let her take him. She’s right — he hasn’t had quality time with his grandparents for a while.”

He slowly nods and slips his arm back through yours. You both don’t know where to begin for the night now that your conversation helper is gone. The first stop you choose is the open bar while Jaehyun starts his formal thank you parade around the floor. You’re waiting for your drink when you feel a tap on your shoulder.

You turn to see Seulgi, who is practically beaming at you.

“I was wondering if it was you!” She giggles and hugs you tightly.

Seulgi worked as head of marketing for Jeong Corporation, and you used to chat with her quite a lot whenever you visited Jaehyun in the office.

“I can’t believe you’re here, I haven’t seen you in forever,” she hums, sitting on the barstool next to you. She tells the bartender her order before focusing back on you. “How have you been?”

“I’m good,” you chuckle, a little floored by her presence. You forgot that attending this party meant you would also be running into all of Jaehyun’s colleagues that you used to be friendly with. “How have you been?”

She huffs. “Swamped with work, but this party is always a nice change of pace. Did you come with Jaehyun?”

You also remember how Seulgi doesn’t beat around the bush.

“Yes, I came with him and our son.”

“Oh, I have to see him before I leave. I bet he’s all grown up now,” she murmurs. “So you’re all back together then?”

“No, no,” you deny, thanking the bartender when your drink arrives. “Jaehyun just invited me as a plus one this year. Or plus two, I guess.”

She hums noncommittally, throwing a mischievous side eye. Actually, in this moment, you realize how much she resembles Johnny.

You feel a hand graze your back. You look up to see Jaehyun, who’s throwing a timid smile in Seulgi’s direction.

“Sorry, can I steal her for a bit?”

Seulgi smirks knowingly. “You can have her for as long as you need, Mr. Jeong.”

His eyes narrow at her before he’s leading you away from the bar, his hand still sitting firmly on your lower back.

“Sorry to interrupt your conversation,” he apologizes in your ear, sending shivers down your spine at the proximity. “I need you to be my shield for these terribly boring conversations or I’ll melt into a puddle on the floor.”

You giggle. “So you’re throwing me into the dumpster fire?”

“More like I’m having you join me in the flames.”

The rest of the night eases your nerves more and more, and it gets to the point where you’re falling back into your old harmony with Jaehyun. You’re exchanging raised eyebrows when people aren’t looking, sharing your portion of small talk with the guests who approach you, and whispering in each other’s ears when a funny joke pops up. Jaehyun’s mom even swings by with your son a couple of times, giving you and Jaehyun the opportunity to spend some time with him together. You even manage to skirt around the straining questions if you two are back together, telling people you’re just here as friendly co-parents.

Despite that, for the first time in a long time, you felt like a family again.

By the end of the night, you’re climbing back into the car with Jaehyun while his parents wave you off, holding your son in their arms and assuring they’ll take good care of him.

Once they disappear out of view, you sink back and relax. Jaehyun laughs at you.

“Long night, huh?”

“My feet are killing me,” you complain, undoing the straps of your heels and tossing them aside.

His hand instantly comes to your neck, slowly massaging the tense muscles. You remember how he used to do that after every socially draining event you attended, and you lean into his touch.

“Thank you.”

The car runs into another speed bump and the movement causes you to grip onto Jaehyun’s arm, pushing your body into his. You gasp and he grabs your waist to steady you.

His hand feels like someone took a searing hot iron to your skin, and you grip his palm out of instinct. Your eyes glance over at him and you find he’s already looking at you, his other hand still resting steady against your pulse.

You don’t know who moves first.

The next sequence of events passes in a flurry, lips smashing together sloppily, hands flying around. You moan into his mouth and he unbuckles both of your seatbelts so you can climb onto his lap.

“Jae,” you groan, feeling his hands lift up your dress, sneaking up your thighs.

“I fucking missed you,” he says, sucking at your neck.

“Please, Jae,” you whimper, hands curled on the collar of his suit.

His hand firmly cups your clothed cunt and you whine loudly. You missed this — missed how rough he would get with you, how he would take you in front of anyone and everyone just to prove you were his. It’s why you got pregnant way before you planned to, and how you uncovered his desire to fill you raw.

“So fucking wet. This pussy’s all wet for me, isn’t that right?” He hisses in your ear, his deep voice causing you to soak your panties even more.

“Just for you, only for you,” you promise.

He captures your lips again as he pushes your underwear to the side, thumb circling your clit. You cry, hips starting to move on their own accord.

You admit, it’s been a long time since you were intimate with anyone, and it’s made you quite sensitive as a result.

“Want to feel it, baby,” his tongue traces your lower lip. You can start to feel drool pooling out of the corners of your mouth, but you know Jaehyun doesn’t care. If anything, he loves it when you’re sloppy like this. “Want to feel you cum around my fingers. Can you do that for me?”

It’s almost as if his words trigger something deep inside of you, because as soon as two fingers slip in, you’re already reaching your climax. He lets you ride out your high, hips moving back and forth on his fingers as if he was just a toy for your pleasure.

“God, you’re so fucking hot. Want to breed you so badly, baby.”

You gasp at the thought, pulling him into another searing kiss.

And that’s how Doyoung finds you, straddling Jaehyun’s lap with remnants of your orgasm leaking onto his trousers, lips desperately connected for more.

“Um, we’re back.”

You almost scream and Jaehyun pulls you closer to protect you. In your lustful haze, you failed to realize the car had come to a complete stop and Doyoung had opened the door to help you get out.

You’re incredibly embarrassed but Doyoung used to catch you in way more compromising positions before — one time, he had to uncomfortably barge in on Jaehyun fucking you over his desk because one of his shareholders was about to come in for an important meeting. So the fact that you’re still clothed lessens your shame.

You and Jaehyun waste no time, scrambling out of the car and quickly thanking Doyoung before sprinting into the cabin.

As soon as the door’s closed, Jaehyun’s on his knees, pushing up your dress and dragging your hips until you’re perfectly seated on his face. You hear the rip of your underwear but you don’t even care, fingers flying to grip his hair.

“Pretty girl,” he mumbles, tongue darting out to lick at your folds. His hands grasp your thighs, hard enough to leave bruises. “Ride my face, baby. Like you used to in those stuffy restaurant bathrooms, remember?”

Of course you remember. Every time Jaehyun brought you along to a boring business dinner, you always ended up riding his face in the bathroom just to make the night more interesting.

You channel that feeling you used to get, pushing your cunt on his tongue until you start to feel your wetness dripping down your thighs. You can hear the squelch of your pussy riding Jaehyun’s tongue, and it makes your hips move even faster to chase your release.

“S-So fucking g-good, Daddy,” you whine, your climax building in your stomach. “Gonna cum for you.”

You feel him push away in favor of sucking on your clit, three fingers prodding at your entrance. You cry at the intrusion.

“Too much, Daddy!”

“Gotta get you prepped, baby. You remember how hard it is for you to take my cock?”

You couldn’t forget. Jaehyun had to have the perfect body, almost like he was sculpted by the gods. This meant that he was extremely well endowed and most nights, it usually took a lot of prep for him to even fit halfway into your pussy.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you hiss when his fingers curl. “Gonna cum, gonna cum.”

You have never felt more grateful to Jaehyun’s mom until that moment, because the sound of your loud moans would normally be leading towards a noise complaint from the neighbors, but since the cabin was the only house for miles, you could be as loud as you want.

Jaehyun coaxes you through your high, abusing your clit until you beg him to stop, pushing him away from the overstimulation.

When he rises up on his feet, it’s like you two are teenagers again. He’s scrambling to take off your dress without damaging it and you’re clumsily pulling at his belt buckle until it gives. Once your dress has fallen to the ground, he throws his suit jacket somewhere and steps out of his slacks.

“No bra?” He groans, mouth immediately latching onto your nipple.

“Doesn’t- fuck, I can’t wear it with the dress. The straps will show.”

He picks you up like a ragdoll, and you find yourself being thrown over the coffee table, breaking at least three mugs along the way.

“Jae, be careful,” you try to scold him.

He doesn’t give a single fuck, taking his cock out and giving himself a few strokes.

“Raw, baby?”

You whimper, spreading your thighs apart in anticipation. “Yes, please, Daddy!”

The stretch of taking him is not unfamiliar, but it definitely fucking hurts.

“Fuck, fuck, you’re so fucking big,” you wail, hands gripping his shoulders.

“Have you fucked anyone else? Let anyone else inside what belongs to me?” He asks you, his gaze growing more intense.

There’s that possessiveness you remember. You recall every time anyone would try to flirt with you, Jaehyun would drag you home and fuck you until you cried just to show no one else could make you feel like he does. There was even one instance where he fingered you in front of some poor guy at a club, forcing him to watch as you screamed Jaehyun’s name.

“Just one guy,” you hastily confess. “Johnny set us up but he wasn’t good. He wasn’t anything like you, Daddy.”

He nearly growls at the mention of another man being intimate with you, hands pushing your thighs closer to your chest so he can sink deeper into you.

“I’ll kill him,” he whispers harshly down at you. You open your mouth and he’s fast to spit into it, watching you swallow. “I’ll fucking kill anyone who touches what’s mine.”

You groan, pulling him down so you can kiss him. He starts to thrust into you and it’s like you can feel yourself being split in half.

“Don’t act so innocent,” you breathe into his lips. “I’m sure you did the same.”

“Haven’t fucked anyone since you left,” he admits, bottoming out. You mewl and bring him closer. “I watch those movies we used to make and cum into my hand, wishing it was yours. Isn’t that pathetic?”

Early in your relationship, you and Jaehyun used to make a collection of home movies for your eyes only. It ranged from fucking in your old childhood bed to getting railed on a balcony in Paris. It used to be something for you two to look at when you missed each other, but you haven’t seen one in years. Knowing that he still gets off to them makes you even more wet.

“Fuck, you just got so tight, baby,” he groans. “You like knowing that I can only cum to the thought of you? That I picture filling you up every night, imagining you begging for my cock? Does that turn you on, baby?”

You curse loudly, body feeling like it’s on fire. His fingers trail down to pinch your clit and that sends you over the edge, crying and whimpering as you reach your third orgasm of the night.

Your limbs feel like jelly, but you know Jaehyun’s not even halfway done. He made you orgasm six times in one night before, and ever since then, he’s been trying to beat his record.

You feel him lift you up, still attached to his cock.

“I-I can’t, Jae,” you plead, but you know it’s no use anyways.

He places you down in front of the hallway mirror, where a long table stands beneath it, filled with small trinkets and ornaments. He’s quick to push them off, and you wince when you hear glass breaking.

“Jae-“

“Don’t give a fuck, baby. I’ll replace it later. Hands on the table, eyes on the mirror.”

He turns you around so your ass is facing him, and you whine when he gives it a hard slap. You obey his instructions, placing your palms on the wood and focusing on his predatory look in the mirror.

As he pushes back into you, his hand snakes around your middle, pulling you back onto his cock.

“Tell me,” he taunts in your ear. “Tell me how much you missed me.”

“S-So much,” you sniffle. “I fuck myself with that toy you bought me and I pretend it’s you.”

“Yeah?” He snickers, offering another slap to your ass. “What else?”

“I miss you all the time. Miss how I could go to your office and ride you before your next meeting. Miss sucking your cock dry before you left for work. Miss you filling me up until it was dripping out of my pussy.”

He groans, pressing his face into your shoulder and biting down.

“Tell me,” you whisper, starting to feel vulnerable. “Tell me how much you missed me.”

“You know how much I missed you, baby,” he replies, eyes locked on yours through the mirror. “You know and you never need to ask.”

And there’s no other words that need to be said, because you understand exactly what he means. You almost begin to cry at the thought of him coming home to an empty house, searching through every room for you and your son and finding nothing but empty drawers and naked bed sheets.

“Don’t be sad, baby,” he murmurs, gently thrusting into you. “You know I deserved it.”

“I missed you,” you choke out. “I missed you, I missed you, I missed you.”

He tilts the side of your face and pulls you into a kiss, railing you deeper and deeper until your toes scrape the floor.

“Please cum in me, Jae. Please, I need it,” you beg.

“Are you back on birth control, baby?”

You shake your head. “No, but it’s okay. Cum in me raw, it’s okay.”

“Fuck, baby, you don’t know what you’re asking for.”

“I do, and I want it,” you whisper to him, interlacing your fingers. “It’s okay, Jae. Fill up my pussy, baby.”

He curses loudly before releasing inside of you, filling you until his cum starts to drip down your thighs.

He’s quick to drop back down to his knees, pulling you to his mouth again so he can send you to another orgasm. You tell him you don’t need another one but he doesn’t listen, fervently eating his cum out of your pussy like it’s his last meal.

You reach your high just like that, with his tongue deep inside you and your hands still gripping the hallway table.

When you come down, he lifts you bridal style and carries you to your bathroom.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, baby.”

—

You wake up to the sound of birds chirping and a large heater pressed against your back. Except the large heater is actually your ex-fiancé, who’s snoring loudly in your ear.

You smile fondly, thinking about the previous night. You reach to check your phone on the nightstand, and roll your eyes at your unread text messages.

[johnnyjsuh]: so what happened? did he fuck you?

[johnnyjsuh]: oh he FOR SURE fucked you, you’re not even reading my texts rn

[johnnyjsuh]: just confirmed with doyoung

[johnnyjsuh]: have fun whore

You feel Jaehyun stir behind you and you place your phone down. He kisses your temple.

“Mm, good morning, baby. Breakfast in bed?”

You smile at the thought and nod, watching him get up and pull on his boxers. However, there’s a lingering voice in the back of your head and you wish you could stop it before it grows, but it’s impossible.

“Jae?” You question before he’s out the door, and he pauses to look at you. “Why did you never get mad?”

He blinks a few times, processing your question. He walks over and sits at the edge of the bed, and you sit up to look at him properly.

“Why would I get mad? You were doing what was best for you and the little bear.”

“But I never told you. I just-“ you place your head in your hands, guilt washing over you. “I just left you.”

You feel him taking your hands away from your face and he tilts your chin up so he can look at you.

“It was a bad situation, and I caused it. You were right — I never came home, I was overworking myself to prove something to the public, and I lost everything because of it. I needed that wake-up call from you. And I should’ve fought for you, I should’ve begged you to come back, but I couldn’t make myself do it. I convinced myself that you were better off without me, and that the little bear deserved a father who was always present. It’s all my fault and I never want to see you blame yourself for my wrongs.”

You frown, taking your hands in his and staring into his eyes.

“Do you really believe that? That all of the blame should’ve fallen on you?”

He nods meekly, suddenly too embarrassed to meet your stare, looking down at the sheets.

“Jae,” you sigh. “You know our relationship held equal weight on both sides. Did I wish you were more present for us? Of course. But it’s also my fault for never communicating to you how frustrated I was. I just didn’t know how, and it resulted in me running away from the problem instead of working through it. I think about that day all the time — what would’ve happened if I just waited for you to come home? What would’ve happened if I told you how I was feeling? It was too difficult for me to process and as much as I was confident in my decision, a part of me wishes I would’ve stayed and talked through it.”

“But you should’ve never been in that position in the first place,” he replies, looking more heartbroken than you’ve ever seen him. “I knew I was working way too hard for something that might not even be achievable. I was so desperate to be accepted that I forgot about my family. I’ll never forgive myself for that.”

Your eyes well with tears and you wonder how long he’s carried this guilt with him. You lean over and press a soft kiss to his lips.

“I love you,” you whisper, hands still desperately clutching his. “If you promise me that this time will be different, I want us to be together again. To try and be a family again.”

His eyes sparkle with hope and he kisses you again.

“I promise. I promise I’m here for our family. I’m going to be a better partner and a better father. Thank you.”

“And?” You raise an eyebrow and he laughs, nuzzling his head into your neck playfully.

“And I love you. More than anything in this world.”

His lips chase you until your head hits the pillow. You whine when his hand roughly clutches your waist.

“We-“ he starts to say, kissing down your neck. “We have to go pick up the little bear.”

“In a minute,” you respond, wanting to savor this moment with him. “Let me suck you off first.”

He groans. “Fuck, don’t say shit like that, baby. If we’re on limited time, you know I’m making sure I get you pregnant before you walk out that door.”

You moan. “I’m pretty sure you already did that last night.”

“You never know until a couple of tries later, right?”

He moves to drop his boxers but then he suddenly remembers something, looking bashful as he glances down at you.

“What? What is it?”

“I was a little too rough last night and well, I think your dress got the receiving end of most of it.”

“Jaehyun!”

“I’m sorry, I tried my best not to damage it!”

You roll your eyes and turn over, pushing yourself on your hands and knees.

“Put a baby in me and I’ll forgive you.”

“I fucking love you.”

#nct smut #jaehyun #jaehyun smut

4K notes · View notes

punkshort · 19 days

Text

Have A Good Night

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Every week like clockwork, the same devastatingly handsome man comes into the grocery store where you work to buy flowers. It's not until he asks you out when you realize the flowers aren't for his wife or girlfriend.

Warnings: no outbreak AU, language, flirting, alcohol and food consumption, smut (18+ MDNI), protected piv sex, size kink, shy!joel, fluff, mutual pining, cringy/embarrassing crush interactions

WC: 7.9K

Written for @morallyinept's Flora & Fauna Challenge (masterlist here)

dividers by the one and only @saradika-graphics

It was never roses that he bought. That should have been your first clue.

Every Friday he came through your checkout lane with a beautiful flower arrangement. Sometimes it was lilies, sometimes it was daffodils, but never roses.

He hardly spared you a glance when he slid his card through the machine. Occasionally he would comment about the weather or how busy the store was, but he rarely ever made eye contact.

It wasn't unusual and it didn't offend you. Most customers had other things on their minds and they preferred to get in and out of the store as quickly as possible. But this particular customer, the one with dark hair and eyes, broad shoulders and patchy beard always caught your eye. It was the best part of your week. You never had the nerve to say anything to him, but your friend Andy noticed the way you always got nervous when you saw him standing in line, how your demeanor shifted and your hands shook just a little bit.

He's not wearing a ring, Andy pointed out one day as you counted your drawer. You rolled your eyes.

That doesn't mean anything, you replied. Why else would he be buying flowers?

Then one day, as you scanned your handsome stranger's flowers, you noticed a few of the daisies were wilting.

"Do you want to pick out a different bouquet?" you had mustered up the courage to ask. The store was quiet, no one was lined up behind him. There was a big football game that night and it kept most people at home.

His eyes snapped up to yours and he froze like a deer in the headlights. You raised your eyebrows, waiting for an answer while trying to think if you said something stupid to warrant such a delayed reaction. "A few of these flowers are already dying. See?" You tilted the bouquet in his direction so he could see the flowers with the petals that were turning brown.

"Oh," he finally said, then nodded his head. "Y-yeah, thanks. D'you mind if I just-" he jutted his thumb over his shoulder.

"It's no big deal, I'll wait."

He gave you a crooked grin and disappeared back into the store. The florist department wasn't far from the registers but it was enough time for Andy to lock eyes with you from customer service and give you a look. You rolled your eyes at him and turned back around just as the hot flower guy was returning with a new selection.

"Thanks," he said again once you handed him his receipt. He didn't make a move to leave.

"Don't mention it," you replied, feeling Andy's stupid grin burning into the back of your head the longer hot flower guy stood there.

"Have you worked here long?" he asked after a brief silence that was bordering on uncomfortable. You blinked, taken aback at the random question and tried to ignore your heart fluttering excitedly in your chest.

"Um, just over four years," you replied. His beautiful dark eyes drifted over your face as he nodded and swallowed before looking back down at his flowers.

"You work most Fridays?"

You could feel your cheeks warming up and you wished the ground would open up and swallow you whole. How can someone be embarrassed for being embarrassed? Jesus, you were such a mess.

"Yep," you said, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear and praying he didn't notice how flushed you were.

He rubbed the back of his neck and shifted his weight. If you weren't so absorbed in your own uneasiness you might have noticed he was acting just as uncomfortable as you.

When he opened his mouth to say something else, a middle aged woman pushed her cart up behind him and began to unload her groceries onto the belt. He glanced quickly over his shoulder and nervously swiped his palm over his mouth.

"Have a good night," he told you abruptly, and before you had a chance to reply he was halfway to the front door.

The following week was busier and you lost track of time. Typically, as your shift dragged on, you began to anticipate his arrival but on that particular day, you were distracted. Andy ended up having to help out on another register, it was so busy.

"You wanna come out with us tonight?" Andy asked you over his shoulder. He was closing down the extra register while you were finishing up with a young mom who had her hands full wrangling her toddler away from the candy.

"Uh, yeah, sure," you agreed absentmindedly, lifting the last paper bag into the cart. You tapped a key on your register so she could slide her card through the reader and looked over at Andy. "Where are you guys going?"

"Murray's," he replied immediately, his focus still on counting the coins in the drawer. You rolled your eyes and grinned.

"Why am I not surprised?"

It was well known Andy harbored a huge crush on a bartender there and he had been trying to work up the courage for months to ask for her number.

"Thank you, have a good night," you told the young woman, handing over her receipt with a smile. When you glanced up to greet your next customer, you felt your heart skip a beat when you were met with those dark brown eyes you had grown so enamored with.

"It must be later than I thought," you said, without even thinking twice. Surprise passed over his beautiful features as you scanned his flowers and then your nerves finally caught up with you. "I-I mean, you usually come in around the same time every week," you explained hurriedly. Andy was smirking at you from behind hot flower guy's broad shoulder and you made a mental note to punch him later.

"I didn't realize you noticed," he replied after he cleared his throat.

Oh, you idiot. You could tell you made him uncomfortable with your comment and you just prayed he didn't figure out you had been lusting after him all these months with the little observation you made.

"You always pick out the best flower arrangements, it's hard not to," Andy piped up. Relief flooded your veins for the save. Maybe you should rethink that punch. "Must be one lucky girl," he added with a mischievous wink in your direction before picking up the drawer and walking towards the office, leaving just the two of you with Andy's loaded comment hanging heavy in the air.

He took his time pulling his credit card out of his wallet, wracking his brain for something to say. His cheeks dusted with pink the longer he took to formulate a sentence.

"So... Murray's, huh?" he asked, cringing inwardly at the stupid question as he swiped his card.

You blinked, confused at the change in topic until it clicked. "Oh, yeah. He drags a bunch of us out after work sometimes because he's got a thing for a girl who works there." You gave the man behind hot flower guy a smile as he unloaded his groceries on the belt.

Your handsome stranger froze, his hand still holding the receipt midair while the gears turned in his head.

"So, you two aren't-"

"Oh, sorry, excuse me," the customer behind him mumbled when he accidentally bumped into him with his cart.

"Have a good night," you told him with a sweet smile, then quickly turned away, hoping your hair would hide your embarrassment.

"I am not playing darts with her! Don't you remember last time? She almost took my eye out!"

"Oh, shut the fuck up!" you laughed, shoving Courtney, another co-worker of yours, in the shoulder. There were only five of you that night, Courtney being the only other girl in your group, but you were fine with that. Over the past few years you all bonded over the shared trauma of nasty customers and terrible management to the point where you were like family, and nights where you blew off steam only brought you closer together.

"Anyone need anything? I'm heading up," Andy shouted over the live band.

"Didn't you just get a water a minute ago?" you teased, knowing full well he was looking for an excuse to talk to the bartender.

"What can I say? I'm thirsty," Andy replied with a smirk before pushing his way through the crowd to get to the bar.

"When the hell's he just gonna ask her out? We've been coming here for months," Courtney said, turning away from the bar to look at you. You took a sip from your mixed drink and shrugged.

"Probably for the best. You know if he makes things weird then we'll need to find a new spot to hang out."

She giggled and winced when the band began to sing Journey off-key. "God, these guys are... not it."

"I think it's the owner's way of making us drink more!" James shouted from across the table, the four of you dissolving into laughter. He had a good point because your drink was nearly empty.

"Why didn't you just have Andy get you one?" Courtney asked when you slid down from your barstool.

"If I did, there was, like, a one percent chance he would bring it back to me within the hour," you told her, nodding towards Andy setting up shop against the bar, his eyes trailing after the cute bartender.

It took several minutes but you were finally able to wedge yourself between other patrons and secure a refill of your drink, but when you turned around to walk back to your table you nearly ran right into someone's chest.

"Oh! Sorry, I - " your eyes widened when you tilted your head up to find those familiar brown eyes staring down at you. "It-it's you!" you finally said as the shock began to wear off. He gave you a lopsided grin and nodded.

"Joel," he offered, sticking his hand out. Joel. Joel. Joel. You rolled his name around in your head like a ping pong ball. It suited him.

You took his hand, his long fingers dwarfing yours. "I'm-"

Then he cut you off and said your name and once again, you struggled to keep the shock from your face. "Your nametag," he explained, letting your hand go and gesturing towards his own chest where a nametag would sit. "I remember."

"Yeah," you said breathlessly with a smile. You glanced around the room while people shoved past you to get to the bar. "What are you doing here?"

His smile faltered a bit and he rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't live too far. Had the night to myself so I came out with my brother. He's over there," Joel pointed to the opposite corner of the bar but it was impossible to see him through all the people.

"Oh, cool," you nodded and took a sip from your glass. His eyes drifted to your lips, getting lost in the way they puckered around the straw. "Do you guys come here a lot?"

He chuckled and dropped his chin shyly to his chest before shaking his head. "No, um," he cleared his throat and looked back up at you. "Was hopin' I would run into you, actually."

"Me?" you squeaked and your heart began to race. He nodded and grinned.

"Yeah. Wondered if maybe you'd-"

A huge, burly man who definitely had too much to drink shouldered past you, accidentally shoving you into Joel's chest. His arms immediately wrapped around your ribs to steady you and somehow you didn't spill anything on his clothes.

"God, I'm sorry," you mumbled, his scent making you dizzy. You always had a register between you. Never before had you been that close, noticing he smelled like he had just gotten out of the shower and it was instantly overwhelming.

"It's alright," he said, his arms still loosely wrapped around your midsection. "But I gotta get this out before I lose my nerve, darlin'."

Darlin'. Your brows furrowed and before you could reply, he spoke. "I wondered if you wanted to go out on a date sometime? Maybe a movie or somethin'? I know you work alotta nights but I -"

"You want to go out with me?" you asked in disbelief. He looked at you like you had two heads.

"'Course I do. Wasn't it obvious?" he could feel the heat creeping up his neck.

"No! I thought... nevermind, it doesn't matter," you told him, a smile pulling across your lips. "Yes, I would love to. God, if you only knew-" you stopped yourself by slapping your hand over your mouth and he quirked a playful eyebrow at you but he was too excited that you agreed to go out with him to ask you to finish your thought. He handed you his phone as you shakily typed in your number, hoping your trembling fingers didn't mess it up before giving it back to him.

"I'm gonna text you tomorrow, set somethin' up, yeah?" he asked and you nodded numbly, your mind reeling as you tried to process everything that was happening. He grinned and slid his phone back into his pocket. "Have a good night," he said, the familiar phrase making you smile before disappearing into the crowd.

"Um, who the hell was that?" Courtney questioned the second you arrived back at your table.

"I need a fucking shot first and then I'll tell you, holy shit," you said, taking a deep breath to calm your nerves with no success. She laughed and got you each tequila shots, then you spent the rest of the night telling her all about Joel the hot flower guy.

The next morning, you paid for your crimes. Your head throbbed and your mouth was dry as sand as you stumbled into your bathroom to scoop water from the faucet, desperately trying to quench your thirst. You weren't normally a huge drinker, but after your run-in with Joel, you were so nervous that you found yourself tossing back a few extra drinks than normal. Fortunately, you didn't work until late afternoon, so after you fumbled around your cupboards for some crackers, you fell back into bed. Your eyes widened when you saw a missed text from an unsaved number an hour ago.

Hey, it's Joel. It was great running into you last night. I was thinking we could go to dinner this week, if you're still up for it. What nights are you free?

"Shit," you muttered, running a hand anxiously through your hair. Now that you were sober, the prospect of seeing hot flower guy outside of work made you inexplicably nervous.

You must have typed out and deleted fifteen responses before going with I would love to! I'm free Sunday, Monday and Wednesday nights. Or we could do something after I get out of work, we close at nine.

Did you sound too desperate? You chewed on your fingernail as you read your sent text over and over, then shrugged and put your phone down. Too late now, anyway.

It took a while to get his response, but to be fair, you didn't reply to him for an hour.

I can make Sunday work.

Sunday? As in, tomorrow?

"Oh, fuck," you groaned, fully not expecting him to set something up so quickly. You needed time to mentally prepare, but of course you agreed, then quickly texted Courtney, begging for her help on what to wear and how to do your hair.

Yay!! We can talk about it at work tonight!

After you ironed out a time and restaurant with Joel, you popped two pain relievers and chugged some water, hoping to get rid of your hangover before work.

"Okay, so where's he taking you?" Courtney asked excitedly as you stocked cereal together.

"This Italian place on Westwood. Here, I looked it up," you said, pulling out your phone and showing her the menu. "Have you been there before? What do I wear?"

She squinted at your screen and shook her head. "I haven't been there but we can figure this out. It doesn't look that fancy, but you should probably wear a dress or skirt."

"Ooo, do you finally have yourself a date?" Andy asked from halfway down the aisle, clearly overhearing part of your conversation. "Hot flower guy is going to be so disappointed."

You laughed and pocketed your phone. "It's with hot flower guy," you said triumphantly. Andy's eyes bugged out of his head, confused, until you and Courtney explained what happened the night before when he was busy staring at the bartender.

"You should have told me last night! So I guess that means he really is single."

You paused and cocked your head to the side, realizing all of the sudden you still didn't know why he bought flowers every Friday.

"Uh, yeah, I guess so," you replied, turning your attention back to the cereal. Andy and Courtney exchanged worried glances behind your back.

"I'm sure he's not stupid enough to buy flowers from you for another woman every week and then ask you out," Courtney said, glaring at Andy. He cleared his throat and nodded.

"Y-yeah, I mean, maybe they're for a grave or something."

You both turned to him and gave him an incredulous look.

"Hey, I'm just trying to help," he said, throwing up his hands and walking away. You bit your lip and glanced at Courtney.

"Don't worry about it. There's tons of reasons why guys would buy flowers weekly... maybe he just likes to have fresh flowers in the house. Maybe they're for his mom!"

"Yeah, good point. I bet they're for his mom," you agreed, feeling a little better as you ripped open the next cardboard box full of cereal boxes.

When you woke on Sunday morning, you were already nervous. You could have sworn your heart was slamming in your chest from the moment you opened your eyes, already overthinking your date with Joel.

You spent the afternoon texting Courtney pictures of outfits you hauled out of your closet and tossed on your bed, then decided you needed to try them on for her to get the full effect. You were sitting on your bed, wearing a light blue sundress, the last outfit you had tried on as you gathered your pictures. Your thumb quickly tapped all of the photos of you modeling your options and typed out what one looks the best? then hit send.

As you were unzipping your dress and sliding it down your legs, you heard your phone ping from your bed. You hung up the dress and pulled your sweats back on before reaching for your phone, hesitating when you saw Joel's name pop up. You felt a pit in your stomach, worried that he came to his senses and was asking to cancel, so you sat down on the bed before sliding your thumb over the screen to open his text.

You look great in everything, but I really like the pink one.

Your palms instantly broke out into a sweat and you felt lightheaded.

"Oh no, oh no, oh no," you mumbled, scrolling up in your text chain before cursing and throwing yourself into your pillows to scream. In your rush to send your text, you accidentally sent the pictures to Joel instead of Courtney. You waited until you got your bearings and tried to convince yourself it wasn't really that bad, that it definitely could have been worse, before replying.

Ha, sorry. I meant to send those to a friend, but if you like the pink one, then I guess that answers my question

You stared down at your phone, anxiously waiting for his answer, which didn't take very long at all.

You could wear a paper sack and you would still look beautiful.

The grin that stretched across your face was massive. He was probably just sweet talking you and trying to make you feel better about making such a stupid mistake, but damn, it worked.

Looking forward to tonight :) you said in response, then bit your lip and flung yourself backwards on your bed. Your eyes drifted to the light pink dress hanging in your closet and you smiled.

As it turned out, the Italian restaurant was owned by Joel's brother, Tommy. You met the younger man at the host stand when you walked in the door. He had a huge grin plastered across his face and although you were an only child, you could still tell when someone was itching to tease their sibling. Tommy's eyes flickered back and forth between you and Joel, silently communicating with his brother as you introduced yourself. You managed to catch Joel shooting Tommy a warning glare before nervously resting his hand on your lower back and guiding you through the restaurant to an empty booth in the back.

"Have I told you how beautiful you look?" Joel asked, his dark eyes sparkling even under the dim mood lighting. You giggled and shyly looked down at your lap.

"A couple times."

Joel smiled warmly and leaned forward, his eyes trailing over the soft curves of your jaw and the way your plush lips stretched when he made you smile.

Before the food arrived, you learned a little more about him. He worked in construction, doing mostly residential but some commercial property work. He was trying to go into business for himself, which he told you was difficult but he already had years of experience and contacts in the area. He preferred to do most jobs himself or with as little help as possible because he only trusted his own work, but sometimes he did hire Tommy for a job to help his brother earn extra money.

"And in return, he lets me eat here for free," Joel finished, wiping the small smudge of red sauce from the corner of his mouth.

"That sounds like a win-win," you joked, and Joel chuckled.

"Tell me 'bout yourself. You said you been workin' at the store for four years?"

"Yeah," you nodded, pushing your empty plate to the side. "It's just meant to be temporary. I'm going to community college three days a week. Trying to get my degree so I can get a job with normal hours."

Joel hummed and leaned back in the booth. "What'dya wanna do?"

You shrugged. "I'm not sure, really. Hoping I figure that out as I go. I just know being a cashier for the rest of my life isn't for me, you know?"

"Yeah, sure," he agreed. "I could ask 'round if you want. Maybe some place is hirin' a receptionist or somethin'?"

"Oh, it's okay," you waved him off with a smile. "I appreciate it, though."

Afterwards, he took you for ice cream. You sat together outside the ice cream stand on a bench. The temperature outside was perfect and the place was mobbed. Kids ran around playing tag while other families gathered around picnic tables, laughing and telling each other about their days while you tried not to stare at Joel licking his ice cream and fantasizing about what that would look like between your legs.

"I wouldn't've pegged you for a strawberry girl," he said, nodding towards your rapidly melting ice cream.

"It reminds me of when I was a kid. My grandma liked to take me out for ice cream when she babysat me and strawberry was her favorite."

He smiled, listening to you talk about your family, getting a brief glimpse into your life, leaving him wanting more.

You thought everything was going so well. The date went perfectly. There wasn't as much awkwardness as you originally thought there would be and Joel was very easy to talk to. So when he dropped you off at your door and you invited him inside, you were surprised and somewhat hurt when he declined after a quick glance at his watch. He only kissed your cheek before telling you have a good night and backing out of your driveway, leaving you confused and a little self-conscious.

"He's probably just a gentleman," Courtney assured you the following day, "wants to take things slow and all that."

And you agreed. Once you had time to process everything, that seemed like exactly what it was, and you began to feel better.

But then Joel took you on a second date, and then a third, and he still hadn't tried to kiss you or make a move whatsoever.

"Maybe he's just rusty," Courtney offered after the fourth date and still finding yourself being shot down. "He wouldn't keep going out with you if he didn't like you."

Once again, Courtney made sense and you agreed he just liked to take things slower than you were used to.

But on your fifth date, where he took you to a baseball game, you misjudged the size of the beers they sold and you found yourself tipsier than you expected. Joel seemed really into the game but turned his focus on you whenever you searched for it, which, as the night wore on and the alcohol buzzed in your veins, became more and more frequent. You would ask him questions about how the game was played, even though your father watched baseball your whole life, just so you could listen to him talk. You looped your arm through his when the game was over and you both shuffled out of the stadium with a whole herd of drunk fans, back out into the parking lot. You tightly held onto his bicep, the feeling of his muscles under you fingertips more intoxicating than the beer, as he escorted you to his truck.

On the drive back to your place, you could feel your confidence building. Maybe he's just shy and doesn't know how to make a move. Maybe he just needs a clearer sign. Maybe he's waiting for you to make a move.

So, when he walked you to your door and he leaned in to kiss your cheek, you turned your face at the last second and locked your lips with his.

You could feel his surprise when your lips met. He froze and stopped breathing as he tried to figure out what to do, so you decided to make things easier for him and draped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer and massaging your lips over his, urging him to reciprocate.

And finally, his hands flew up to your waist and tugged you against him. His mouth began to move and he crowded you up against your door. When your back made contact with the wood and his large palms squeezed gently at your hips, you moaned into his mouth. You had been dying for this for weeks and you would be damned it you were going to let it stop too soon.

Without even asking this time, you reached behind you and fumbled with your doorknob, twisting it blindly without breaking the kiss so you could both stumble inside. He kicked the door shut behind him, tongue licking at the seam of your lips while he brought one of his hands up to cup the back of your head. You granted him access, parting your lips and tangling your tongues together as he continued to walk you backwards. He opened his eyes and glanced around the dark living room quickly before pulling away and whispering one word: bedroom?

The way he said it made your knees weak and your heart flutter excitedly in your chest. You pulled him down for one more kiss before grabbing his hand and practically dragging him down the hall. About halfway to your room, his lips latched onto the crook of your neck and you slowed down, closing your eyes and twisting around in his arms so you could kiss him again. He pinned you against the wall with a groan, his thumb and forefinger clutching your jaw, prying it open so he could devour you. You hooked one leg over his hips and he let go of your jaw so he could grab the backs of your thighs and haul you off the ground.

You tugged at his hair impatiently, then gasped when he ground himself against your core, your body jolting in his arms and knocking a canvas print off the wall.

"Shit," he muttered, barely sparing the picture a glance before peeling you off the wall and carrying you towards your bedroom with your ankles hooked together at his lower back. You giggled against his mouth then squealed when he tossed you onto your bed. His hands glided underneath your dress and up your legs, slipping his fingers around the the waistband of your panties and tugging them down, pausing once he got to your knees. He blinked a few times like he was snapping out of a stupor and glanced up at you.

"Is this okay?"

"God, yes," you said, reaching behind you to tug at your zipper. You tried to shrug off your dress but his lips found yours and you quickly got distracted. You nibbled at his bottom lip while simultaneously tugging at the hem of his shirt, pushing it up over his soft stomach and stopping at his broad shoulders. He broke away just long enough to lean back and toss the shirt over his head and he was back on top of you before you could even drink him in.

You dragged your mouth over his chin, biting and nipping as you went. He groaned as you left open mouthed kisses across his jaw, his prickly beard tickling your tongue. "My dress," you whispered against his cheek before mouthing at the skin there, "take it off."

His palms slid over your shoulders, pushing the straps of your dress down while you wiggled a bit, helping move the fabric down your body. You arched your back so he could pull your dress all the way off, his breath getting caught in this throat when your nipples brushed against his bare chest.

He couldn't resist. When your dress was discarded on the floor, he sat back between your legs to admire your naked body, completely transfixed. Too much time had passed without him saying anything and you grew self-conscious, so you slowly began to cross your arms over your chest, but he stopped you.

"No," he rasped with a shake of his head. "You're so beautiful, just wanna look at you another minute."

Your cheeks flared with heat but you dropped your hands and gazed up at him, watching his eyes flicker excitedly over your body, memorizing every curve and freckle he could find. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a twitch in his pants and you glanced down at the outline of his cock through his jeans. You bit your lip and he followed your gaze, palming his erection briefly before undoing his pants.

"Oh," you whispered to yourself when you saw his cock spring free. He wrapped his hand around his thick shaft and glanced up at you as he crawled back up the mattress on his knees. "You're big," you added, unable to look away. He blushed but didn't reply. Instead, he leaned forward and kissed you, this time slower. You shuddered in anticipation when you felt the tip of his leaking cock brush against your pussy and he froze.

"Shit, wait," he grumbled, sitting back on his heels before reaching for his wallet, which was still stuffed inside his jeans. You figured out the problem and leaned over to your nightstand, fishing around in the drawer until you found a condom and held it out for him. He looked relieved when he saw the little foil square and tossed his wallet back onto the ground before ripping open the condom and rolling it on.

"Sorry. It's... been a while. Wasn't exactly prepared," he explained, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. The endearing confession just made you want him even more.

"It's okay, come here," you murmured, reaching your arms out for him. He grinned and fell down onto his elbows, kissing you slow and deep. When you felt him rest his tip at your entrance, you tensed up.

"Relax," he whispered in your ear. You slid your eyes shut and snaked your arms around his shoulders, gasping sharply when he pressed forward. When he sunk his teeth into your shoulder, your eyes rolled to the back of your head, the pain mixing with the pleasure in a way that made you dizzy.

"Oh, fuck, Joel," you whimpered when he bottomed out, your body stretching around his girth, the sting setting your nerves on fire.

He groaned against your neck and began to rock his hips steadily, making sure to not go too fast. He could tell you were still getting adjusted but it had just been so fucking long and he liked you so much, it was difficult to hold back. He could feel the sweat collecting between his shoulder blades as he focused all his energy on going slow, and when he felt your thighs relax around his waist and your back arch underneath him, he sighed with relief.

"More," you moaned, pressing your body against his, trying to get as close as possible. He growled and dipped his mouth down to capture one of your nipples, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud, releasing it with a wet pop and reveling in the sweet noises you made for him.

He wanted to tell you everything. He wanted to tell you how much he thought about you, how long he wanted to ask you out, how he wanted to know everything about you, how nervous you made him with just a simple glance. But he didn't say any of that. It had been so long since he had gone on a date that he wasn't even sure what women liked anymore. So he remained silent, focusing on not coming too soon while paying close attention to your cues, memorizing what you liked based on the breathy whines in his ear and the way your fingers clutched frantically at his hair. You, however, took his silence to mean he wasn't enjoying himself and you really, really didn't want that, so you pushed gently on his shoulder, drawing his attention.

"Let's switch," you murmured, and he gave you a quizzical look. "Why don't you lay back and let me do some of the work?" you explained, nipping playfully at his jaw.

When his head settled into your pillows, watching with heavy lidded eyes as you straddled him before catching his gaze and slowly sinking down, taking every inch of his cock with a low moan, he thought for sure it would be the death of him. You looked so beautiful all spread out and full of him that he had to squeeze his eyes shut so he wouldn't come just looking at you.

Then you started riding him and his eyes flew open, his chest heaving as he watched your tits bounce and your head tip back in ecstasy and he knew he was done for.

"Wait," he rasped, grabbing your waist and stilling your hips. You stopped, swollen lips parted as you panted for air and looked down at him.

"What's wrong?"

"N-nothin'," he stammered, taking a few deep breaths in before chuckling. "I'm just... I need a minute, is all."

You could see the red beginning to stain his cheeks and the look of embarrassment flicker across his face, melting your heart. Leaning down, you cupped his jaw and kissed him tenderly.

"Is that why you've been so quiet?" you asked softly, leaning back so you could look into his eyes but still holding his cheek in the palm of your hand. He nodded, his fingers gently wrapping around your wrist.

"I'm sorry. I haven't been with anyone in years and I've been tryin' to take things slow with you but I think all the buildup just made it worse." You grinned and took his other hand.

"Don't be sorry. I think it's hot," you whispered, pulling his free hand down between your bodies. He splayed his hand out across your lower abdomen and you took his thumb between your fingers, pulling it down so it made direct contact with your clit. You sucked in a sharp breath when you felt the pressure and a slow smile spread across his face when he realized what you were doing.

"Yeah? Why's it hot?" he asked, drawing slow circles over your clit and watching your jaw fall open and your eyes flutter shut. Both your hands dropped to his chest, holding yourself up.

"Because," you began, then bit your lip and moaned when he picked up the pace. "Because it's l-like you c-can't control yourself. Like y-you need me so badly, you can't hold back." You knew it sounded pathetic but you didn't care. His touch was intoxicating and you needed more.

"I can't," he admitted, his eyes glued to your face, taking pride in how good he made you feel. "I can't control myself. Wanted you for so long. Been thinkin' about this for months."

You gasped and your eyes snapped open, locking onto his. "Me, too. I never thought, shit, never thought you noticed me."

"Are you kiddin' me? I noticed you the first day." Now that the truth was out there, the words wouldn't stop coming. "You were wearin' a yellow shirt and I saw these perfect fuckin' tits when you bent over. Went home that night and-"

He stopped himself, wondering if he was going too far, but you dug your fingers into his chest and urged him to continue, desperately gasping for air as his thumb applied more pressure.

"Say it," you whispered. His cock pulsed angrily inside you, begging for release.

"Went home and fucked my fist thinkin' 'bout you."

You groaned loudly and leaned back, grabbing your breasts and playing with your nipples. "Fuck, I'm close, Joel."

"Yeah? Can you ride me, baby? Wanna come with you," he begged, his voice strained. Immediately, you resumed bouncing on his cock, letting go of your tits so you could brace yourself on his chest once again.

He watched in awe as you gasped and squeezed your eyes shut, stilling for just a moment, pulsing around his length as you came, his name and curses tumbling from your lips.

He couldn't hold back any longer.

He grabbed your hips with both hands and slammed up into you, grunting louder and louder each time. And it didn't take long. You had barely recovered from your own orgasm before he groaned, his eyes trained on where you were connected, thrusting as deep as he could go while his cock throbbed inside you.

"Fuck," he whispered, his head falling back limply onto your pillow. You slumped forward and buried your face against his neck, each of you trying to regulate your breathing.

"That was..." you began, trailing off when you realized your brain was still a pile of mush.

"Better than I ever imagined," Joel finished for you, wrapping his arms around your ribs.

Regrettably, he eventually pulled out, making you both wince. You rolled over onto your back and watched as he made his way to the bathroom to dispose of the condom. If you had any energy left, you might have shot off a quick text to Courtney, but you were barely coherent by the time he slipped back into your bed.

You didn't even need to ask if he was staying the night. He pulled you into his arms, his chest pressed up against your back when you fell asleep, completely at ease.

It could have been the beer or the sex, but you didn't hear his phone go off in the middle of the night. You didn't feel him slip his arm out from under you so he could answer the call in your living room, and you definitely didn't hear him quickly dress and leave.

It was finally Friday and you were moments away from calling off from work. The thought of facing him again made your stomach roll and your head swim.

You hadn't heard from Joel since he left in the middle of the night after you slept together, days ago. You foolishly texted and called him multiple times, but he never answered. Eventually, you got the message.

Countless hours were spent crying, then more were spent stalking around your place angrily, and a mixture of the two happened at work when either Courtney or Andy asked you about hot flower guy.

They eventually learned not to ask.

As badly as you wanted to call off, you dragged yourself into work. Andy offered to take over the registers so you could hide in the aisles stocking shelves during the hour Joel typically showed up, and you shamefully took him up on it. But when it was close to closing time and you made your way back to the front, Andy shrugged his shoulders.

"He never came."

You had a moment where you worried that something happened to him and you considered texting him just one more time, but when you got into your car that night and opened your text chain to a long list of unanswered texts, you changed your mind.

However, the next morning you awoke to a handful of texts from Joel. At first, your heart raced in your chest, but then your anger crept up and you had half a mind to just delete them. After you had some coffee and a chance to think clearly, your curiosity won and you opened the texts.

I'm so sorry

Something came up

Can you call me back?

Please let me explain

Your fingers hovered over your screen as you debated on what to say. Then you decided to leave the messages unanswered. At least for a little while. If he left you hanging for almost a week, he could wait a few hours, right?

What you didn't expect, however, was for him to show up at the store on a Saturday. He only ever came on Friday evenings. You were cashing out a customer, zoning out a bit, grateful for the distraction. When you reached for the receipt, your eyes locked with his and your pulse began to race. He was holding a bouquet of white roses and looking at you with a guilty expression. Your fingers froze around the paper momentarily until the little old lady in front of him cleared her throat and you blinked, snapping out of it and handing her the receipt with an apologetic smile.

"Hey," he said, but you kept your gaze trained down at the scanner.

"Hi."

Your hands shook as you scanned his flowers, doing your best to get the interaction over with as quickly as possible. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Andy at customer service notice Joel in line, watching from a distance in case you needed rescuing.

"You didn't respond to my texts," he said quietly. You shrugged.

"I've been busy," was all you said, tapping the button on the register for credit.

After he paid, you handed him his receipt and forced yourself to look at him. You could see in his eyes he looked exhausted and run down and despite how upset you were, you felt bad. But you felt even worse after he pocketed the receipt and handed you the flowers.

"They're for you."

"Oh," you said, surprised, as you looked down at the roses. "T-thank you."

Joel looked over his shoulder when a young couple began to unload their groceries on the belt. You panicked, not sure what to do or say, and then you felt a tap on your shoulder.

"Why don't you take your break?" Andy offered, "I'll cover."

You gave him a shaky smile, both of you knowing full well you already had your break. "Yeah, okay." Glancing over at Joel, you tilted your head towards the front door and he nodded.

"I'm so sorry I left without sayin' anythin'," he began when you sat down together on a bench outside the store. "There was an emergency and I had to go."

"You could have texted me or left a note," you said sadly, looking down at the flowers clutched in your hands.

"I know, and I was gonna, but my damn phone died and I was in the hospital for days. I was outta town, couldn't leave, I even wore the same clothes the whole time," he rubbed his face and sighed. "And once we got back home, I wanted to explain in person what happened."

"We?" you questioned. He dropped his chin to his chest and nodded solemnly.

"I have a daughter," he confessed, and your jaw dropped in surprise.

"W-what?" you whispered softly, "why didn't you tell me, Joel?"

His eyebrows pinched together, still avoiding your gaze.

"I don't know. In the past, women haven't exactly been thrilled findin' out I come with baggage and I guess I was bein' selfish." He finally looked up and you could see the pain behind his eyes. "I was tryin' to find the right way to tell you but I was so scared of losin' you."

You shook your head in disbelief. "It doesn't bother me at all that you have a daughter, Joel," you told him, "it bothers me that you lied."

He inched forward on the bench and put his hand on your knee. "I know. I'm so sorry. It was stupid. If you gimme another chance, I promise I'll never lie to you again."

Your chest tightened and you had to look away. He was so sincere, you could feel your resolve crumbling. After a moment, you dragged your eyes back up to him and you could swear he looked like he was on the verge of tears.

"Is she okay?"

He blinked rapidly for a moment, surprised by your question, then nodded.

"Yeah. She's okay now. She had appendicitis. She was with her mom last week. She lives an hour outside Austin and I just went right there from your place. Scared the shit outta me," he finished with a dry chuckle. Then something clicked.

"Your daughter..."

"Sarah."

"Sarah," you repeated. "The flowers you bought every week. Were they for her?"

He smiled shyly and nodded. "Yeah. She gets nervous goin' to her mom's still. The situation is a little rocky so I always get her flowers. Whether she's goin' there or comin' back. They make her smile," he said with a little shrug, and your heart melted.

"That's... that's really sweet," you said, looking down once again at the roses he bought you. He watched you closely for a moment then sat back on the bench, scratching his chin and trying to read your mind. Everything was out in the open now. He should have listened to Tommy and just told you the truth from the first date, but he couldn't remember the last time he ever felt so strongly about someone else before.

Just when he was about to leave, wanting to give you your space to think things over, you spoke again.

"So when are you free next?"

Joel exhaled in relief, then laughed. "Tomorrow?"

You bit your lip and nodded, then leaned forward and cupped his jaw, giving him a chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth.

"It's a date," you whispered before standing up. He watched you from the bench as you walked towards the front doors. At the last moment you turned around, the white roses clutched against your chest, and called out, "have a good night."

He grinned.

"Have a good night."

#jettsflora&faunachallenge #joel miller tlou #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel tlou #joel the last of us #joel x reader #the last of us au #pedro pascal character

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gojonanami · 10 days

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❝ 𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐒 !! ❞

❝ PROF. GETO IS SO HOT AND NOW HE’S YOUR THESIS ADVISOR !! ❞

✧ pairing: professor!geto x f!reader (yuta x f!reader) (part six of the prof geto series)

✧ summary: just when you had moved on, suguru is back in your life as your thesis advisor, and what choice do you have but to deal -- deal with lingering feelings from your breakup, but also yuta's. and through this, you both find out what you all owe to each other.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut , fluff, but also angst depictions of student/teacher relationship (only ok in fiction not irl!!!), reader is a grad student, but age is vague, post breakup, dealing with exes, insecurity, semi-exhibitionism, desk sex, fingering (f! receiving), handjob (m! receiving), oral (f! + m! receiving), sex (p in v), creampie, multiple orgasms, amateur's take on moral philsophy and ethics, fanart by @ / kyrraen (pls go follow them, they are so talented)

Suguru never had believed in fate before — before he met you.

And now it seemed fate had its own plans for the both of you — pulling you together, even when he had tried his best to push the two of you apart. Try he had, and in the end, you both ended up back where you had started — seated across from each other with a pile of papers littered with red pen.

Except now he himself had found himself littered with you — your tie pin you had given him, the way his fingers wanted to smooth your brow with a kiss as it furrowed while you flipped through your proposal, and how his heart felt whole from the moment you walked in the room. And he knew he would be littered with your marks all his life, more permanent than ink — and he would never be able rid himself of them.

Or of you.

When Yaga had come to him with the news, it was already too much to handle. He was being re-assigned to Tokyo to handle duties for both schools for a time — until someone stepped up to handle Kyoto. Yaga didn’t trust anyone else — and since Suguru had worked at Tokyo longer, it made sense to have him go back.

But then the question of you — the reminder came on the form of your email during their meeting — and you came into his world again the same way you did before — an email for a meeting. But it wasn’t for him.

Not yet at least.

It was hard to know what to do, or what you would want. Yaga could have you re-assigned, but the thesis you were working on was in Suguru’s specialty and he knew half the reason you had asked Yaga was to have a department head listed on your thesis. And to rob you of that wasn’t a choice he wanted to make for you.

He’s done enough of that to you. And he had done it for your future — and he would do this for your future, if you wanted him to.

You’re speechless when he breaks the news to you — as he expected you would be. But his surprise comes when you reply — he expected anger, frustration, a straight out refusal to work with him — but he did not get any of those — he only got quiet acceptance.

“Fine, should we stick to the same schedule that Yaga and I agreed to?” And Suguru takes a minute, leaning back in his chair, “what?”

“I just…I didn’t expect you to accept so readily,” he replies softly, choosing his words carefully, “in my email, I said you could take time to think about it or we could procure a different advisor—“

“Professor,” the word sticks in his chest like a right dagger that barely misses his heart, “out of everyone who works in this department I know you are the only one who is capable of pushing me to be my best, even when I don’t ask for it,” you add under your breath, “especially when I don’t ask for it,”

A hollow chuckle is stuck in his throat, “If you’re sure, it’s your choice,” and he’s looking for a few notes and edits he had written out for you for the schedule you sent along previously.

“It is my choice,” you echo, your eyes meet his, as he looks up from the papers strewn about the desk, “and I choose this,” and he knows all too well what you mean by your deliberate choice of words— and he did love you for your cutting tongue.

Even when it was used against him.

“If you do, then can you choose to come to my old office?” And you’re blinking, brow furrowing — and his cheeks burn, “I left your schedule there — I had a few notes regarding my own schedule,”

You raise an eyebrow, a flicker of a smart remark on the tip of your tongue that you seemingly swallow, as you gather the proposal into your bag, “let’s go,”

The walk over is in relative silence, the campus mostly quiet with the impending end of the semester at bay — as he forces his gaze forward, but that doesn’t stop his traitorous eyes from sneaking glances all the same. Why was it that he was a lighthouse and his eyes were spotlights only made to find your ship on the dark waves of the sea.

And you stop in your tracks, a glance at your face doesn’t give him the answer — but another face does.

“Yuta?” And he’s holding your lunch bag — the same one you insisted on taking with you, refusing to spend more money on the overpriced lunch on campus. And the realization hits him all at once, and he’s suddenly toppling headfirst into the waves.

“You forgot your lunch,” Yuta offers an awkward smile — and Suguru’s eyes find your face again, right before he goes under — the same soft look you gave him.

Used to give him.

And he lets the water overtake him.

~~~

“You forgot your lunch,”

And you never thought a rushed morning would lead to the most awkward moment of your life. Yuta glances between you and Suguru, as you step forward to take your lunch from his hand, your fingers intertwining with his, as if to ground yourself.

“Yuta, this is Professor Geto, he taught one of the classes I took and he’s taking over as my thesis advisor,” and you’re only lucky Suguru is able to tuck away emotions so easily, a polite smile on his lips as he offers his hand to Yuta, “this is Yuta, my boyfriend,”

You can’t meet Suguru’s gaze as you say it — but you wonder what you would find — hurt, anger, or nothing at all? And you couldn’t figure out which would hurt the most.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Suguru says, before shaking his hand, and Yuta nods.

“Likewise,” and Suguru turns to you, hands slipping into his pockets, while yours remained laced with Yuta’s — but how long ago would it had been intertwined in his? “On second thought, I’ll email you my edits to your thesis schedule, I’ll leave you both to the rest of your day,” he gives a stiff smile, before heading on his way.

And he knew this was a future of his own making — the consequences of his own actions.

He gives a bitter chuckle. Consequentialism — the morality is centered around creating the right consequences — and wasn’t it right? Right for you to be happy with someone your age? Right to be with someone who you can hold their hand and be with? Right to be with someone who can give you everything and anything you want?

“I understand the intention of consequentialism, but it just feels so pointless,” you had said while the two of you sat watching TV on the couch, your legs thrown over his lap, the comfortable warmth of your head resting on his shoulder.

“That’s not where I thought your mind was,” Suguru had chuckled, pressing a kiss to your forehead, but still he indulged, “the point is to get as much good as possible out of a decision correct? The most happiness?”

Your brow remained furrowed, “But the problem is the cost of it — it can come at the cost of your own happiness if it’s creating the right consequences,”

“That’s more utilitarianism—“ and you shrug.

“I understand it’s more complicated, but I don’t see the value in making decisions like that — doesn’t it defeat the purpose because you’re doing it for the outcome — without considering your feelings or the others? You’re nothing more than a happiness pump,”

And as he sneaks a glance back, watching you and Yuta stand there still, fingers still intertwined, his fingers squeeze the handle of his bag, is that why it feels so wrong?

He arrived back at his office, fingers turning the knob and finding an empty tomb — the walls stripped down to the bare, a thick layer of dust that clung to the surfaces, the couch he had in the corner of the room likely relocated to another office — that he thought he had finally left behind. But here he was again — right back where he started.

He dragged his finger through the dust on his desk. Was he nothing more than a happiness pump? Giving himself pain for the sake of others’ happiness — and was the outcome worth it? But he’s swallowing down his pain — a bitter consequence he had to take — because he knew — he would take any pain, if it meant you were happy.

And you were.

Right?

~~~

Yuta knew — he did even before he had started to date you. Or rather, he had suspected. But now he knew.

The first time he saw the two of you bump into each other, he knew because of the way Geto looked at you — and even the way you looked at him — the hurt flickering in your gaze, even when you refused to look at him.

Professor Geto has been much more than a professor to you — he was your boyfriend, the same one Yuta had envied for so many months. Only for him to be back in your life again. And he felt like he was right back to where he had started in your life again — a friend.

And there wasn’t a thing wrong with being your friend — but now that he was more than one, he knew he only wanted even more of you — and to give more of himself. If you would let him.

But when your fingers curled around his, ‘boyfriend’ slipping from your lips, assuaged his anxiety for a moment, but as he watched your eyes find the back of Geto’s head after he left, it all came back.

Your fingers squeeze his, “Thank you for bringing my lunch, Yu,” and it brings him back to the moment, and your face is so readable in this moment — as if to make up for the times he couldn’t make sense of you — searching for an indication that he knew, an implication of his emotions, a question unspoken to ask if he knew.

And he did.

“Of course, baby,” he presses a kiss to your forehead, and he wants to tell you he does, wants to ask you why you hid it, why you felt you couldn’t be honest, and why you look like you’re still as heartbroken as the day he ran into you outside this building, “I have to go, but I’ll see you later,” but he doesn’t ask.

“Yuta—“ but he’s only pressing a sweet kiss to your lips, fingers cupping his cheek.

“I love you,” and your lips curl into a small smile.

“I love you too,” and it was enough, he thought, as his fingers parted from yours, and he turned to leave.

It was enough, for now.

~~~

How do you tell someone something they already know? You snuck glances at your own boyfriend after dinner, as the two of you settled in to watch something to unwind. The day had gone by as expected, but the crawling anxiety only grew as more time passed, the words wanting nothing more than to leave your mouth.

Why was it you when you had so much to say you couldn’t say it? And now when you had to explain, no words could leave your lips?

God, how the fuck did you catch yourself in this mess? Your ex as your thesis advisor — was this karma for being unethical? A cruel consequence of the choices you made? Maybe fate? No, it wasn’t fate. Things were better without Suguru in your life, simpler and easier. And you were happy — but now this, this just had the potential to ruin everything.

But only if you let it.

And the longer you went without discussing this, the more damage it would be. It was a secret you had chosen to keep — you didn’t think it was pertinent, especially with Suguru in Kyoto. It was a detail you could spare, at least until after you graduated,

But now it couldn’t wait.

It was a piano hanging by a string that’s already snapped and it was on its last fibers, swinging back and forth, waiting to see whether you would push Yuta and yourself out of the way — or whether one or both of you would get crushed in the process.

The walk back to your apartment is an exercise in coping mechanisms to prevent panic or anxiety from settling fully into your skin, holding the string together with your arms seemingly, ready for it to tear you apart.

But it doesn’t.

“I have to talk to you,” you say once you and Yuta are sitting on the couch, one leg tucked under the other to prevent you from shaking it, or running away for that matter, “it’s nothing bad — well, I mean it’s not—“ you cut yourself off, shaking your head, “just know I love you, and that hasn’t changed—“

And his lips find yours, cutting off your frantic thoughts with a sweet kiss that only leaves you wanting more, but also leaves you with more questions than answers.

He pulls away, a small smile on his lips, “Breath “ and you sigh, taking a breath, “and I love you too,” your fingers interlace with his, “what is it?”

But you don’t even know where to begin, except at the point, “You know the ex that broke my heart before we dated?” And he’s nodding, “Professor Geto is—“

“Is your ex,” he finishes, and you knew he had figured out, but you hadn’t expected it to come out so matter-of-factly, “I had a feeling and this morning confirmed it,”

“I’m sorry,” you shake your head, “after he moved, I never thought he would move back, much less become my thesis advisor,” you bury your face in your hands, “and I don’t want you to think I was hiding it. It’s just with the relationship being taboo, I didn’t think—“

“You were trying to protect yourself and your ex, it’s understandable,” he squeezes your hand, “you couldn’t have expected this to happen,”

And you’re lifting your gaze to his, “How are you so calm? How are you so…okay?”

He gives a sigh, “it’s hard, I’m trying to stay rational for you — for us,” you lean against him, “what are you going to do? About your thesis?”

“I think I’ll have to take Suguru as my advisor. I don’t have much of a choice,” you bite your lip, “I could take another, but no other professor has the same specialization as Yaga, except Geto, and I know he’ll give me good feedback,”

“But?” You rest your head in your hand.

“But having to spend that much time with my ex? Having to work on something so important to my career with him? Having to put you through that?” you feel more lost than when you began this conversation, “I don’t know what to do. I already agreed to it, but I think it’s only sinking in,” and you turn to him, “and then there’s you,”

“What about me?” and you shake your head.

“How can I put you through watching me spending hours with my ex over the next semester?” And Yuta shakes your head.

“A decision important to your future shouldn’t just be based on me, it should be about you,” and you purse your lips — another reason why Yuta was so sweet, as you lean against him, burying your face in the crook of his neck.

“I don’t deserve you,” he chuckles, running his fingers through your hair, “I’ll keep him as my advisor for now, but if you have a problem, please talk to me okay?” You lean back to look at him, “please?”

“Of course,” and his lips find yours in a sweet kiss, “and you always deserve me — because I chose you.” You kissed him, his arms curling around you, as you leaned into his touch — the one place that always felt safe.

And you didn’t know that he just hoped — you’d choose him too.

~~~

Fuck. How was it you found yourself before Professor Geto’s door yet again?

Winter break had flown by and now you found yourself back in the office you thought you had left behind not so long ago. Even if it felt like forever. You had spent your time split between working on your thesis, with the edits to your outline that Suguru had provided you, and with Yuta — who was more endlessly understanding than you could have hoped to imagine. And even today, as you headed off to meet Suguru in his office, he had nothing but soothing words for your nerves, sweet kisses, and a promise for a good meal when you got home.

You hovered before the door of his office — no matter what had happened throughout these months, why did it always feel as if you always ended up here? Pulled against your will into a rotation around him — one that would have you stuck into a constant push and pull — and just when you had let go of his grip, you were pulled back in. And as your fist hovered next to the door, bracing to knock, you weren’t sure if you were ready to fall back in.

But what you didn’t know as you stood before the door was that the man behind it was more anxious about this meeting than you were.

~~~

“You’re early,” Suguru glances up from his paperwork, his top of his pen pressed to the seam of his lips, “for once,”

Suguru himself had nearly been late this morning — ever the hypocrite, he supposed. He could barely sleep the night before, spent catching up on the work piled up for two department heads while the Kyoto campus makes potential temporary candidates jump through hoops. And then there was the other reason, his meeting with you — and all the complicated feelings he didn’t wish to entangle himself in. And yet he always fell deeper into your web, as if he didn’t willingly ensnare himself to begin with.

He didn’t even know Yaga was sick, but he had seen the change in him. The subtle differences in his demeanor, the bags around his eyes, and the creeping slowness that came with illness. But it still hit like a gut punch to hear it from his mouth, and for him to ask to take over duties for him was a double edged blade of honor and complication.

Yaga had given him the option to turn it down: to keep managing everything from Kyoto — but he accepted anyway — accepted because he knew that you’d be out of a thesis advisor. And he would be left unable to help from Kyoto with the in person role an advisor played.

And so he was here.

When he finally had gotten to lay down, eyes fixed on the familiar ceiling fan again — as he had managed to get his old apartment back by some miracle — and he hates how this place is a husk of itself without you here. But even with you here before him, his eyes snuck at glance at you, it somehow was worse being with you — when he was nothing to you. He could bear to not be your lover, but he couldn’t bear the weight of your hatred, or worse, your indifference.

You cross your arms, your laptop bag draped on your shoulder, “You’ll never let that go until one of us is dead will you?”

“That’s assuming we wouldn’t haunt the other,” he replies without missing a beat, as you take a seat across from him, eyes taking in his office. The same set up from before, if not a little less ostentatious and obnoxious — a few missing pictures and awards tucked away, the missing luxury sofa, and the lack of leather bound books lining shelves, instead minimally decorated with a few select titles — including What Do We Owe Each Other, prominently displayed.

“I have better things to do than haunt you,” you scoff, pulling out your laptop from your bag, “did you forget to finish unpacking?” And he doesn’t offer even a look up at your remark.

“No, just decided to take a certain person’s advice and try to take a less pretentious approach to my office,” his lips curled in that damnable wry smile of his, “plus not everything has been sent back from Kyoto yet,” and he leans forward, plucking your revised thesis outline from the neat piles lined up on his desk, “but my office decor isn’t why we’re here,” he flips through his notes on your draft, “the outline is in good shape, have you started on your draft?”

You pull a stapled stack out to slide to him, “I have fleshed out some of my main points and I wanted your thoughts before I dove further,” and he takes it before scanning through it, silent as he peruses the contents.

His eyes flit up, “You didn’t have to wait for my approval—“

“I know, but I value your opinion,” you grumble, eyes averted as you admit it, a graze of your teeth against the bottom of your lip. It draws a small smile from him, hidden away behind his closed fist pressed to his lips, “as my advisor,” you add, and he nods.

The meeting finished up with much else, as you slide your laptop and things back into your bag. And for the first time your eyes meet his.

“Have you been sleeping okay?” and he’s blinking a moment, as you continue, “you look tired. You should sleep more instead of working,”

He furrows his brow, “I am slee—“

“You have bags under your eyes, Professor,” you roll your eyes, “listen or don’t, but I rather my thesis isn’t re-assigned last minute because you ran yourself into the ground,” you say before turning to leave.

“I expect your next draft by the beginning of the next week,” and you pause, the click of the knob as you pull the door open.

“I’ll have it to you by the end of the week.” And you’re gone, door shutting behind you, and he leans back in his chair, a smile that he can’t quite hide on his lips.

Maybe he wasn’t quite nothing to you after all.

~~~

“I’m home, baby,” you say, as you walk in, the burden of the day still in the process of sliding off your back as you passed through the threshold of your apartment. You stripped yourself of your cost and your shoes, hanging your bag up, “Yu?”

You checked your phone with no text or call from him — he said he would be at your place, and that’s when you spot a familiar mop of black hair from the couch. Your lips curl as you round the couch, only to find him fast asleep, his work spread out around him. His first day back seemed as stressful as yours, and yet he hadn’t complained.

His bags were dark — a product of a bad night’s sleep — a running trend for today seemingly. You ran your fingers through his hair gently, knowing he wouldn’t wake simply by that, but you heard the quiet mumble of words you couldn’t catch. You glanced at the kitchen and found dinner prepped but not made. You smile softly, as you take the throw blanket and gently spread it over him, before pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, and then rising to your feet.

You’re almost done cooking curry when Yuta stirs, the smell of the stewing beef and spices waking him, as he lifts his head, back of his hand rubbing his eye, while he glances at you with the other.

“Hey sleeping beauty,” your lips curl, doing a bad job of stifling your chuckle at the sight of his black hair askew, “dinner is almost ready,”

“Dinner? When did you get—“ and he picks up his phone to check the time, a small groan stuck in his throat, “why didn’t you wake me when you got home?”

“I would have,” you wipe off your hands, as you make your way to the living room, as Yuta swings his legs off the couch, scrubbing a hand down his face, “but you’re so cute when you’re sleeping,” and his cheeks flush an ever so subtle pink — even after this time together, it was so easy to fluster him, “plus, it looked like you needed it,”

Your hand brushes his cheek, and he’s leaning into your touch, your other hand running fingers through his hair to straighten it out, “I did,” he mumbles, “it was a long day,”

“Want to talk about it over some rice and curry?” and he bites his lip, before he leans in to press a sweet kiss to you, delighting in the desperate look he gives you when you drag your tongue teasingly against the seam of his lips only to pull away, “don’t pout,” you drag your thumb down his lips, “I’ll kiss you plenty after dinner,”

“Promise?” And you drag him to his feet and he’s walking to the bathroom as you’re opening cabinets to take plates out, only for his arms to wrap around your middle, pressing his face into the crook of your neck.

You chuckle, biting back the shiver that runs up your spine at the warmth of his touch, “what’s that for?”

“Thank you,” he murmurs, meeting your gaze with umbra eyes that has you lost in the only inky black sky you craved.

“Of course, Yu,” you murmur before his lips find yours again, and you just wished you could live in this moment, as he parted from your lips only to press another kiss to your cheek, but you supposed you could—

—For now at least.

“She’s what?” Maki stares at Yuta as he rubs the back of his head, her words nearly ringing out in the empty conference room, “she’s spending a bunch of time with her ex and you’re ok with it?”

Yuta has made a mistake — the mistake of being twenty minutes early to this student government meeting only to find Maki here alone, scrolling on her phone. Her eyes flitting up only for her to tilt her head and bark:

“Oi, what is it now?” And Yuta didn’t know if he liked being so seen by her.

Especially now that he was being judged for his decisions — or rather, raked over the coals for them.

Yuta purses his lips, “I’m not exactly okay with it, but I don’t know what to do. She has to work on her project with him — I guess, how could I object?” And how could he? Your omission made sense, you were only trying to protect your reputation— and your ex’s by extension. But it didn’t make it sting any less.

“Doesn’t she have another choice? Couldn’t she work with someone else?” Maki crosses her arms, eyes narrowed, as if she can detect the holes in his lies by pure reflex, “aren’t you worried she’ll go back to him?” And voices every worry almost if she’s ripped it from his mind itself.

“I am, she does have other choices, but I couldn’t be the one to make her choices for her—“

“But you couldn’t tell her how you felt about it?” Maki shakes her head, pinching the bridge of her nose as if this conversation is giving her a headache — or more likely, he’s giving her a headache, “how do you feel?”

Yuta chews his lip, leaning on his arm on the table, “I don’t know, I understand it’s just a project — it’s something for her future — I don’t want to make things more complicated for us,” he mumbles.

“You mean for her—and for your relationship,” Maki crosses her arms, tilting her head, “Yuta, if you can’t be honest with her, what’s the point of this relationship?” And people start to file into the room for the meeting, so she hisses in a whisper, “you need to figure out what you want — and how to tell her how you’re feeling because it’s going to eat you alive or drive her into her ex’s arms — either way, you won’t be in this relationship,”

And on that bleak note, she gets to her feet to corral everyone into their seats, leaving him to simmer in her words. His phone lighting up nearly on cue with a text from you—

Can’t make the meeting this week, babe — Geto rescheduled my meeting with him this week for now, so I’m headed there

A hint of irritation pricks at him — it had to be today, during the only time that they had together at school?

Another message comes through.

I’ll see you at your place after the meeting - love you 💕

He locks his phone, tucking it away in his pocket — as Maki starts the meeting.

It was fine — he would see you at home. It didn’t matter — Geto had only these meetings, Yuta had much more of you. It was fine.

He forced his gaze forward, a gnawing dread in his stomach. Right?

“What do you mean it was expected?”

You were starting to remember the reason why you hated this man so vehemently when you first met him. His nearly smug expression made you want to leap across the desk and strangle him — though you knew the consequences of that action wouldn’t turn out well for you — nor the proximity for that matter, “what I wrote—“

“Is what others have written in papers time and time again,” he cuts you off, and you slump back in your chair, as you flip through the red inked comments he had so thoughtfully ripped apart your first few pages — the precise cuts and slashes enough for red ink to look like blood, “your thesis needs to be a unique take—”

“And now it isn’t unique enough?” you grumble, crossing your arms, as your cheeks burn, “soon you’ll be saying I’m rambling again,”

“No, I was able to rid you of that habit a while ago,” you glare at him, a smile pulling at the corner of his lips, “I would be concerned if you started to regress,”

“Well, at least it would only be academically,” the words spit like venom from your mouth without a thought, but the hurt that flickers across his face is one that seemingly has too much thought behind it, “sorry, that was inappropriate,”

“It’s fine,” the hurt is gone from his expression, as unreadable as it always was, “to get back to our discussion, I know you want this paper to be published by journals, and in order to do that, you need to have a perspective that hasn’t been explored before—at least not fully. Your outline reflects that, but your paper is regurgitating ideas that you’ve read,” he’s handing you a list of papers and books, with some noted passages, “read some of these materials, it might help give you some ideas to rework your paper,” and then he adds, “and you knew I’d say this,”

You knit your brow together, “What?”

He leans against his arm propped against the top of his desk, “Why else would you want me to see if you were going in the right direction? You always have an idea what you want to write, of where you want your paper to go — and you never wanted my greenlight for a long time now,”

You hate how he can still see right through you — you hate how easily he can pinpoint your problem without you uttering a helpful word. Even before, it always felt as if he was the only one who saw you, without you having to explain a single thing.

“You’re right,” and he hated how right he was, “I wasn’t sure where I was going,” this thesis had been weighing on your mind day and night, pricking at your nerves each time you stared at the blinking cursor of the document, “I still don’t,”

Suguru murmurs your name softly, his gaze as gentle as it always has been for you, a part of you hoped — only for you, “As I’ve always said, the only reason why I push you is because I know you can do more. This thesis would be outstanding for many scholars, but I know you can do more,” he tilts his head, small smile on his lips, “and I know you still can,”

“What if I can’t?” The question slips out before you can even think it, and he raises an eyebrow.

“There is no ‘what if,’ I know you can do it,” and you bite your lip, “i don’t have any doubts,”

“Not even one?” You reply, an eyebrow quirked.

“Not when it comes to you,” and he said just what you wanted to hear, but you hated it all the more — because how did he know you so well? How did he know you so well and yet not know to talk to you before breaking your heart?

But it didn’t matter now. And you couldn’t trudge up these feelings now, or maybe ever.

“I’ll read these materials and rework it,” and you begin to collect your things all the while, getting to your feet.

“Good,” and you catch sight of his smile in the reflection of your phone, “it’s what you owe yourself.”

And your eyes meet his for a moment, so why couldn’t he give you what he owed you before?

“Thank you, Professor.”

“I’m back,” you call out in Yuta’s apartment, tucking your keys away into your bag, as you slip your shoes off and shrugging off your jacket, but you hear nothing in response, “Yuta?” But not a sound — no quiet voices of the TV, the clatter of dishes and utensils in the kitchen, and no sign of him in the bedroom either.

You check your phone, as you sit on the edge of the bed, creaking under your weight, and you see his text: sorry baby, Maki took the group out for dinner after, you’re free to join us. And the address is sent underneath.

But the text was well over twenty minutes ago, and it would take you longer to get there — which meant dinner would nearly be over. You laid back on his bed on your side, typing a reply.

Sorry Yu, just saw this :(. I’ll come next time. I’ll make something up fast and probably lie down. I’ll see you at home.

You curl up on the bed, placing your phone down with a sigh, eyes fluttering shut. Your nose turned into his sheets, Yuta’s scent flooding your senses, and you could nearly feel his arms around you. Almost.

God, you missed him — especially you two just kept missing each other like this — and it made it all the more important you stayed awake.

Your eyes flutter open, the sweet siren of sleep growing all the more tempting, a late lunch sitting like stones in your stomach and the need for the sandman’s relief growing headier.

And before you knew it, your legs were tucked under the comforter and your eyes succumbed to their own weight.

Your soft breaths filled the silence of the apartment, and even as Yuta came in an hour or so later, only to find you sprawled out messily in his bed, phone still in your hand, did he chuckle. His hands are gentle as he guides you into a normal position for sleep that wouldn’t fuck over your back, putting your phone on charge, and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

And as he leaves the room to shower, not hearing the quiet murmur of his name leaving your lips.

“You have to try a little,” you’re nearly waving your ice cream cone in front of Yuta’s face, soft serve dripping onto the pavement, and the soft pink swirl threatening to topple over in front of your eyes, but the risk of losing your beloved ice cream was not as important as advocating for it, “c’mon it’s so good—”

“Baby, the ice cream is supposed to be your treat for all the progress you’ve made on your thesis, not a taste test, and I have my own flavor—” but as the ice cream hovers in front of his face, Yuta tastes it — the subtle sakura flavor lingering on his tongue, “it’s good,” he concedes, “but not as good as my matcha,”

It had been a lot to tear you away from your work — it had been weeks in the making of trying to get you to take a break that wasn’t you falling asleep on the couch with your laptop and notes strewn about or a mindless TV break. And the times you both were supposed to have together often ended with one of you being busy or falling asleep. He barely remembered the last time the two of you had spent together that didn’t involve takeout or the couch.

You pout, “Sakura is so much better,” you grumble, licking at your ice cream, trying to stem the excess melting off the sides of your waffle cone, and he chuckles, as a little of your ice cream sticks to your nose.

“More for you then right?” he’s pulling a tissue out to wipe your nose and lips before kissing them, “Mm, it’s sweeter on your lips,” and he knows your cheeks are burning as you avert your eyes, biting your lip.

“You’re the worst,” and he laughs, as he wraps his arm around your middle, “but I’ll say you’re right about today. This date was definitely needed,” you lean into his touch, still working on your ice cream, “I’m sorry I’ve been so busy,”

“You don’t have to apologize, it’s not just you that’s busy—”

“I know, but it’s mostly been me,” your eyes find his, and he wavers under your glance, “I know we haven’t had a lot of time together, and I promise, it’s only going to last a little longer, once I’m done with my thesis I’m all yours,”

And it’s hard for him to believe that — but he tries, because he knows you are.

“I know,” he presses a kiss to your forehead, “I’m just glad we got to do this today, I just feel like we keep missing each other, and it just…it’s been bothering me,”

And you kiss his jaw, before softly smiling, “You’re not alone,” and his lips find yours again, and again, ice cream starting to run down his fingers and palm, but he could care less about anything else but you at this moment, “You’re gonna make me drop my ice cream,”

“I’ll buy you another,” and you laugh, kissing him this time, and he melts just like the ice cream into your grasp, your arms wrapped around him tight, “now who’s making our ice cream melt?”

“You said you’d buy me another anyway,” you nuzzle his neck, “plus I have to leave space to eat you up later,” and you giggle as his cheeks burn, “you blush so easily still, thought you would be used to my teasing by now,”

“Don’t think I’ll ever get used to it, still feels like a dream,” you pinch his cheek in reply, a smirk on your lips, as you kiss the skin that you pinched.

“Now, it’s not a dream, is it?” And right as your lips were about to meet his again—

RING. RING. RING.

Your brow furrows as you ignore it at first, before a sigh catches in your throat, “hold on—“ you check your messages, your brow furrowing, “fuck,” you swear under your breath.

“What’s wrong?” And you’re tossing your ice cream in a nearby trash can, wiping your hand with one of the tissues the ice cream place had handed you, before texting back.

“Geto wants to meet today about my thesis. Apparently some departmental meetings got pushed around, and today is the only day he can meet in person—“

“Do you have to—“ and you’re shaking your head in exasperation, burying your face in your hands.

“I have no choice. It’s the only time until a week and half from now, and I can’t wait to get this feedback, otherwise it will throw off my entire schedule—“

“But this is the only time we can meet,” he cuts you off, voice catching on the words, as his tongue is caught between holding it and wagging it, “I miss you, baby, we haven’t seen each other in weeks because of our schedules, because of your thesis—“ because of him, “when will our relationship take priority? When will I be important enough to matter?”

“Yuta,” your voice breaks, “of course you matter to me—“ and your phone vibrates again, cutting you off, and he takes a beat and a breath. He swallows thickly, this wasn’t the right time for this.

But when would it be?

“Go,” he says, and your eyebrows knit together, lips parting to refuse, “I’m okay, really. We’ll talk when you get home,” but he’s stepping towards you, as he presses a kiss to your forehead, “promise, we’re ok. Just go. I’ll call you.”

“You sure?” He wasn’t. He wasn’t sure if he should let you go or stand his ground — but, his fingers cupped your cheek, and kissed your lips — but he was sure that he loved you.

“I’m sure,” and he wanted what was best for you — and he watches you leave after you say your farewells — even if it wasn’t best for him.

You shouldn’t have agreed to this.

Agreed to take this meeting over your date. Agreed to meet in the lecture hall instead of his office. Agreed to have him as your thesis advisor. Agreed to even take a course with him to begin with. You were several steps too close to regret being born, but your real mistake was ever pursuing this man to begin with.

That was your mistake — and now you are reaping what you sow.

Literally.

“Your lecture was compelling — I have so much to learn from you,” you stood outside his lecture hall as students filed out quicker than usual, without the typical quorum that formed after every one of his classes — only to find the reason that a single person commanded his attention, “I didn’t realize how wonderfully interesting philosophy could be as a topic,” her voice already grates on your ears, the elongated syllables of her words nearly enough for you to roll your eyes into the back of your head so far that you were they would get stuck.

“It’s a fine line between interesting and dry, I’m glad I could walk it for you, Mei Mei,” and you could hear the smile in his tone, the saccharine sweetness enough for you to choke on and die of excess sugar, but unfortunately you don’t, so you have to hear the rest of this conversation.

“I’m so glad I took Satoru’s advice to see your lecture, it was definitely eye opening,” and you furrow your brow, “he’s been asking me about you — he told me if I stopped by to have you call him,”

You purse your lips — Satoru?

A sigh in his voice as he speaks “He sent a real messenger this time? I get his texts, I have been really busy with my duties—“

“You know what they say — about all work and no play?” You hear the click of heels against the floor, as she assuredly steps closer, “maybe I can help you with the play—“

You knock on the door then, hand possessed, as you spot the woman with whom the voice belonged — her long silver locks tied into a braid that hung past her shoulders, her dark eyes finding yours and brow arched in curiosity, and wine stained lips curled.

“Professor, I’m sorry to interrupt, but our meeting?” Your voice was laced with irritation you didn't intend to have, “I have a class after this, so unless you’d like to reschedule?”

Suguru’s lips part, only for Mei Mei to speak first, “I’m sorry about that — that’s my fault — old friends you know?” Her head tilts, as if to say, no, I know you don’t know, “and you are one of Suguru’s little students?”

“I’m his former T.A. and he is my thesis advisor,” and his girlfriend, you want to add — ex girlfriend, rather, but the words are as taboo as your feelings are, “I’m sure Professor Geto wouldn’t mind speaking to you after our meeting if you could wait,”

And again Suguru opens his mouth to speak, but she cuts him off again, “Oh I wouldn’t mind waiting at all, not for him,” she walks past, “I’ll wait for you in your office, Suguru,” and you have to force your expression to be neutral, a knot in your gut, and a fist clenched and hidden around the handle of your bag, “I’ll make myself comfortable,”

The lecture hall door closes behind her, the click of the door brings silence between the two of you, “I apologize if—“

“No, I should be sorry for interrupting,” you cut him off, your throat tied into knots, a distinct dull ache in your chest that surely shouldn’t belong to you — not after all of this, “I should have just rescheduled—“

“No, I’m glad you interrupted,” he says, “we have an appointment and she really is only a—“

“You don’t owe me an explanation, Professor,” and the title seems to cut this time, slicing through his mask, fraying his calm demeanor and leaving behind a deep frown, “it’s your business, not mine,” not anymore.

His mouth opens and close, before he speaks, “Maybe not as a professor,” he says softly, taking a step forward, “but I think I do as your—“

“I’m not ‘your’ anything—“ you interrupt him, taking a step back, “I’m only a student, and your advisee, nothing else, Professor Geto,” you’re turning to leave, “let’s reschedule after all, I have somewhere to be,”

You had to be somewhere that wasn’t here — here with dredged up emotions that had no right belonging to you. Ones that you thought you had moved past, ones that shouldn’t hurt you the way they do now, and ones that you don’t know how to stop from spilling from your lips.

“You’re not just—“

“Did you hear that she would wait for you?” you don’t turn to look back at him, “I wish you could have done the same,” you give him a second, one second longer than he gave you when he broke up with you, to reply, but he says nothing, “I’ll email you a few times to meet next week, just send me any edits you have on my pages.”

The door clicks behind you as you leave the classroom behind, wondering if you had ever rid yourself of your feelings, or if you had simply buried it—

And now, you are starting to unearth it — and your world may crumble underneath you along with it.

There was something wrong with him.

But there always was — when it came to you.

Suguru stared at the email you had sent later that week, opting to skip the in person meeting again for the third week in a row. The semester was over half over — and now the other department head had started in Kyoto, so he had a little more free time — and yet he couldn’t use it to help you, at least not really.

Your thesis was shaping up — you were on the right track now, and he knew your paper would need little edits before being submitted for peer review. And when it did, a journal would be lucky to publish it. By that standard, he could take a more hands off approach — but he never wanted to be hands off, not with you.

He wanted nothing more than to take you into his arms, fingers trace the curve of your cheek as he’s done countless times before, and press a kiss to those lips that consume his consciousness.

But he couldn’t.

Not when he was the one who had broken your heart, when you had managed to piece it back together, and when you had found happiness with someone else.

Something he wasn’t sure he could ever do.

Mei Mei was an unforeseen complication — a donor that made some generous investments in the university — trivial with the amount of wealth she possessed, mostly due to Satoru’s convincing. And Satoru was the reason she had decided to sit in on his class — and he was stuck entertaining her, while his best friend was away on his sabbatical. And he couldn’t resist an opportunity to fuck with him while he was away — his apparent revenge after Suguru had avoided his texts.

And your reaction was—not what he expected. He pursed his lips, you were jealous right? That’s what you seemed to imply with your words — as if Mei Mei was a friend he would be interested in. The pot calling the kettle black — when you were the one to move on first. A sigh caught in his throat, not that he had any right to complain. Not when it was his fault.

But when the only person he was truly in love with was in front of him — the pain in your gaze as fresh as it was the day he had broken up with you — it was hard to hold back, especially when he wanted nothing more than to—

And then there was a knock at his door, “it’s me,” your voice came through the wood, his eyes sliding to the time, it was late into the evening, “can I come in?”

“Yes, come in,”

“I apologize, I just had a few questions I wasn’t able to ask over email, and since I was on campus, I thought—“

He shakes his head, your rambles still as endearing as they always were — though you had kicked the habit in your papers, you couldn’t help but ramble in the way you spoke, “No need to explain, what can I help you with?”

You lean back, hands folded in your lap, “Do you remember when we discussed the concept of a happiness pump as a criticism of utilitarianism?”

“Yes, in class, we discussed it — the idea of someone who will do anything to make others happy, even if it makes them miserable,” he tilts his head, as he leans back in his chair, eyes betraying him as he watches your dress ride up ever so slightly as you cross your legs — he forces his gaze to your face, “do you plan on using it in your thesis—“

Your eyes could cut stone with its biting glare, “No, I don’t, I wanted to talk about it in context of why you broke up with me — do you plan on being a happiness pump for the rest of your life? Or is that simply for me?”

His mind moves slowly as his words do, “what—“

“Because it’s only for me, it’s flattering — if it’s what you do for everyone, well, it’s just exhausting,” you scoff, twirling a strand of your hair with your finger, “especially when your idea of what will make others happy is so misled,”

“And how’s that?” He says through gritted teeth.

And you’re rising from your chair, “You think my happiness means to make yourself miserable, when it does nothing more than make me unhappy,” you’re rounding the desk, fingertips dragging over the edge of the surface, “do you want to spend the rest of your life miserable? Do you think that girlfriend of yours will make you happy?”

“She’s not—“ and your heels clicking against the wood cuts him off.

And you’re only drawing closer and closer, and he can’t bring himself to speak — words caught in his throat because he knew anything he uttered would break this spell, and he wanted nothing more than to succumb, “pumped full of unhappiness when it could very well be the opposite—“ and your hand is sliding up his chest, toying with the top buttons of his button-up, lips ghosting his ear as you whisper, “when you know I know exactly how to pump you, don’t I?”

“Sweetheart, please, we can’t—“ and your fingers finding the buckle of his belt, a gasp lodged in his throat, as your hand grazes his tenting bulge, twitching against your thumb as it runs over the clothed tip, “fuck—“

“We could be so happy, like before,” your lips brush against his, and he crumbles under your touch — his resistance crumbles like a statue made to wait, and god, he’s waited so long for this — too long.

His lips find yours in a bruising kiss, the way he’s wanted to since he had watched you leave that day — the way he should have, the way he should have grabbed your hand and stopped you, pulled you into his arms, and never let you go.

And he never would again.

BUZZ. BUZZ. BUZZ.

Suguru jolts awake at the sound of his phone, a paper stuck to his face, drool sticky at the corner of his mouth. He tugs the paper away, rubbing his eyes, as his heart slowly retracts from his throat.

A dream. He runs his fingers through his hair, leaning back in his chair, what the fuck was he doing? Sleeping at his desk again accompanied by wet dreams of you — he thought he had grown from this. But you always sent him right back where he started, his eyes falling to the bulge in his pants. He ignores it, gathering his things and tracing the edge of his desk as he rounded it to leave his office. He took a look over his shoulder at his office that he spent so much time with, he was sure of one thing — he flicked off the light — you would be the one to haunt him.

For the rest of his days.

“Baby, aren’t you gonna get up now?” Yuta murmurs in your ear, pressing sweet kisses to the skin behind it, fingers resting against the nape of your neck, “you said you have to practice for your thesis presentation,”

You mumbled, burying your face in his neck, as the two of you lie entangled on the couch for your mid afternoon Saturday nap, “a few more minutes,”

The semester had been going by far too quick, days slipping into weeks, and now there was just over a month left in the semester. And soon you’d be graduating — his fingers raked gently through your hair — and he didn’t exactly know what that meant for the two of you.

He still has a year left in his program, and you were going to be moving on — though you weren’t sure exactly where. And he would be here — but what then? Would it be a long distance relationship ? Would you look for opportunities here? Or would it be something else?

He didn’t want to think about other possibilities.

So many of his friends had warned him not to date while in grad school — that it would only end in heartbreak, and the more significant fact that it would always end. Your face nuzzled into his neck, warm breath still warming his skin, as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head — and he never wanted to be apart, not from you.

“Baby,” you mumble, “what time is it?” And he can’t help but smile at you, as he reaches for his phone.

“It’s almost four-thirty,” and you groan softly, wrapping your arms around him tighter, “you still have time before you have to go practice don’t you?”

“No, I reserved the classroom until seven, if I don’t go now, I won’t have enough time to practice,” you kiss his neck, “I have to get as much practice in this month before doing my defense,” You untangle your limbs from his and haul yourself to your feet, his body already mourning the absence of your heat. He watches you make your way to the bedroom to change, the door still open as you strip your shirt off.

His gaze admires you as you do, shifting to sitting up, his chin leaning against the back of the couch, “When is your defense again?”

“It’s in three weeks,” you sigh, as you tug a shirt over your head, “I’m so nervous, I have to start practicing now or I’ll drive myself insane,” and you’re stripping off your shorts in exchange for some jeans, “my advisor, many of my professors, students from the department, and maybe some undergrads might attend,” you turn, as you finish changing, catching his admiring gaze with a slight smirk, “and unlike you, they won’t just be interested in staring at me,”

“I think some of them definitely will,” he smiles, and you walk over, leaning down to press a sweet kiss to his lips, “at least, I’ll be, if you let me,”

Your lips curl, “Oh yeah? I think I’ll be distracted if you keep giving me this puppy dog look, baby,” you kiss his nose, “might make me walk over in the middle of the defense and kiss you,”

A soft chuckle leaves his throat, “That would cause a scene, but I could also be some moral support — a friendly face,”

“More than friendly, you’re selling yourself short, Yu,” you kiss him again, and he can taste the lingering salt and butter of the popcorn you two had ate earlier during your afternoon movie turned nap time, “but I think having you there would make me more nervous, so is it okay if we just have dinner to celebrate or cheer me up after?”

His brows knit together, “You don’t want me there?” but Geto gets to be there? The unspoken feelings he can’t find in him to voice, the words lodged in his chest, ricocheting off his ribs if only to free themselves from his anxious heart to spill from his lips — but they don’t.

“I do, Yu, of course, but I think having you there will just make me more nervous, I’ll just keep looking at you instead of addressing the whole audience, and…” you bite your lip, “with Professor Geto already having to be there, I think I would spend the whole time worrying about the two of you together than about my defense,”

And his heart sinks — your ex gets to be there, but he doesn’t? At one of your most important moments? He knows logically the only reason you ask because you can’t ask Geto — but it doesn’t hurt any less. Does he always have to be the nice one? The mature one? Couldn’t he argue with you?

No, but he could ask.

“Do you think I’ll make a scene or that he’ll—“ and you’re shaking your head, your fingers cupping his cheek.

“Of course not. I know you would do nothing but support me, but still forcing you two of be in the room together,” you press a kiss to his forehead, “even if you say it’s okay, I know it’s still hard,” his lips part, but you add, “and it would be awkward for me too. And I can’t do anything about Geto, but I can ask you,”

You could always ask him. He would do anything for you — but did his feelings matter as much to you?

“Of course, I understand,” your lips curl, and you’re pulling him into a hug, you rake your fingers through his hair.

“Are you sure?” You murmur, pressing your forehead to his, “you can tell me if you’re not okay with it,”

He could tell you that he’s not — he could tell you that it’s important for him to come, for everyone to see that he was important to you, for him to see that he was important. But it wasn’t about him. This was your defense, shouldn’t you have a right to have who you want there?

Even if it wasn’t him.

“It’s fine baby, I just want to support you,” he kisses your lips, “but I’ll plan something special for after you pass your defense — because I know you will,”

You kiss him again, softer and fuller this time, as your fingers run down his cheek, “You don’t have to plan anything — I just want you, and maybe some food,” and he chuckles, as you place butterfly kisses all over his face, “I love you,”

And he knew you did — you loved him — and that was enough, right?

“I love you too,” and you’re pulling away, as you pull on your shoes and grab your bag.

“I’ll be home by eight, should I grab dinner?” and he leans back on the couch, nodding, “I’ll see you when I get home okay?”

And he was the one you always came home to — the one you wanted to come home to — and that was enough.

“See you soon, baby.”

For now.

You enter the lecture hall, the door closing behind you with a click that rings in the silence.

Of course.

Of course you ended up with the lecture hall you had with Suguru’s class. You round the podium at the bottom, and give a terse chuckle, how had it been so long but so little time? How many days had you watched him lecture here — only to end up falling for him after? Even despite how much you hated him — it was so easy.

And still so hard.

You set up your phone to record yourself, if only so you could fine tune your presentation, and see any spots that you struggle. You prop it up, making sure it’s framed correctly on the desk directly in front of you. You run through your presentation once, noting spots for improvements or thoughts for potential questions people could pose during your defense.

You flipped through a few pages of your notes — wondering how this semester had flown by.

The rest of your thesis was completed over email — brief email exchanges and your thoughts exchanged through notes scrawled on the pages he scanned to you. It was better this way — you didn’t have to see him. You didn’t have to see the smile on his lips that you didn’t put there, a stray lipstick mark on his collar that you didn’t stain, or the happiness in his voice that you didn’t cause.

No, you didn’t need to see that.

But you didn’t know why.

Why did the idea of him moving on irk you when you had already moved on? You weren’t vindictive — your fingers drumming against the podium — you wanted him to be happy, to find someone who made him happy — maybe in all the ways you couldn’t. But the stubborn thought remained — the same one that kept you up crying every night after he broke your heart and haunted you even in your happiest of nights — that he could have had it all with you — but he didn’t. And now here you both were, fake smiles plastered in front of each other whenever your paths crossed, as if those lips hadn’t murmured ‘I love you’ before in the quiet of the night.

But why did it matter? You were happy with Yuta, you had moved on, and yet — when you saw Suguru with her, it felt as if the stitches holding your heart together had come undone, and you were back — right where you started.

But it didn’t matter. Either way the thesis was complete, and now all that was left in front of you was the defense, then you would be done — with this project, with your degree, and with Suguru.

But would you ever be done with him?

There was a knock at the door, and you turn only to find Suguru leaning against the frame, “Sorry to interrupt,”

Apparently you would never be.

Your shock lasts a moment, before your eyes flicker back to your stack of papers, “Do you need something?” The question comes more bitingly than you intended, but you don’t bother to gauge his reaction, focusing on mindlessly rifling through your presentation.

“I forgot my notes for tomorrow’s class,” he says, quiet steps ringing in the silence of the lecture hall, “didn’t mean to interrupt,” and you’re gathering your notes, catching a glimpse before you step back from the podium, “are you practicing for your defense?”

“I am,” your answer is as terse as your emails, eyes fixed anywhere but where Suguru stood, as he pulled his file from one of the shelves inside the podium.

“Do you need any help?” He asks, and you almost want to ask: ‘haven’t you helped me enough?’ But you don’t, only shaking your head in reply. The silence drags on for far too long, “can we talk?”

Your muscles tense, a bow drawn taut for an argument, but you would draw blood first, “What is there to talk about, Professor—“

His calm facade cracks, irritation seeping in like poison through the fractures,“You don’t need to call me that—“

“I do,” you cut him off, “because that’s what you are. My professor. Nothing more,” and it’s a line in the sand you’ve drawn since you’ve met again, one he hasn’t dared to toe, much less cross, until now.

His voice is broken, “We were so much more,” yes, you both were. He was everything to you as you were to him — but that was before. And this was now.

“Operative words are key, Professor — ‘were’ is past tense,”

“But we’re here now, aren’t we? How long are we going to avoid discussing this?”

You scoff, “am I the one who avoided it? Do I have to discuss it now on your terms — when you didn’t even give me a chance to make my own decisions before?” Your fingers curl into fists, “you broke me, you broke me and now you come back wanting to talk as if you didn’t do the breaking to begin with? You don’t get to come back when I’m fixed,” the bottled emotions burst at the seams of its lid, the contents more vile than when they were placed inside, resentment fermented into rage.

“I know,” he says softly, “I’m not trying to come back, not if that’s what you don’t want. I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry I left you. I thought it was the best for you—“

“Because you know better than I do?” You give a bitter chuckle, “do you know infantilizing it is to have someone make your decisions for you? I know what I wanted, Suguru, and I would have chosen you, every time—“

“That was the problem,” he cuts you off, “I wanted you to choose yourself,”

“Do you not understand that choosing you is choosing myself too? Because it would have been a choice for me, for us, for us to be happy,”

And those words seem to sink in the silence, his eyes averting from yours, a hand scrubbing down his face.

“You’re right,” he finally says, “I’m sorry,” his words are quiet, but heavy — a rock sinking slightly into near still waters, “I wanted you to have everything, but I didn’t take into consideration what that meant to you,” he says, “I suppose I didn’t consider what I owe you,” he adds, and you shake your head, a small smile on your lips.

“Shut up,” a chuckle leaves your lips despite yourself, cooling the white hot anger to warm wistfulness, “I wish it could have worked out,” and he nods, a small frown on his lips.

“Me too,”

“But maybe it was for the best,” and his eyes find yours, as you step back to the podium to place your papers down, “it was never going to work between us. It was already too complicated to begin with, and when we finally got together, there was a time limit,” you find his gaze again, unreadable, “maybe it was for the best we moved on,” he doesn’t reply, “I should get back to work,”

He nods, as he turns to leave, casting a glance back over his shoulder, “Let me know if you need help with anything. Practice or otherwise, has the final formatting of your thesis been approved?”

“It hasn’t yet, but I believe I followed the guidelines correctly, so there shouldn’t be an issue,” you say, and he nods, as the door clicks open, as he turns the handle, “thank you again, for everything,” and there’s far too much that can encompass everything that he did even in that word, but you meant it all the same. Everything he did had led you to this moment, and you would never be ungrateful for the impact he had.

“Of course, I’ll always be there for you, anytime,” his eyes find yours, lips curled in a wanting smile that wishes to say more, “even when I actually do move on.”

And he’s gone in a moment, the door shutting behind him, as your gaze is fixed on the place he just stood — lips parted.

What?

“Professor,” you stop him, fingers reaching for him, even as you promised you wouldn’t — wouldn’t put yourself here again, wouldn’t find yourself falling into his grasp again, but here you were again — you never learned your lesson. But you wondered if that made you a bad student or him a bad professor, “what do you mean?”

He’s turning only for your hand to grasp onto the sleeve of his jacket, your name leaving his lips but you cut him off.

The question wavers on your lips, “Are you not with—“

“No, I’m not. She’s just a friend, like I said,” he runs his fingers through his hair, “I know it’s ironic for me to be the one to break up with you, and not have moved on, but, I haven’t,” his fingers brush against your own holding his jacket, before slowly intertwining, “I don’t know if I ever will,”

“Well, some philosophers believe in endurantism — the past is dead, and we live here and now — we can’t do anything about what happened then — we’re whole right now, and not defined by what happened then, or what happens in the future,” your fingers squeeze his, “if we let this go, we could just exist now — the past erased and the future unclear — but we’re no less whole, are we?” your fingers slowly let go of his — but his don’t. He only clings to your fingers still, stubbornly laced.

“Perhaps you aren’t,” and he’s gently tugging you closer, you don’t find yourself resisting, but instead leaning into his touch, “but I always find myself clinging to my past — when you’re contained within it,” he lifts your hand to his lips, “what future do I have without you?” He presses a soft kiss that steals your logic, “and what present is worth being in that I don’t get to spend at your side?”

“Suguru—“ and he sighs, as draws closer to you, breath warming your lips.

“Been so long since I’ve heard you say my name,” his lips ghost your jaw, barely not brushing against it, “my name doesn’t sound the same unless it’s leaving your lips,”

“We shouldn’t,” but even so, the back of his hand lightly drags against your why shouldn’t you? Not when it felt so good, not when it felt this right, and your lips graze his, “Suguru,” you’re murmuring, the faint lingering taste of coffee on his lips, “fuck—“

RING. RING. RING.

Your eyes flutter open to find yourself in bed alone, your hand reaching beside you only to find more of your blanket and more pillows beside you, as it dawns on you.

A dream. Of course. A sigh stuck in your throat — no, you had watched him leave that night without another word, even though you had so many to say, but none at all. And even now, you didn’t know what to say — to Suguru, to yourself, or to Yuta.

So you said nothing. And instead, you’re left with an aching in your chest as you grab your phone to find a text from Yuta—

Had to go in early today— I’ll see you for dinner, baby

You lock your screen and place your phone on the nightstand, before turning back around to bury yourself in bed — as if staying in bed would bury your feelings along with yourself—

Because that’s not whose text you wanted to see.

“You’re home,” Yuta says when he walks through the door to find you lying on the couch and scrolling on your phone.

“No ‘hi you’re home?’” And Yuta snorts, as he strips off his clothes, and walks in to place a kiss on your lips, burying his face in the crook of your neck, drawing a giggle from your lips, “I missed you too,”

“I thought you were going to practice today. Your defense is the day after tomorrow. I didn’t think I’d get to see you out of a classroom until tomorrow evening when it was done,” you run your fingers through his dark locks, “thought I’d have to pry you away from your notecards,”

“Ha, ha,” you kiss his cheek, brushing your nose against it, “I thought it would be good to take a break tomorrow, and I’m just exhausted after all the practice I did tonight,” you sigh, and he’s on the couch beside you, wrapping his arms around your middle, “this seems like a much better use of my time,” you settle into his arms, “how was your day?”

Yuta shrugs, kissing your shoulder, “Better now,” and you chuckle, rumbling against his skin, sending a shiver up his spine as you lean over, his cheeks a pretty flush that only makes your lips curl, “it’s been too long since we got time like this. I don’t even know where to start,” he nuzzled the side of your face.

You turn your head to kiss him fully, lips sliding against his, voice a quiet murmur, “then let’s make our time count,” your sweet kiss grows deeper, your tongue at the seam of his lips that he parts for you. You swallow his moan with a smirk on your lips, your body moving against his slowly, his tenting erection catching on your clit through the far too thin material of your shorts.

“Fuck,” you murmur, as you slowly begin to grind on his bulge, the delicious friction too much for him as well, head lolling back against the couch, “Yu, s’good,”

“Mm,” Yuta parts from your lips, panting as your lips press eager kisses down his neck, a desperation he hadn’t sensed before from you, “baby, slow down,” and you almost don’t seem to hear him, as your fingers find their way between your bodies to touch him through his joggers, “ngh, you don’t need to—“

But you seemingly do, as your thumb flicks against the tip, a soft hiss escapes his lips, “like that, pretty boy?” You’re murmuring in his ear, “gonna make you feel so good, because you’re s’good f’me,”

And you’re slipping his joggers and boxers down to free his cock, stroking him from base to tip, lovely beads of precum dripping down his length and your knuckles.

“Fuck,” he’s covering his face with his hand, his fingers grasping at your hips, before eager fingers slide between your thighs and underneath your underwear, drawing a lovely gasp from your lips, “wanna make you feel good too, baby,” as his fingers circle your dripping entrance teasingly, a smirk on his lips, as he sinks one then two fingers in knuckle deep—

“Yu—“ your hand stills for a moment as his fingers work their way against your drenched insides, “fuck—“ and you’re melting into his arms — and maybe this was just what you both needed.

“This was so nice,” you mumble against his chest later, pressing soft kisses against his skin as the two of you laid entangled in the afterglow, “it’s been too long,”

He hums, “It was perfect,” his fingers skim down your cheek, “you know we could have this every day,” and you chuckle, the corner of your lips curled mischievously.

“Do you have the stamina for that?” you tease, painting a heated flush across his cheeks, as he rolls his eyes.

“I mean, we could go to sleep like this every night, and wake up together every morning if we moved in together,” and you blink at him, his nervousness overcoming him as he begins to backpedal, “w-we don’t have to! I just thought I’m ready for the next step with you. And I want to—“

You cut him off with a soft kiss, pausing his worries and anxiety in the syrupy sweetness of your kiss, before you pull away, “I think I need some time to think about it,”

And he nods, “take all the time you need, baby,” pressing a kiss to your forehead, but a thought still niggles into the forefront of his mind that he can’t help but dwell on—

Would you say yes if it was Geto asking?

It always seemed that you were ready when it came to him. Ready to be with him, no matter what the consequence, willing to make it work — but with him, it felt as if he was always the one chasing, and you were reluctantly within his grasp.

As you drew closer into his arms as the two of you settled down to sleep, his fingers running softly through your hair, he wondered how long it would be until he felt as if he wasn’t the one desperately holding onto you, even as you seemingly always slipped away.

Even as he held you against his chest, heartbeat under where your head laid. He knew you were the one who had his heart.

He could only hope you wouldn’t drop it.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” it wasn’t supposed to be like this, but it was always like this. No matter how well prepared you felt, something always managed to go wrong at the last minute. It was always when you were lulled into a false sense of security, only to have a rude awakening—

And this time it came in the form of an email rejecting your thesis formatting as incorrect. An email that came in that morning, but you had slept through, choosing to sleep in past noon after last night. And when your eyes fluttered open, Yuta was gone already for the day, you rolled over to check your email when you saw it.

Fuck.

You barely had time to text Yuta what had happened before rushing to the library to seek possible help from the librarians — fuck, you would have paid every overdue library charge if necessary. You didn’t want to wait another semester to present again. It would be more time wasted, more time spent working towards something you’re already for, more time spent in this place that you didn’t want to linger in any longer.

How had you managed to fuck it up so bad? Now every one of your citations and in text citations would need to be redone, along with reformatting by 5:00 PM today. And it was already 2:00 PM.

But maybe you were going to have to, as you rushed to pull the library door open, only to find it was closed this weekend due to scheduled maintenance.

Double fuck.

Your eyes burned with tears that you didn’t want to shed right now. You had no time to cry. You had no time to panic. But it was all you wanted to do — just crawl into bed and cry.

You were turning back around to leave, when you nearly ran into—

He steadies you, his fingers brushing your shoulders, as his lips part to greet you, but his brow furrows when he sees your expression, “what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

And that wasn’t the right question to ask.

Tears slip from your eyes before words can, as Suguru blinks, concern flooding his face, as his hand finds yours and he takes you to his office nearby. It takes a few minutes for you to calm down (several tissues later) and you finally explained to him what happened.

His hand never leaves yours.

“I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to waste another semester here, I can’t do that. I want to graduate—“

“Listen, slow down for a second, ok?” His voice is soft, soothing your anxiety like a balm, even as your nerves flare as your eyes flicker to the time again, “There’s time to fix this and go get it resubmitted before 5:00 PM. But, even if you do have to do another semester, what’s so bad about that?”

You shake your head, biting your bottom lip, “I can’t waste time like that. I already said I was graduating. If I have to stay another semester,” more tears trail down your cheeks, your nails digging into your knees, “how could I face anyone after how hard I worked?”

Suguru whispers your name, his fingers brushing against your cheek, “what’s another semester? Nothing will change. No one will view you any differently. But the more important thing is how you view yourself — and you know how hard you worked. You’ll be fine,”

You’re wiping your tears, sniffling, unable to meet his gaze, “How do you have so much faith in me?”

He gives a brief chuckle, “It’s you — how could I not?” And your eyes finally lift to meet his, as his thumb rubs lightly back and forth across your cheek, before he clears his throat, “we have time to get it resubmitted,”

“‘We?’” and he stands up to grab a copy of your thesis and the error notes you had shown him.

“Well I can’t have you do it, otherwise you’ll end up submitting it late,” and you huff, a watery chuckle leaving your throat, “come on.”

“Suguru?” You call softly, as he turns, blinking at the sound of his name, “thank you.”

“Of course.” and he smiles that damnable smile that made you fall for him — your heart squeezing and thudding against its bony cage, an aching that left you longing — a glance at your phone with Yuta’s notification that sent that longing sinking like a stone into the pit of your stomach.

No. It wasn’t that.

It wasn’t. Not if you let it be.

“I’m sorry,”

It had been quiet for sometime as the two of you made edits — him on the actual physical copy, while you edited the digital. The quiet scrape of his pen against paper and the clack of your keys are the only sound in his office. The very same one that the two of you had built your relationship from, and now here you were again. Except there was no banter, no smiles shared, nor even a knowing glance exchanged.

There was only silence.

Until you spoke first.

It was a silence you weren’t accustomed to — a layer of awkwardness that had settled between the two of you as if to bandage the honesty that had shredded the false student-professor only relationship you had superimposed on top of the two of you.

Only for you to claw your way out — and claw him open as well.

But no bandage can seal a gaping wound for long, and there was only one way to deal with a bandage effectively, by ripping it off.

His eyes draw up slowly from the pages in front of him, glasses perched on the tip of his nose so precariously that you wanted to push them back, “You have nothing to be sorry for — and you know it’s better to thank than apologize — I’m always here to help,”

But that wasn’t what you were apologizing for.

“I meant for the other day,” you say softly, guilt was crawling at your throat.

His gaze grows heavy, “There’s nothing to apologize for that either. You were right,” he adds, “I made decisions for us, when it should have been a discussion — especially when I said it was for you—“

“I wasn’t sorry I said it,” you gently cut him off, fingers knitted together in your lap, “but I’m sorry for where and how I said it. It wasn’t the time or place for that.”

“It’s really ok,” he tells you, a glance at his face telling you that it really was, “I would have yelled at myself far sooner, and nothing you said wasn’t true,” his hand tugs at his tie, loosening it, his fingers wrapped around the fabric, “I wish I did it differently,”

You shouldn’t ask the question but it falls from your lips before you can stop it, “What would you have done differently?”

And he gives a smile worthy of melancholy’s grasp, “I would have kept my promise to you,” and you know which one he means without him needing to say, “I would never have left you, if I hadn’t been too busy being a happiness pump,” and those words stir warm coals in a fire you thought was long put out — but somehow burns still, a flicker of a promise for a spark.

One you couldn’t stoke.

“Well, you make an excellent one,” and he scoffs, “no really, I’ve never seen someone so unhappy trying to make someone else happy before,”

“I wouldn’t say, ‘so unhappy—’” his pout is far too cute for your own good.

“Can really tell your life fell apart without me,” you say completely teasingly, as your lips curl, only to find his eyes on you still, “what?”

He only shakes his head, “only regretting not giving you lower than a 99 on your final paper,” and you gape at him as he bites back a chuckle, “I am the department head, maybe I could—“

“You mess with my grades—“ and your phone goes off — it’s Yuta. A text asking if everything was ok, before his face lights up your phone screen, and you’re not quick enough to avoid the awkward moment where Suguru sees it, “sorry I—“

“Go take it. I have plenty to get through,”

“But—“ but he’s already back to reviewing your citations as if nothing had happened as you pick up the call, screech of your chair as you get up to take the call, “hey, yeah I can talk—“ and the door is closing behind you as you step outside.

You don’t see the way he leans back, scrubbing a hand down his face to rest at his lips, “What am I doing?”

And he really didn’t know — as always, when it came to you.

“You’ll do amazing,” Yuta pressed another kiss to your lips, as you did the final adjustments to your outfit for the defense, “I can’t wait to celebrate with you,”

“I know, I can’t wait for it to be over,” you sigh, pulling him into your arms, your chin perched on his shoulder, “you still haven’t told me what we’re doing,”

He chuckles, his fingers cupping your cheek, “I told you it’s a surprise, so telling you would defeat the purpose,” you turn away to look at yourself again, “you look perfect,”

“You’re just saying that because you’re too nice,” you grumble and he laughs, as you bite your lip, meeting his gaze in the mirror, “I’m sorry about not having you there,”

And he feels a twinge in his chest, he had spent the last few days not trying to think about that. It wasn’t important that he was there — it was important that you’d be coming home to him. That’s what mattered — or that’s what he kept telling himself.

“It’s okay,” he intertwined his fingers with yours, and squeezed your hand, “I’ll be here after, waiting for your good news. Because I know it will be,” and his arms pulled you against him, and he can’t help but wonder why he doesn’t want to let go.

Even if you were ready to go.

You barely remembered what you said.

You remembered how your stomach turned and twisted in knots you didn’t know were physically possible as you made your way to the building where your defense was being held. Your fingers kept twiddling with your phone, checking the location and date listed in your email a million times to ensure you hadn’t missed your defense already or that you didn’t imagine your citations were accepted. You were sure your clothes would wrinkle from the sheer anxiety cladding through your veins, the vibration of nerves enough to beat creases into your freshly pressed clothes.

And you remembered seeing Suguru right when you walked in. He stood behind the table with the other members of the committee, chatting — and objectively, you hated how unfairly pretty he was. His long, inky hair tucked into a neat bun today, choosing to wear a crisp white button down, opting for no tie, but a off white sweater vest and black suit jacket over his shoulders, and lips curled in a small smile that only grows warmer when he catches sight of you from the corner of his eye. And it must be nerves, the way your heart flutters within your chest and the way that heat clings to your cheeks — nothing more.

Your eyes slide to him again — no one else.

You remembered how people filled into the classroom that you were defending your thesis in, as you shuffled around the front, setting up your presentation and notes for talking points. You spotted Maki, Panda, and Inumaki walk in, undoubtedly Yuta’s doing, along with a few of your other friends from the program. Your hands shook ever so slightly, even as you wrung them — a nervous habit you had picked up before large presentations or important milestones.

And then as people took their seats and it was 4:00 PM, it was time for your defense. You took a breath for a second — and your gaze finds not your friends, but Suguru’s. He offers you a smile, a look that tells you that he believes in you — always more than you ever had.

So you begin.

You don’t remember what you said — but you remember speaking as you did a million times before in practice. You remember making an adlib or two that draws a few chuckles from your audience. But what you mostly remember is the few glances you stole from Suguru who listened intently, a mouthed encouragement when you took a pause.

And soon you were answering questions after concluding the main part of your presentation. You are fielding them from professors and students alike, until there was only time left for one more. There was silence for several moments — it felt like hours, the committee conferring and speaking amongst themselves.

“I think I can take one last question,” and your eyes darted over the group, finding no hands, until one slowly went up — one you were familiar with, “Professor Geto?”

Of course he would have a question — no less, the last one.

“I just had one comment about your thesis, not a question,” and with how he had poked and prodded at the fire of your work from the moment you met him — the way he pushed you head first into the flames, if only to temper the best version of your work, and of yourself. And even though you had burned yourself one too many times, you couldn’t help but reach for it again and again, “after conferring with the committee, congratulations, you passed your defense.”

The audience claps and congratulates you, a sea of shaking hands and kind words while you recover from the defense. But as the crowd disperses, you find Suguru walking towards you.

A silence settles over the two of you for a moment — a want to speak lingering between you two, but no words said. Why was it always when you had so much to say you found none of the thoughts you wanted to express? There wasn’t enough time — but they would never be.

But he breaks it first.

“Congratulations on your defense. You did wonderfully,” he says, hands tucked into his pockets, as you bite your lip, cheeks burning.

“No remark about me being on time? Or any little criticisms? I’m shocked. You’ve lost your edge, Professor,” he chuckles, shaking his head.

“Oh, there will be time for that later,” he replies, his hand slipping out from his pocket only to be placed gently on your shoulder, “but right now, I just want you to know I’m proud of your determination and grit, but mostly, I’m proud of you,”

His name almost slips from your lips as your mouth opens and closes, words stuck in your throat, “Thank you. It means so much,” especially from you. But you can’t say that, “I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done for me,”

“You don’t owe me anything,” and you chuckle, gaze finding his own, just as it always did.

“Don’t I? I think I owe you a drink, I never did buy you one after all — purely for networking purposes,” you add, “and a thank you for saving my ass on these citations,”

And he’s shaking his head, “All I did is what you what have done for anyone else,”

“And you wouldn’t?” And he shrugs.

“For a student? Maybe. For you? Always,” and you bite your lip, gaze falling, “what is it?

“Why?” ‘Why for me?’ was the question you wanted to ask but you couldn’t push the words past your lips even as they rested on your tongue.

But he knew the words.

“You know the reasons,” he says softly, “I know you have nothing but amazing things ahead, and I’d do anything to see you reach your goals,”

And he would. He did.

“I can agree with that,” a hand clasps your shoulder, Yaga gives a small smile, “good job,”

“Professor Yaga, oh my god,” you grin, resisting the urge to hug him, “how are you? Are you feeling better?”

“I’m well enough. Treatment has been honestly shit, but my son is doing a good enough job looking after me,” Yaga rubs the back of his head, “that and balancing classes hasn’t been easy for the kid.”

“Your son goes here?” Professor Yaga points at a familiar cluster of three, “Panda?” You didn’t really see a family resemblance but you supposed you didn’t have to.

He nods, “but I’m not here to talk about him,” he holds his hand out to you, “I’m very proud of you. I know you have a bright future ahead. I apologize I couldn’t help—“

“You did too much. Thank you Professor Yaga,” and then others are calling for you, “if you both will excuse me,”

“Of course, I need to speak to Suguru so it’s just as well,” and your attention is pulled, but the corner of your eye still watches him, watches him leave the leave — leaving you behind here. Just as it should be, your gaze sliding back, as your fingers rested against your chest.

So why did it hurt so much?

Yuta was late — it seems he always was, when it came to you.

Even so, this time it was somewhat purposely, but he still had tried to be on time. He wanted to at least hear the very end of your defense, if not in sight, then outside the classroom. But he had run late, trying to straighten out reservations he made at a restaurant you’ve been wanting to try for months. He had finally convinced them to bring out a cake as if to celebrate your birthday, but for your thesis. It was silly, as Yuta half walked half sprinted to the room of your defense, only to find it was over.

The doors to the lecture hall had been opened after your defense finished, some people filing out, while others lingered to speak to you or others. Yuta held the bouquet of flowers behind him, scanning the group for you — and his eyes fell on you — with Geto.

You were both off to the side, speaking alone, his hand clasped on your shoulder, before slipping off. And it was clear from the way he looked at you — that he felt the same for you as he always did. And you—

You looked the same, as you always did, when it came to Geto.

Yuta’s fingers squeeze at the base of the flowers, plastic crinkling under his grasp. He hadn’t asked why you had stopped meeting with him for your thesis — almost a relief to have your correspondence all over email, and not to face dealing with the weekly meetings. He hadn’t asked, but he could assume some sort of argument happened, a discussion, a confession maybe — something you hadn’t broached with him. And a part of him really didn’t want you to. He didn’t want to have the boat rocked on him — but—

As he watched you become pulled away when another professor joined your conversation, and Geto was pulled away out of the room by that same professor — Yuta saw your eyes follow Geto’s back. The two walk past Yuta without notice, engrossed in their conversation, and Yuta catches a few snippets of it before they’re out the door.

And he turned back to you — he knew he may have to be the one to rock it. Because the ship had already begun taking in water — and it was either he grasped onto the side with white knuckles and went down with it, or he let it go, letting it fall into the wreckage. He glanced away from you, starting to walk off towards the exit — because maybe this ship wasn’t made to sail, but to sink.

And he couldn’t let himself drown — even for you.

You checked your phone again as you left — no phone calls, not even a text back. You bit your lip as you made your way back to the apartment. You had already called him three times, but your anxiety was getting the better of you. He had told you he would meet you after the defense, but there wasn’t any sign of him.

You opened the door to your place, keys jingling as head inside to find him sitting on the couch. You put your things down, as you head to the living room.

“Yu? Are you okay? You weren’t picking up—“ and you see a bag of his things packed, “Yuta?”

“Sorry I made you worry, baby, I just thought,” he sighs, unable to meet your gaze as he looks in front of him, “I thought I could wait, but I can’t,”

“Yuta, what? What’s—“

Your name leaves his lips, cutting you off gently, as he finally looks at you, gaze heavy, “we need to break up.”

You don’t have words.

No, you have one word.

“Why?” You ask, as you take steps forward to sit beside him, as your mind struggles to keep up — your certificate still in your hand, the excitement of being done all but extinguished.

“I’m sorry, but don’t you know why?” He asks softly, and your eyebrows knit together, shaking your head,

“What are you talking about?” And you’re wringing your hands, fingers nearly in knots, a sigh parting your lips as you try to soothe yourself, “Yuta, I know I’ve been busy this semester with my thesis, but it’s done with. And we can go back to—“

“We can’t,” and it was so final — so definitive — and without a way for you to have a choice. Yet again. Were you doomed to repeat this cycle? Again and again. With no change in the outcome. And you don’t know what to say, as you scrub a hand down your face.

“Okay then,” and your name slips from his lips, as you cross your arms.

“You don’t understand—“ and your chuckle is so bitter.

“How can I when you haven’t explained? All you’ve said are cryptic things that I’m supposed to piece together what? What am I supposed to know?” Tears slip down your cheek, forcing your voice to stay steady, the stress of the last few months crashing down around you just as your relationship did, “I know that I haven’t been the best girlfriend. And I’m sorry. I really am,” your voice breaks, “But I tried. I tried to communicate. I tried to spend time with you, even when I didn’t have a minute to myself. You knew I’d be busy. You knew that going in and still—“

His voice is gentle, so gentle that it infuriates you — gentle even when he’s hurting you, “It’s not that—“

“Then what is it?” You snap — you were tired of running in circles — you needed an answer, a tangible reason why.

“Geto,” you blink, as the confession settles over his face, “it wasn’t your schedule. It was who you spent it with,” and you’re staring for a moment, expression crumbling under the weight of the truth.

“Yuta, Yu, no—“ you step towards him, but he only sighs, running a hand through his hair, “it was only for my thesis. Nothing happened between us. I promise,”

“I trust you when you say nothing happened,” but his eyes lift to meet yours, “and in a way nothing has happened, because you still love him,”

“yuta—“

“I know you love me, in some way,” the words leave his lips slowly, cutting you each syllable, but you can’t imagine how deeply and how long he’s been cut by these thoughts already, “but not like you love him—“

“That’s not—“

“You know before we started dating, I talked to Maki about how I feel, and I told her I was afraid that you would never look at me the way you look at him,” and the mended pieces of your heart break apart with new cracks with the way his voice wavers, “but all this time, and still, you haven’t. Even today, when I waited outside of the lecture hall, I saw you both together — and I know,” he breaks off, biting his lip, “I know it was him congratulating you, but the way you looked at him hadn’t changed—“

You’re shaking your head, “Yuta, no, no, it’s just a look. I don’t even know how I look at him, but it doesn’t—“

“I do know how you look. It hasn’t changed,” he’s swallowing, his eyes fall to the floor, “and it’s not just that. Do you see a future with me?”

“Of course—“

“When I brought up moving in, you said you’d think about it, but have you?” you open and close your mouth, fingers grasping at the fabric of your clothes, “have you thought about what happens after you graduate? Or what’s next for us?” your silence is answer enough — sinking in for you, as it already did for him — slipping in between your ribs like a well placed dagger — and it had stabbed him all the same too, “you love me, but I don’t think you’re in love with me,”

“Yuta, I do, I do love you—“ and he draws close to you, fingers cupping your cheek.

“But the world doesn’t stop for you when I come near? It doesn’t feel as if I steal your breath when I hold you like this? Does it feel as if you don’t wish to spend a moment without me?”

“Love doesn’t always have to—“

“But it does — to some extent,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead, “you imagined your future with him didn’t you? Didn’t even want to spend a moment apart?” And he gives a terse chuckle, “we have to break up,”

You don’t want it to be true. You want to fight him, argue, convince him he’s wrong, that the explanation he’s pieced before you is falsified — a distorted version of how you felt conflated by misunderstandings.

But you can’t.

“Yuta, I—“ and he shakes his head, “no, I’m sorry, I didn’t, I didn’t mean—“ your eyes burn with tears, “I’m sorry,”

He smiles softly, pulling you into his arms, “I knew we had rushed in, but I didn’t want to wait, because I thought I’d lose my chance,”

“Yu—“ he kisses your cheek, “I do love you, I do,” and he nods, lips curling sadly, before he pulls you into another hug.

“I know. I love you too.”

But it wasn’t enough — and it wasn’t right.

Not for either of you.

You don’t know how much time you spent in bed after that. The semester had closed out, and you had curled up under your sheets — seemingly a new tradition you had of ending a semester with a break up. You wondered if graduating would end it — and if it didn’t, you might have to reconsider going for your Ph.D. — if only to avoid this pain again.

You stick your head up out of your blanket, glancing at the light pooling in from the window — because time went on no matter how you felt, and the sun rose each day, despite it all.

Yuta had grabbed his things and left a while after. You still could feel the brush of his fingers against your skin as he squeezed your hand one last time.

“You’re still my best friend,” you had told him, forcing your voice to stay even, and he chuckles, a smile on his lips.

“You’re still mine too.”

But even so you hadn’t heard from him in a few days — but you couldn’t blame him. You could only blame yourself. It had become so exceedingly clear that he was right. And you didn’t know how you hadn’t seen it. The anger still lingered, but anger was only the remnants of your love for him that still stubbornly clung to life, despite your efforts to move on.

But moving on wasn’t as simple as finding feelings for someone else — not when you were only ever truly in love with one person.

You were still in love with Suguru.

Despite it all — you hadn’t gotten over him, and you weren’t sure you ever would. If months weren’t enough, would years be? Would you ever get rid of the feelings you had for him, wrapped around your limbs, and had snuck into the crevices of your heart. An invasive species that perhaps you would never eradicate.

But you couldn’t go back now. Not after everything that happened. Not

Your phone goes off, lighting up on your bedside table before beginning to ring, your fingers slipping from inside your cocoon of blankets. You grab your phone — Professor Yaga?

“Hello?”

He greets you with your name, “I hope you’re doing well — I just wanted to reach out to congratulate you again on your successful defense,” you smile, sitting up as you do. The two of you make small talk as he discusses his recovery, reporting that he’s doing well.

“Thank you so much Professor Yaga, for everything, really,” and he chuckles.

“Thank you for being so understanding of my situation — it was difficult, but I’m glad Suguru stepped for in me so well, and I’m sure he’ll do well in Kyoto—“

“He’s going back?” the question spills from your lips before you can even hold your tongue, “I didn’t know you were—“

“I’m not returning yet, but even if I do, I don’t think I will be returning as a department head. So I gave Suguru the choice to stay department head here or move to Kyoto,” and he adds, “I did give him the choice to stay here or move back to Kyoto,”

And your throat is dry, “Oh I see. That’s good for him,” a silence settles over the call for a moment, before Yaga speaks.

“He hasn’t made a decision yet,” Yaga says, and he’s staying for graduation so if you’d like to thank him in person since I interrupted your conversation, II know on good authority that he’s in his office right now,” and he adds, “it’s not too late if someone were to speak to him now,”

You blink, “Professor Yaga—“

“You’re all but graduated so I’m allowed to say this — I wish you both the best. But I know Suguru has never been happier than when he was with you,” you bite your lip, “so for both of your sakes, you should go talk to him,”

“Thank you, Professor, for everything.” And you hang up without much to do, grabbing your bag and keys before heading out the door.

He was right, fingers squeezing around your phone — it’s what you owed him — and yourself.

Suguru sat back in his office, finally done with his papers for his philosophy class. The sun had long fled the sky, along with most staff and students. The end of the semester had come quick, and with it came a quiet and deserted campus with nothing but his grade book and the buzzing of the fluorescent lights in his office to keep him company.

Not that he was craving company.

He loosened his tie, unbuttoning a button or two on his shirt and on his cuffs, and then rolled his sleeves up. He was insane for still insisting on teaching a class amongst the insanity, though he did have another professor step in to co-teach the course. He didn’t know why he had stuck to that sticking point when it was illogical — but, as he gazed down at the stack of final papers strewn in front of him doused in his red ink, he knew it wasn’t a logical reason.

He was rifling through the graded stack, adding the scores to his grade book. This semester has been a mixed bag, a mix of grades — from high to low. Some of the papers were insightful, others were clear that they had only taken this class as a course to blow off. But even of all the high graded essays, not one of the papers compared to yours.

But of course, no one compares to you, and that’s why he needed to leave. He knew that. He wanted you to be happy — even if that didn’t include him. And after this semester, it couldn’t. Being around you was an exercise of torture — Tantalus who had been starving for decades to get a taste of food, only to be hungrier after that morsel. A bite of the apple only makes you want to devour it, core and all.

It was just as Aristotle had said — desire was made of both rational and irrational, and his longing for you is rooted in the rational — because yes, perhaps his body craved you irrationally and carnally, but that was far overshadowed by the need for you after experiencing you for himself. This self made inducement would be the death of him, and Aristotle himself would call him a fool.

But he didn’t need him to — because he was. A fool and a coward, just as you said. He sets down his pen, leaning against his hand, as he looks over at the blank reply email to Yaga with his cursor blinking. It would be for the best if he left for Kyoto again. So you didn’t have to see him again.

And then there was a knock at his office door. He paused, eyes flicking up only to hear your voice through the door, “It’s me,”

He hates the way his breath catches at the sound of you, heart picking up as his eyes flicker to the somewhat late hour and back. No words on his lips except the one thing he can say.

“Come in,”

And you do — you always liked to tease him that he was the one who was unfair when it came to how he looked, but to him, it was you that was unfair. Your hair askew, chest rising and falling quick, clothes a little disheveled and yet, you were always the most gorgeous person he’d met in his life.

You shift in the entryway of the door, squirming seemingly under his gaze, “Is this a bad time?”

Time never was in either of your favor, not ones that she found beguiling, except in a way meant to deceive. But time and time again, he allowed himself to be tricked — if only for a moment with you.

“No, not at all. I just wrapped up grading the final papers,” and you give a soft chuckle, as you close the door behind you, before taking careful steps forward, eyes finding the stack nearly bleeding from his careful cuts and slashes.

“How many red pens did you use up? Fifty?”

“Oh, only forty-nine this time, trying to be more conservative with my usage,” and you scoff, more of a chuckle than a sneer, “plus, I didn’t have a student write several pages over the limit this time—“

You gape at him, and he has to bite back his smile, “It was one page, and you said I could,”

“Bullied into it was more like it,”

“Don’t know of a case where a student could bully a professor into anything,”

“They clearly haven’t had you in their classroom,” and then he adds, a soft smile on his lips, “but I suppose I could see them enjoy being bullied by a student as passionate about the subject — even if my office hours suffered for it,”

“You loved those office hours,” and he wants to say, yes, when you were there — but he can’t. He told himself he wouldn’t cross that line, “and I did too,” you add, and his eyes find yours — but maybe you would cross it instead, “you remember what you said about not being my professor anymore?”

And he did — all those months ago at the end of the first semester you had spent in class together, and he’s nodding, mouth impossibly dry, “Well I’m as good as graduated, so you’re definitely not my professor, not anymore,”

Your name slips from his lips, brow furrowed, a question almost, as if it can’t be what your words implied, but you’re shaking your head, as you pull a folded paper from your bag, unfolding it before sliding it across his desk.

His eyes fall on it, and it’s the note he had written all those months ago — asking you for a drink, and for so much more. He had admired your determination, your wit, your beauty, your intellect, and so many other things he didn’t have space to say —

“Suguru,” and his eyes find yours, and god, why was it so easy to get lost in your heady gaze? “We had said we didn’t want to hurt each other — but I don’t think that’s something that can be avoided. You hurt me,” and he nods, lips parting ready for an apology, “but I’ll probably hurt you — and I probably have already,”

“Sweetheart—“ the pet name falls from his mouth as if it’s second nature, “I—“

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” and the corner of his eyes burn with tears — is this a dream? Because he swears, it would be the cruelest one so far, “I can’t stop loving you, and I’ve tried to—I’ve tried to move on,”

“Maybe it would be for the best,” but you’re shaking your head, as you’re slowly rounding his desk, and the truth can’t help but fall from his lips, “I don’t deserve you—“

“What did I say about making decisions about us without me?” And he sighs, resistance crumbling as you draw far too close — and he couldn’t bear not to reach out, “you have to take responsibility for your actions, don’t you?”

“Sweetheart—“

“You said you haven’t moved on — is that still true?”

His fingers reach across the chasm he had carved between the two of you, his fingers tracing the curve of your jaw and the swell of your cheek, just he had wanted to for all these months. And just a taste, a brush of your skin, he’d never let you go again.

“I never could — not from you,” his voice wavers, “every day I missed you — I never wanted to break up with you, I just couldn’t bear to be the reason that you ever hold yourself back from getting something you wanted,” and he gives a bitter chuckle, shaking his head, “who knew I was the one doing that by leaving? And I’m so sorry, I am so—”

And your forehead pressed against his, his words nearly swallowed with a sob, as he squeezes his eyes shut, tears burning a trail down his cheeks, that you gently thumb away before cupping his cheeks, “I want to hear something other than an apology,”

His flutter open, lips brushing against your cheek, “I love you, I always have, sweetheart. I never stopped—” his voice breaks, a crack in the dam enough to spill the truth from his lips and tears from his eyes, “and I promise I’ll never break my promises anymore — that’s a contradiction, but—“ and your fingers find purchase on his cheek, consuming the words on his lips with your touch, “I promise, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you,”

Your lips curl, eyes watery as you kiss away one of his tears, “Is that a proposal?” you tease, your other hand slides back through his black locks, twisting one strand around your finger, “seems a little fast for that when you haven’t even kissed me properly yet,”

He snorts softly, clearing his throat ever so slightly, “If memory serves me, we’ve done a lot more than kiss before,” and he’s daring closer, as you lean down, your legs pressed against the lip of his desk, “nearly in this office,” and he’s slipping up from his desk, his breath stolen from his lungs by the whisper of your perfumed skin, and his logic eroded by the heat of your body against his.

“‘Nearly,’” you repeat with a soft hum, as your lips graze his jaw, “then why don’t we fix that?” your lips find his, a chaste kiss, barely a few seconds when you pull away half a centimeter, and he’s already leaning back in for another and another.

The familiar feel of your lips against yours makes him wonder how he had survived without you for so long — falling for you was as natural as breathing and kissing you was needed as oxygen. But each kiss only sends jolt over jolt up and down his body, and he wonders if he were to ever stop again, perhaps his heart would too.

Because all the time he had spent not with you was time spent living — perhaps breathing and existing. But no, he only felt alive when he was at your side — and in your arms. And especially against your lips. Delights in the way your lips part for him like muscle memory, tongue against yours — in a sloppy, desperate kiss that has every ounce of reason sucked from his mind (and likely into your mouth).

He parts if only for air, a string of spit connecting your lips, that he thumbs away, “If I recall, you had something about me not being very ethical last time we did this,” he remarks, his lips parting before kissing down your jaw, your taste an addiction to his deprived lips — a desert wanderer ready to swallow you whole, “and now here you are,” he’s leaning back, as your hand is splayed back against the wood of his desk, your chest rising and falling, lips kiss bitten red and swollen from his own, “what do you call this?” His finger is toying with the top button of your blouse.

“A student taking after her teacher,” your lips find his pulse, teeth grazing his skin as if to taunt him, to goad him to go further, but, and his fingers slip behind. your thighs and squeeze no goading was needed — he was ready to devour you.

And he’s lifting you onto his desk, papers crumpling underneath and pens flung onto the floor, and a gasp caught in your throat as he pins you against it, before tugging his tie off.

“Looks like I still have plenty to teach you.”

“Sugu, fuck,” your fingers thread through his black locks, undone from his bun hy your own hands, your nails digging into his scalp. How long have you been in this office with him now? Half an hour? Almost an hour? Time had lost all meaning to you when he had kissed his way down your body.

Burning kisses that had stolen your thoughts from your mind and left only him in its wake — how had you lived without him? Your fingers had found their way to the back of his neck, as his lips mapped the peaks and valleys of your neck and collarbone.

“Fuck,” a gasp parts your lips when his teeth teases the juncture of your neck and shoulder, sucking and biting again and agin, until he’s left pretty love bites gracing your across your skin.

And that sharp tongue of his dragged over the marks left blooming on your skin, as if couldn’t simply get enough of you, and he couldn’t.

“Suguru, please—“ you’re whining already and he barely began, and the all too smug smile against the swell of your breast only told you he thought the same.

“Patience, Princess, so needy f’me, aren’t you?” But he obliged anyway, fingers deftly unbuttoning your shirt.

And now your blouse was nearly shrugged off, your bra undone with your pert nipples still sticky with his saliva and breasts covered in small marks from his teeth grazing your skin. And now he had tugged your skirt down and off, leaving you only in your underwear.

“You’re making such a mess on my desk, sweetheart,” he clicks his tongue, as his large palms slide up your plush thighs and squeeze, drawing a lovely gasp from your lips, before he’s parting your thighs, “but it’s such a pretty mess when it’s you,” and you were so fucking pretty with your legs parted like this, panties translucent from your juices leaking from your dripping folds, even glossy against the wood of his desk now. And he would be sure to make a bigger mess soon enough.

“Sugu,” your cheeks burn as he stares, your embarrassment melting into a gasp when his fingers drag against your clothed slit teasingly, up and down, so meticulously again and again, until his fingers are sticky with your pre, “ngh, please—“

Your plea is enough for him to snap, as he’s tugging your underwear away and off, tucking the ruined panties into his pocket with a glint of his amethyst eyes in the low light of his office. Pretty folds in full display for him, with your swollen clit and glistening slit nearly begging for attention, and he’s more than happy to oblige.

And he’s running a finger down your lovely folds, gathering precum on his finger, far too slowly for your liking, as he takes his time to circle your clit, “All this just from a few kisses?” lust pools in his gaze with a flicker of amusement, “so sensitive just for me,” your need for him as plain as the juices that seep from your pussy, walls fluttering and aching for something more than the tip of his finger.

“Suguru, fuck, I can’t,” your toes curl when he finally pities you with a kiss to your needy cunt, nose bumping against your clit teasingly, the friction making your thighs tremble, “please—”

“Never thought I’d hear my quick witted T.A. beg for me like this, but I have dreamt of it,” you glance down at him, lips glossy with your pre, “I have to make up for time lost, time I wasted without you, princess,” and his thumb rubs at your clit, while his lips press sweet kisses to the flesh of your inner thigh, “it’s what I owe you, isn’t it?”

“I—” your sentence lost to a moan as he drags the flat of his tongue up your slit, tip of his tongue teasingly lingering around your entrance, and your hips buck into his touch, warm palms coming down to pin you in place against his desk.

You can barely stifle your moans, fingers flying up to press a hand over your mouth, as the tongue starts to flick and circle your clit, while a lithe finger teases your tight cunt, “I’m not one for sweets, but you may give me a sweet tooth,” and his lips close around your clit, sucking and licking, making your back arch, your arm behind you shaking as it struggled to keep your balance.

“Fuuuuck, Sugu, I—” you’re panting, head lolling back when he finally sinks a finger into your fluttering walls, the wet squelch of your cunt and your barely contained moans filling up the relative silence of his office, “please—” and a second finger joins the first, a smirk on his lips as he kisses your puffy clit again, a groan when he feels the way your walls clench around his fingers, knuckle deep.

“Gonna break my fingers at this rate, sweetheart,” he’s grunting, but even so he’s adding a third finger, the stretch far too delicious as it sends stripes of heat up and down your body and right to your spasming cunt, “what are you going to do when I put my cock inside? Our refresher lesson has barely begun,” and he’s enjoying this too much, and when his arms are hooking around your thighs, carefully lying you back on his desk, your hands slipping from his hair, and instead propping himself up on his elbows.

“Sugu, wh—” and your back arches as he begins to thrust deeper into your cunt, a strangled gasp on your lips that melts into a moan as his lips close around your clit. You can barely make out the obscene noises that leave your lips, as his fingers fuck you open, before he’s sucking hard — once, twice, and then a third time— “I’m—“

You can barely find the words before you’re cumming, walls squeezing and fluttering around his fingers while he fucks you through it, lapping at your juices, his name on your lips again and again, until you finally come down from your high. He pulls his fingers away from your twitching pussy, only to bury his face in between your thighs again.

“Fuuuck, Sugu—“ your moans are broken as your body arches into him, fingers finding purchase on his shoulders, sucking and licking your release eagerly, seemingly hellbent on tasting every inch of you.

Pretty moans fell from your mouth, muffled as you clasped your hand over your lips, “can’t waste a drop, sweetheart,” he’s slurping and sucking at your cunt, and god, if anyone walked by his office, they would surely hear you both — hear the nasty squelch of your pussy and your barely muffled moans.

How many times did you orgasm from his tongue alone? You had lost track. Each time he would bring you over the edge with the thrust of his tongue or the suck of his lips, and he would eat you out through it, only building to the next and then the next.

“Sugu, please, I’m close, fuck—“ and you can’t even hear your own broken voice, not over the lewd sounds of his mouth sucking at your pussy, the coil tight in your stomach and ready to snap, until another hard suck makes you cum, hard.

Your fingers find their way into his hair, clutching at him desperately as you squirt all over his face, drenching him along with his desk, wood sticky and soaked with your release. He’s lapping at your cunt, thighs twitching from your orgasm, until he’s finally pulling away to glance up at you with dark eyes, his chin and mouth glossy with your cum and his spit. His tongue darts out to clean both, before wiping the rest away with the back of his hand, glazed over gaze half lidded with need.

“S’good for me, Princess,” he’s pressing gentle kisses up your body, “so pliant, and yet you were so mouthy before,” and his lips kiss that mouth of yours, letting you taste yourself on his tongue, as he presses you further into the desk, his arm slinked around your back. And you’re pulling him just as close, hands grasping at the front of his button-up.

And then you’re pushing him back, forcing him into his chair, as you get to your feet, before sinking to your knees. His breath catches, eyes watching you — your disheveled appearance, hair half mussed, and skin shiny with sweat, “let me show you how mouthy I can be.”

“Imagine someone walked in now, see your pants down for your favorite student,” your tongue trailed up the underside of his clothed cock — and he could nearly cum looking down at you between his thighs, your kiss bitten lips pressing a sweet kiss to the head of his dick, thumbing at the leaking slit, licking your lips at the sight of the large stain of his precum on his cock, “Sugu, you’re so fucking big, can’t wait to feel this inside,” and his length twitches, a grunt in the back of his throat, as your fingers toy with the elastic of his boxers, snapping the waistband against his sensitive skin.

And god, he’s fucking pretty like this. Black locks falling in front of his perfectly sculpted cheekbones with a lovely flush settled over his features

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he’s panting, head nearly lolling back against the headrest of his chair, “gonna tease me after this long?” it’s half joking, half pleading, but you’re only clicking your tongue at him.

“You made me wait much longer, Suguru — made me cry too,” and his gaze softens, lips parted with an apology that fades into a hiss, as you free him from his boxers, erection slapping against his still clothed abs, “but now I’m going to make you cry,” you press a teasing kiss to his weeping tip, flushed red with need, letting his white pearly release paint your lips, “until you’re begging to cum,”

A strangled gasp caught in his throat, tracing the pretty veins and curves like it was made for you, “You’re so pretty, Sugu — all of this is for me?” Your fingers slowly stroking his length, his moaning music to your ears, as your other hand teasing his balls, “gonna cum down my throat already? Can’t cum this soon,” you cooed, his fingers digging into the armrests of his chair, and yet your fingers squeeze around his base, hips jerking into your touch.

“Princess, stop teasing—“ his protests had fallen on deaf ears, as you bring your pretty lips to his aching tip, only to trace his slit with the tip of his tongue, salty precum disappearing inside your mouth, and fuck, it’s enough for him to nearly cum there and then, “please,”

“Didn’t know you could be so polite, Sugu, when begging for your student to swallow your cock,” and finally you let his cock part past your lips, and his head falls back, eyes fluttering shut as your tongue swirls around his length. It was already too much for him — so much, just as you were, your tongue tracing and teasing his dick, while your lips sucked along the base.

And you weren’t doing much better, the weight of his cock against your tongue makes your cunt ache for him, and sneaking glances at his fucked out form — muffled moans of your name as he covers his lips with the back of his arm, as his dark gaze watches you sink his cock into your mouth again. Your hand is slipping into your throbbing pussy for some relief, as you bob up and down his length.

But he doesn’t miss it, a groan at the sight of you swallowing his dick whole whole riding your own hand, “Does fucking your mouth feel that good, Princess? Feel that good that you need to touch yourself?” And you’re moaning around his length, vibrations of sending shivers up his spine and a groan of your name from his lips, “So fucking good f’me, Princess — too good for me,” he’s grunting, as you let his tip brush the back of your throat now, making pleasure rip up his body, “sweetheart, please, g’nna fuck your throat if you keep that up,”

And you ease off, letting his cock slap against your tongue as it slips out, “maybe I want you, Sugu,” you’re kissing and licking along his length, “want you to fuck my smart little mouth,”

Fuck.

You’re sliding his cock back in, his hips jerking against you as you let him sink all the way in, tip brushing against your throat again. And fuck, the wet squelch of your fingers inside you breaks him, as he starts to give an experimental thrust, a light one that has you moaning around him. He’s gauging your reaction, only for you to force his length down more, barely not blowing his load there and then, as you look up at him, a smile in your eyes as if you’re daring him.

And he can’t hold back.

He’s fucking your mouth, your tongue massaging up and down his length as he thrusts inside your warm mouth, his nails digging into your locks as he holds you flush to his body. The sight of you on your knees, taking his dick as drool and pre drip down your chin, eyes nearly rolling back with pleasure as you do, making his cock twitch in your mouth.

“That feel that good, Princess? Wanted me to fuck this mouth that bad? I should do it more often if that’s what it takes.” he’s almost drunk off the pleasure, thrusts growing a little rougher as he grows close, “fuck, I’m close, baby, where—“ and your hands are sliding around to his lower back, holding him in place as your answer, “shit, sweetheart, you’re going to be the death of me,” and you suck around him as his tip hits the back of your throat again, and that’s it—

He spills, hot cum flooding your mouth and down your throat, as you both moan in unison, large spurts devolving into smaller ones, as he comes down from his high. You don’t waste a drop, swallowing every bit of it, as you finally pull away from his cock with a pop, the sight of your ruined lips with strings of spit and cum still connecting you to his dick is enough to have it twitching again.

“Sweetheart, you’re s’good to me,” he’s gently pulling you up into his lap, his fingers running through your hair. “I don’t deserve you. I don’t—“ and you’re cutting him off with a soft kiss that steals the words from his mind, your eyes shiny with tears.

“You do, you do because I choose you, because I love you, and I know you’re sorry,” you cup his cheek, before lightly pinching it, “and if you ever do anything that stupid again, I’m going to kill you and I’ll be ethically and morally justified,” and he chuckles, burying his face in the crook of your neck to press soft kisses to your skin, before pulling back to look up at you.

“You have my permission to do that, because if I ever leave my soulmate again — it’s only the consequences of my actions,” and he kisses your forehead, before he presses his to yours, “and I don’t want to live in a world where you’re not by my side,”

You kiss him slowly, wrapping your arms around him, slowly heat building as the head of his cock bumps against the length of your cunt — the sparks grow into flames, threatening to engulf you both. And you would let them if only for one more second of his touch.

“Sugu, please, I need you,” you murmur, breathing in his pants as your noses bump, “need you inside me,” he cups your cheek, meeting in another kiss, before you’re lining yourself up, weeping cock bumping against your needy entrance.

“Are you ready?” You ask, and it’s for more than just this moment, it’s for everything that comes after — for every second that you both get to live together, “our phones are off right?”

He snorts, “I turned it off when you entered my office,” and you laugh, shaking his head, as he places a kiss behind your ear.

“I did the same before I came in,” his fingers cup your cheek, as you lean into his warm palm, “just you and me?” You echo from your first time together, and his lips curl into the softest smile.

“You and me, sweetheart,” and you’re sinking onto him, tip parting your spread folds as your walls swallow him whole, inch by inch, and his fingers grasp at your hips, helping you ease onto his cock, pretty lips parted with a quiet murmur of your name.

And when he finally bottoms out inside you, he’s almost forgotten how good it felt — pleasure ripping up his spine as your hips are pressed flush to the other, “So deep, Sugu, fuck,” your walls are fluttering around him pulling even deeper, clamping down as if he groans, “I’m gonna move,” you manage between pants.

You lift up to the tip before slowly beginning to bounce up and down, your moans filling his ears along with the squeaks and rattling of his computer chair. His eyes flutter open only to watch your breasts bounce up and down as you ride him, his hands reaching out to squeeze at the pillowy flesh, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips.

“S’big, fuck, Sugu,” you’re moaning, a mess as you fucked yourself on him, but still not quite deep enough, and he begins to meet your thrusts with his own, making you fall forward holding onto him with a whine as he fucks up into you. The sounds of his balls slapping against your needy cunt ring in your ears, the grunts your pussy pulls from his mouth as he drives himself impossibly deep, “ngh, Sugu, fuck, s’good—,” you’re whining, back arching into his touch, nails digging into his shoulders, “please,”

“That’s it, take my cock, pretty girl,” he murmurs, “so good for me. So tight, never going to leave this cunt at this rate, baby—“

And then they hear a door creak open and close nearby, freezing as they do, heart thumping against your ribs, but your wall flutters all the same, “think they’ll see us like this?” He teases, and his cock twitches in your cunt, “spread out and fucked by your former professor’s cock?” And you know he’s only goading you as the footsteps depart, but your walls squeeze at the thought, “want them to see how good you are for me? How well I’ve taught you to take this cock?”

And he begins to fuck into you again, pistoning up into you, drawing more moans from your lips. He had taught you every inch and curve and vein of his dick, but this refresher would make sure you’d never forget.

“Sugu, I’m close, I-“ and his hand is slipping between your bodies to rub at his clit right as his cock hits that spot that has you seeing stars as you cum hard around his cock. He watches the place your bodies meet, a white ring of cum around the base of his cock as your walls flutter around him.

He fucks you through your orgasm, hips stuttering as he twitches inside you, “fuck, sweetheart, where should I—“ and you’re moaning as you manage to meet his thrust to notch him even deeper as he finally cums.

His thick ropes paints your walls, as he rocks against you slowly, forcing his cum deeper and deeper, your name leaving your lips again and again — reverent whispers and promises muttered in your ear, as he finally stills underneath you.

You’re leaning against him, mixed releases surely leaking onto his lap and the chair, both of your quiet pants filling the silence, until he’s breaking it. He kisses your lips again and again, before he stares at you — kiss bruised lips and the pretty sheen of sweat that clings to your skin, “It’s not fair you’re this perfect,” he murmurs, a thumb dragging down your lips, “how would I have ever resisted you?”

“Luckily, the universe did that for us,” and he huffs a chuckle, “and you,” you add in a small whisper, and he frowns, nodding.

“I did and I never will again, I promise, sweetheart,” he’s pressing sweet kisses to your burning skin, pulling you impossibly closer to him, your face buried in the crook of his neck, “I’m yours — yours to keep, yours to use, yours to love — you have my heart and my soul,” he’s cupping your cheek when you lift your head, “and I’ll never let go, because you’re the only answer to life I need, if you’ll allow to be yours,”

“You were always mine,” your forehead pressed to his, “that’s never changed, and it never will,”

“You always one up me, don’t you?” And you roll your eyes.

“The student has to surpass the master someday, doesn’t she?” his lips curl.

“Oh you’ve done that a long time ago, Princess,” his lips graze yours again and again, and soon enough you’re shifting on his lap, until the chair buckles under the weight and the seat travels to the bottom of where it’s wheels rested. The two of you are silent a moment, before a giggle escapes your lips, “I think you’ll have to get a new chair,” you murmur, and he’s chuckling, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“Why not the chair and the desk?” And you’re blinking before he’s lifting you up, before making you turn, pressing your front flush against the wood of the desk, “and if I’m getting new furniture, I might as well use this to its full capacity, shouldn’t I?” And he’s dragging his erection across your ass, “really make sure it’s broken,”

You gasp, walls fluttering as his tip teased your messy entrance, “don’t you need broken in—“ and he bottoms out in one thrust, as he presses his body against yours, lips pressing a kiss to the back of your neck, before his teeth dig into the sensitive flesh.

And he smirks as he hears you moan under him, as he soothes the blooming hickey with his tongue, “No, I meant broken, sweetheart.”

“Suguru!” You called from his bedroom, as he smoothed his hair out in the bathroom mirror, a glance over his shoulder at the sound of your voice, “can you come help me?”

And how could he refuse? He steps out of the bathroom to only find you struggling with your Hakama. The formal garment hangs uselessly around your front, your brow furrowed and lips pursed.

He suppresses his laugh, forcing his tone to be even.

“Does my incredibly brilliant girlfriend need help with her hood?” Your pout is enough for him to nearly break his promise that he wouldn’t kiss you when your makeup was done, but he doesn’t. Instead he takes the offending garment from around your neck, and you cross your arms.

“I can handle reading Hegel’s works — The Phenomenology of Spirit was irritating but doable,” and you scowl at the Hakama in his hand, “but that thing was made to torture,”

He snorts, “Consider it your last trial before graduation,”

“No, my last is seeing if my thesis was peer reviewed and accepted for publication somewhere,” you sigh, “I still have to make the edits—“

“That can be a later problem, just focus on the moment right now,” he steps behind you after adjusting the Hakama and tying it around the back and front to secure it, before pressing a kiss to the top of your head, “and now you look both beautiful and properly dressed,”

His arms wrap around your waist from behind, “Sugu, we have to leave soon,”

“Just a minute, just let this sink in,” he kisses the side of your neck, “have I told you how proud I am of you?”

“Hmm, just about every second of the last few days,” you lean against him, and nothing ever felt so perfect — his arms were the only ones you belonged in.

And yet, why did that thought also hurt?

“What is iy, baby?” Suguru murmurs, ever too perceptive as always, “something on your mind,”

“More like someone,” you mumble, and you’re laying your head against his shoulder, “I can’t help but feel guilty — Yuta and I just broke up and I’m—“ you’re shaking your head, “I’m so happy, and I hate myself for it,”

Suguru frowns, “I don’t know Yuta well, but I know he did love you, the same way I do, and I can’t speak for him,” but then he’s squeezing your middle, “but as someone who loves you, I’d want you to be with someone who could make could make you happy,” you kiss his head, “and isn’t that why he broke up with you? You both deserve that chance — even if it’s not each other.”

“When did you get so smart?” and he pulls you impossibly closer, kissing along the neckline of your kimono.

“Somewhere between my bachelor’s degree and being your professor,” he adds with his lips curled in a smirk, “though I’d err closer to the time of being your professor,”

Your head against his shoulder, you lean up for a kiss, as he blinks, before melting into your touch, as you pull back with a grin, “it’s ok if I initiate the kiss,” you chuckle when you catch sight of his pout, “don’t worry I’ll be giving you plenty after the ceremony — and maybe something even more than a kiss,”

“Is that a promise?” And you tug him close, pressing another kiss to his lips — your lips were already smudged, so why hold back.

“Always, for you.”

Yuta knew it was for the best.

It had been a few weeks that he spent mourning his relationship — but he knew that it was the right choice for him. He had chased after you, it felt as if he was dogging your every step, waiting for you to notice him. And when you did, he still felt as he was your second choice — and that he would live in Geto’s shadow for the entirety of the relationship.

And he didn’t want that. He didn’t deserve that — and neither did you. More than anything, he wanted you to be happy — even if that wasn’t with him.

It was for the best.

And the start to the new semester just proved that. He was starting his final year of his program, he had become the head of the student government (after Maki decided to step down to a more administrative role to focus on her degree), and he had even become a teacher’s assistant to one of his favorite professors. He didn’t have time to focus on a relationship, not when he should be focusing on his future.

He entered the classroom that day, a little early on his professor’s request to set up the classroom with handouts, only to bump into someone, papers spilling from his hands.

“Sorry, I—” he leans down to pick up the dropped papers, before glancing up and finds himself looking at just that—

His future.

A few months later.

“You’re late,” Suguru Geto remarks, as he shows you his watch on his wrist — the very one you had bought him for his birthday a few weeks before, “but I should expect that by now, shouldn’t I?”

You give a guilty grin, as you find your way to his side, sliding your hands up around his neck, “Yes you should, especially when your girlfriend is a very important lecturer who was kept by all her students — jealous?”

And he chuckles, his hair tied up in a half bun as usual, your fingers toying with a strand again, before he’s lacing with fingers with yours to press a kiss to the back of your hand, “Very — because your students are stealing my time with my very intellectual girlfriend,” and he leans down to press a kiss to the hollow of your throat, “it sounds like it was a success — I knew it would be,” he adds, “but someone else wasn’t so sure,”

You roll your eyes playfully, “Yes, yes, you were right — the students found my work interesting, or at least interesting enough not to fall asleep and ask questions—”

“High praise,” and your lips curl into a smile, “What?”

“I love you,” he grins back at you, a chuckle on his lips, as he leans down to capture them, his smile apparent against you, as he parts from you, a heat still present in the pit of your stomach, a need for him burning as it always was, “I love you so much, Suguru,”

“I love you too, princess,” he’s rubbing his thumb back and forth against the length of your cheek, “Good thing too because otherwise, moving in together would be more than a little awkward,” and you pout, and he’s laughing before kissing you again and again, until he’s kissing your pout away with a languid kiss that has you melting into his grasp — breathless when he pulls away, lips utterly kiss ruined and red, “they should be calling us into the viewing soon,” he bites his lip,and you’re nodding reluctantly if only considering whether if you could sway him for another few moments alone. Instead you settle for burying your face in the crook of his neck, lips brushing against his leaping pulse, “you’re sure about moving to Kyoto? I had only chosen Kyoto to give you space—”

You cut him off with a glance up and a raised eyebrow, “You’re the one who said I could choose, and I chose Kyoto because not only is it a good opportunity for you here to build your reputation as the department head, but because it’s a fresh start for us,”

His fingers lace with yours, “Well if they keep asking you to lecture in Tokyo, you might develop a commute,” and you roll your eyes, before shrugging.

“I can handle it,” you squeeze his hand, “as long as I'm coming home to you.”

“And a cat or a poodle,”and you light up, grinning even wider, “we should ask if they allow pets,”

“Really? We can—”

“I heard poodles are a good choice of pet,” and you’re leaning up to kiss him, arms wrapping around his neck, “I made an appointment for at an adoption center after this,”

“Mr. Geto?” a person comes out of the leasing office, “we’re ready for you both,”

And you pull away, your fingers interlacing with yours and squeezing his hand, “Are you ready?”

His lips curl in a smile, “I think we owe it to ourselves, don’t we? Especially they agreed to take us for our viewing after you were late,”

And you chuckle, as the two of you made your way inside, “I swear you’re going to leave without me one of these days if I’m late enough,”

“No, I’d never do that. I’ll always wait for you, sweetheart,” he holds the door open for you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, “we have all the time in the world after all.” And you grin at him as you walk past him, his fingers reaching into his pocket.

He had found out his answer to life — watching you greet and speak with the agent, before glancing back at him with a small smile and tilt of your head — his fingers toy with the ring box in his pocket—

And now he just needed to know yours.

END.

Yuta’s own love story will be coming after Professor Gojo’s!

✧a/n: wow i'm still in disbelief i finished this series. this is my first series on tumblr, and i truly hope you all enjoyed. this part was wayyyy longer than i expected. but i hope i did the series justice.

✧ taglist: @hatsunemitskislobotomy, @difficultdomains, @diogodxlot, @that-goth-bisexual, @dazailover1900, @aliyalala @ashhlsstuff , @blue041803 , @mwtsxri , @bblgumfairy , @sukunasleftkneecap , @xo-evangeline , @fiannee , @teatreeoilll , @chalametet , @ryukaver , @d1gitalbathh , @saga3ious , @seventhcinema , @satosugucide , @your-l0nely-star , @sokkasmoon , @deegausserr , @hyookka , @oggsyy , @littlebitb , @higuchislut , @ti-mame , @itoshisins , @cerene-dipity , @onionsoop , @sinlillith , @izzythenaive , @lalacute03 , @rxndou , @c-themoon , @xxrag-d0llxx , @hqtoge , @sugarxlumps , @hopeluna , @actualdeemon , @enchantedpendant , @serendididy , @soulstealercat , @neuviloved , @simply-a-s1mp , @satorusmochis , @lalacute03

#sab [mlist]#sab series [prof suguru]#suguru geto x reader #suguru geto smut #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru fanfiction #suguru geto fanfiction #geto x reader #geto smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #suguru geto x you #suguru x reader

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milfgyuu · 16 days

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Hot Wheels [M] Pairing: Kim Mingyu x Fem!Reader Tags: 15.9k, 90's AU, Co-Workers to Lovers, Fluff, Humor, Smut 18+ Collab: Now That's 90's Summary: There has been something brewing between you and your part-time co-worker (full-time hottie), Kim Mingyu. Endlessly flirting on the clock at Wheelies, making out in the back of the movie theater, rolling around in the sand with a mighty good man...no other 90's dreamboat could ever compare. Warnings: SMUT 18+, MINORS DNI!! mxf (consensual) sex, fingering, low-key breast play, making out (in public), hickey talk, Mingyu is hung (obvs), he's also portrayed as 'taller' than the mc in interactions, mild to moderate language use, gyu's roomies are sloshed at the end (unrelated to smut or main characters), that should cover all the bases...

Fridays at the roller rink are always busy but this is the first official skate-night of Summer Time ‘99 and it’s like opening day all over again. The schools let out just a few hours ago, releasing hoards of teenagers with pent-up energy loose on your small town and there is a line out the door waiting to get into Wheelies to jump-start their next few months of freedom.

Thankfully, the owners prepared and bought a whole new stock of skates so when you inevitably have to help out at the rental counter you’ll have enough to go around without having to argue with some sixteen-year-old about not having their size.

For now, you’re on the floor making sure everything is running smoothly, gliding around in circles with your hands in your pockets. It’s not too packed just yet even though you can see the steady stream of kids filtering through the doors after hitting the ticket booth. Mothers are packing up their little ones knowing it’s time to head out before it picks up pace and the exchange in skaters coming on and off the floor keeps things pretty even for a short while.

As you pass by the DJ booth for the hundredth time this evening, Vernon pauses to make a goofy face at you while he sets up his equipment. He’s probably the one person who enjoys the summer nights the most because he gets to put on light shows and mix tracks to his heart’s content.

After letting the floor empty a bit more, you come to a stop in front of him for a quick break, crossing your arms and resting them over the top of his carpeted booth.

“You gonna play something special for me tonight, Nonnie?”

He rolls his eyes but grins all the same. “You ask me that every night.”

Laying your head on your arms, you look up at him with a pout, “And yet, no romantic song dedications to your favorite Wheelies girl,” you pick your head up and bat your eyes at him, “I’m starting to think you want to break up with me.”

“I promise if I want to end our made-up relationship, I’ll tell you like a real man. Besides,” Vernon laughs and tilts his chin up, looking at something behind you, “I think you’ve been seeing other people. Hotter Wheels if you catch my drift.”

“Heh, I think he hates that name,” you turn, catching sight of Mingyu ducking into the locker rooms to change out and stow his bag, most likely coming straight from hockey practice. Vernon is back to messing with things when you turn, humming, “Lets be real. I only like boys who don’t like me, Nonnie, that’s why you’re the one.”

“What if he’s like you and only goes for girls who don’t want him?”

At that you laugh, preparing to depart as the floor begins to steadily fill again. “Well then, he’ll be lonely forever because I am pretty sure everyone wants him.”

“Including you?”

Very stealthily, you flip him the bird.

Vernon just laughs it off and gets back to work as you skate away, toying with the whistle tied around your neck. You can tell he’s about to get started with his new set when the lights dim and the carpeted walls and floors outside of the polished skate floor start to glow. The little whirls and shapes coming to life with a neon purple hue.

You catch the line piling up at the rental booth but thankfully, it looks like they called in a few extra hands tonight to help there and in concessions which means you get to stay on the floor. Rentals isn’t the worst, that would be birthday party hosting, but you also hate concessions so you don’t put up a fuss when you’re asked to help with skates or in the front on the rare occasion one of the sweet old ladies manning the ticket windows is out.

As more people start piling onto the floor you slow your pace and skate backward for a few feet to check out your surroundings and find teenagers everywhere, loud and wildly unaware of their surroundings. They aren’t too awful this early in the night but you’re sure you’ll have to escort someone off the floor before closing time.

You’ll enjoy your leisurely pace for now and it seems Wonwoo is keen to do the same on the opposite side of the crowd. He weaves in and out of skaters bobbing his head to the music. His glasses are sitting lower on his nose than usual and you’re sure he’s broken them again…or his little brother did and he’s waiting for their exact replacement to come in so he can switch them out without his brother noticing and feeling any more guilty.

He’s only eight but Wonwoo is his very best friend. They come in on Saturdays together, one of Wonwoo’s only days off, and he teaches his brother to skate for an hour or so before he lets him loose in the arcade and they leave with matching ice cream cones in hand. They even have matching shaggy hairstyles. It’s adorable.

In truth, you’re fond of many of your co-workers but Wonwoo is definitely in your top three for that reason alone. You get along really well with any easy-going personality, it's the same with Vernon. They are both just nice, quiet guys and the exact opposite of the giant shadow hanging over your left shoulder.

Although, you suppose you get along just fine with him as well.

“Quit checking Wonwoo out, you’re breaking my heart.”

Even before he opened his mouth, the distinct cologne he always wore told you Mingyu was finally on the floor, ready to chase you around for the rest of the night like it was his full-time job. He spent more time trying to charm your pants off than doing what he was actually hired to do but he is so damn charming that he somehow gets away with it.

Besides, this is just a part-time gig for him. Might as well enjoy himself while he’s at it.

When you don’t answer right away, he decides to show off his stupidly impressive hockey maneuvers and he swings around in front of you, casually skating backward without bothering to look behind him. He’s big enough that people can’t miss him and they tend to move out of his path pretty quickly. Now that he sees your face, he’s smirking because you don’t even have it in you to hide your smile tonight. “Oh, that’s pretty,” he coos, “My heart’s healing already.”

You grab his arm to pull his hand away from his chest and he spins around to skate at your side, eyes briefly scanning the floor until they’re back on you.

“I wasn’t checking him out but believe me… you’re going to be absolutely devastated when Vernon finally admits he’s in love with me. Game over, buddy.”

Mingyu looks wholly unconvinced. “Well, he’s had long enough and you’re going to fall in love with me by the end of the week so…” he pinches his lips together like he’s just delivered the real, honest, awkward truth and you’re battling butterflies in your stomach.

“End of the week, huh? Are we sure?”

He gets distracted by an increase in volume but for only a moment because Wonwoo is already on it and the quick, sharp sound of his whistle means Mingyu’s full attention is on you again. “That’s what I have circled on my calendar,” he shrugs, “Nothing we can do about it now but let it happen.”

Mingyu’s sense of humor and playful nature are the literal nails in your coffin. You can handle hot with no personality…this one is hot with an overabundance of personality.

You look up at him, probably grinning ear to ear, “Bet you have little hearts doodled all over it with a hot pink gel pen, don’t ya, Hot Wheels?”

He grumbles something under his breath and it makes you snicker. Wonwoo started that one and it seemed to spread throughout the building like wildfire. Now, even the ticket ladies call him Hot Wheels though you’re sure they mean it quite literally whereas Wonwoo was actually just busting Mingyu’s balls about a particularly embarrassing tumble he took.

“Purple gel pen, actually,” he turns and pouts as you both bank around the curve again, “Lost my pink one.”

“Could always steal another one from your little sister.”

At that, he scoffs, the corner of his lips pulled up into a half-smile, “She threw a Barbie car at my head the last time I visited,” he doesn’t even sound upset…it’s more proud than anything, “She reminds me of you sometimes.”

When you go to respond, a young boy accidentally skates too close to you and his wheels knock into yours throwing you both off balance. You catch him by the arm, meeting his panic-stricken eyes, and wait to hit the floor but you rock back against a hard chest and thank all your lucky stars Mingyu was there to save you. The older you get, the harder the floor feels.

“I’m so sorry!” The boy exclaims once you’re all steady again, “I’m not good at this! I promise I wasn’t trying to take you out!”

His genuine concern is sweet and you laugh it off. “It’s totally okay and nobody got hurt,” you tell him and he takes a deep breath, “Wanna go around together a few times?”

The boy’s eyes shine and he nods his head rapidly. Mingyu drops back a few paces and you hold out your arm, elbow tucked into your side. “Okay,” you pat your forearm, “Hold on here…there you go…and we’re going to push off at the same time with the same foot. Hey, Gyu,” you call over your shoulder and he comes back up to your side, waiting for your instructions, “Will you skate a little ahead of us so he can watch you?”

“For sure,” Mingyu grins, picking up speed until he’s far enough away to slow his pace again and remain ahead of you.

The kid is a bit wobbly but he’s trying really hard and it makes you smile. You remember when you first learned to skate and how intimidating the rink was though you were around eight and he looks to be around fourteen. There wasn’t a floor full of bigger, faster kids to compete with though so you think maybe you got off easier.

“You’re doing great,” you encourage him, “Watch him go around the curve to get a better idea of how to steer yourself.”

Mingyu banks it beautifully, as usual. It’s surprising to most people that someone his size could skate so fluidly especially after learning that he only started playing hockey in his early teens. It was just something he had a natural talent for and trading out blades for wheels hadn’t altered his ability to move with grace whatsoever.

You work through the turn together, a little less smoothly, but you make it around and he lets out a short laugh. “He makes it look so easy.”

“Yeah, well he’s had lots and lots of practice and likes to show off.”

Your eyes settle on Mingyu again and as if he can sense you watching, he turns over his shoulder and winks which is not solely witnessed by you because the kid chuckles, following through the next curve with more confidence. “Is he your boyfriend? He’s kinda cool.”

The question catches you off guard and you laugh, covering your mouth with your free hand. “Not my boyfriend but yeah…I guess he’s kinda cool.”

He looks up at you…almost mischievously you’d think, if you knew him better. “I think he wants to be your boyfriend,” he snickers, “He keeps looking at you.”

You huff out a laugh, placing your hand over his before swinging you both into a stop out of the way. “I’m starting to think this is all a ruse and he’s paying you to put in a good word.”

The kid laughs and shakes his head, “No, I’m just nosey and a really lousy skater,” he says, looking up at Mingyu who’s come over and stopped next to you, “Thanks a lot for helping me out,” he looks a little sheepish, hand reaching around to scratch the back of his neck, “There is this girl at school I like and she’s a figure skater. She asked me out on a date at the ice rink when she comes back from vacation with her family in two weeks and I said yes even though I’m probably going to make a fool of myself. Figured I should start practicing now and falling on wheels is less intimidating than falling with knives on my feet.”

You laugh softly and Mingyu grins, shaking his head. “I admire your dedication to getting the girl, kid. Listen, I coach a youth hockey league at the ice rink down the road and have a free hour a few days a week that I use to practice myself. I’d be happy to teach you if you want.”

The boy’s eyes light up. “That would be so cool!”

Mingyu chuckles, “Alright, awesome. Are one of your parents here with you? I can go talk to them and give them my information.”

“Yeah! My grandma is sitting over there,” he points to the corner where you both make out an older woman sitting alone with a book in hand, surrounded by way too many boisterous young people.

You meet Mingyu’s eyes and both make a face. “Yikes, okay, let’s go save grandma.”

The boy thanks you again and starts to merge back into the flow of skaters as Mingyu smiles at you, pushing off with a ‘Don’t miss me too much’ and a stupid kissy face.

His grin is wild and gorgeous when you wiggle your fingers and whisper, “Bye, lover boy.”

Vernon is smiling at you when you reach his booth and you hop up onto the small ledge that allows a good look at the floor as a whole while also giving your legs a needed break. He’s playing one is his 80’s to 90’s pop mixes and tweaking the rotating lights that dance over the skaters until they start changing colors, neon polka dots as far as the eye can see.

There is a steady exchange of kids coming on and off the floor. Most of the early group heading into the arcade or bombarding the concessions counter while the later crowd takes their place. In between all that, you catch sight of Mingyu speaking with the boy and his Grandma. You don’t even realize that you’re unabashedly smiling at the scene, thinking about how kind and attentive he is when he’s listening. The way he leans in and pulls back, grinning and laughing.

“Still think you’re not into him?” Vernon says over your shoulder, laughing when you startle.

You purse your lips, eyes wandering back over. “I’m simply admiring his social aptitude,” you flick your eyes back up to Vernon and grin, “Why? Is it making you jealous darling?”

He smirks, “Not yet. Gonna have to try harder.”

“Ugh,” you swoon, hand over your heart, “I love it when you play hard to get.”

Vernon nods his head laughing, “Yeahhhh, I know you do.” Then he notices you’ve got your eye on an issue that needs handling and reaches out to pat the top of your head, “Two more hours and they all have to go home to be someone else’s responsibility. I’ll throw in some of your favorite jams.”

Ten o’clock couldn’t come soon enough but you appreciate his offer and toss out a few songs for consideration though he’s pretty familiar with your tastes. You step back down onto the floor and blow Vernon a kiss when you immediate recognzie the song he’s jumped into…just for you.

“You really are the best. Check on you in a bit, undercover lover.”

He throws up a peace sign and you cut across the floor to ask a couple of kids who were just blowing and popping bubbles to go spit out their gum as it’s clearly stated that it's not allowed on the floor. They don’t love your request and start to argue but Mingyu sneaks up behind you again and dazzles them with a smile. Just like that, the two young girls start giggling and falling all over themselves to do exactly as asked…all because the pretty guy said ‘Please’.

It’s comical, honestly.

Mingyu is smirking when he rolls along beside you, bending at the waist to peek up at your face because it’s aimed at the floor as you try to school your features. He’s so irritatingly flirtatious and you’re too quickly playing into his hand tonight. You’re usually better than this, holding out well until you’re pulling out of the parking lot.

“Oh, yeah,” he intones, “Tonight is definitely the night. You’re giving in. You can’t resist me any longer. It was bound to happen. You’re still smiling! I can see it!”

Laughing, you pull your head up and give him a look that you would have loved to be firm but it’s not in the slightest. How can you be serious when he is so not serious? “Don’t you dare,” you warn with a loose laugh tacked on at the end, “I told you, we’re not going on a date.”

Mingyu shrugs, “So, movies tomorrow night?”

“Don’t you work tomorrow?”

He bats his eyes with a saccharine smile, “I love that you know my schedule by heart,” he ignores your eye roll, “Wonu’s covering my shift since he owed me one and also because he’s a true romantic. He’s rooting for us and we can’t disappoint him.”

“Well, I suppose if it’s what Wonwoo wants…” you look up at him, eyes glittering with excitement, “When are you picking me up?”

For as calm and cool as Mingyu keeps it on the outside, he’s buzzing on the inside because he’s been toying around with the idea of taking you out forever. And he’s asked…more than once…but you’ve kept him on his toes and he’s enjoyed the playing the game but he’s elated that you’re finally saying yes.

He tries to school is face but he’s still beaming as he tries to casually say, “I’ll pick you up at seven.”

“Seven?” you snicker, “Isn’t that a little late to get started? You keeping me out all night?”

He just shrugs, grinning. “Maybe.”

Mingyu shows up nearly twenty minutes early and you can see his car outside your condo. He doesn’t make a move to get out and it’s amusing to watch as he nervously drums his fingers on the steering wheel for a few beats before reaching for the door like he’s going to get out, and then shaking his head before resuming the fidgeting. It’s also a relief to know he’s feeling the same jitters you are.

The thought crossed your mind to pop your head out to wave him inside but he might be giving himself a pep-talk and you’re still contemplating your outfit.

The movie theater is always so cold. You debated the pros and cons of wearing something short-sleeved because on one hand, if you’re cold it might prompt your date to keep you warm but on the other hand, if he didn’t, you’d be freezing the whole time.

You could bring a jacket, but that’s an extra thing to carry.

Digging through your closet, you pull out a fuzzy black long-sleeved sweater. You hold it out, admiring the way it’s cropped a little shorter in the front, and then turn back to the mirror, holding it up to your chest. It would look cute with the Levi’s you’re wearing…decisions, decisions.

A car horn beeps and you peer out of your window seeing Mingyu rigid behind the wheel. You laugh, thinking he probably did not mean to do it and is embarrassed at having accidentally made too much noise. That’s pretty obvious by the way he’s looking around, paranoid and frustrated. It’s actually super cute and you’re lingering by the window now just admiring him from afar without care

Until you see Mingyu cut the engine and get out of the car. Then the panic sets in because you’re still not ready and well…it’s the first time he’s seeing you outside of work and not in uniform. You want him to be wowed and are probably still taking too long to get moving considering how brisk of a stride you know his to be. He’ll be here any second.

You scramble to pull on the sweater in your hands and run into the bathroom to grab your gold hoops, fix your hair, and check your makeup one last time. Your heart is racing but you smile at your reflection. He sees you all the time at work looking not even half as done-up as you are right now and thinks you’re a solid 10, so there isn’t really any doubt he’ll be pleased. Then the doorbell rings.

A few deep breaths to calm your nerves comes first. When you open the door, Mingyu’s mouth is fixed like he had a line locked and loaded but when he sees you, he chokes on the words. He’s so flustered that he stumbles back a step, laughing at himself. “Oh, you’re not going to take it easy on me, are you?”

That lights you up from the inside out and brings your confidence back around full circle.

“Have I ever made things easy for you?” you snicker, grabbing your purse off the hook by the door, “I think you like a challenge.”

“Nah, I just like you,” he smirks, tongue poking the end of his pointed canine as he watches you close and lock the door, trying his hardest to be respectful, “You look really good. Have I said that yet?”

Stashing your keys in your purse, you turn and grin up at him. “You alluded to it but I wouldn’t mind hearing you say it out loud.”

Always playing and teasing and flirting. It’s almost too much for you both to bear at this point.

“I’ll tell you as many times as you want,” he says softly but he reaches toward you, slipping his hand just behind your hip to pull you closer with a bold, sharp tug. Startled, you bump right into Mingyu’s chest and look up at him with wide eyes. He doesn’t say anything for a minute and then tilts his head back, sighing into the sky above. He’s mostly amused when he looks back at you.

“You look incredible…and we should get in the car before I ruin the illusion of me being a gentleman.”

“That image has been splintering for a while but I don’t think I’ll mind if a manner or two slips,” you tease as you pull apart, taking the time to look him up and down…

Light-washed jeans, crisp white t-shirt, open flannel hanging off his broad shoulders…”You look really good too,” you murmur in appreciation.

He’s about to sweating straight through his shirt if you keep looking at him like that.

“...yep…time to go,” he mumbles, pinching is lips together as he grabs your hand. He pulls you toward the parking lot which isn’t far, and opens the door for you to slip into his passenger seat. He doesn’t let go until you’re settled and takes it a touch further when he reaches in and grabs the seatbelt before you. His hand purposely grazes against the exposed skin between your pants and top as he buckles you in and you let out the breath you were holding the second he closes your door.

It’s getting more difficult to play hard-to-get by the millisecond but you’re willing to give in first if your reward is Mingyu breaking down bit by bit right in front of you.

You bite your lip to keep from giggling when he quickly rounds the car and settles into his seat next to you. He’s still shaking his head, quietly laughing at himself for getting so easily worked up. He turns over the engine, shifting into drive, and peers over at you with an air of disbelief.

“I’m starting to think we’re gonna have to sit in separate rows at this rate.”

Thankfully, the tension melts into easy banter and conversation on the ride to the theater. Mingyu entertains you with stories about his family and asks after yours, specifically your beloved niece whom he loves hearing about. He lets you toy around with his radio and blare some Spice Girls song that neither of you sings along to with the correct pitch…or words. It’s a blast either way.

Bold flirtation aside, Mingyu has always been a gentleman where it counts.

When you arrive at the movie theater, he opens all the doors, holds your hand every chance he gets, pays for your tickets and snacks despite your protesting, and lets you choose where to sit. The theater isn’t very full, though the movie you both decided on has been out for a while so it’s not all that surprising to see so many open seats. There are a few people scattered here and there and you don’t particularly love sitting next to others if you can avoid it.

That leaves the very front or the very back.

You glance over your shoulder at Mingyu, patiently waiting for you to decide, “You really don’t care?”

He shakes his head again with a soft smile and you sigh looking back at the open seats, “I don’t like being super close…are you okay with sitting up top?”

Mingyu’s eyes scan the very empty top rows and widen like he hadn’t actually realized how secluded they were until just now. “Totally cool,” he manages after a moment, “Lead the way.”

“Oh boy,” you whisper to yourself, turning to make your way up the stairs. You have to focus ahead and calculate the distance of each step so you don’t screw up and trip because that would be awfully embarassing. It’s dark, cold, and quiet, and there is a huge gap between the section you’re headed toward and the next closest couple sitting in the middle.

The very last row was almost too intimidating as if it somehow was the designated spot reserved for horny, depraved teenagers, and you were mid-twenty adults…so you stopped once you hit the second to last row and cut in a few seats before deciding that sitting in the middle was also weird so you dropped into the fourth seat from the aisle and forced yourself to stay put.

PIcking a seat and sticking with it has never been so daunting before.

Mingyu doesn’t say anything at all about your choice, much to your relief. If he cracked a joke about it, you think you might just burst at the seams. He just sits down in the seat next to you folding his very large frame into the too-tight space between the armrests. You’re both quiet as the lights dim and the previews start rolling but you can still feel him wiggling and adjusting himself next to you.

Your eyes meet when he accidentally bumps your arm and you smile at the fact that he is genuinely embarrassed, for no reason at all other than unintentionally taking up extra space. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers, “I don’t remember the seats feeling this cramped.”

“It’s really okay,” you turn, tucking his elbow safely into his side as you lift the armrest between you to give him more room, “We can share.”

“Are you sure?” his eyes seek yours again in the darkness, “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

You quietly snicker at his worry when he was the one being so brazen with your proximity earlier. At the same time, you can appreciate his consideration and reassure him with a gentle smile. “I really don’t mind…the extra body heat is appreciated.”

You can feel the moment Mingyu lets the tension flow out of his body. His shoulders relax until your arms touch lightly, his legs spread a little further apart as he sinks into his seat, firm thigh now pressed to the outside of your own. He’s warm and his cologne, as usual, is so rich and alluring that you know you’re going to be fighting the urge to mold yourself to his side for the next hour and a half.

Surprisingly, the movie isn’t half bad even though it was one you chose because every other film out was either super sad or overtly romantic and neither genre felt like a good fit for a first date. ‘Black Mask’ had a decent balance of action scenes and suspense that pretty easily kept your eyes on the screen, at least for a little while, sharing sour gummy worms and a soda between the two of you.

Your attention began to wane after the third time you bumped hands with Mingyu and it was lost entirely when he decided to simply hold your hand instead. Movie plot gone in an instant.

Instead of the screen, your eyes fall to your joined hands resting in his lap. They climb up to his chest, slowly rising and falling with each measured breath. Carefully, you let them slide higher, admiring the shadows projected over his throat and jaw. Higher to admire his handsome face. Higher again, just to get a little more of him, and when you get there, you find him staring back.

Neither of you shy away this time. Mingyu nervously licks his lips and his eyes flit down to yours, only for a second, just to reassure himself that you’re both on the same wavelength even though the chemistry between you has always been pretty clear. He still hesitates before he leans closer but you’re done waiting and choose to kiss him first.

It’s soft, brief, and when you part, you can see the smile on his handsome face and it brings the butterflies in your stomach back to life all over again. He cups your cheek and pulls you back into another kiss, and then another, and another. A million times you’d thought about kissing Mingyu and this was still far better than any you’d imagined thus far.

Actually kissing him highlights the small details you were missing. The bits of it that are unique and a part of him only. It’s the way his thumb strokes against your cheek, how he tilts his face and changes his angle so fluidly that you follow him like it’s completely natural, the tender way he’s slow to let go of your bottom lip and how he kisses it afterward.

It’s certainly not your first kiss or even the first time you’ve made out with someone at the movies, but this feels entirely new. Mingyu is not some hopped up, horny kid. He takes his time with you, he’s gentle, patient. It’s not sloppy or rushed. He isn’t trying to clumsily cop a feel the whole time, though, you think you’d probably let him and that he wouldn’t fumble around at all. It feels like he knows exactly what he’s doing, even if he doesn’t.

You hope that you feel natural to him too.

He pulls back with a slow hum of appreciation and that’s good enough for you.. When your eyes meet, you’re both smiling, and Mingyu takes that as his good sign. He wraps his arm around your shoulders and tucks you into his side until he feels your body relax against his and you finish the movie just like that.

Well, you’re both looking at the screen but you’re more focused on the way he continues to kiss your hair every few minutes and he’s locked on to the feeling of your nails gently drawing a line up and down his thigh.

Eventually, the lights come on and you’re a little slow to untangle as the rest of the theater clears out. It’s entirely empty by the time either of you hit the stairs.

“Soooo,” Mingyu hums, trailing behind you half a step, “Thoughts…opinions…? On the movie, of course.”

You laugh without turning around and nod your head, “Right…the movie, yeah. Just as the trailer promised,” you focus on your feet moving a step at a time and not tripping, “Perfectly executed action sequences.”

He grins to himself, tucking his chin into his chest. “I’m glad it lived up to all the hype,” he balances his weight on one foot before taking the next step, “Nothing worse than all that anticipation ending in disappointment.”

You peer over your shoulder at him, smiling coyly, “Oh, no disappointment here. I’m sure i’ll be thinking about it for quite some time.”

He huffs out a laugh, “Are we talking about the movie or the kiss?”

“What kiss?” you smirk, quickly turning around to hurry down the rest of the steps but he’s right behind you the whole way.

Just as you whip around the corner and into the dim hallway that leads to the exit, Mingyu catches you around the waist and pins you up against the wall. You can feel his heart thudding under your palms, the thrill of excitement hardly contained in his chest as his lips crash into yours.

Disappointment is so very far from your realm of feeling at the moment. Any expectation you had, which admittedly was already pretty high, was shattered and elevated yet another level each time his tongue danced across the seam of your lips or when his hands made another pass over your body.

From the beginning, you theorized that Mingyu was more than just a smooth talker. You had him pegged as a man with follow-through and you’re simply rolling in it, knowing you were right, and now you’re experiencing it for yourself which makes things that much more gratifying.

Mingyu was a certified lover boy. Called and confirmed it.

The very best part, you think to yourself as you feel him grin against your lips, is that he’s yours…or at least, he wants to be. You don’t have to let him know he’s already won.

He’s still smiling when you slide your hands over his arms, pointedly squeezing the ample muscle there, and he finishes you off with a few final, fluttering kisses.

When your eyes meet, there is a buzz of nervous laughter and Mingyu again asks, “So, the movie or the kiss?”

Your gaze drifts back down to his mouth and your stomach twists torturously when his knowing smirk reveals a prettily pointed canine. The same that’s bitten into your bottom lip a few times already this evening. You look back up and narrow your eyes playfully, “I don’t recall any kissi-”

He leans back down, slotting his lips against yours and the second he so much as breathes the door at the end of the hall clicks open and you hear two voices, likely the staff coming to clean the theater, and here you two delinquints are still splattered against the wall playing tonsil hockey.

Mingyu freezes and your eyes are wide as saucers. “Go, go around the other way!”

You have to slip out from under his frame and drag him a few feet before his mind catches up and you’re both scrambling back across the theater to the exit on the opposite side. As quietly as you can, you peek out of the small window to make sure the coast is clear and pop the door open for you both to come tumbling out.

The wide corridor outside the theater is mercifully empty but the adrenaline in your bodies’ leaves you jogging toward the side exit, laughter bubbling up and out into the open space around you. It’s all so silly and exhilarating, and when Mingyu grabs your hand, pulling you through the doors out into that warm summer air, you’re sure you can’t remember the last time you’ve felt so…alive.

Or maybe there is just something about the moon and stars, and the way their enchanting glow seems to make everything in their wake just a little more beautiful. He’s one of those things - bright, beautiful, feathered and soft around the edges.

You’ve stopped to catch your breath but it remains trapped in your chest the longer you look at him. It’s suddenly a little heavy, this crush of yours, weighed down by impression of his hands on your hips, your face, the small of your back. Flirting and teasing was easy. Agreeing to finally go out with him was easy. Realizing the potential for more was real and standing in front of you was a shock to your system because you’re uncovering very quickly how much you want that with him.

“We should definitely go to dairy queen.”

It takes a minute to process his words and then with a little shake, you lift your head to find Mingyu smiling back down at you. “Feels like the movie might have left you with a lot to think about and nothing helps me sort through my head quite like ice cream.”

You cock your head to the side, the tension in your chest evaporating just like that.

“Have you always this charming?”

“When I put in the extra effort, which is only for you, sure,” he chuckles, using your joined hands to pull you a little closer as you walk alongside eachother through the parking lot, “I’m not everyone’s cup of tea though.”

“I don’t believe that for a second,” you scoff, bumping into his arm with your shoulder, “Everyone loves you. I’ve seen it with my own two eyes.”

His tongue pokes into his cheek, rolling his eyes skyward, “You missed the guy I had to escort out of the rink a couple weeks ago who took a few swings at me in the parking lot. Pretty sure he was not enthralled by my dazzling smile and strapping good looks.”

“One person…that’s all you got?”

Reaching his car, Mingyu opens the passenger door for you and waits until you’re seated and looking up at him expectantly. He licks his lips and smirks, “Buckle up, you’re in for a ride.”

After grabbing ice cream, you decided making your date drive over to the shore was favorable to sitting on the sticky red tables outside the DQ, so instead, you’re sitting side by side on a small gym towel he miraculously had in his trunk, eating your deserts and swapping stories to the tune of the gentle waves crashing ashore.

So far, you’ve learned that the sole reason Mingyu got into hockey in the first place was because he was in constant trouble as a kid…in school, at home, or literally anywhere else he happened to be. His poor mother tried to put him in every sport and hobby she could think of to keep him busy and out of trouble but baseball wasn’t a fit, basketball ended in another fist fight and suspension, football benched a few and landed one kid in the hospital, and any form of martial arts was out of the question.

Finally, she found an ad in the newspaper for boy’s hockey team tryouts and the rest was history. You can clearly hear the admiration in his voice when he spoke about his original coach and his teammates. How it was touch and go from the start but no matter how much hot water he found himself in, they wouldn’t quit on him. When he realized that, he started pouring all of his pent up energy into the game and it changed him in all the best ways. It’s the whole reason he coaches today…to be someone who can make a positive change in a kid’s life the way his coach did for him.

Honestly, it’s hard to imagine Mingyu as anything other than the kind, gentle, playful guy you know him to be but everyone grows and changes. He still has a wild sort of glint in his eyes at times that lead you to believe every word he’s said about his younger years.

The sea breeze is crisp and almost a little chilly despite the warm air it mixes with so you push a little closer into Mingyu’s side and he wraps an arm around your shoulders. “Cold?”

“A bit,” you roll your head toward him, resting it against the crook of his shoulder, “Kinda just wanted to be close to you again…despite your delinquent past, I think I like you a little.”

“A little?” he smirks, eyes darting to your mouth briefly, “I think you like me a lot.”

Scrunching your nose, you make a face at him and he tosses his head back and laughs.

“If you don’t admit it soon I’m going to have to make a huge, probably embarrassing, for you, romantic gesture,” he counters, looking very half-serious, “A big old fashioned declaration of love…in public…loudly.”

“You’re still a little shit, aren’t you?”

“Don’t pretend you aren’t loving the reformed bad boy thing.” He’s spot on because Mingyu is the exact kind of guy you would have had a crush on back then too.

You let out a long sigh and pick your head up, leaning to the side to bury your now-empty cup in the sand so it doesn’t blow away just like Mingyu had on his side. In the process, Mingyu slips his arm a little lower on your back, his hand curled around your hip to keep you balanced. You love every single point of contact so you fall right back into his side when you sit up again.

“To be fair, I think you’re only partly reformed,” more smirking, “Mhm, that’s exactly what I mean,” you hum in amusement, “Listen, I’ll give in…just a little…and admit that there are a lot of things I love about you..”

“I’m listening,” he purrs, ready for the boost in confidence you’re surely about to give him. Anything that could even vaguely resemble a compliment would send him over the moon coming from you.

“I love the way…you genuinely enjoy helping people,” you start quietly, soothing the subtle nerves beginning to tingle in your fingertips, “I love that you put so much time and effort into coaching your kids and how much you love talking about them…how you’ll roll your eyes and shake your head telling me stories about them and yet you always finish with a smile because ‘they’re a handful but they’re good kids’”

Mingyu snorts softly and you knowingly ask, “There’s lots of little Mingyu’s on your team, aren’t there?”

He nods slowly, pushing the tip of his tongue against his teeth. “Ohhh yeahhh,” he breathes out with a light chuckle, “I understand now why my coach made me run drills until I dropped. I’ve got a couple that have already outshined my reputation at their age and some days it’s a battle of wills but they’ve come along way,” he ducks his head, grinning, “Hoping they’re the extent of my karma and it doesn’t come back to bite me in the ass when I have kids one day.”

He makes a face right after he says it and looks down at you almost apologetically, “Was that weird to say on a first date? I feel like that’s something you’re supposed to avoid but you’re easy to talk to and words just fall out of my mouth sometimes.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” you laugh, quirking an eyebrow at him, “I know it’s a first date but we’re not strangers, besides, I’ve always just assumed you were a family kind of guy. You talk about yours all the time, super close with your little sister, and from all i’ve witnessed, you’re just kinda great with kids in general,” you shrug, easing his worry, “I promise, it’s not a shock to me that you’d want your own and I’ll save you the torture of wondering whether to ask or not…yes, I’d like to have kids someday. Someday farrrrr away in the future.”

“Oh, good,” he chuckles, “Me too...lightyears away.”

It’s not on either of your radars currently but it’s nice to know that you have common goals for the future. It leaves a brief pause in the conversation, though not an uncomfortable one. Just a quiet moment to soak things in.

First date, first kiss(es), and it’s all going…perfectly.

It’s one thing to flirt and banter with a cute co-worker but taking the leap and going on a date together is a whole different game. There are very real feelings on both sides of the court and the potential for something real and permanent is so palpable you can feel it pushing you closer to one another. Leap again. Put yourself out there and trust the other will catch you.

Mingyu breaks the silence first and you feel his fingers twitch against your back.

“I really like you,” he says steadily, like that was the easy part, “I think you’re beautiful inside and out, stop laughing i’m being serious,” he grins and you try to reel it in for his sake, “My first day on the job I was blatantly called out and laughed at by Wonwoo after he caught me spacing out and staring at you for the third time…I don’t think I even made it an hour into my shift before I was hooked.”

“Oh, I thought you were being serious?” you grin.

“Shhhh,” he counters, “I’m not done.”

“Where was I? Oh yeah…you’re a good friend and a good person, and I like having you in my life,” he says softly, picking up your hand and pulling it into his lap, “I want to bring you home to meet my family so my mom can drag out the photo albums the way she’s always joked about doing while my sister spends the whole time telling you embarrassing things about me. They would like like you a lot. The boys on my team already like you.”

“Oh?”

He laughs, “Oh yeah, they’re always in my business and I made the mistake of bringing you up at a practice once so you’re a regular topic of discussion. I should have known I was doomed from then on and they’re brutal sometimes. One kid called me a loser because he’s fourteen and has a girlfriend and I don’t.”

“Is that how you’re asking me out? Trying to get the sympathy vote because you’re getting picked on by a bunch of kids?” you smirk.

“Maybe…is it working?” he asks, gaze dipping to your mouth for the millionth time tonight.

“I don’t know yet,” you inch a little closer, “Maybe you should try softening me up a little more before you ask again.”

He pauses, hovering just a breadth away from your face and his open mouth pulls into a sly grin, “By any means necessary?”

“Do what you have to do I suppos-”

“Niiccceee hickey.”

You slap a hand over the mark you swore you’d covered well enough with concealor, apparently not, and whip your head in Vernon’s direction. “Can you not announce it loud enough for everyone to hear?”

Vernon glances side to side. “There is literally no one except us in here and that thing announced itself.”

“What thing?”

Wonwoo comes in and drops his bag on the wooden bench, pulling out his uniform top to shrug over his shoulders. His glasses sit askew on his face and you really hope he’s got good insurance because they’re always in awful shape.

You turn and press your forehead against the cool metal of your locker door and Vernon chuckles, stowing his things noisely. “The physical evidence to prove that her date went abundantly well.”

Wonwoo smirks, walking closer to pry your hand away from your neck. He whistles. “Damn, Mingyu’s a biter…not surprised. Good luck hiding that thing - it’s going to be with you for a while.”

“Ok. Hickey expert. Thanks for your input,” you grumble.

He shrugs. “We all have interests and hobbies, and you’re welcome.”

You roll your eyes and turn around, leaning back against your locker with a pout. “I’m kinda nervous that we’re working together tonight for the first time since we went out. Do you think it will be weird?”

Vernon makes a goofy face. “Why would it be weird? I thought you said everything went well and you’re like, dating now? Did something happen?”

“No, everything was great,” you slump down a little further, “Like…too great. I’m trying not to jinx things or be weird. Are we too old to call each other boyfriend and girlfriend? Is that a thing for adults? Or did we grow out of that after high school?”

Wonwoo rolls his eyes, fixing the notch on his belt, “No, we’re not too old for that. He’s your boyfriend. You’re his girlfriend. Simple.”

“Is it?” you reply with a unintentional snap that doesn’t phase either of them.

Vernon sits on the bench in front of you and stretches his back out, groaning like an old man. “Yes, simple. You like him and he likes you, and you have fun together. I fail to see the problem.”

“Yeah, that’s like, the opposite of a problem,” Wonwoo agrees, “Besides…being left alone in the rink after hours sounds mighty convenient if you ask me.”

Snapping your jaw shut, your eyes widen, “What exactly are you suggesting?”

Wonwoo smirks, “I’m not suggesting anything but an opportunist would use their imagination.”

Both you and Vernon peg Wonwoo with a suspicious stare.

“With all due respect,” you say slowly, your eyebrow steadily raising with each word, “I didn’t think you rolled like that.”

“Neither did I,” Vernon adds, equally intrigued.

“You’re kind of a freak, aren’t you?”

“Who’s a freak?”

All three of you startle and whirl around to see Mingyu coming through the door. His hair is wet, likely freshly showered after hockey practice, and he’s looking at each of you with a clueless grin.

“Nothing and no one!” you reply with a grin, already floating toward the hunk in the doorway, “Hi.”

“Hi,” he grins down at you, “I see you and I got stuck closing tonight.”

You swallow down the knot in your throat and hold up a middle finger behind your back directed at Vernon and Wonwoo’s snickering.

“Yep,” you bounce on your toes, “Just you and I…closing everything down…together…tonight.”

Mingyu’s lips pinch together to hold in a laugh. You were always so bold and confident when it came to teasing him and now, he can tell you’re having to make a great effort to hold it all together. “I’m sure we’ll find a way to make it fun,” he chooses, satisfied when your eyes widen just a touch, “I think Jim’s looking for you by the way. If you’re done getting-”

“Yes,” you squeeze his arms and then move past him at lightening speed, rushing out the door.

Mingyu just stands there and laughs quietly before looking up to see the grin on Vernon and Wonwoo’s faces. “Alright, how much did she tell you?”

“Didn’t have to tell us much at all.”

Wonwoo shakes his head. “The bite marks you left told us everything we needed to know.”

Mingyu’s eyes drop to the floor as he awkwardly scratches the back of his neck. He’s glad the ones you left on him are covered by his collar because he just barely got away with blaming it on equipment mishandling when one of the older boys in his youth league pointed one out with a mischievous laugh.

Vernon claps a hand over his shoulder on his way out the door causing Mingyu to look back up again. “Happy for you, dude. She’s a good one.”

Mingyu smiles softly, “Thanks, man.”

When he leaves, Mingyu pushes further into the room and starts getting himself situated, glancing over at Wonwoo every now and then like he’s waiting for him to say something.

“I can feel you staring,” Wonwoo mumbles, eyes now glued to his Game Boy Pocket as he tries to save his progress from earlier.

Mingyu shrugs his shoulders up to his ears, pushing his bag into his locker.

Wonwoo puts his game down and looks up. “Whaddaya want, Hot Wheels?”

He pauses, making a face at the nickname, and then carefully asks, “On a scale of one to ten, how bad of an idea is it for me to-”

“Make a move tonight?”

Mingyu’s mouth pops open. “Oh,” he blinks, “You read minds too?”

Wonwoo sighs and leans back a touch, both hands gripping the edge of the bench beneath him. “To be fair, that’s exactly what I’d be thinking about if I were in your position. Empty building…gorgeous girlfriend…”

Mingyu scoffs, “Alright, easy…”

He gets a smirk in return and Wonwoo stands, stretching his long limbs. “I’m not wrong and also not interested in your girl so relax,” he leans down and tugs on the laces of his skates and then straightens out, “You both think too much. Just be normal. Do the same lovey dovey, flirty shit you always do and see how the night goes.”

“You’re kind of good at this,” Mingyu compliments, his lips pulling into a half-smirk, “What do you get up to when you’re off the clock and not playing big brother of the year?”

Nearing the door, Wonwoo just turns over his shoulder and tosses Mingyu a wink.

He’s handed out enough advice for one night.

You were still jittery when Mingyu joined you out on the floor but falling into the same routine was pretty simple, just like Vernon and Wonwoo said, and it took loads of anxious tension off your shoulders. If anything, Mingyu was more playful with his teasing and a little more bold with his physical affection when others weren’t paying attention.

It was like a game of how flustered he could make you without getting in trouble for fooling around on the job. The floor was crowded which simply meant he got to stay a little closer to you without looking suspicious which allowed him to find out how fun it was to pull you around by the belt loops of your pants.

He loved the little noise of surprise you let out every time he snuck up behind you, hooking his finger through the loop to tug you back against his chest where he pretended to tell you something important. Like he was just trying to talk to you over the sound of the music when he had nothing but more teasing to whisper in your ear.

The hours flew by unnoticed and before long, you were bidding your last goodbyes to the rest of the staff having finished their own cleaning and closing duties.

Mingyu went into the office to toy with the audio system after you asked to throw something on just so it wasn’t silent in the big dark building while you followed Vernon and Wonwoo to the doors to lock up after them.

Vernon shifts his bag on his shoulder and cuts a sideways glance in your direction. “You gonna be okay?”

You shrug, touched and confused he’d asked. “Yeah, I’ve closed up a million times. All good.”

Wonwoo pats the top of your head like a puppy. They both have a habit of that.

“He meant, are you gonna be okay here alone with Mingyu? Are you comfortable with us leaving - not that I think he’d ever do something to hurt or upset you…I’d kill him and he knows it…but you give us the word and we’ll stay.”

“Oh,” you blink and wave your hands dismissively, “No, we’re good! I was just worried about being a loser earlier but we’re totally fine!”

“We thought so,” Vernon grins, pushing the glass door open, “Just checking.”

It’s sweet and embarrassing that they’d thought to ask and you tell them as much as you gently push Vernon through the doorway. “Thought for a minute you were finally ready to confess,” you joke, fake pout on your lips and all, “I’ll drop him like a hot potato if you ask, Nonnie.”

Wonwoo follows him out and laughs, “You’re full of shit but I’m sure he appreciates the sentiment. By the way, if you find yourself in need…Jihoon keeps condoms in his locker.”

You slap a hand over your mouth, covering your shocked laughter. “First of all, mind your business and second, what the hell?!”

Vernon shrugs, “Man likes to be prepared I guess!”

….Line cooks are one of a kind. Truly.

You’re shaking your head as they wave goodbye and walk off toward Wonwoo’s car as it must have been his turn to carpool. Pulling the doors shut, you carefully lock each one and double check them before turning on your heel and then the music cuts on over the speakers. It’s not crazy loud but enough to keep the odd sounds that accompany a big old building from rattling in your ears.

Mingyu pops his head out of the office when you round the corner and you cock your head in question, “Beastie Boys?”

“Couldn’t get the discs to work so radio it is,” he shrugs, “I can find something else if you want.”

You shake your head, brushing past his shoulder into the small office to sit down and reconcile the financials for the night. “I’m not picky. Did you already grab the bags from the registers?”

He nods, “Yep, everything’s there and Jim left the keys for the safe in the desk,” Mingyu squeezes your shoulders when you sit down and you smile up at him. “I’m going to knock out the kitchen and rental walk-throughs while you count if that’s okay? After that we will just have shut down the arcade and I can take out the left over trash bags.”

“That would be amazing,” you tell him, head still cushioned against the office chair as you smile lazily up at him, “I just love a man that knows how to take charge and get the job done.”

He immediately chokes out a laugh and turns on his heel muttering something about how ‘he’s not going to get anything done if you keep that up’ as he walks away.

It takes another full minute to bring the task at hand back into focus and you have to consciously fight off the intrusive inappropriate thoughts clouding your brain when it’s supposed to be crunching numbers. You even have to recount a few bags because the image of Mingyu sitting you on the desk you’re working at to do dirty things with you keeps popping into your head and it’s getting harder and harder to focus. After probably twice the amount of time it usually takes you to do the financials, you’re finally done and locking the safe when Mingyu returns.

“Oh, hey,” you perk up when you notice him in the doorway, “Ready to go do the arcade?”

“Already done,” he snickers, “I came back after walk-throughs and caught you cursing and restarting your counts so I just went ahead and finished up the list.”

“Oh!” you shift on your feet, “...guess we’re all done then.”

Mingyu crosses his arms, leaning against the door frame looking extra swoon-worthy. Not a single poster of your favorite 80s and 90s heartthrobs plastered to the walls of your old bedroom held a candle to the picture in front of you and he knows it.

“You sound disappointed. I’m sure we could find other things to do if you wanna stay a little longer,” his eyes shift over to the audio system, still playing a mix of alternative and pop hits, and fixes his eyes back on you, “Ever considered making out with someone in an empty skating rink with No Doubt playing over the speakers?”

“Can’t say I have. What about you?”

Mingyu grins, shifting his weight to tower over you, “Thought just now crossed my mind.”

He slides one hand beneath your jaw and the other over your hip, slotting his lips against yours as he walks you back until you bump into the desk behind you. After teasing you with your belt loops all night, you decide to return the favor, licking at the seam of his lips as you hook your fingers in his front loops and pull him closer. He laughs against your lips and pulls back to meet your eyes. “That’s my move.”

“I liked it, so I think I’ll steal it,” you smirk, tugging at the loops still.

“We should probably get our things and head out before I do something stupid and incredibly irresponsible,” he chuckles though there is a very real edge to his tone like he’s trying hard to behave himself right now.

“What kind of stupid and irresponsible things?” you test him, releasing his belt loops to hook your index finger into the waist band of his pants instead, “I might be interested.”

The hand on your hip squeezes and he bites out a laugh. “Who’s the delinquent now?”

“Still you, but I recounted those bags because I kept getting interrupted by steamy office fantasies popping into my head so if you’d rather take me home before we make questionable decisions, we should probably leave now.”

He groans, torn between having to wait or giving in and having you right here, right now. The cons would be that it’s A.) your work place, B.) it’s not the cleanest place to hook up, and C.) he has to wait when his body is begging him otherwise.

As luck has it, you decide for him.

“Can we go to your place? My roommate is home tonight and she’s got hard rules against hooking up when the other is home. She doesn’t even really like when I have friends over but her name is on the lease so I don’t argue much.”

Mingyu shuts off his internal debate processing, grateful to have you choose for the both of you. “My roommates work the late shift at the bar on 89th so they will probably come home at some point but they don’t care about guests…or girlfriends. We respect that rule in regards to privacy.”

“Ugh,” you rolls your eyes, relaxing in his hold, “That must be so nice. Got an extra room at your place?”

“Got plenty of space for you in mine,” he smirks, “Alright let me grab our bags from the locker room and we’ll get out of here. Did you drive?”

You shake your head, moving to turn off the audio system, “No, I took the bus today.”

“Sweet, we’ll take my car home and won’t have to worry about leaving yours.”

It’s funny how you’re both being so casual at the moment as if you weren’t pinned up against the desk, debating whether you should desecrate the business office, and now you’re both going about your normal routines as if you didn’t just agree that you’re leaving to go directly to his place to hook up for the first time.

It catches up with you when Mingyu pulls up to the front of his shared beach house and cuts the engine. You look at the light blue house and catch the subtle sounds of the ocean not far off. “I had no idea you lived on the island,” you share as you get out of the car and walk together toward the door.

Mingyu hands you the key and takes your bag so you can open the door. “Yeah, we’ve been here about a year now. Used to share a condo a little further in but we spend a lot of time at the beaches here so when this place opened up we snagged it as quick as we could.”

Pushing inside, it’s exactly what you imagine a triad of bachelors to live in. Everything is clean but the couch is a futon, there are two cd towers filled with music you’d love to check out, a few bean bag chairs, a stereo system big enough to take up half a wall, and theres a couple of empty corona bottles spread on the low table in the living room next to a few gaming controllers.

Mingyu groans when he sees them and glances over apologetically. “I definitely asked them to clean those up when I left this morning. You’d think a couple of bartenders would know how to recycle empty beer bottles. I swear we have manners.”

You laugh and follow him to what you assume is his bedroom down the hall. He opens the door and drops both bags next to his dresser before flicking on a lamp. “Wasn’t expecting to bring you back here so I am glad my cleaning habits are something of use,” he pulls open a drawer and grabs a random t-shirt before handing it to you, “Here, you can wear this if you want and I’ll show you where the bathroom is…I just uhhh..I thought maybe you’d be more comfortable changing out of your uniform.”

You raise a brow at him, “What? My Dickies and pinstrip ref polo aren’t sexy enough for you?”

He smirks back, “Anything you wear is sexy enough for me but the sex and dating column in Cosmopolitan’s spring magazine says a woman’s comfort comes before all else and is the key to a healthy, thriving relationship.”

“You read Cosmo?”

He shrugs, “Had to pick my mom and sister up at the hair salon and got there on time which was apparently thirty minutes early. There was nothing else to do.”

“Learn anything else?” you ask just before he leaves you at the bathroom door.

Mingyu tugs the frosty bleached tips of his hair. “Learned six new ways to accesorize with butterfly clips and that my horoscope for last month was only half correct,” he grins, “Let me know if you need anything, babe, i’m gonna use the other bathroom to clean up.”

You mumble back an OK and shut the door, bumping into the counter. “Babe?” you repeat quietly, looking at yourself in the mirror.

The reality of you having a super-hot-hockey-player boyfriend who is also insanely sweet and volunteers his free time to coach a youth league, and is an amazing kisser, and the kind of guy that calls you babe, crashes into you completely and you’re scrambling to clean yourself up, change, steal some mouthwash, and give yourself a full pep talk before you emerge god knows how long later.

Following the same path back to Mingyu’s room, you pause at the door and take a deep breath before re-entering his space.

He’s laying in his bed tossing a small blue ball up and down with one hand while he waits. You’re pleased to see that he decided not to put a shirt on, lounging only in a pair of basketball shorts, because you also decided to ditch half your clothing. The opposite half.

The ball lands in his palm with an audible smack and he looks up when you step into his room, closing the door behind you.

“Wait right there,” he throws out a hand as you take a step closer and you hesitate, “I just want to burn this image into my memory for all of eternity.”

Rolling your eyes with a soft laugh, you walk the rest of the way over to Mingyu who reaches for your hand and pulls you up onto his bed to straddle his lap comfortably. His hands move up and down your thighs and he’s smiling at you all the while. “You’re so beautiful,” he sighs and then shakes his head when you try to brush him off. “Genuinely. I’m not just saying that to get in your pants. You’re not even wearing pants to get into.”

He’s amusing and captivating when he’s like this, hands exploring every inch of exposed skin, chest pressed against yours, his face turned up as he looks at you with that white-hot gaze. It further drives your need to touch and feel him so you wrap your arms around his shoulders loosely, letting your fingers dance over the muscle in his back.

Mingyu’s eyes flutter closed, only for a moment as your nails trail over his spine, and you smile to yourself, overjoyed with the feeling of his body beneath yours.

“This feels a little surreal,” you speak quietly and he hums in response, setting his eyes back on your face, “I mean…”

“Ahhhhhh,” he grins, lacing his fingers together where his hands rest on your lower back, kept warm under your shirt, “Because you’ve been dreaming about me every night since we met?”

“Something like that,” you sigh and Mingyu shuts up, not expecting you to give in so easily. You pinch the hair at the nape of his neck tugging it nervously, “You should probably kiss me before I say something even more embarrassing.”

Mingyu chuckles and his eyes dip to your mouth. He captures your lips easily, moving his hands against the planes of your back as he kisses you until your mind clouds over.

His hair is soft between your fingers, the silly frosted ends tickling your skin when you give a little experimental tug. Wonwoo teased him endlessly for falling for the fad but you had to admit you liked it on him.

You’d probably like anything on him though. Besides, it wasn’t long before Wonwoo broke down and tried it too albeit a bit more subtle and less Backstreet Boys.

Mingyu braces his forearm behind your hips and tugs. His skin is hot and he keeps you still against him, not like you plan on shifting away, but the need to be touched, held…anchored to him is met without needing to ask. It feeds into your confidence allowing you to move more freely, rolling your hips, arching your back until your chest is pushing into his and he just can’t stand the fabric in the middle.

The shirt he’d given you doesn’t even fully hit the ground before his arms are wrapped around your body again and he buries his face in the crook of your neck, lips trailing over your throat, shoulders, collar bones. Whatever he can reach without letting go.

A sharp gasp hits the air when his tongue dips to the base of your throat and he closes his lips over that same spot with a kiss. Thighs trembling, you hope he doesn’t comment on the pathetic way your cunt squeezes around nothing. He says nothing though. Instead, he groans deep in his chest and his hands tighten possesively.

Then he does it again, and again. He encourages your real, raw reactions, full intending to pull them from you until you let go of whatever mental block is keeping you from letting him know exactly how much you love the way he makes you feel.

Pretty soon he succeeds and you’re no longer trying to hold yourself together, holding your breath, or trying to be quiet.

Mingyu drags his teeth along your collarbones and grins at the soft hum you let out, so at odds with the way your body jumps at the sharp sensation.

“You like that, huh?”

It take an extra few seconds to process his words, brain near mush from his attention.

“So you do like it,” Mingyu laughs, pecking a small kiss to your shoulder, “What else do you like?”

You’ve only just now formed a response to his first question and now he’s asking another and he’s smirking. It’s almost like he’s doing it on purpose…

Your mouth pops open to say something, what that might have been, you’ll never know because at the same time, Mingyu leans back a little and drags your hips over his, grinding his erection against your sensitive cunt. “You like that?”

At this point, you give up on words and just nod your head fervently. Yes, I fucking like that.

His hands ghost up your sides until his thumbs are brushing against your breasts. He pauses, testing the water before diving in, and he catches the hitch in your breath. The way your head drops back just a touch like all this is making you a little dizzy. He leans forward and presses a kiss against your sternum before falling back against the pillows to take in the full picture.

You, perched in his lap with your back arched, pushing your aching breasts into his hands to play with. It’s the exact shit he’s fallen victim to in a wet dream but this is real and far better because here you are, in the flesh, gripping onto his wrists and rocking your hips against him for an inkling of relief from how much he’s turned you on.

It’s wearing his patience down and is going to bite him in the ass if he doesn’t move things along. He prematurely finished one time and it still haunted him at night. Never again.

Hopefully.

Mingyu makes a miraculous maneuver, with you landing on your back at his side, somehow, without twisting or pinning someone’s limb in the process.

“That was very smooth.”

You’re staring back up at him in wonder, partly because you’re not used to being tossed around like that, but also because he’s looking down at you with a serious, heated expression and it’s making your heart beat a little too fast.

“Can I touch you?” he askes softly and you’re immediately nodding. “Yeah?” he mimics the motion in a daze, eyes glued to your mouth, “Come here.”

Easy. You kiss him, well, it’s pretty equal efforts but you get to him first, too impatient to wait even half a second more. His hand moves over your hip slowly, then shifts to brush against your naval where he rests it for a moment, heat from his skin seeping into yours.

He’s planning on making good on his request, though you beat him to it again.

Mingyu parts his lips with a sigh when he feels your hand slide over his. Your fingers curl around his palm and you guide his hand lower. He asked to touch you and then made you wait - whether it be on purpose or just his own nerves - you’ll help him help you.

He doesn’t seem to mind and rewards you instantly with his thick fingers rubbing against your cunt through your panties. Your mouth falls open with a soft moan and his brows knit together right as the sound hits his ears. His gaze is unwavering and you almost wish he would just kiss you again instead of studying your face this closely…then his middle finger presses down a little harder and the sound you let out that time makes the corner of his mouth turn up into a half-smirk.

It doesn’t even slip away when he leans down and kisses you, his smirk still obviously tugging at his lips when they touch yours. His hand pushes inside your underwear and he groans into your mouth when he feels how wet and warm you are but he doesn’t have time to waste or savor the feeling because he needs you to cum on his fingers at least once before he fucks you and his will to wait it out is all but gone.

You’re responsive to every stroke, gasping and whimpering, digging your nails into his arm. Your back arches up off the bed every time he pumps his fingers faster, rubbing them up against your g-spot with expert ease because, hell yeah he reads cosmo, he’s too fucking good at it to not have been guided by the devine-feminine mind.

Mingyu’s mouth envelopes one of your nipples and his tongue rolls against it at almost the same pace and pattern he’s rubbing your own slick into your clit and that’s enough to send you over the edge. He tries to be patient, to let you come down before he goes reaching for a condom but he catches the time on his digital alarm clock, the numbers glaring at him in bright red.

It was already past midnight meaning having the house to himself is ending relatively soon.

You don’t need the extra recovery time though, in fact, it’s the opposite. What you need is more and you need it now. “Mingyu…” he hums in response and you will your mouth to work again, “Do you even play basketball?”

He huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. Poking your tongue in your cheek you nod and point to his shorts, “...Off.”

Mingyu grins as he leans down and kisses you before rolling out of bed and your lips turn up into a smile, a breathless laugh floating up into the air. He drops his shorts and steps out in white Calvin Kleins stretched taut over his golden thighs, showing off every inch of his assets, and you have to prop yourself up on your elbows to even get the full picture.

Move over Marky Mark.

You’re too busy staring at Mingyu’s body to notice him taking the opportunity to appreciate yours. It’s just a brief moment to sate both your curiosities because though neither of you would prefer to admit it, you’ve thought about each other naked and probably more than once. Getting handsy on your date gave you a bit of an idea but the overwhelmingly obvious dick print staring you in the face at the moment confirms your indecent theory about what Mingyu might be packing…

And that has got to be the ‘Pony’ Ginuwine was singing about.

When your eyes meet somewhere in the middle, you both turn away quickly, embarrassed only slightly for getting caught. It was a good feeling to know that the attraction is mutual. You hear a drawer close softly and feel the dip in the bed when he slides under the covers next to you. Rolling over, you land almost nose to nose and Mingyu grins, “I like it when you check me out.”

You answer him with a kiss that starts out innocently enough but it’s such a dizzying sensation to be so wrapped up in him that whatever witty retort you had been thinking of is lost in the way his fingers squeeze into your side. He sighs against your lips when he drags you closer and your thigh settles high on his hip, wrapping your body around him tightly. Without thought or hesitation, he drives his pelvis forward, rubbing his erection into your sensitive cunt.

It makes you break for air, drawing too much of it into your lungs just to sharply moan through the exhale when he doesn’t stop. The muscles in his arms are so taut beneath your fingers that you know he’s not doing it to tease you - he’s at his breaking point and really just can’t help himself.

One hand slides down and pushes against the waistband of his briefs, rolling the material down as best you can until it catches his attention so his can finish the job himself. He groans, mostly to acknowledge your intentions, but also because he’s slowly trying to reel himself back for a moment. Just long enough to peel the last bits of clothing off you both and get a rubber on. It’s probably one of the most ridiculously inconvenient things he’s been made to do in a long time.

Neither of you say a word as he rips open the foil, trying to keep his hands still enough to roll the condom on correctly. It feels like static in his veins, trying to sit still when everything inside his body is screaming go, go, go! You can feel it too, the buzz of anticipation, the pulse between your thighs.

Then, there is a pause after he rolls back over, covering your bare body with his own, and he just looks at you for a moment, mouth tight. Your hands slide over his arms, up his shoulders, and settle on his face. “Everything ok?”

“Just wanna do this right,” he whispers back, turning his face to kiss the palm of your hand.

The corners of your lips lift in a small smile. “Feels pretty right to me, if that helps.”

The tension in his shoulders melts away and he relaxes his pinched brows. “It does help,” he says, one big hand stroking the outside of your thigh around his waist, “Just…talk to me if there is anything you want or don’t like.”

“I will,” you reassure him and he eyes you wearily one more time until you sigh, “I promise.”

That seems to be enough for him as he shifts between your legs and you let your hands fold over his shoulders, trying hopelessly to relax your body when you feel his fingers on you again. He doesn’t keep them there long, just enough to make sure you’re still wet before he’s gripping his cock, guiding himself into your heat.

The pressure is immense and Mingyu feels you tense up beneath him. He pulls his other arm up and shifts his weight over to one side, grabbing your face with his free hand. “Breathe,” he says quietly, tipping your face up to look at him, “Just breathe, baby.”

Easier said than done but you exhale shakily and his thumb brushes against your cheek. Mingyu draws his hips back slightly and pushes further in, eyes falling to your mouth when it pops open. The feeling of fullness is all encompassing and all you can think about. So full you might burst at the seams but again, you will yourself to relax and he finally, finally bottoms out.

You let out a sharp breath and just can’t seem to catch it.

Mingyu seems unsure of whether he should move or not and he barely gets the question out before you’re nodding. The first few thrusts are still tender and he’s still mindful of that but after a minute or so, the tides turn and you’re digging your heels into his backside, pulling him deeper.

Mentally, emotionally, physically deeper.

He’s a romantic through and through, including in times like this where he’s drunk on pussy and pure infatuation. He can’t get enough. The way you feel around him, clinging to his body, hands against his chest, eyes glued to his. He’s in severely dangerous territory and clamps his lips shut until the words sitting there fizzle out. Patience is what he needs. In his mind and in his heart.

His body is on an entirely different page.

Mingyu is smooth and consistent in his movements, like water in and around you. His name spills from your lips reverently, whispered into the air between you and it feeds him, pushes him to fufill your needs in a way you knew deep down he would. He’s a pleaser in every way.

So, when you slow him down with your palms firmly planted against his chest, he stops and listens. His attentiveness almost makes it harder to speak.

“Can I uh…like would you mind if I…laid on my stomach?” you ask unevenly, not really sure why you’re hesitating to share what you want when that is what he’s asked of you.

Mingyu looks like he’s died and gone to heaven. He doesn’t even answer. Carefully, he pulls out and moves so he can roll you over, prop your hips up, and fill you right back up. This time there is no slow start. His hand settles on your back, just between your shoulder blades, and he holds you there, pinning you in place in such a way that your eyes close on contact. Perfectly content to stay put.

The room is filled with lewd noises. Skin slapping against skin. Deep grunting and moaning sounds mixed together. Your muffled voice chanting his name over and over again. Mingyu’s quiet praises tickling your ears when your head turns fuzzy.

It’s a good thing no one is home because it’s almost embarrassing how loudly passionate you both are. You regret not asking Mingyu to turn on the radio to drown out the noise but it’s too late now and with another tug upwards on your hips, he’s stroking your walls just right and you hit an entirely new set of notes.

Mingyu can feel you squeezing around him, mewling into his pillows and he’s hanging on for dear life because you’re still skirting around the edge and he’s seconds from toppling over. An idea pops into his head, a catch twenty-two really because in doing this, he puts himself at further risk of finishing first but it’s still too enticing to pass up.

Somehow, he manages to roll your bodies together until he hits the mattress, successfully claiming his spot as your big spoon. He hooks his left arm under your head so that it’s rested on his bicep while his hand is free to roam your chest and his right arm snakes over your hip before you feel his middle and ring finger slip between your folds.

With you tightly wound up in his hold he picks up a brutal, finishing pace. He hits all the right spots and works your body until you’re seeing stars. Your breathing now harsh and uneven limits your ability to speak but you don’t need to say anything at all.

Mingyu knows your coming and he’s going right along with you. When your orgasm hits, you bear down against him, crying out in broken sounds as he pumps his hips through his own release. He continues to hold you against his chest, gently kneading at the fleshy part of your hip.

He presses kisses against your hair and then carefully, he pulls out before rolling you onto your back. Mingyu’s smile is adoring and beautiful, it makes you want to bury your face in the pillows again. The blanket will have to do.

“Why are you hiding?” Mingyu chuckles, grabbing at the blanket, “Was it that bad?”

You flip the sheet down and give him a blank stare.

“Shut up,” you bite, a hint of a smile appearing, “You know it was good. Better than good.”

“How good?” he smirks.

With an eye roll, you pull the blanket up just high enough to cover the lower half of your face. “Really fucking good…and you’re not even slightly winded.”

He’s on top of the world.

“My stamina is just another one of my many desirable qualities,” he half-shrugs, “If you’re still not in love with me, I’m happy to keep trying.”

“Will you stop when I do?”

“Not a chance,” he grins, one hand squeezing your thigh as he swoops in to steal another kiss, “Stay with me tonight. I’ll make you anything you want for breakfast”

You pretend to think about it when you know you’ll say yes, and not just because you don’t have a car. A sleepover? With your hot boyfriend? Who just rocked your world and will probably do it again and then cook for you in the morning? Yeah, that’s a no-brainer.

“I could probably be convinced if you find me something comfy to wear and have a spare pack of noodles…I’m starving.”

Mingyu jumps out of bed, the sight of his bare cheeks making you turn and giggle. “I’m about to make you the best noodles of your life,” he walks over to his dresser pulling out underwear for himself, a clean t-shirt, and blue-plaid pajama pants, then he tugs open another drawer and turns to you, holding out a big soft-looking jacket, “I think you’ll like this one. I don’t have any pants that will fit you but this is pretty long. Oooh,” he pauses, “I didn’t think about underwear when I-”

“Ruined mine?” you raise your brow teasingly, sitting up and making grabby hands for the sweater he tosses to you.

He scoffs, tip of his tongue poking at his teeth. “Yeah, that’s my bad.”

Your voice is muffled as you pull the sweater over your head before climbing out of bed, pleased that it indeed covers you well. “It’s okay. It’s not the first time and I’m sure it won’t be the last. I’ve learned to keep an extra pair in my bag.” You mention this so casually that he’s stunned when you walk over to grab said panties from your bag and kiss his cheek before turning to leave, “I’m gonna go clean up. Meet you in the kitchen for those mind blowing noodles?”

Mingyu hollers back as you near the bathroom door. “I’ll blow your mind in the kitchen alright!”

He slumps against the dresser when he hears you respond with, “I’m sure you will, babe!”

Babe. Ugh, you’re so it for him.

The steam of the shower mixed with some kind of masculine aroma in Mingyu’s body wash gives off the same feeling of being in his arms and the thought warms your belly again. It’s almost embarrassing, how much you want him just after having him in full, but you’re sure he’d be happy to oblige even if you so much as hinted at it.

Maybe he will blow your mind in the kitchen.

As you’re wrapping up and getting dressed you hear music, oddly loud for the hour but it’s vaguely familiar, still muffled by the sound of the vents running to air out the steam in the bathroom. Then there’s a crash, not earth shattering but enough that you’re slightly concerned. You hurry to hang your towel and pull on your clean underwear and his sweater when you hear another bump against the wall. Then…singing?

“Kiss meeee out of the bearded bobby~”

“NIGHTLYYYY beside the greanbeann grass~”

You poke your head into the hallway, “Um…Mingyu?”

“SWIIINGG SWIINNG-”

“Swing the spinnnning stem~”

Definitely not Mingyu. Also, definitely not the right words to this song but your interest is piqued.

You come around the corner to find him in the center of the living room, quietly laughing, holding the hand of one of his very jovial (probably drunk) maybe roommates while the other (definitely drunk) maybe roommate is spinning around them in circles, bumping into things along the way.

The one with bright blonde hair pokes Mingyu mid-spin, “You wear the shoes and I’ll wear a dressss~”

Then the his drinking partner joins in and their both belting out, “oOHHH Kiss meeee, beneath the melting twilight~”

Mingyu points to the blonde and shouts over the noise, “That one’s Hoshi.”

“Lead meeee, out on the moonlit flooOr!”

He gestures at the one hanging off his arm, the tall boy with shaggy black hair, “This one’s Minghao. They’re plastered, obviously.”

They’re delightful and Hoshi is coming your way with a cat-like smile. He bows, almost stumbles, and reaches for your hand which you’re happy to share. “Lift your open hand…” he serenades, lifting yours into the air, “Strike up the band and make firefights dance silver moons sparkly~”

And he spins you away so quickly you almost stumble but Mingyu catches you around the waist with Minghao singing over your shoulder in a whisper, “So, kiss me.”

And Mingyu does, of course, he’s not going to miss the opportunity. Minghao grins, leaning against the wall to catch his balance, and Hoshi claps…a little bit like a buffoon but you really like them both. Mingyu must really love them because he doesn’t complain one bit about the noise and overly dramatic show, especially with it being your first impression. It helps that he knows how laid back you are and can see the delight still dancing in your eyes.

He does however, turn down the music on the stereo so everyone can talk without shouting.

“You do know you guys are supposed to be serving the alcohol…not drinking it…right?”

“Don’t be r- *hiccup* -rude!” Hoshi flaps his hand dismissively, “I’ll tell your pretty girlfriend about all the times we had to hold your hair back, our sweet little Mingoo ~”

Minghao giggles, bumping into Hoshi’s shoulder, “Or about how you,” he pauses, the two of them bursting into hysterics as Mingyu sighs like he knows what’s coming. Minghao wipes away a tear, still cackling, “About how you got totally tanked that weekend you first started working at Wheelie’s and whined alllll nighttttt-”

Hoshi whacks Mingyu’s shoulder laughing and then looks at you, “He wouldn’t shut up about you the entire night. Crying into his beer…because he thought you were dating the DJ.”

Your hand flies over your mouth, giggling up at your boyfriend who is being a really good sport right now. Even as he pokes his tongue into his cheek, shaking his head at his friends.

“Vernon and I were never dating,” you fake sniffle, “Sadly.”

“Sadly?!” Mingyu swings his head around toward you, “I thought the soulmate thing was a joke?” he laughs.

“Oh, baby, it is a joke,” you reassure him, patting his chest gently but just when he relaxes you whisper, “Until it isn’t.”

Hoshi sticks out his hand as he’s stumbling toward the kitchen and you land a low-five as he goes, and one up top when Minghao follows behind him excitedly mumbling about making drinks for everyone, then Hoshi is shouting about noodles ‘for the love of god, we need more noodles!’

Mingyu sighs and you know he’s about to complain that he no longer has you to himself. Can practically hear it in your head already. So, you cut him off before he can start, tugging him down into a kiss hot enough to make him groan against your lips as his hands dip down to take handfuls of you.

Then he’s laughing, falling out of rythym and you pull back, smiling. “What?”

You squawk in surprise when he smacks your ass and says, “You know you’re still not wearing pants, right?”

Actually, you forgot because of the whole song and dance thing.

“That’s embarrassing,” you mumble, tugging his sweater further down your thighs, “I could go throw my work pants-”

“I can try to find you som-”

You both look toward the kitchen when music starts playing and Mingyu shakes his head, almost regretting stowing his portable radio in there for when he’s cooking. It’s quiet for a few seconds and then, like someone cranked the volume all the way up, it’s starts blasting and they’re both singing.

“Ooooh baby, baybay, b-baby, baybaby, oooh baby-”

Mingyu just laughs. “On second thought, don’t even worry about it. They aren’t going to remember anything tomorrow morning anyway.”

“I like them,” you grin.

His shoulder shake with mirth, “Of course you do.”

You giggle when one of the guys starts shouting the words and grab Mingyu’s hand, pulling him along behind you. “Come on, noodles, drinks, Salt-n-Pepa,” he fake groans and you squeeze his hand, “This is the most fun I’ve had at a sleepover in years.”

Then he’s grinning, “Well, we can make it a regular thing if you want.”

You turn, just before you get to the kitchen and push up to kiss his cheek, “Whatever you say, Hot Wheels.”

“Oh, come on,” he drags his feet after you, “Can we pick a new nickname?!”

“Sure. Come on, Coach Kim. Let’s go play in the kitchen.”

He stumbles a step and shakes his head. “Am I supposed to pretend it doesn’t make me kind of horny when you call me that? God, please don’t hold that against me. I am only a man.”

Oh? Good to know. “Whatever you say, Coach.”

Thanks for reading! 💖

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thekinslayed · 16 days

Text

Sweet, Wonderful You

summary | Aemond finds himself pleased with his new wife.

pairing | newlywed aemond targaryen x wife!reader

tags | 18+, MINORS DNI! unprotected sex, oral (f), semi-public, spanking, hot hot sex, arranged marriage, fingering, Aemond Has Feelings, lots of fluff and marital bliss <3

wordcount | 5.6k

note | if i had a penny for every time Aemond was up to no good in a tent, i'd only have two pennies, but it's weird that it’s happened twice!

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated!

(divider by @zaldritzosrose)

There was a slight rattle upon the earth when the hunting party returned with a thunderous arrival. Cheers and applause greeted the group of a hundred or so men, composed of noble lords, young squires, and knights to keep them all guarded in the woods. The hounds raced with the horses, barking at their feet. They had returned successfully after a full day and a half of hunting the prized stag, having departed a night before the rest of the royal party.

Among the cluster, three heads of silver hair held a stark contrast from the rest. They rode straight to the center of the camp, stopping just before the royal tents. You stood with the Queen and your good sister, Helaena, who held a green little creature in her palm. Your fingers were wrung together anxiously as the princes dismounted their horses. One by one, Prince Aegon and Prince Daeron handed off their horses to the keepers, before coming over to greet their family, followed by your new husband, the one-eyed Prince Aemond.

The King’s second son spotted you almost immediately upon returning to camp, keeping his good eye on you until he beckoned his horse to a halt. As he walked over, you felt a warm tinge in your cheeks when his good eye raked over your form. Your husband extended a hand to you when he was close enough, to which you hastily removed your glove to place your smaller palm in his. He dipped his head to press a kiss to your knuckles, greeting you, “Dear wife.”

“Well done, my prince. I was told of your great skills in hunting the stag,” you praised him. Behind his tall figure, you can see the beast being dragged away, blood staining the better half of its neck. You can feel the stares of onlookers around you, no doubt wanting to catch a glimpse of the newlyweds together. Your husband merely hummed, offering you a quip of a smile.

"I was lucky, nothing more," Aemond said with a little bit of humility. The queen urged everyone to head inside the warm tent as the breeze began to lap at your faces with a sharp chill, the day slowly starting to dim. The prince took your hand and placed it on his elbow, turning his head to examine the dress you wore. It was a dark red, embellished with dragons of black thread, completed with a black underskirt and a dark fur trim along its neckline. A true Targaryen garment, paired with black fur-lined gloves your husband had given you before he left for the hunt.

"Thank you for coming to greet me, my lady. You look lovely," he complimented, making you blush. It wasn’t often the prince would unleash compliments so openly, and in the short period you have been together, you had been bestowed mostly with formal and terse praises, this was a first. You ran a hand down your skirts shyly, happy to find your husband pleased with your attire.

“Do you like it? It was a gift from Dragonstone. Your sister had written of her regret of not being able to come to the celebrations. Her being with child had prevented her from traveling, it seems,” you informed him. From your touch on his elbow, you feel your husband tense up. This immediately wiped the smile off your face, glancing up at him in slight worry of what you had said something to gain this reaction. His good eye blinked before his lips pursed, letting out another low hum.

“Half-sister.”

“W-what?”

“Rhaenyra, she is my half-sister,” Aemond corrected. You all but blanched at the return of his cold and distant tone, mentally kicking yourself for having forgotten the strife between King Viserys’ children. You didn’t miss the way when he mentioned her name, almost jeering.

“Right, of course,” you chuckled awkwardly, before caressing his bicep with your other hand. Your husband led you into the tent, greeted by lords and ladies alike, who uttered praises of the pair of you making such a handsome couple. ‘Good fortune shall come to this union!’ and ‘Your marriage shall ever be fruitful!’ they praised, and you thanked them graciously with a smile. Aemond let you entertain your guests, who had traveled from all over the Seven Kingdoms to witness the marriage of the royal prince and his lady.

Somehow, you managed to make your way to where the Queen sat with her father, the Lord Hand. They bore satisfied smiles on their faces, and you approached them with your husband, an equally bright smile on your features.

“This has been the most splendid affair! The gods have been kind,” Alicent said, visibly pleased. Aemond expressed his word of thanks to his mother, before exchanging a courteous nod with his grandfather.

“Yes, they have,” you spoke softly, turning your head to look at your dragon prince. “They’ve kept my husband out of harm’s way, for that I am glad.”

Otto held a satisfied smile on his face at your words, pleased with having orchestrated this union. It was by his doing that your father had been called to court to sit on the King’s council, and with the highly revered lord’s arrival to the Red Keep, he brought with him his only daughter, seven and ten years of age. You had been given the role of a lady-in-waiting to Princess Helaena, joining the handful of other royal ladies that accompanied the princess.

Aemond always knew he would marry for duty. To whom, he knew naught, up until he heard of you. It was determined that you shall be wed to the prince upon the endorsement from Otto Hightower to the King, though your father had asked for the marriage to happen after you turned eight and ten. Aemond had caught glimpses of you with Helaena and her ladies, but had never sought you out himself. He wasn’t one to meddle with his sister’s activities with her group, with their singing, sewing, and all of their giggling, but the few times he had seen you he thought you the most handsome out of all of them. A shy little thing you were, never boisterous or commanding. The princess often asked you to be her sole companion most days, when she had grown tired of being surrounded by different voices and faces. Helaena had expressed her delight after learning of your and Aemond’s nuptials, happy to see her favorite lady and her favorite brother together.

He was pleased with this union, to say the least. You were quite the beauty, graceful, and well-equipped with the knowledge of history and philosophy, as well as the talent for playing the harp. He considered himself lucky not to be stuck with a woman he would not agree with in ego, like a Lannister. As meek as you were, you still possessed wit, but of an unassuming kind. The prince courted you for 4 moons, gracing your days with his presence as he accompanied you on walks through the royal gardens, sat with you in the library while you both read, and visited you in Helaena’s chambers when the rest of her ladies were dismissed. On your nameday, he had gifted you with an exquisite set of jewelry, a pair of earrings and a necklace of sapphire. He took quite an interest in you, despite his usual stoic expressions. Aemond was never one to wear his heart on his sleeve, and as much as he tried to ignore it, to be graced by the sight of you became a part of his days, and dreams of you filled his nights. However, despite all the time you had spent together, it was difficult to move past the formalities, especially with your interactions being heavily chaperoned and coupled with your timidness around the prince and Aemond's stiff demeanor. It turned out that Aemond's mastery of history and philosophy failed to equip him with the expertise of courting a woman.

Much to his dismay, the prince felt he had barely scratched the surface of you after four moons, but he considered it no matter, for he had a lifetime to explore your every facet.

One thing he did learn, however, was how you turned flustered so easily at his words, and how he reveled in making a beautiful woman blush.

On the night of your nuptials, Aemond had seen a shift in your usual doe-like eyes to something lush. The prince was grateful for having been granted his request to forego the bedding ceremony. You had made such pretty sounds for him, from the moment he sucked his first mark on your neck, to when your plush bosom was exposed to the dark room, up to when he stretched you out on his fingers, and ultimately, his cock. To have shared this moment with the debauched eyes of the others would be a great disgrace, and Aemond felt prideful of having witnessed such a reaction in his new wife. He saw a heady tinge glaze over your eyes when you had first spilled on his fingers, your confidence growing as you dug your nails into his shoulders while he thrust his hips into your weeping cunny.

The morning after, his lady wife greeted him with a bashful smile, sweet as always. The evidence of your consummation merely existed in the marks on your neck and the blood-stained sheet discarded on the floor. On your second night, you had offered yourself to your husband, despite the terrible ache in between your thighs, but Aemond graciously declined, not wanting to have his wife too sore on the royal hunt that was to follow.

As the night went on and the nobility began to disperse from the royal tent to retire to their accommodation, Aemond found himself in his own pavilion, thinking about you. For the sake of propriety, you had been placed in a separate tent from your husband. He had bathed himself clean from the muck that clung to his pale skin, and changed into his night clothes to retire after almost two days of rigorous hunting. However, in the warmth from the small fire in his tent, Aemond felt a strange twinge in his chest. He felt the need to see you, perhaps even share the bed for the night. Aemond thought himself ridiculous, especially with the slight air of formality that still lingered between the two of you, but was a pull he felt, an odd need to be around you. And in the dead of night, the one-eyed prince, in all his formality and adherence to standards, let his feet guide him out of his tent to make the small walk towards yours.

Your handmaiden was brushing your hair after helping you change into your nightgown when you heard a low voice through the tarp of your accommodation. You recognize it as your husband’s, and you had bid him to enter without hesitation. The maidservant made quick work to finish brushing your hair, before leaving with a bow when Aemond had entered. You turned to your prince, rising from your seat to greet him with a soft smile. The surprise on your face was evident, not expecting him to seek you out so late in a somewhat public environment. Perhaps he had a matter to discuss, one that could not wait until the morn.

Gods, was it about the dress?

“Is something the matter, lord husband?” you asked him. In the dim flicker of light from the small fire you had requested in your tent, Aemond’s good eye ran over the swell of your breasts, accentuated by the shadows. The prince cleared his throat, crossing his hands on his lower back.

“Should there be a matter at hand for me to see my wife?” he asked rhetorically. You blushed, flustered for having asked such a question.

“Of course not,” you chuckled sheepishly, before approaching to hold him by the elbows, beckoning him to the fire. “Come.”

Your husband walked around the tent, studying the arrangements made for your accommodation. You walked over to the makeshift vanity they had provided, rubbing some oil into the ends of your hair to finish your nightly routine.

“You were treated well in my absence, I hope?” Aemond spoke up. You turned to find him settled on the edge of your cot, leaning his weight on his palm.

“Oh, yes. Everyone has been kind... though quite curious I must say,” you answered, wiping away the residue on your fingers. Aemond raised an eyebrow at your words.

“About?”

You bit the inside of your cheek at his question, recalling the incessant prodding of the ladies of the court to learn more of how your husband has been thus far. You tried to answer the queries to the best of your abilities, though avoiding indulging too much in your husband’s private matters. That proved to be quite difficult, because the questions they asked the most were about his abilities in the marriage bed.

“About us. H-how our first night was and the like,” you stammered. You had no intent to lie to your husband, especially not so early in your marriage, but it still flustered you to discuss such matters. The corner of your husband’s lips quirked up in a smirk, and his eyebrow stayed raised as he continued to question you about the court’s inquisitiveness.

“And? What did you tell them?” He urged. Your fingers fiddled with the fringes of your robe, an anxious habit. You bit your lip while your cheeks turned pink, your mind struggling to find the words.

“I told them it was quite… satisfactory,” you admitted, to which your husband responded with a hum.

“Satisfactory?”

“Well, I couldn’t really say much with your mother listening close by!” You all but squeaked, earning a low chuckle from the prince. He nodded his head slightly, satisfied with your answer. He rose from the cot, walking over to where you stood. Your head tilted up slightly as Aemond loomed over you, his good eye darkened to a dark amethyst from the lack of illumination in the tent. His smirk never fell, amused with how quickly you had grown flustered.

“And what did you really think about our first night, princess? Was it indeed satisfactory?” He asked. Your eyes tore away from him, unable to bear the weight of his gaze. They shifted around the room warily, focusing on anything but his piercing gaze, before giving him a meek nod. Two of his fingers lifted your chin back up to look at him, and he tilted his head slightly, raising his eyebrow to silently urge you to use your words. By your sides, your hands curled the fabric into your tight fists.

“Y-yes… more than that,” you admitted, warmth spreading all over your face up to the tip of your ears. Aemond merely hummed, his good eye raking over your features in thought.

To say your wedding night was satisfactory was a great understatement. As a girl, you had been taught whatever happened in the marriage bed was to be done under the grace of the Seven and with the utmost delicacy, it was your duty after all. To indulge in anything else would be a sin, and my, what a sweet sin it was. Your lord husband had managed to spurn sounds from you that you had never heard from your own lips. You had never been so overcome with such fire, such pulsing desire. He had touched you in ways that would have your Septa gasp in horror.

You had expected pain and a husband who would only do so much to get himself to spill his seed in your womb, yet there was little of that. Prince Aemond may not be the image of a romantic prince from the fairytales of your girlhood, but he had shown you a fire only a dragon can possess. He was as prolific of a lover as he was a scholar, and for a moment you had wondered how many women he had touched, licked, and sucked the way he did with you in order to become such a master in this art, though it mattered little. You were his woman now, and he was welcome to devour you however he liked.

Your husband prepared you for what felt like hours, scissoring his deft fingers in your sweet cunt, his lips sucked on the stiff buds of your breast relentlessly, up until you were covered with a sheen of sweat before he finally took hold of your thighs and split you open with his cock.

He made you a quivering mess that night, spilling on his fingers and his cock beautifully. You were in awe at your own body’s response to his touch, your mind grew hazy the further you lost yourself in the throes of pleasure. When you had returned to your senses, he had wiped you clean and threw the furs over your naked body.

After having been exposed to him in the intimate enclosure of your marital chambers, you had wished to be kept in your new husband's embrace when you slept, but cordiality soon returned between the two of you. It was almost as if the events that had just passed were merely a dream, a fleeting expulsion of desire, and the night ended with you and Aemond lying on separate sides of the mattress.

The morning after, the quivering ache of your thighs served as a keepsake of your wedding night, and as much as you struggled to walk through the halls of the Keep, you found yourself craving more. On your second night, you had offered yourself to your prince, in hopes of being consumed by such fire again. To your dismay, your husband had refused, mostly because he watched you walk around with a slight limp all day and didn’t wish to put you in a further state of discomfort. On the third night, with Aemond having already departed for the hunt, you laid alone in your marital chambers, left to thoughts of your dragon prince.

Now, on your fourth night, your husband stood before you, his thumb caressing the plump flesh of your bottom lip. From his proximity, you could see how his pupil began to dilate, black threatening to overtake purple.

“Are you still sore?” He asked in a low whisper. You shook your head lightly, careful not to shake off his grip, before whispering a soft ‘no’. With your words, his good eye flickered to meet your gaze for a second, before returning to your mouth. His head dipped down, capturing your lips in a kiss. You sighed, secretly in relief, at the feeling of his mouth upon yours once again. You let him guide you, following his pace as his tongue dipped into your cavern. The kiss was gentle, but getting your fill after going without his caress for two days made you breathless almost instantly.

The both of you pulled away, and Aemond was tantalized at the sight of you. There it was, the change in your gaze. A look akin to hunger glazed over your orbs, and a flush ran across your cheek to the tip of your nose, your pink lips glistened with spit. He descended his lips onto your neck, replacing the fading marks on your neck with new ones. A soft whimper left you when your prince sucked on a spot that almost had your eyes rolling to the back of your skull. You softly caressed the back of his head, feeling the silky strands of silver under your fingertips.

Decency nagged in the back of your head, reminding you that despite the privacy provided by the pavilion, the thin tarp would do little to conceal any sound that would indicate to the guests your activities.

“Aemond…” you breathed out. Your husband hummed against your skin, the vibrations of his voice shooting down straight to your core. “S-should we be doing this here?”

Aemond lifted his head, pressing his forehead against yours. You closed your eyes as the warmth he exuded engulfed your entire being. “I do not see why not. We are alone, dear wife.”

“People will hear,” you reasoned. Your eyes opened to find him looking at you with an impish smirk, a sight so roguish in contrast to the formal prince you once knew.

“Let them hear. Why don’t we let them all know how diligent we are in doing our duty, hm?” He said, pulling away from you. You let him walk you backward, sitting on the edge of the cot when the back of your knees hit the wooden frame. Aemond bent to recapture your lips, his hand wandering down to cup your clothed breast. With frantic hands, you untied the robe covering your nightgown, shrugging it off to discard it off to the side. You had donned more modest apparel compared to the one you wore on your wedding night, sleeves much longer than the frail straps of the nightgown he had first seen you in. Still, the cotton was almost sheer, and the dark rings of your nipples were visible even in the dim light.

Next, you pulled Aemond’s tunic from his breeches, helping him pull off the garment. When he bent down to kiss you once more, your hands slithered to the back of his head. Your fingertips toyed with the clasp holding his eyepatch in place with the intention of taking the leather off, but his hand quickly covered yours, halting its ministrations.

“No,” was all he said. Aemond straightened back to his full height, looking down at you from the tip of his aquiline nose. You visibly gulped at the commanding aura that seemed to surround him, making you feel submissive, completely pliant to his will. Your thighs squeezed together to soothe the ache in your throbbing core, watching his long fingers untie the laces of his breeches. Before you were granted the sight of his long, beautiful cock, he grabbed either side of your waist to urge you to lie on your stomach. Your dragon grabbed a pillow, placing it underneath your abdomen to prop your hips up. Your heart thumped in anticipation, and your breath hitched in your throat when you felt the cool air kiss your rear when he lifted the hem of your nightgown. His large, calloused hands took hold of either cheek, spreading and squeezing the supple flesh of your rear. In between, your cunny started to glisten, tears of arousal dripping from your slit.

A gasp left your lips when you feel his tongue swipe a hot strip down your opening, hearing him groan as he tasted your essence. He bestowed more licks to your cunt soon after, dipping into your slit to test. You pressed your face into the sheets in an attempt to muffle your whines, but in suppressing your responses, your hips started to squirm restlessly the more his tongue prodded at you. A squeal, one a little too loud to your liking, escaped you when your husband’s hand smacked your rear.

“Stay still,” he ordered, before diving back into your sweet cunt. You fisted the sheets in your hands, biting your lips hard when Aemond began fucking you with his tongue. The hot, wet muscle breached your walls deep in this position, much deeper than the first time. Breathless moans fell from your lips at the sensation of his mouth on your cunt, the act so utterly sinful and debauched. To your knowledge, you had never heard of any husband doing such a thing to his wife, more often than not hearing of the wife doing it to her husband instead. You silently thanked the gods for having bestowed you a husband unlike the others, a prince who took pleasure in giving you yours.

A particularly loud moan filled the space when two of your husband’s fingers replaced his tongue, preparing you for his cock. Aemond stood back tall, his purple eye trained on the way your cunny swallowed his fingers, and the imprint of his hand that started to redden on your arse. You subtly moved your hips back to meet his hand, desperate for more.

“My, look at you, dear wife. I always thought you were a prim little thing, but here you are, fucking yourself on my fingers, moaning like some common whore,” he remarked. You whined at his words, embarrassment creeping up your spine, though you cared little, not when your lustful cravings for your husband clouded your mind. You craned your head to meet Aemond’s gaze from your position, catching the way he smirked out of the corner of your eye.

“Do you like it that much?” He asked, to which you nodded eagerly. You softly pleaded, ‘Please, husband’, and Aemond grunted in response.

“What is it you want, princess?”

You propped yourself on an elbow, turning to face him, still on your stomach. Your eyes slightly widened to find his cock already exposed. He had been softly stroking it while fucking you with his fingers, evidently overcome with as much desire as you were. Now, his length sat heavy in his hand while he awaited your answer, tip flushed a deep red while it weeped a clear liquid.

“I want you, Aemond, all of you,” you made known. The prince let out another hum, before pulling his fingers out. You felt the mattress dip as he kneeled on the bed, caging you in between his legs. He propped himself on a hand by your side, the other holding his cock to line himself with your slit. Your breath hitched in your throat when you felt the blunt end of his cockhead press against your slit, letting out a whine when he breached your opening. His chest pressed against your back, the weight of his body on yours a welcome comfort. The prince’s breath was hot against the side of your face, and his deep groan echoed directly into your ear. He slid into your cunt inch by inch, tight walls hugging his length perfectly. He cursed under his breath when he finally bottomed out, lips pressing a kiss to your cheek as his nose nuzzled to inhale the scent of your sweet flesh.

“Gods above,” he groaned. His hips started to move with small, slow thrusts, still letting you adjust to the size of his impressive length. You whimpered, pressing your forehead against the bed while Aemond panted in your ear. “Such a tight fucking cunny. Perfectly made to take my cock, hm?”

“Yes, husband, it is all yours,” you moaned. As your walls started to relax, Aemond gained more space to thrust his length in and out of you. His pace began to pick up, the fabric of his breeches rubbing against your rear as his hips drove forward to meet yours. His cockhead kissed the tip of your cervix, causing a wave of pleasure to spread in your lower belly.

Hearing Aemond’s grunts in your ear only spurned your arousal further. With his body covering yours, you felt him everywhere, from his breath that hit the side of your face, the fine hairs of his chest tickling the skin of your back, and the slapping of his hips against your plump flesh as he drove his cock into you relentlessly. His large hand crept up to intertwine with yours, holding your smaller hand tightly. The cot’s wooden frame began to creak at the sheer force of his thrusts, your body jerking as he fucked you mercilessly. Your teeth sank into your bottom lip to bite back the sobs that threatened to escape you, but your head was turned to the side to meet Aemond’s eager lips. He swallowed down the desperate moans that reverberated from you, before pulling away to press his damp forehead against the side of your burning cheek.

His name fell from your lips like a prayer, reverent and faithful, as your husband hurled you closer to your release. Aemond felt your walls start to tighten back up, pulsing, indicating the beginning of your release. His free hand sneaked in between your front, finding your pearl to stimulate. The circles rubbed on your nub only served to tighten the coil in your belly that threatened to snap, and your eyes clenched shut as your husband rendered you witless.

“Are you going to come for me, sweet wife?” He rasped in your ear. A chorus of whiny yesses fell from your lips, followed by more sobs.

Aemond felt a hot lick of pleasure deep within his belly, indicating his own climax was fast approaching. He drove his cock even harder into you, the pads of his fingers rubbing your clit at a lightning speed that began to cramp his forearm. He paid it no mind, determined to have you fall apart first. Your walls pulsed uncontrollably, squeezing and massaging his cock. Your nipples rubbed against the pillow underneath you, and with a particularly harsh thrust, you fell apart on Aemond’s cock.

Your release washed over you like the tide, rendering you lightheaded as you spilled around your husband’s length. He continued to fuck you through your orgasm, chasing his own end. Your legs bent to kick upwards as you began to squirm in overstimulation, though Aemond’s weight on your body prevented you from moving away. With one more thrust, then two, Aemond’s cock twitched in your cunt, before painting your walls with hot, white dragonseed.

After he emptied his fill into your womb, your husband slumped in exhaustion, lying on top of you with his sweaty forehead pressed against your shoulder. Both of you took a moment to catch your breath, basking in the afterglow of your lovemaking. You remained lying prone, eyes closed, as Aemond pulled out of you. You felt the mixture of your juices spill from your slit, whining when he pushed it back into your sensitive core with his finger.

You opened your eyes to watch him walk off to grab a clean cloth to clean you with, pouring some water from a jug to soak the fabric. The damp material felt cool against your hot skin, still sheened with sweat. You shifted to lie on your back, turning to look at Aemond as he cleaned himself off. Your eyes ran down the ripple of fine muscle down his back, tracing the way his form tapered at the waist with your gaze.

“Will you stay?” You whispered, making him look at you. His good eye studied you, with your flush face and glistening skin. You looked at him with a gaze that made him feel warm inside, a feeling so strange and new.

“Do you want me to?” He responded, to which you nodded yes. Throwing the rag on a basket, Aemond walked back to the cot, settling under the furs that you pushed back for him. Hesitantly, he lifted his arm to wrap around you, and you snuggled into his embrace without him having to ask.

It was quite pleasant, he realized, to have a wife to hold in his arms. And as you drifted off, he caressed your back soothingly, planting soft kisses on your forehead that you didn’t feel in your slumber.

It was past the hour of the wolf when a sudden strong breeze in the night air drifted through the tent, causing you to stir awake to snuggle further into your husband’s warmth. A comforting warmth sparked in your heart to be in such a position, never having expected the prince to be one to cuddle at night. A satisfied sigh left your lips, before they pressed a soft kiss to the base of his neck.

You tilted your head up to cast a glance at him, letting out a small gasp when you caught the twinkle of a gemstone lodged into your husband’s left socket. The sapphire glinted like a star, reflecting the dying embers of the fire. Slowly lifting your hand to his face, your thumb softly caressed the indent of his scar, in awe of such beauty. You thought back to when he refused to remove his eyepatch earlier in the night, and you wondered why he chose not to flaunt such a mesmerizing sight. He must have slipped off the leather patch when you had descended into slumber.

In the short period you had come to know your husband, you had learned the loss of his eye was a pain he held in his heart. The small details Helaena had divulged caused an ache in your heart for the young boy that he was, and you understood why he harbored such grievance. To catch a small glimpse of the sapphire, albeit unintentionally, felt like an intrusion on the deepest part of Aemond's core, a peek of the well-hidden display of all his true glory.

Aemond slightly stirred from your touch in his face, causing you to pull away lest you disturb his sleep. You leaned to press a light kiss to his jaw, before going back to sleep with an affection in your chest that would only grow as the days went by.

In the morn, Aemond returned to his tent just as the dawn broke through the horizon. Few began to litter around, mostly setting up for everyone to break their fast before they departed back to the Red Keep. He dressed for the day, donning a dark green doublet, embroidered with dragons of gold thread. Afterwards, he walked over and peeked into your tent, finding you having your hair fixed by your handmaiden, still clad in your shift. Aemond left to let you finish getting ready, walking over to where his family began to gather around. Daeron and Aegon were already in playful banter despite the early hour, while Helaena sat with their mother, playing with a beetle she had found in the grass.

“Brother!” Daeron greeted, slapping Aemond on the back. The second son let out a warning grunt, to which the youngest only responded with a grin. “Where were you last night? We tried to find you, but you weren’t in your tent. We wanted to celebrate your nuptials, brother, Aegon had even snuck some jugs of Dornish wine into his tent!”

“Ah, let him be, Daeron. He must have been taking a shit in the woods,” Aegon quipped, earning a hearty laugh from Daeron and a glare from Aemond. Alicent sighed, massaging her temples at hearing her son’s words.

“I was with my wife, Aegon. Perhaps you should check on yours,” Aemond retorted, eye glancing over to where their sister had wandered off to the trees to find more critters to add to her collection. The smile on Aegon’s face dropped, following his brother’s gaze.

“Boys, please, it is too early. Daeron, why don’t you come sit with me while Aemond fetches his wife? Aegon, don't let Helaena wander too far.” Upon their mother’s words, all three sons split up to walk off in different directions. Aemond walked back to your tent, just in time to catch you step out. His good eye slightly widened at the sight of you, beautifully dressed in a light blue garment of your homeland’s style. It was vastly different to the dress Rhaenyra had gifted you, but it suited you better. What caught his eye, however, was the shimmering jewelry paired to your dress. The gems of sapphire sparkled under the morning sun, sitting prettily on your chest and dangling from your ears. You gave Aemond a small smile, approaching him and planting a kiss on his cheek.

“Good morrow, lord husband,” you greeted him, caressing his cheek. Aemond muttered a greeting in return, still tantalized at how well you wore the stone. Pride swelled in his chest to see the marks he had left peek underneath the necklace, his possessiveness growing with well you wore the stone, clearly now marked as his.

“How beautiful you are, dear wife,” he praised, causing you to blush as you expressed your thanks. His eye regarded you with fondness, a softness in his gaze that previously wasn’t there. Taking his hand in yours, Aemond let you intertwine your fingers as you walked hand in hand to greet everyone. Your heart hammered in your chest as you felt the promise of something good coming to your marriage. You had never expected such delight to come your way when you were promised to the King’s second son, but as the days passed, you found yourself blossoming under the warmth of his presence. Indeed, good fortune shall come to your union.

#bella writes ✍️#this is queued #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen imagines #aemond targaryen smut #aemond fanfiction #aemond one eye #aemond smut #aemond targaryen #ewan mitchell #hotd x reader

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dollfacefantasy · 1 month

Text

Like Lovers Do

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: Bored with the RPD's fundraising banquet, you pull Leon away to have some fun in a storage closet.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, public sex, friends with benefits

word count: 2.1k

a/n: the chris and leon drabble is next i swear. i just change my mind like every five seconds lmao. i hope everyone enjoys :) as always, i appreciate all the reblogs and comments <3

Applause sounds throughout the banquet hall as Leon flashes his awkward smile. He holds up the small, cheap trophy he’d won, the words Rookie of the Year displayed on the plaque at the base. He’s quick to walk away from the microphone and exit the stage, returning to his seat next to you. Your boss takes his place, but your attention is consumed by him.

“Wow. I see how it is. Don’t even mention me in your speech for your prestigious award,” you say in a hushed voice, a grin spreading across your features.

His cheeks tinge pink as his own smile graces your vision. “I did mention you. I said my partner,” he responds, “Plus, don’t act like you really care about these things.”

You roll your eyes playfully. It was true. You didn’t care about the little superlatives the department gave out for entertainment at the annual fundraising banquet. But that wouldn’t stop you from complaining about your loss to Leon and his perceived lack of appreciation for you.

“I do care actually. And I guess that’s true, but it wasn’t very specific,” you say, “If I’d won, I would have mentioned you.”

Now it’s his turn to roll his eyes as he shakes his head. “My sincerest apologies,” he says, connecting his eyes with yours.

Just seeing him like this was getting you all worked up. He looked as handsome as you’d ever seen him in his suit. You’d also been wanting to ditch this thing for a while now. You’d shown up and said hi to everyone as you were expected to do. Now you’d grown tired of watching your colleagues galavant around with their dates and swap stories from the job.

“Hmmm… well you know. I think I have a way you could make it up to me,” you say, keeping your voice quiet to not catch the attention of anyone sitting near you.

Leon raises an eyebrow, but of course, he knew exactly what you meant. You both were insatiable for one another. That small lilt in your voice alone clued him in. You’d almost conditioned him to pop a boner when he heard it.

“Do you?” he teases back.

“Mhm,” you nod, rubbing your hand up and down his thigh beneath the table, “Follow me in a couple minutes.”

You rise from your seat. You make sure to be quiet and not draw any attention to yourself, but your hands still rest on your stomach, giving the appearance that you’re suffering some sort of sudden illness. You walk away from the tables and over to the hallway doors, the points of your heels softly clicking against the ground as you go.

Once you’re out, you turn back and watch Leon through the little slit of a window in the door. You see him wait for a few minutes and then look around as if he’s concerned for where you’ve gone. Then he rises in the same way you did and makes his way to the same set of doors.

As he opens them, a giggle bursts from your lips and you pull his body against your own. The two of you lean in for a few kisses. “Nice work, superstar. I’m sure the next thing you’ll be winning is an oscar,” you tease.

“Shut up,” he grumbles as that blush grows a little stronger. He nips at your bottom lip and deepens the kiss before you pull away to walk further down the hall.

The RPD held this event at this place every single year. It was the first for both you and Leon, both freshly graduated. You look around curiously at your surroundings as you head to another door near the ones you’d entered from. You notice the hallway lined with academy graduation photos. Upon closer examination, you spot yourself in the one hanging next to the new door

“Aww, we look so young here,” you coo, looking at the framed picture of your and Leon’s class.

A chuckle comes from over your shoulder before you feel him kissing up your neck. “It was only a year ago,” he mumbles.

“Yeah, but you have such a baby face here,” you tease.

“What can I say? A year of working with you has really worn me down,” he replies.

He cracks open the door, and you see inside is just a storage closet. You pull him by the collar of his suit into the small space. He follows eagerly and pushes you up against the wall.

“I’m so sure, Mr. Rookie of the Year,” you taunt, catching him in another kiss.

Your hand slides into his hair, threading through the blonde locks as your lips move with his. Meanwhile, his palms coast up your side, feeling the smooth fabric of your party dress beneath his fingers. His foot knocks into your ankle, a small signal for you to spread your legs.

“Well it’s not so shocking when you consider that I only won because half the time I’m on the job, I’m cleaning up your messes,” he jokes between kisses.

“I think between the two of us, you’re the messy one,” you say back and turn around to deepen the kiss.

His left hand rises to your breast on the same side, squeezing the mound and drawing a tender sigh from you. His right slides down your thigh and lifts your leg by the crux of your knee. He grinds his growing bulge against your panties, a soft moan falling from his lips at the familiar sensation.

This was far from the first time the two of you had done this. It was far from the first time you’d done this with other people only a few rooms away. At work, you’d done it in the bathrooms, the locker room, the dark room, the storage room in the other wing of offices. You’d even done it in Leon’s cruiser once on a boring night. Sometimes it felt surprising you even managed to make it to a secluded place.

You weren’t even fully sure of what you and Leon were to each other. Neither of you had ever put a title on this dance you did. You both let yourselves run on pure lust without much care for fine details. If you were being honest, you were pretty sure you were in love with him. You’d had a crush on him since your first day in the academy. He’d had you hooked on him since the first time you slept together on the night of your graduation in a drunken hurricane of unfiltered desire.

In your heart, not much had changed since that night. The two of you are still wrapped up in a flurry of kisses as he slowly rocks against you, grunting quietly. His eyes flutter shut as he sinks into the feeling of your body around his. Lowering his head, he starts kissing your neck again. Your noises are the same volume as his, just a bit whinier.

“We gotta be quick,” you mumble against the side of his head. You drag your nose against his soft tendrils of hair. A shaky breath blows against the side of his head.

“Don’t worry about that, baby. You heard ‘em out there. I get things done fast and efficiently,” he teases as his lips unlatch from your neck.

The cocky expression on his face only got you hotter. You pull him into a more aggressive kiss, your noses mashing against one another. His breaths fan over your face as his hands tug your panties down to your knees. He then cups both of your legs behind the knees, folding you in half against the wall.

He pins you there with his own weight as he pulls himself out of his pants. His fingers fish a condom out of his pocket and tear the foil quickly before tossing it aside, leaving it for some poor person to find at a later date. You don’t think of that in the moment though. You’re more enraptured with how you can feel the heat of his tip nudging at the wetness between your legs even with the latex barrier between you.

“Put it in,” you whimper and squirm in his grasp. The teasing side of you was fading fast as need took over.

He grins with a mocking look in his eyes, but he obliges you. He slips it in and lets out a deep breath, savoring the way you squeeze around him.

“Think you should’ve won most desperate,” he teases, “Or maybe neediest little slut.”

You go to defend yourself, but all that comes out is a whine. The confident side of him rears its head. It was kind of funny to you how your dynamic would shift once he got you craving his cock. Another mewl escapes you as his hips retract and push forward again.

“What was that? You know I’m right. You couldn’t even wait to get back to your apartment,” he continues.

He begins pumping his hips for real, and all you can get out for a moment are broken whimpers. He fucked you just right, always did. He was blessed with a thick cock that rubbed up against your insides in a way that felt like heaven. Your legs clamp against his sides as your head tilts back against the wall. The thrum of the bass starts vibrating through the cement again, letting you know they had turned on the music again in the other room.

“Fuck Leon…” you breathe before crying out sharply as he rotates his hips to hit your sweet spot.

Your own hand flies to your mouth to cover it and muffle any other noises. He smiles at the sight and kisses your cheek, resting his forehead against your temple.

“That’s right, gotta keep quiet. If anyone walked by and heard, we’d both be getting fucked,” he says and continues rocking the both of your bodies as he thrusts into you.

You nod. Your other arm wraps around him tight to keep yourself supported. You’re starting to sweat, but you can feel that he is too. Fucking fully clothed probably wasn’t the smartest idea either of you had indulged in, but it felt too good for you too honestly care. Your hand slips down of your face as the pleasure takes over a bit more.

“Leon… fuck, I can’t…” you moan softly.

He guides your hand back to your lips before returning his own to your knee to keep you up. His fingers dig into your legs with a bruising grip and he thrusts quicker.

“Yeah? You gonna cum already, baby? That’s pretty fast. Maybe that’s another award you should win,” he pants.

“Shut up,” you mumble against your hand as your hips start involuntarily rolling against his.

Your breasts push up against his chest as your body writhes against the wall. He just keeps going, wanting to work you to the edge you were fast approaching. His shaft slides in and out over and over. You smile as your head spins with the pleasure.

“I feel it coming,” he whispers, “I feel you getting all tight. Just cum for me. Let it out.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. You let the coil inside you snap and moan into the palm of your hand. You buck and bury your head in the crook of his neck. His eyes close, focusing everything he has on his own release. It doesn’t take much longer before he’s attempting to silence his groans against your flesh. His hips jump and his knees quiver for a moment.

He holds inside you for a moment longer, letting the both of you come down before you attempt acting normal again. When that time comes though, he carefully pulls out of you and helps you back onto your feet. Your legs are kind of wobbly, but you maintain your balance. You work on fixing your dress and hair as Leon gets rid of the condom and puts himself back together.

You reach down to pull your panties up, but he stops you, shaking his head and smiling at you.

“Give ‘em to me,” he says.

You stare at him for a moment, in some form of disbelief, but you go with it. You liked the idea just as much as he did. Letting them fall to the floor, you step out of them and then pick them up and place them in his hand. He shoves them into his pocket, smug smirk on his face the whole time.

He then pulls you by your waist for one more kiss. “C’mon, we should go back now. Don’t want anybody thinking we ran off.”

You laugh a little and nod. “We should just run off though,” you say.

“Only a couple more hours and we can. My place or yours, we can go back and replay that all night long,” he says before giving you a smack on the ass and following you back to the hall to return to the party of unknowing guests.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy smut #resident evil x reader #resident evil imagines #resident evil smut #resident evil x you #smut

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sturnskiss · 2 months

Text

pretty voice ! ᥫ᭡

pairing: matt sturniolo x popstar! reader

word count: 1.7k

summary: you’re a singer and your tour has made its way to boston where your boyfriend and his brothers attend your show. matt is sure to let you know how well you did after the show

warnings: smut duhhhh, unprotected sex (don’t be silly wrap his willy!!), p in v, throat fucking, dumbification, dacryphilia, stomach bulge, swearing, creampie, use of “y/n”, probably more that i can’t think of! :)

authors note: fair warning, this is my first time publishing smut, so don’t have insanely high expectations! i’ve written it before but never shared so keep that in mind. however, i can assure you this isn’t completely horrible and i did my best to make it seem realistic but hot at the same time :) hope ya like it!

you had been counting down the days until your sold out world tour made its way to boston, massachusetts. your boyfriend, matt, and his brothers were set to attend the show which made you feel slightly uneasy.

the triplets have never seen you perform live, which is what makes this show so special. you wanted matt to know you were good at what you do. so, you paced around your dressing room doing vocal warmups and eating tablespoons of honey to help your throat.

a stage worker knocked on your door twice before coming in and attaching your mic pack to the back of your dress. tonight, you wore a black strapless mini dress from versace that had hearts of many colors scattered across. you paired this with knee high black boots, which your friends referred to as your “stripper shoes”. you fixed your hair, spraying some dry shampoo on your roots and mentally said a prayer before walking out of the dressing room.

you received your cue to enter the stage, walking up 4 steps before you were greeted with hundreds of screaming teenage girls. you forgot about needing to impress matt.

that was, until, you locked eyes with him. he was standing on the second floor of the venue, the balcony, resting against the railing. watching you so intently, mouthing the lyrics to your songs. nick was singing along to all the songs he knew, while chris just knew the popular songs. but matt knew almost all of your songs. he was your biggest fan. and you were his. most times, you would be spotted attending the triplet’s shows when your schedules aligned. you’d stand backstage, just barely out of the crowds sight. all decked out in blue attire to support your boy, and even the things the rest of the world couldn’t see were blue, too. but matt got to see them after the show. your blue bra and matching blue panties; it drove matt crazy how he got to see you like that after the show, especially if he was the one winning that night.

the show came to an end and you said your goodbyes to the boston crowd, exiting the stage. you walked into a lounge area where the triplets were, along with members of your team. you were swarmed with the usual compliments: “you sounded so good” or “you look great” and you were grateful for them, but tonight they didn’t matter. the only person who’s input you cared about was matt.

he approached you, draping his arms around your neck and you wrapped yours around his waist. he whispered in your ear, “you did so good. ‘m so proud of you.”

you blushed at this, pulling away from the hug. “thanks,” you gushed.

since your next show wasn’t until saturday, you had two days to kill here in boston. you were going to stay with the triplets until you had to get back on your tour bus and depart from matt, so you had to make it count.

matt drove you all home, you took chris’ place in the passenger seat, still in your performance outfit. the drive home was filled with conversation about the concert; what their favorite part was, what songs they liked, etc. and while you were a decently known singer, you never felt famous. until now. matt made you feel famous, like you are on top of the world. you have everything you’ve ever wanted; friends that support you, a successful singing career, and a hot boyfriend. what more could a girl ask for?

you walked through the door barefoot, matt holding your unusually heavy boots. he sets them on the floor by the door as you make a run for the couch, laying down and sighing. while it may be just a simple couch, it feels pretty damn good after wearing “stripper shoes” and prancing around on a stage for an hour and a half.

nick and chris go to their own rooms, knowing you and matt need alone time after not seeing each other for a couple weeks. matt joins you on the couch, he lifts your head up and places it on his lap. his legs were your pillow and the only thing missing was a blanket, still in your tiny dress.

“you cold?” he asks, almost as if he can your mind.

you smile, “how’d you know?”

he reaches to his side and grabs a big blue blanket and tosses it over you, it’s big enough that it covers your whole body.

matt lightly strokes your hair as you lay there in the comfortable silence.

the way your head rests is so close to his dick and he can’t help it if it slowly is getting harder, which it is. you tease him, nuzzling your head deeper into his lap, a.k.a. his dick, which causes him to speak up.

“the fuck are you doing?” he laughs.

you play it off, “just getting comfy!”

“yeah, comfy my ass.” he rolls his eyes playfully.

you press a small kiss to his clothed bulge, he’s wearing baggy jeans and his dick still stands out. he sighs, not complaining.

“you gonna do this right here? in the living room?” he questions.

“mhm..” you hummed. he helped you unbutton his jeans, his black calvin kleins peaking out through the zipper of his jeans. he pulled his boxers down, revealing his dick. he was packing a very pleasant 8 inches that wasn’t too shabby in girth either.

you licked the tip first, then you licked from shaft to tip. matt closed his eyes and rested his head against the back of the couch. he placed his hands on the back of your head, pulling your hair into a makeshift ponytail.

“voice sounded so good tonight, y/n,” he breathed. “bet it would still sound good if i fucked your throat.”

he pushes your head down all the way to his pelvis, feeling you gag against his cock. he thrusts into your mouth, the wet sounds like music to his ears.

as he fucked your throat, you felt tears forming in your eyes. you hollowed out your cheeks and looked up at him with doe eyes, laying on your stomach on the couch. you admired the way his eyes fluttered shut everytime he hit the back of your throat, how he’d let out small breathy moans.

“fuck,” he whispers, pulling away. he pulls his boxers down farther so his thighs are exposed. you climb on top of hip and he rolls your tight dress up to your waist, pulling your panties to the side.

“easy access, huh?” he remarks.

you whine, “put it in already…”

his dick enters you and he wastes no time slamming you down on it, his hands firmly gripping your hips. “want it so bad, yeah? you want it so bad?” he taunts, lifting you up and slamming you back down fast.

you are shocked with the speed he did that, not able to form a full sentence. “i- uhm- mhm,” you mumble.

“use that pretty voice of yours, y/n. such a pretty voice… let me hear it,” he rasped.

you bounced on his dick, the couch shaking. “mmmmm, i love your dick so much,” you moaned.

matt smirked, “there’s that pretty voice. so, so pretty.” he continued helping you bounce on his dick, his tip repeatedly hitting your g-spot.

he pulled the top of your dress down, revealing your bra-less tits. now your dress was basically like a belt, just covering your waist. your boobs bounced perfectly in front of his face, he was mesmerized.

you brought your hands up to his hair, running your fingers through it and pulling it when he’d hit your g-spot.

you let out a moan that was almost melodic, matt moaning after. “love hearing you moan on my dick.” he spoke. he gripped your hips tighter, slamming you down harder onto his dick every time.

“i’m gonna- oh god!” you whined.

“do it.” matt instructed. “cum for me.”

you nodded, babbling incoherently as you came undone on top of him. his right hand left your hip and found it’s way to your clit, rubbing you through the orgasm.

“fucked ya dumb, huh? damn,” he said.

you hummed in response, and once your orgasm passed you started bouncing again, desperate for more.

matt turned you around and pushed you onto the couch, in missionary now. now he can pound into you way easier, which is what you’re trying to ask for but you’re unable to speak.

“i— oh—“ you try.

matt smirks, “words, baby.”

this fucker, you thought. there are no thoughts inside your head other than how good his dick feels inside you, there’s no way you can speak.

“oh god… so, umph,” you sobbed as he thrusted into you with an insane amount of force. “so good,”

his thumb found its way to your clit again, rubbing it fast. your eyes rolled back as another orgasm approaches you.

“uhhh- uh—“ you babble. your brain is mush at this point, you don’t notice the bulge in your stomach. but matt does, as his hand leaves your clit and presses on the bulge his dick makes in your tummy with every thrust.

“look at that,” he says proudly. you squirm beneath him, cumming yet for the second time.

his thrusts don’t slow down, and neither do the tears running down your pink cheeks.

“can i cum inside you?” he asks as if you can even answer him. you let out a bunch of moans in response.

you let out a bunch of moans, “i’m gonna take that as a yes.” matt groans before thrusting into you once more. you lay on the couch with your dress still pulled over your pussy and your breasts pulled out.

matt stands up and pulls his boxers and pants up. he plants a kiss on your forehead before he picks you up and carries you to his room. he lays you down in his bed, his silk bedsheets feeling good on your overheated skin.

you’re exhausted, you feel like you melt into his bed. you’re on the verge of sleep but you’re startled when you hear either chris or nick’s bedroom door open.

you lift your head up, and matt opens the door to see what is going on. matt laughs and closes the door.

“what’s he doing?” you ask sleepily.

“nicks wiping the couch down,” matt giggles.

you hear nick through the walls, “i’m gonna fucking cry. never do that shit again.” he whines.

#sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets smut #smut #matthew sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo x reader #how tf do i even tag this

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screampied · 3 months

Text

‘ LOVE ME, LOVE ME [NOT] ! ’

ᡴꪫ‎ synopsis. on your life, you swore you hated him. that stupid smirk that curled against his lips, you loathed toji fushiguro. but how does a single kiss change that? is this hatred you feel—or is it romantic denial?

wc. 8.4k

warnings. fem! reader, arranged marriage au, slow burn (?), sharing one bed, unrequited love, degradation, praise, edging, size difference, fingering, semi public, implied multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, impact play.

“ya just gonna stand there or,” toji raises a brow, and you gave him the biggest glare imaginable. it was late at night, about a quarter past eleven and you were exhausted.

you had a long day, and the last thing you’d wanna come back home to was a guy on your bed. toji was sprawled all out, stretched all over your side of the bed, and he gives you a teasing grin. “so y’er the brat i’m supposed to marry.”

“you’re not sleeping here.” you grouse, making an attempt to shove him but it gets literally nowhere. toji stays put, glancing up at you and his facial expression was purely amused.

he hums. “oh? says who?”

“says me. now move before i—,” you chastise, crawling into the bed to move him before with quick reflexes, he gets ahold of you — and stupidly, you fall right into his chest, a sudden oof sound departing from your lips before he snickers.

“now we’re both scared, princess,” toji rolls his eyes, and you’re all propped up against his chest. he was so warm, and oh how he smelled so good..

toji’s got the biggest smirk on his lips as you’re awkwardly laid on his lap. the both of you share an intense gaze that felt like forever - and once he finally breaks the silence, he mutters, “quite a brat but i gotta admit, y’er real pretty up close.”

you shift your eyes away, and you let off a soft gasp once a hand of his brushes against your waist. toji continued to speak, and his tone was a bit more pitchy and stern. “glare all ya want dollface, ‘m not moving.”

“fucking bastard..” you grumbled underneath your breath, crawling off from his lap before he pulled you back into him.

“who’s gonna marry this bastard though,” and then he clicks his tongue, adding a snarky, “uh huh. exactly. but at least come up with better insults than that,” and it’s a long awkward pause. toji finally looks up at you again, his tantalizing grin fading before darkened irises of his lock onto yours.

it was intimate.

the eye contact was, strangely sensual… you wanted to know more about this man.

you’ve heard countless stories, especially the ones where he was known for being notorious but you’ve always pondered. out of any random guy, you got paired up to be betrothed to the infamous toji fushiguro.

he ends the silence with … a deep kiss.

everything moved at such a speed, you didn’t even realize you were kissing him until you felt his tongue run down yours. he had such a flavor, your eyes briefly closed, returning the gesture and he cups yours face. a low grunt could be heard from him, and despite it being seconds…toji was definitely addicted to your sweetened taste.

it took you a long moment before you pull away, strands of spit departing and you stutter out a timid, “w-what was that for?”

“why’d you kiss back?” he eyes you down, and he brings a thumb up to your lips, swiping against it and it was unintentionally sexy—toji stares down at your lips, as if he wanted to kiss you again, but his eyes then flicker back up towards you. “if we’re gonna be tied together, you should know how to kiss,” only to then he replies with a sassy, “…you could use some work though.”

“…shut up,” you groused, a cute pout forming on your lips as you scoot away to shove a pillow at him. “whatever. i’m going to bed. we have stupid rehearsal tomorrow.”

toji runs a hand through his hair as he snickers, watching your frustrated obvious embarrassed state. you reach to turn off the lamp, getting comfortable underneath the fat silk covers.

“aren’t ya gonna ask for a goodnight kiss?”

“fuck you, toji.”

“heh. one day, girl.”

with furrowed eyebrows, you didn’t get what he meant, and once you did—you were glad it was pitch dark so he couldn’t see your visible abashed expression.

momentarily, the two of you ended up sleeping. you’re all the way on the other side of the bed, yet due to toji being a rough sleeper apparently, he finds himself getting close to you.

regardless of being crazy in bed whilst in a deep slumber, he surprisingly didn’t snore.

you found yourself tucked right in his strong arms. you felt safe—secure. leaning into his warmth, you suddenly feel a cold sweat wash over you.

beat after beat, your heart raced and what your mind processed. it felt so surreal.

you felt a mixture of both, hot…cold…. a plethora of feelings.

once your eyes shot open, your first reaction was to wake up toji. of course, you’d ignore your feelings and go back to sleep. but something deep inside you was telling you, you need him.

“wha—” he grumbles, his tone was hoarse due to him waking up abruptly, it was around probably three thirty in the morning. he was about to reply with a usual teasing remark before he spots you, hovering over him with tears stinging in your eyes. “hey. hey…what’s the uh… matter?”

his tone suddenly went tender, you stare at toji, observing his face with blurred eyes from the tears. your eyes met towards his relaxed face, his perfectly structured chin, even his slanted scar that ran across a part of his lip.

“i— it was…” you sniffle, but for some reason, the words got trapped into your throat. sealed, preventing you from muttering another word.

“shh…it’s okay, it’s okay,” he repeats, bringing you close towards his chest. you tried to relax within his grip, he’s so gentle and drags a hand down your back soothingly. “easy, girl. i’m…here.”

judging from the continuous pauses in toji’s tone, you could tell he didn’t know what to say — what to do, but he knew he had to at least hold you.

you felt insanely vulnerable, all to a man you’ve only known for maybe what…a few hours.

his voice, it was relaxing and soft, despite its roughness. the rhythm his hand had, stroking back and forth against your back, you let off a low sigh. his cologne wafts against your nose before you slowly look up at toji, and he’s already staring at you.

“…you good?” he mutters, an eyebrow slightly raising.

“y-yeah,” you mumble, a tiny pout glossing on your lips again. it was cute — he was about to comment on it, yet you watch him start to shift away. you wrap your arms around his waist, briefly doing a head shake. “stay still, toji.”

“ooh. first name basis now?” he hums, fully complying with your request. his thumb lightly grazes near your back before you feel his chest jerk a bit from a chortle. “but okay, we can stay like this princess.”

you felt your face get hot at the pet name, why—?

just him calling you ‘princess’ was enough to make you feel such intensity. he brushes a hand back and forth swiftly. it was tender, you let off a soft sigh, any signs of nervousness leaving you completely.

“…don’t call me that.” you grumbled, your eyes shifted up at him and he rolls his eyes.

“and yet y’er still talking,” he chastised, this time a pout forming on his lips, it was cute.

the way the scar that ran across the edge of his mouth tugged together solely from the movements of his facial expressions.

toji catches you staring at him before he breathes out, “i don’t even get a thank you,” he nudges you, an attempt to lighten the mood—to perhaps earn out a smile out of you, and that he did. “get some sleep though, brat. got me hugging you, tch.”

it was a drag. reality coming to you that not only had you have to marry this man, but you had to live with him also..

multiple days passed, the two of you practically pretended each other didn’t exist.

toji was almost always working . .

albeit, he’s never told you specifically what his occupation was.

you knew he was a feared man—for whatever strange reason, but you decided to not comment on it. perhaps that was a good thing.

sooner rather than later, your wedding date was approaching. everything felt like it was going at a rapid speed.

toji was, well . . . a private man to say the least. you tried to get to know him, but he was like an empty canvas. there was something he didn’t want to tell you.

ex-wife, ex-girlfriend..?

you couldn’t help but ponder. sure, he was an attractive man. quite very much easy on the eyes. such striking features, heavily intimidating. if only he didn’t have such a huge ego. he was practically insufferable to live with. the two of you were total opposites in terms of personality.

he’d often tease you every chance he got, poking fun at you for even the smallest things.

“…wow,” toji muttered, leaning back against his chair. the moment you stepped into the room in nothing but a pretty silk dress, his eyes roamed and roamed.

it was a pretty long a-line dress. it was perfectly sewn on, hugging your curves tightly, the sash that ran across your waist. toji for once was speechless, his eyes lingered towards your entire frame. your figure—it was forever gorgeous in his eyes. for a moment, you saw a sudden look in his irises, as if he’s been in this moment before.

he has. judging from his past, but you didn’t know that.

toji dismisses a sudden flashback before focusing his attention back towards you, standing up from his chair, uttering a, “c’mere. i wanna get a closer look.”

“was that a good wow or a bad wow?” you puff out, sliding your feet across the floor towards him. you swallow to yourself, can’t help but feel a certain butterfly stir up inside you.

toji’s eyes were on you the entire time. his eyes linger down your body and seeing how the way it fit perfectly before he mutters.

“it’s whatever you want it to be, princess.”

“why can’t you just reply like a normal person?” you furrow your eyebrows—visibly trying to hide your embarrassment.

toji snickers. “you look gorgeous,” and he looks as if he wants to touch you, but he halts, tugging on his tie before trying to maintain a neutral gaze. “is this the one?”

“yeah,” you mutter, and that’s when for a brief moment. the two of you just stand there. toji’s hands were buried in his pockets, and he’s got that annoying simper resting on his face.

this man.

it was as if his irises were a mystery — pools of complete mystery. you could never read him.

toji brings a hand towards your face, and he strokes your chin with the pad of his thumb. “you know,” he starts in a rough voice, feeling how claustrophobic it almost was . . the two of you cramped up in a dressing room like this, you tried to dismiss any dirty thoughts. “i keep noticing how bad you are at eye contact, princess. you have a habit of staring at my lips instead of my eyes.

“…shut up.” you mumble, practically leaning into his touch despite your stubbornness. he smiles, derisively raising a brow.

“if ya want another kiss from y’er husband, just say that.” toji murmurs, his strokes went towards your lips. he’s the one who looks at your lips this time, almost witnessing the whine that was about to leave your mouth.

it suddenly felt hot . . . scorching.

the gaze he had on you, such a meaningless yet seductive look. as if he was forevermore captivated by your beauty, and in this case he was.

“…toji,” was all you let out, a soft pout going against your glossed lips. he looked so handsome up close. darkened strands of hair that ran down his eyes briefly, it was ruffled.

you loathed feeling like this, that stare he gave you. it started to make you feel a certain type of way, between your legs.

“yeahh?” he slyly remarks, leaning up close. just inches apart, he was so close to kissing you. you smelled mint with a slight tang of alcohol run on his breath, he knew what he was doing. “needy girl. look at that pout, so cute.”

“kiss me, toji.” you breathe, not even intending to sound so whiny.

it killed you, seeing how desperate you were for another one of his kisses. you craved it though. the way whenever his lips would hit against yours, it felt you were the only person in the world. he knew that’d be the only way to shut you up.

“look at you using your words,” he hums, sliding his thumb against your bottom lip for a final time. toji then leans in, tilting your chin a bit and his lips gently press against yours.

your lashes fluttered, feeling a certain feeling stir up inside you. you couldn’t describe it . . . again, this man.

you made it known to yourself that you wouldn’t get like this for anyone. feel this …. weak. yet with toji, he had you wrapped around his finger.

it was that easy.

just from a kiss.

a stupid kiss.

toji grips your chin, and you move back until you’re pinned against the wall. the pure feeling of the cold mirror frame skimming against your back.

toji grunts in your mouth, his tongue colliding against yours throughout each second. his hands started to roam up your body, as if he was waiting to touch on you.

graze his fingers down every inch of your pretty physique. you moan, feeling a rough hand of his slowly lift your leg up.

the soft fabric of your dress ruffles against his thigh, and your leg ends up wrapping around him.

he chuckles, deepening the kiss, you felt the very edge of his scar tickle against you. “fuck, y’er something else,” he says between kisses, and he feels you tugging on his tie.

in the background played some catchy tune — a random popular song, you felt the warmth of toji’s body grind against you.

so incredibly good, the tips of your ears started to heat up. his hand trails lower and lower until your breath hitched, feeling the tips of his fingers dance against your skin.

“you do realize we’re in public, right sweetheart?” toji whispers, breaking his lips away to kiss near your neck. he smelled intoxicating, a perfect mixture of cologne—surprisingly not a cheap kind. it smelled worth a hefty value, and it made you gnaw on your lip. “are you-”

“you talk too much,” you chastise, grabbing onto his wrist. he snickers, watching you take a hold of his grip. you drag his hand between your legs, letting off a puff. “i just—i don’t care. i want you to touch me. you— you tease me all day, ‘n i- i just want—”

toji stares at you, you’re still making his hand go down until it’s right between your thighs. raising up your dress that wasn’t paid for, his fingers brush against your panties. “…oh,” he purrs, arched brows pressing together. “you’re kinky. but okay, if my pretty wife wants me to touch her, then i’ll touch her.”

“i’m…not your wife, idiot.” you pant.

“don’t worry, girl. you will be,” he mumbles, bringing his lips towards the side of your neck.

he sinks his teeth gently, nipping at the sensitive skin to hear you moan.

you were so close to him—the way his touch sent you into a complete frenzy. toji slides your panties to the side, and you let off a whine, feeling him feel the slickness that stuck against your folds. “aw. were you wet this entire time we were out?”

you felt your face heat up. oh, you were extremely embarrassed.

he had you like this, soaking wet. you couldn’t even explain why. this man had you like this… so feral.

to think you were gonna walk down the aisle with him pretty soon. at this particular point, you didn’t care about feelings. by now, you weren’t even sure of what you felt towards toji. you just knew that you wanted him to touch you.

“so impatient,” toji murmurs, making you lean back against the wall. he was such a tease, staring daggers, sexual daggers right at you.

toji stares as you tug on his pants, you don’t even know what came of you—it was as if your body craved him. “we just had one more store, princess. you couldn’t wait?”

“…toji,” you’d pout. pulling on the thin fabric of his tuxedo. he looked so handsome. you only started to imagine what he’d look like once the two of you officially got hitched. he raises his brows, leaning towards you before you gasp once he brushes a finger towards your exposed clit. “i- i can’t fucking wait anymore. please, just—”

“watch that mouth of yours,” toji sneers, and he cuts you off with a deep kiss.

you moan, feeling entirely hot once he slowly inserts a finger inside. “nasty girl. walkin’ around this wet,” he’d grumble, your arms went over his neck as you bit your lip. “easy. relax, thereeee we go. good girl,” and his praises went straight towards your cunt.

he had such a way with words, his fingers had quite a length to it not to mention. all throughout, you felt him prod against your walls and you whined for more. “i knew we’d get along.”

“s-shut up.”

“s-shut uppp,” he mocks your tone, a raspy snicker following. he grins at the cute scowl that went on your lips before you mom again. he reached so deep, and then he added another finger inside. toji watched as you glossed lips parted, you were heavily panting. “such a mess down here. just filthy.”

he was so gentle with his strokes—a simple bowling ball grip that made your maw practically drop. it felt so good, gingerly caressing your clit. your chest heaved and heaved, and you started to whimper against his ear.

he loved whenever you did that. the sweet pitches your voice would make, it was almost melodic.

“f-fuck,” you’d sigh, trying to focus on your breathing patterns. you had to remind yourself the two of you were in public.

in a secluded dressing room.

the circular motions he created made you practically squeeze your plushy thighs together. he was so good with his hands, it made your eyes start to roll back dramatically. “right there, t-toji.”

“squeeze around me so good—wonder how you’d be with me doin’ the real thing, princess.” and the way he’d do that thing, pitching his voice into a husky rasp. it made you feel a surge of tingles coarse all throughout your body. you were essentially hugging him, your unbought dress lazily pulled up. “tell me how’s it feel, talk to me.”

his words… it was so sensual, he goes right up against your ear as he spoke. licking against your earlobe before it turns into brief nibbling. he knew what he was doing, getting you all hot and bothered.

you swallowed thickly, and he has a perfect tempo. not to fast, not too slow. by this point, both of his fingers that was shoved into your pussy was covered in your sweetened slick.

“good, f-feels good,” you’d whine out, pant after pant. your breathing became erratic—mind swollen with nothing but filthy thoughts. just the sheer reality of being fingered like this, it made you a little wet. no, it made you incredibly wet.

toji’s stimulating your clit, his formation was forever euphoric.

it was like a drug, the way you wanted his fingers slid in and out. he purposely grew quiet so you could hear the sloppy squelches your cunt made in retaliation. “listen how she just… talks back, no fuckin’ manners just like you.”

your bottom lip quivered, his dirty talk…

each word going straight between your thighs. with your back arching, you felt yourself clamp around him, a big squeeze.

it was like with the tips of his fingers, he knew how to reach every crevice, everywhere inside your folds. “the way y’er voice always gets high once i get to this spot. such a sensitive baby.”

curling and curling, toji’s fingers was going in and out of you. by this point, you were completely drenched. he was using his entire wrist, you felt the cold hand of his watch skim against your skin in the process. “i-i’m getting close, toji fuckkk.”

“yeah. bet you are,” he nips at your neck, speeding up his fingers just a bit. you felt dizzy, forevermore trapped in your mind—chasing a powerful incoming orgasm. it was no denying, your legs were just trembling by this point. he knew the anatomy of your pussy perfectly, as if he was skilled in it professionally. “i want you to do somethin’ for me.”

“huh?” you whined, still propped up against the mirror. he’s still trapped with your arms wrapped around his neck, right between your legs just barely.

toji sneaks a kiss near the inner part of your neck before mumbling, “i want you to make a mess on me. can ya do that?”

as your eyelids droop, becoming lower and lower, you pathetically nod, whimpering out a sweet shaky, “okay, okay.”

toji felt the texture inside of you…easily stretching your walls a bit with just two slender fingers. his fingers was thick though, your mouth hung open with not even coherent words coming out. just cacophonies of, “toji,” and “f-fuckk,” with many others.

he kept a gaze on you the entire time, he wasn’t sure by this particular point what he felt towards you. the noises that escaped from your lips, he wanted to hear more of it, maybe even drag out a sweet scream from you.

“t-toji, ‘s gonna…” you slur out your words, sounding like you were running a marathon.

he maneuvers circles against your clit with two fingers, tickling against your opening and you let off a whimpering, “oh my god, oh my g-godddd.”

“…y’er so loud,” he rasps, leaning in to shut you up with a kiss. it was passionate—a tang of sloppiness to it. his tongue ran against yours, and you felt a coil within you abruptly snap.

once you orgasm, it was far more than you expected. because you felt even more soaked. you shivered, a muffled orgasm pouring into his lips before toji slows his fingers down.

pulling away, he’s watching with sly eyes of the stringy cobweb of saliva depart from both lips, he huffs. “girl, did you just squirt on me?”

your nerves, you whimpered once he slide a thumb against your pulsating nub, taking his fingers out to gawk at it. how you effortlessly coated his fingers with your slick. you didn’t reply, you’re in the midst of catching your breath before toji hums.

“yeah. you fuckin’ squirted on me,” he answers his own question, about to lean in for another kiss. yet that’s when the door knocks obnoxiously.

it’s an older lady, and she’s got quite the vexed voice. “excuse me sir, the store’s closed. can you two please—”

“yeah, yeah we’re coming,” toji rolls his eyes, and you’ve never been more embarrassed.

he peppers a kiss against your forehead before glancing down at your dress with a smirk. “you’ll be a doll and pay for that, right? it’s a little damaged but i'm sure you’ve got that covered, baby.”

cheap bastard.

it’d always be moments like this between you two. except, the both of you never went all the way. toji liked to take his time with you. he wanted to make you wait—it irked you.

he was a professional at getting on your nerves, making your eyes roll to the very depths of your skull.

it was like the more time you spent with him, the more you started to feel this … feeling.

you didn’t know what it was. you couldn’t describe it. all you knew was that it felt weird.

not so much in a weird way, more of a … natural way. you can’t remember the last time you’ve felt like this.

perhaps calling it love was foolish, then again you hated not being able to describe this feeling. whatever it was.

toji started to grow attached to you — whether he was too stubborn to realize it or not.

it would be small things, calling you while he was at work just to tease you, help you get things from the top shelves… feeling him against you, just fantasizing about that made you start to throb.

preparations for the wedding felt like it was taking centuries — everything had to be perfect.

eventually, you picked out a dress. it fit perfectly, and toji hasn’t seen it yet.

sooner than you knew it, it was the day of the wedding.

the arranged marriage.

truth be told, you still barely knew the gist of everything. it’s probably been about a good half month before the day eventually comes. the two of you ended up going separately, not together.

alas, you and toji end up running into each other near the entrance of the venue.

“toji,” you’d mumble, words being caught way back in your throat.

he was suited up, so handsome. slicked down with a tuxedo. with hands buried in his pockets, his head was slightly tilted down as he gifted you with the same gaze. “we aren’t supposed—we aren’t supposed to see each other before the ceremony,” and your words trail the more he trods towards you. “it gives us bad luck.”

“hey girl,” he murmurs in that familiar rasp. his naturally ruffled hair was slightly slicked back, a few strands poking through. “you look like my wife already,”

and you felt your heart race, hearing him say that, ‘my wife.’ it made your eyebrows slightly curl in puzzlement before he strokes your cheek. “i’ve been meaning to see you anyway. this wedding is gonna last us all day.”

you stare up at him, a tiny glimmer in your eye before breathing. “…well yeah, the after party and everything. why do you-”

“the more i stare at your dress, the more i wanna tear it off,” he uttered, his voice pitches a deep low. he swipes his thumb directly next to your chin. leaning into his touch, you returned the same eye contact, and he sighs. “i don’t want any other eyes seeing this but me.”

“so take it off then,” you mutter, watching the scar slanted against toji’s lips curl into a playful grin. “it’s about time, toji.”

with an eye roll, he grabs your wrist lightly, pulling you into one of the fitting rooms of the venue.

scattered everywhere was a bunch of preparations for the wedding. multiple dresses, cakes, and even presents. yet, the two of you could care less about that.

“we gotta work on that annoying ass attitude of yours,” he breathes, not wanting to waste a split second. toji lifts you up, moving you towards the table. you wrap your arms around him before gasping.

“don’t ruin my dress, toji. ‘n ‘i’m not gonna pay for it again.” you say against his ear, hearing him smack his lips in reprisal.

“yeah yeah. i won’t ruin it, baby,” he rolls his eyes, carefully reaching beneath your back.

he slowly unzips it, watching the fabric drag down your chest before you’re almost exposed. his eyes roamed, making you feel a sudden heat pulse between your legs. he had one of the most intimidating gazes ever known to man.

once toji helps you fully get out of your dress.

his eyes avert towards between your thighs, squeezed tightly shut. “…girl,” he rasps, making your legs part briefly before flickering his eyes right back towards you. “were you really gonna walk down the aisle with no panties?

“i— i forgot,” you huff out, running a few fingers through his hair. if you weren’t mistaken, you could hear a purr come from toji’s lips. the way you massaged his scalp with such ease, your touch was everlastingly gentle. “i was rushing earlier and-”

“nah, you didn’t forget. you did this for me, didn’t you princess?” he whispers, leaning in to plant a kiss near the inner part of your neck.

his lips were so soft.

with a loud clank towards the wooden floor, your heels fell to the ground with an abrupt thud. toji was so touchy, his rough textured hands wandered all over your body. such shivers coming out of you. “y-yes,” you’d drag out, desperately longing for him to just be inside you already.

you’ve fantasized about this particular moment in more ways than you could count…

likewise, you were far too embarrassed to flat out ask toji to please you.

except for the moment between the two of you at the mall, that was the closest you’ve ever gotten. as mentioned before, he liked making you wait. he figured the wedding day would be the best day to show you how to deal with a real husband.

in more ways than one… but specifically - the bedroom.

he couldn’t keep his hands off you, it was impossible. you took the chance to gnaw on your lip, feeling him touch all over you. such rough hands, yet so tender. he starts off with kisses near your lips, chaste ones near the corner of your mouth, beneath your chin, your neck…

as he inched lower and lower, you intake a sharp breath, feeling a few strands of his hair tickle against your skin.

“pretty body all jus’ for me,” he’d murmur, an almost coo escaping from his lips. you’re propped up on the table before toji sprawls your legs apart. he leers at the way your legs, the fishnets that purely decorated it.

with his teeth, he starts to tear them off before you whine. “toji— i have to keep these.”

“y’er dress is long, baby. no one’s gonna be looking at my girl under here,” he replies, such a deep tone hovering underneath his wordings by defeault.

again, the way he addressed you as ‘his girl,’ it pathetically made you throb. a weird feeling throbbed inside of your heart ; the same feeling you always failed to describe.

to think you weren’t so fond of this egotistical arrogant man, and now—you were happily drenched for him.

time felt like it went by so fast. those two months you’ve gotten to know this man felt like two seconds. mayhaps that unfamiliar that continued to reside in your chest was…love?

just imagining that made you almost gag, but perhaps that was it.

could it be that you were falling for a guy you were arranged to spend the rest of your life with? you remember a conversation with toji, telling him that you had a bit of commitment issues.

so did he.

that caused the two of you to bond, and toji even opened up to you a bit. about his ex-wife.

he was really selective with his words, but whenever he spoke about her, his eyes always lit up.

toji knew what it was like to be in love already. you didn’t.

“always trapped up in those pretty thoughts of yours, huh,” toji snaps you back to reality.

he’s made sure not to ruin your fishnets, swiftly peeling them down with his teeth before you don’t even realize he’s already got you more soaked than you were before.

your cunt drooled for him—aching for more of his touch. the second you felt his breath fan against your entrance, he’s toying with you by blowing against your pussy.

you whined, starting to pant with your eyes flickering straight down towards him. “f-fuck. our marriage’s gonna get bad luck, toji.. wasn’t supposed to see me y-yet.”

“i’m gonna marry you tonight, princess,” he reassures you. and for a split second, he has this stare as if he’s entirely joking with you.

however, his tone always sounded deadly serious.

that rasp to it made you squeeze your thighs shut together in desperation. “nothin’ is gonna happen. we won’t get bad luck.”

and you moaned, watching him smear a thumb down your swollen clit.

it’s pulsing, and he doesn’t wait to lick a long stripe against your folds. his tongue made you swallow, already your legs started to quaver.

he lays the base of his tongue flat against your pussy, and you bite your lip, feeling the edge of his scar swipe by your entrance.

you liked that, a lot. a bit more than you should because he notices. gathering a wad of spit before he spat on your glistening folds. “ooh. ya like feelin’ my scar like that, princess? how’s it feel when i rub against you like this?”

“good...goooood,” you whined, burying your fingers into his hair. dragging him all across your folds, he laps up your slick that started to run down his chin before you whimper. “your scar. it-tickles, toji.”

his lashes close for a brief moment, and you moan once he slides a finger inside, gingerly easing his way inside, feeling you squeeze around him. “aw,”

he purrs lightly, pressing a teasing chaste kiss alongside your clit. lowering his tongue, he makes sure it’s going right underneath your sensitive nub.

toji was precise - his tongue knew every direct spot to make you sob out his name.

you didn’t even bother being quiet this time—you whimpered and mewled until your pretty voice was strained. “keep lookin’ away ‘n i’ll stop givin’ this pussy attention.”

you’re panting, heaving and heaving as your eyes trail back down towards toji.

the tip of his nose prods up against your folds, the fact that he’s nose deep…not a care in the world.

his tongue continues to loll out, lapping up every drop of your sweetened slick. it carelessly coated his mouth, the few specks of facial hair that was barely visible. it ran all over the under part of his chin. such a messy eater. but you and him both knew that.

“eyes down here, yeahhh. that’s it,” he coos, applying extra amounts of pressure with his tongue. he lies it flat down, and he was so sloppy.

gathering up strings of his saliva, flickering his eyes back towards you to give you a cocky grin. “pull on my hair some more…fuck, jus’ like that. yank it.”

toji gets hard feeling you roughly grip onto his darkened black locks. it gets tangled within your fingers, and you start to briefly massage his scalp, earning a low groan from him.

toji could eat you out for hours, without a single care in the world—just his tongue between your legs, eating you out like a starved man.

as his tongue moves upwards, you whimper out a “s-shit,” that echoes throughout the room. his thumb skims against your entrance before you feel his tongue slide its way upwards, backwards. an entire zigzag of letters. “oh my goddd, toji. ‘m gonna c-cum.”

“such a nasty fiancé. was about to walk down the aisle with no panties. the fuckin’ nerve,” he grumbles.

a pout curls against your lips once you feel his tongue slow down.

gradually, you start to move your hips by his face and he shoots you a glare that makes you pulse. toji breaks away, pressing kisses near your inner thighs now. he’s taking attention away from your clit, and you whimper. “awh. what’s with the pout? don’t like waiting huh?”

“t— toji…” you weren’t fond of being edged, of waiting. toji raises his brows, a thumb toying with your clit, stroking it before even giving it a sweet nibble. “p-please. don’t kiss my thighs, jus’ finish. wanna cum..”

“pretty please,” he corrects you, purposely slowing his pace down just to watch you squirm in such desire. your legs. “say it girl. speak to me in that pretty voice.”

it shook, vigorously.

all from the rapid strokes of his tongue. your breathing patterns became so irregular it had you gasping for hair.

the way he made sure to suck and lick over every spot. chills, shivers and a plethora of other feelings run down your body before you moan, feeling him lightly nibble against your slit.

with a shaky breath exiting your throat, you mewl out a whiney, “pretty please toji. pleasepleaseplease.”

“good girl,” he says in a smooth tone, making you let off a moan solely from the way he spoke to you.

toji lowered his words, pronouncing in such a silky way that it made you pulse. he takes a concise slurp near your g-spot before mimicking a technique with his fingers.

unhurriedly, he slides a finger into your slick entrance, still hovering his tongue all throughout your pussy before you’re just nearly about to break.

with your maw dropped wide, you came with the most tumultuous orgasm imaginable. he brushes his tongue against your slit as you ride out your orgasm, body growing limp abruptly over the table before you whine once he gets up.

“open that mouth,” he utters, getting right between your trembling legs. without even a split question, you part your lips - unaware of the kiss that he planted right on your mouth.

toji picks you up, the pretty anklet you were just idly brushing down his back. he carries you towards the sofa, still tongue tied with you—you moan in his mouth, tasting the sweetened tang of alcohol on his tongue.

“y’don't know how bad i need you,” he gruffs, breaking between kisses, strands of your own saliva departs, and the more he shoved his tongue down your throat, the more you tasted yourself. swiftly, you move your tongue beneath his bottom lip, tasting how sweet you were and it made you whine.

toji’s words rang throughout your ears like church bells. he practically treated you like a rag doll. your dress was off—and you were all exposed with just a pretty bra.

“tell me you want me,” he mouthed, getting directly between you. toji was between your legs, hovering over you with bulky arms just stretched near the sides of you. he leans in, cupping your chin, stroking your thumb. “tell me you want me, and i’ll give you all of me.”

“i— i want all of you, toji,” you pant, your eyes focusing directly on him and only him. toji was still in his tuxedo. he was so handsome, there was certainly no denying. with matching black slacks, he reached for his tie—giving it a firm pull before snickering at your answer.

“good girl,” he praises you, and you’re so impatient. with a few shuffling you hear the commotion of him unbuckling his pants — he's intentionally going slow, dragging things out to see that sweet pout form across your lips again. “goin’ as fast as i can, sweetheart. don’t give me that look.”

he was always such a tease. you kissed your teeth in annoyance, averting your eyes towards the ceiling before he’s finally through.

toji stares down, using his right hand to pry your legs open a bit. his left hand to give himself a few pumps. you glanced down, and nearly moaned at the sight of his length. he was so thick, veins ran all the way down and you were almost drooling.

he grunts, spotting you gawking at him and it only gets him ten times harder. taking a deep inhale, you stare at his happy trail. speckles of black hair decorating near his abdomen. it was sexy, toji was a well trimmed man surprisingly.

“f-fuck, look how hard you make me,” he huffs out, and that’s when he makes you turn over on your back. you were staggered a bit at the sudden change of position—yet before you could react, that’s when you felt the plump tip of his dick prod against your entrance. “damn. she’s all excited for me. fuck this wedding, i just want you princess.”

his words…there came that same feeling brewing up inside you. a soft whine escapes from your lips as you’re dumbly arched beside the sofa, sucking in a breath. he finishes gently aligning himself.

once he starts to go in, you let off a, “f-fuckkk,” that reverberated across the entire fitting room. he was big. saying toji was big, an entire understatement.

his girth had you nearly choking on your own saliva. with a single hand, he grips onto your waist, watching you gradually swallow him. “toji, you’re so b-big. ‘s really big.”

“perfect size just for you, baby,” he sighs, already feeling droplets of sweat race down the sides of his forehead.

toji’s heaving, he licks his lips at the sight of you arching for him. as each inch sinks in further and further—you could feel him stretch you out even better than his fingers ever could.

your pussy squelched, longing for him to keep going. start up a pace, do something..

“easy girl, easy,” he murmurs, just barely halfway in. you try to bear around him and he smiles, running a hand down your spine to make you whimper. “relax for me. that’s it. good fuckin’ good.”

“t-toji..” you’d moan. each set of praises he gave you made your head spin, your heart raced, thinking was so hard for you. especially with such a size as big as his. “oh my g-god, ‘m gonna cum.”

he clicks his tongue, almost in before caressing your ass. “no baby, y’er not gonna cum yet,” and then he titter’s underneath his breath. “cute little drama queen.”

he was right in some way—you weren’t gonna cum so soon, but it did feel like it.

your face lowers against the cushioned pillow, flat down and you hug against it. biting your lip, your eyes rolled into the very depths of your cranium once toji presents you with a single rough thrust.

one thrust.

one thrust was all it took to make you let off the most sweetest melodic whimper imaginable. toji wanted to hear it—again, and again, and again. if it was anything he knew, he was slowly becoming more and more addicted to his future wife’s voice.

“i just want you to feel all of me,” he starts, speaking between thrusts. your lips, spit-glossed and quavering. you whimper out, feeling his body weight press against you.

it was so provocative. so arousing, this particular position.

doggystyle but with more depth.

he’d be able to reach more in a deeper angle to where you’re barely able to formulate comprehensible sentences. “i wanna reach you in spots no one’s ever reached before, princess,” he continued, leaning right up close to you—you let off a whine, feeling his cock stretch you out with such simplicity. “will you let me do that?”

“yes, yes. please..” you immediately spat out, feeling yourself coat the lower part of his shaft with your slick. you were already drenched, so soaked from before. being propped up over the armrest of the sofa. it made you feel so lewd.

your cunt gripped all against him, gummy walls tugging back and forth tightly that it makes you whimper out. “toji, i want you. i- i want you too.”

“yeah girl. i know you do.” he replies with sass, giving your ass a brief smack—only to quickly caress it shortly afterwards. the sting, you licked your lips before letting off a sweet whimper. just a simple action as that made you throb.

toji was a big guy, once he started up a rhythmic pace, you immediately fell in love. not with him, with his strikes, his mean thwacking hits against your cunt.

or was it …?

only time could tell.

you were far too dumb to comprehend anything. all you could even fathom was how big he was. stretching your cunt out as if it was some sort of elastic band.

toji’s cock reached every crevice, you felt his tip prod against spots you didn’t even know could be reached.

“o-ohhh my fuckin’ god, fuckkk,” you’d gasp, feeling him lower his weight against you just a bit further. by this point, he was smacking his hips roughly against you.

it was hypnotizing. the way he rolled his hips at such a titillating speed, so deep. you were almost drooling—you wanted more, and more, and more. “right there, ‘s too good. fuck me right th—”

“don’t tell me how to fuck, princess.” he groans, making you lie back against the wooly arm of the sofa. his tone was so raspy and mean, you were aching each time he spoke to you.

toji’s favorite part was seeing your ass go back against him, it made him kiss his teeth everytime. the recoil.

your ass had him locked hard. just jouncing back against him. he pivots his hips before you moan once he starts to shift a bit.

“need to go deeper,” he groans, and you don’t know what he means before you feel him lean right up against you. you whimper, feeling the back of toji’s sock suddenly make contact with your neck.

“deeper ‘n deeper,” he huffs out, and you moan at the soft fabric brushing near your skin. he was fucking you with a foot pressed lightly against your neck. this angle—it was filthy.

if you weren’t drooling, then you certainly were now. he groans, each time you clamp down against him it makes his jaw tighten. “waited so long jus’ to have ya underneath me like this, baby.”

the more toji spoke, the more you disassociated. his dick did wonders.

each stroke had you gasping for air. his hits against you, the way he had his foot right by your neck. pretty lashes of your continued to flicker and flutter whilst he was fucking you insanely stupid.

“m-more, please. getting close, tojiiii.” and he finds it cute. the way you drag out your words in such a obscene way. he’s making jerk back and back against him—it elicits out the honeyed sounds from you.

“fuck back against me ‘n i’ll think about it,” he puffs out. you whine pathetically, making a cute attempt to move back against him.

it was barely any movement due to toji’s foot pressed up against your neck but you tried. he cackles roughly, teasingly sliding fingers down your back before cooing. “a for effort, baby. i’ll take it from here, yeah?”

and he does, like the true gentleman he was.

toji keeps you in that same position for a good thirty minutes until your legs were close to essentially giving out.

you came a lot, repeatedly. constantly.

over and over again until the word cum was forever the only existing word engraved into your dumb little brain. you were speechless, fundamentally losing track of your orgasms he gave you. you shuddered, each position making you covet for more. you didn’t want to stop.

not now, not ever.

“fuckin’ look at her grip on me so sloppy like,” he nips at his tongue, currently having you laid on your side. he pistons his dick in and out of you at such a tempo…it was so amorous.

he was referring to the way the strings of his and your own cum stringing together.

back and forth, so messy. he watched in awe, sliding his tongue amongst his lips before groaning. “can only imagine what our honeymoon would be like, sweetheart. i’d probably fuck around ‘n get you pregnant. maybe gift you with a kid or two.”

“t— toji,” you’d moan, and a rigid grip goes against your waist. whilst he was giving you vigorous shots from the side, you’re just hugging him tightly with your squelching walls.

the sounds your cunt made from its impact was so loud. it earned a hiss from him before he slowed his thrusts down. “do it.”

“silly girl,” he laments, a thumb stroking against the softness of your side. he was pumping you full of inches, you’re just taking it with your tongue lolled out—it felt so good.

each spot, he hit it deeply. the curve of toji’s dick, it had somewhat of an upward curve that made him reach a more thorough angle inside of you. “f-fuck, but ‘m gonna stuff you full again. ‘s that what you want? a plump pretty belly jus’ for me to see?”

you whimper, nodding your head ardently.

“use those words.” he huffs out, deepening his strokes against you. while feeling your ass jumar and clamp back by him. your walls hugged him solidly like a vice. it’s got his head spinning in circles, on a constant loop.

“give it to me t-toji, wan’ you to fill me up again,” you’d hiccup, and then he suddenly makes you lie down on your back. he gives you a smile, dark green irises staring right into you before he pulls out briefly—just before plugging himself back in.

toji swallows thickly, his jaw clenching steadfastly once he ends up cumming again. he poured such thick ropes into you.

it was warm. the way it trickled into you, he makes you grow quiet so you can hear it.

“…f-fuckin’ hell,” he husked, his head going back as he raises your leg up to give it a soft kiss. you milked him so good to where his voice started to become a bit more shaky. even a bit whiny.

toji stuttering was something new to you—and you’d be a liar if you said that didn’t turn you on. “take it all princess, saved all this jus’ for you….damn.”

he utters the last part underneath his breath, his abs flexing before he grabs ahold of his dick. it was swollen. throbbing from the stimulation before he pulled out again, this time smearing his cum all across your entrance. “always… always liked myself a messy girl.”

eventually, the two of you nearly ended up missing your own ceremony. dozens of guests came to show their support for the new soon-to-be wedded couple.

toji helped clean you up, as promised, not a damage was done to your costly dress.

the venue couldn’t have been anymore perfect. the surprise was a bit ruined figuring the two of you had seen each other right before the official wedding.

toji’s hair was a bit messed up. he runs his hands through it whilst the entire crow stands up once you start trodding your feet down the aisle.

that generic traditional wedding piano tune plays, and you’re walking with your father, the train piece of your wedding dress flowing down throughout each step.

toji has this gaze on you the entire time, hands buried in his pockets and his eyes linger. it made you nervous—something was telling you something, but you chose to ignore it. did you love him? or did you not?

once you finally made it up near the stand with toji, he grabs your hands with the most sleaziest grin. he strokes against your hands as the priest started to recite the same broad speech, “dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to celebrate the holy union of…”

as he spoke, the two of you kept eyes on each other the entire time. toji towered over you, and he genuinely looked in love. he had a softness to his face, yet a smug look that never went away. your gut was telling you something—yet you couldn’t figure out exactly what.

the priest continued to speak before focusing his attention towards you. “do you take this man to be your husband, to live together, to love him, to honor him, to comfort him, and to keep him in sickness and in health—forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?”

“i do.” you mutter without hesitation.

the priest then turns towards toji before letting off a sigh, staring back into his book. “sir. do you take this woman to be your wife, to live together, to love her, to honor her, to comfort her, and to keep her in sickness and in health—forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?”

toji stares lovingly into your eyes, tilting his head before he leans up close to you—you’re caught by surprise once he kisses you early. it was a deep kiss, you kissed back, wrapping your arms around him before he pulls away.

yet before he can say, “i do,”

toji makes your heart come to a stop, murmuring out the fatal words against your lips, “sorry baby, i can’t.”

#★vegasbaby.#toji x reader #toji smut #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #toji fushiguro smut #jjk x you #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk fic #female reader #anime smut #tw sex

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starryhyuck · 3 months

Text

pairing: prideandprejudice!jeno x afab!reader

words: 17.8k+

summary: lee jeno is the furthest idea of a possible suitor in your mind. yet somehow, fate continues to pair you together.

genre: fluff, angst, smut

warnings: loss of virginity, cunnilingus, penetrative sex, creampie, slight breeding kink

this is basically pride & prejudice (2005)

“You are behaving foolishly,” you comment as Minji runs around the room, encouraging your headache to grow. Jimin exhales from her spot next to you, hands folded in her lap like one of those formal ladies you used to make fun of when you were younger.

“Minji, please sit,” Jimin sighs exasperatedly. Minjeong giggles from her position on the opposite couch, slouching even though she’s not meant to look so unseemly.

Minji finally takes her seat and rolls her eyes at Jimin. “Sister, you must feel some ounce of joy. It’s our first time at a ball!”

It was true — your family had been all but shunned from any formal engagements due to your lack of wealth, but lately, your father has climbed up the ranks and gotten respect from some of the rich parties across town. His hard work resulted in you and your sisters being invited to your first ball, an elite event made up of high society members.

Your mother took this as a sign of a wedding on the horizon since none of your sisters have received formal proposals yet despite being of age. Minji is overjoyed, Jimin is stressing out, and Minjeong is displeased with the situation at hand. Minjeong has always been proud of your family, regardless of status, and she hates the social climbers that migrated around these parties.

You’re indifferent to tonight’s events, willing to tag along to whatever boisterous adventures you find.

Your mother comes frantically into the room just as Minji has finally calmed herself down, hair tied messily on top of her head and corset barely laced up.

“Girls, we must leave soon!” She declares, stroking her fingers through Minjeong’s hair to perfect it.

“Mother, you look unkempt,” Jimin scolds, standing from her spot to finish lacing up your mother’s corset and taming her unruly hair. Your mother profusely apologizes before shooing her away.

“This night is not about me. It’s about you girls. Now remember, Mr. Lee and Mr. Na will both be in attendance. They come from very affluent families, and it would be in your best interest to invest your time into them as they are the most desired bachelors of the season.”

Minjeong scoffs. “Mother, I highly doubt entertaining these men who deny our self-worth is in our best interest.”

Your mother’s mouth opens to scold Minjeong until the click of your father’s shoes come padding down the hall. In his old age, your father traditionally expects all of you to be married off before he passes. Otherwise, the estate transfers over to your cousin, Nakamoto Yuta, who has always been less than kind to your family. You know he would wed you and your sisters off to the first men he comes across just to keep your family’s earnings for himself.

“Are we ready to depart?” Your father asks, smiling proudly in his formal wear. All of your sisters rise from their seats, with Minji nearly jumping out of hers and Minjeong being heavily prodded by your mother.

It’s a long ride to the ball with your family’s estate being located further away from higher society. You and Minji play games on the journey as Minjeong sleeps and Jimin frets over what to say when you arrive.

Jimin has always been the more responsible one out of your sisters, and you understand she has a heavier burden on her shoulders to be married first. Luckily with you being one year younger, there wasn’t as much of an expectation for you to be wed so fast.

The arrival of your family is greeted with a hesitant welcome, most of the men smiling at your father and the women analyzing your sisters and your mother. You grip Minjeong’s arm for dear life, feeling a little more hesitant about the experience now that you have stepped foot on the grounds.

“This is absurd,” Minjeong whispers in your ear as you enter the expansive ballroom. People are gathered in some of their most formal outerwear with music echoing around the dance floor.

“Would you not enjoy a dance?” You ask your sister, heels clacking against the wood floors as you scurry your way through the crowd. You imagine dancing would be quite nice — you and your siblings have spent nights practicing in your rooms, hands joining together as you pretend that you all are actually on the dance floor. Tonight would be perfect to bring those memories to life, but Minjeong doesn’t seem very fond of the idea.

“Have you forgotten that we are not allowed to dance with one another? We must find a partner,” she reminds you, and your eyes flutter around the room to see the prospects.

You’ve seen most of these men in passing, like Lee Taeyong or Lee Mark. You have heard that the brothers are kinder than their appearance might make them seem and perhaps they would entertain you with a spin on the floor.

You suddenly feel Minji grip your arm and she squeals in your ear. “There they are! Lee Jeno and Na Jaemin!”

Your eyes turn to the entrance, where the men of the night are starting to flock in. Lee Jeno, a known affluent man, owns one of the largest estates in the country and has been one of the most desired bachelors for years now. His friend, Na Jaemin, has just moved to the country, making this ball his first public appearance. Similar to Jeno, Jaemin owns multiple estates with an abundant fortune sitting in his bank.

In this world, they are a girl’s one way ticket to safety.

You see Jimin’s back straighten in anticipation, and you know she has her eyes set on Jaemin.

Your mother approaches your side, squeezing your arm. “Behave now, girls.”

Your family gathers to present yourselves in front of Jeno and Jaemin, bowing and curtsying in respect. Jeno simply appears bored, eyes scanning the room in an air of confidence and arrogance. Jaemin immediately smiles at Jimin, who grows slightly bashful under his gaze.

“Mr. Na, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” your father greets first, shaking Jaemin’s hand with fervor.

“You as well, sir. I’m taken by the people’s hospitality to my arrival,” Jaemin remarks.

“It’s rare we get a new face in this town,” your mother replies happily. “And such a handsome one at that.”

Jaemin’s smile is blinding, basking in the compliments and attention. Jeno, on the other hand, looks like he wants to leave and never return.

The music suddenly changes to the tempo of the traditional dance, and Jaemin asks Jimin to join him on the floor. Your sister shyly accepts and you hear both your mother and Minji squeal to one another. Minjeong rolls her eyes and informs you she’s going to find some refreshments for herself.

She leaves you with Jeno, who still appears stiff and unapproachable. You decide to take the first leap into conversation.

“Do you like to dance, Mr. Lee?”

He blinks once, scanning you before answering. “Not if I can help it.”

You’re deterred by his answer until Minji tugs you forward, nudging you to join her on the dance floor. You’re paired with Taeyong, who politely bows to you.

You feel a pair of eyes follow you while you maneuver around bodies of the elite, and your mind lingers on the disdainful presence of Lee Jeno.

Once the music subsides, you take another politeful curtsy to Taeyong before sweeping the room for your fellow companion, An Yujin. Yujin, like your family, was not born into wealth and struggles in society as you do. However, because of her charisma, she is able to sneak her way into parties by charming some of the men for an invitation. You spot her in between a few other guests and eagerly pull her away.

“You did not tell me you were coming!” She exclaims, wrapping you up in a hug.

“We were not informed until earlier this week,” you share, walking along with her as you move your way through the crowd. “Is it not so lovely?”

“Very,” she giggles, her voice turning down when you spot Jeno and Jaemin walking very close to you two. They do not catch sight of you, speaking quietly to one another.

“What a splendid night, so many lovely women,” Jaemin chuckles.

Jeno replies in a bored tone. “You were dancing with the only lovely woman in this room.”

“Yes, she was quite a keeper, was she not?” Jaemin hums, and you and Yujin exchange a look. “I saw you speaking to her sister. She was quite admirable as well.”

Jeno scoffs. “Admirable? Barely tolerable, I would say.”

The conversation is cut short when Jaemin’s sister sweeps them away to meet another family. You huff at Jeno’s clear dislike of you and Yujin pats your hand in comfort when they disappear into the crowd.

“What a horrid man,” you comment.

“Do not fret,” Yujin smiles. “If he liked you, you would actually have to speak with him.”

You giggle in agreement. “Yes, imagine having to entertain a man like that.”

“Jimin looks rather happy, though,” Yujin remarks fondly. “She’s thoroughly taken by Mr. Na.”

You gaze over at your sister, who is happily chattering with Minji. “It seems so. I hope mother is taking her bearings and not placing too much pressure upon her shoulders.”

“I think it might be too late for that.”

Your mother has suddenly grouped Minji and Jimin into directly speaking with Jaemin and Jeno. You exchange a look with Yujin before walking over to save your sisters from this debacle. When you step into their circle, you hear Jaemin compliment Jimin’s dancing.

“She is quite the dancer, if I must say.”

“Yes, yes!” Your mother shouts. “She and her sisters practice all the time. My handsome Jimin, you see, is definitely the most well-rounded of all my daughters!”

“Mother!” You scold, trying to stop her as she continues to embarrass your sisters.

However, she ignores your protest and Jimin’s visible contempt. “Jimin’s always had a vast amount of suitors, you know. There was this one bewitching gentleman who I thought would propose to her last spring but alas, all the man did was write a few poems.”

“And that ended it completely,” you cut in, and Jimin throws you a grateful look. “Who ever decided that poetry was a suitable medium to a woman’s heart? Very poor choice, might I say.”

Your statement earns you a few laughs until a haughty voice interrupts.

“So what do you propose?” Jeno retorts, and it’s the most engaged he’s been with you all night. His eyes bore into yours with the most intense observance. “Poetry has been the love language for suitors across all ages. What do you propose is better to take its place?”

You smile mischievously. “Dancing, I believe. Even if one’s partner is barely tolerable.”

Jeno’s face morphs into a mix of understanding and discomfort at your recall. You smirk, offering him another curtsy before vanishing back into the crowd.

You feel the burn of his stare follow you.

—

“Shopping for such a simple piece of clothing must seem so benign, do you not think so?”

“Yes, it quite certainly is,” you reply, tugging Minjeong into a nearby fabric store. “But it is necessary in order to impress the likes of the Na family for Jimin’s best interest.”

You and your sisters have made a trip into town to purchase new dresses for another upcoming ball planned by Jaemin. Since your first encounter with him, he and Jimin have made slow strides into courting one another, and this dance may be an opportunity to make it more official. Therefore, you have taken the role of stringing your family into the best shape to appease high society.

Jimin is already browsing through a variety of pinks and blues, carefully explaining to the seamstress that she has no desire for lavish embellishments to her dress. Although she would never admit her nerves, you can detect it from the way she frantically combs her fingers through her hair.

“Play nice for once,” you say to Minjeong, stroking her arm in consolation. “This could mean wonders for Jimin.”

“I can play nice,” Minjeong agrees hesitantly, pretending to be interested in some of the frilly ribbon decorating the store.

The bell above the door rings, signaling another customer walking in. You all turn to see a gentleman come inside, and you curtsy to greet him.

“My apologies for the intrusion,” he smiles, and you take note how captivating he appears. “It’s pouring out there and I was hoping to take shelter in here.”

“Of course, Mr. Lee,” the seamstress nods, gesturing for him to walk about as he pleases.

His eyes zero in on you. He takes your hand and presses a kiss to your knuckles. You bow your head coyly.

“Lee Donghyuck, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Are you ladies also shielding yourselves from the horrid rain?”

You smile and return your hand to your side.

“In contrast, Mr. Lee, we are prolifically finding ourselves a manner of dress for the Na ball,” you share, and his eyes sparkle at your response.

“Ah, I see. It must be an extremely difficult decision for you then.”

You laugh. “Yes, it’s quite the hunt for us.”

Minjeong suddenly reappears next to you. “And what brings you to town this evening, Mr. Lee?”

He offers a nod to your sister. “Some of the men from our militia district are in town for our homecoming. We have gathered into town to see what we all have dearly missed from our time away.”

His eyes flit over to you once more, and you bashfully glance down at your feet.

“I must come and see what beholds the community of this ball,” he states, hands wringing together behind his back. “It looks to be an event of importance.”

As soon as Jimin finds the right fabric for her dress and you review the designs for the rest of your family, Donghyuck offers to walk you all back to your estate. Luckily, the weather clears by the time you finish shopping.

You speak with Donghyuck on the way home, with Minji throwing the two of you suggestive looks as you break off from the others.

“How long are you in town for then?”

“Another fortnight or two, dependent on the weather,” he replies, his shoulder brushing against yours as you stride along.

“It must be pleasant to be back home. I cannot imagine how much you have missed it,” you say, enjoying the warmth of his figure every time his arm presses against yours.

He opens his mouth to respond before Minji’s loud hollers interrupt him.

“Oh, Mr. Na! Mr. Na!”

Minji calls out to Jaemin across the river, who is riding horseback alongside Jeno. Your eyes narrow at Jeno’s appearance, still feeling offended from his malicious comments against you. He, in turn, returns your heated glare but to your surprise, it’s not directed at you. His focus is solely on the man beside you, and you notice how Donghyuck tenses at his presence.

“Mr. Na, we just came from the dress shop to look fitting for your ball!” Minji calls happily.

Jaemin gives a nod, his eyes floating to Jimin.

“I’m happy to hear of it!” He replies.

The conversation is cut short when Jeno suddenly instructs his horse to trot away. You observe his abrupt exit, with Jaemin promising to see your family at the ball before following his friend.

“Very ill-mannered, that one is,” Donghyuck comments, scoffing as Jeno’s figure disappears further and further in the distance.

You begin the trek home again as Minjeong speeds up her pace and Jimin tugs Minji along to keep up. You fall behind in order to uncover the deeper meaning of Donghyuck’s words.

“You seem to have an uncivil assumption of Mr. Lee,” you note to him, and he hums in agreement.

“Mr. Lee and I do not get along well.”

“May I inquire why?”

“I have known Mr. Lee since birth, you see. Our families were very close and I thought of his father as mine and he thought mine as his. When my father passed, I became closer to his own as a result. Eventually, when Jeno’s father grew sickly, he asked that the rights of the Lee estate be passed onto me. At that point, you must imagine, we were closer than he and his son ever were and it drove Jeno wild with jealousy.”

You can visualize Jeno as the epitome of bitterness, envy blazing his form as he watches Donghyuck grow closer to his father. You fail to realize how your bias towards disliking Jeno prevents you from questioning the truthfulness to Donghyuck’s story.

He continues. “After his father passed, Jeno willingly sought my demise by forcing me into the militia and preventing me from inheriting his estate. I hope you can see now why I do not enjoy entertaining his presence.”

“That is purely vengeful,” you say with sympathy, almost wishing to apologize on Jeno’s behalf. “It pains me to think you had to go through such a thing.”

He smiles and shrugs it off.

“It is in the past, and we must look towards the future. I shall be delighted to see you at the ball, miss.”

You curtsy and grin. “You as well, Mr. Lee.”

—

Donghyuck is the first person you search for when you arrive at the Na estate.

You spot Yujin in between bodies, tugging her along in your search. She laughs and follows you as you weave your way through the crowd.

“How handsome is he that has you so besotten?”

“He’s just wonderful, Yujin!” You exclaim passionately. “If you spoke to him as well, you would know!”

You pass by numerous familiar faces, asking them if they have seen Donghyuck lingering around. You disappointingly receive a resounding denial at the sight of his presence.

Jimin calls your name quietly when she approaches you and Yujin in the drawing room.

“I do not believe Mr. Lee is here. It seems he has been sent off.”

You frown. “Sent off? Oh, but he must be here!”

“There you are.”

All three of you jump at the sound of a male voice entering your conversation. You turn to see your cousin, Yuta, staring at you intimidatingly. You curtsy in respect.

“I was wondering if it would please you to join me.”

He gestures to the dance floor and you almost choke.

“Mr. Nakamoto, I did not know you danced.”

If you did not know any better, you would guess Yuta was glaring at you judging by the weight of his stare.

“I do not think it so inappropriate for a gentleman of my status to ask a woman for a dance. As much as I think it is not inappropriate for you to accept.”

You flounder. Your sisters had gossiped a few days ago about Yuta being in search of a wife, but you would have never guessed he had his sights set on you.

You nod timidly, trying your best to ignore Yujin and Jimin’s incredulity. He guides you to the floor and you make your best attempt at taking him seriously.

The dance is almost comical to you, suddenly burdened by Yuta’s intense gaze. He has never shown the slightest interest towards you until now, and his advances only bring you laughter.

As soon as the music ends, you grab Yujin’s arm and pull her away to avoid Yuta’s further questioning. The two of you giggle at the spectacle that just took place.

“Can you believe Mr. Nakamoto just-“

Your voice catches in your throat when you almost collide into someone’s chest. Your eyes drift up to catch the sight of Jeno.

He still has that same bored expression painting his face but you can see a hint of nervousness clouding his eyes.

“May I have the next dance?”

You are slightly startled by the question, but you manage to keep your decorum intact.

“You may.”

He offers you a nod before disappearing into the crowd once more. Yujin squeezes your arm.

“Did you agree to dance with Mr. Lee?”

“For heaven’s sake, I believe I have. I must be going mad, Yujin. He is the man I have sworn to hate,” you gasp.

She shakes you from your trance and guides you back to the dance floor, bringing you face to face with Jeno. He is a lot more restless than usual, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he avoids your gaze.

The dance begins with a respectful curtsy and bow. You begin to move to meet Jeno at the center and remark, “This is a beautiful dance.”

He curtly nods. “Yes, I think so.”

He is rather lucky you’re determined to be on your best behavior or else you would have rolled his eyes at the simple comment. You turn past Kang Seulgi’s figure and meet him again in the middle.

“It is your turn to make conversation, Mr. Lee. Usually, you would compliment the host of the gathering or comment on the people who have attended.”

“Is that so?” He muses, taking slow steps around Lee Mark to circle back to you. You join your hands in the middle and pace quietly to the hum of the violin playing. “Please do tell what invigorating subject you would like for me to focus on.”

You can tell he’s trying to push your buttons and you grit your teeth. “A lady must not lead the conversation so easily, Mr. Lee. It is your job to set the tone.”

You separate to continue the dance, rotating again around Seulgi and Mark’s figures.

“Do you and your sisters go shopping in town often?”

You hesitate, knowing he’s beginning to broach the subject of Donghyuck. You connect in the middle, the bottom of your dress skirting by him.

“Lately yes, we have. We find it a great opportunity to get out and meet new people. In fact, we had just met a lovely man that day you saw us by the river.”

His lips press into a thin line. “Lee Donghyuck is charming, indeed. His ability to win over women’s hearts is quite notable, but it does not fare in comparison to his ability to quickly lose that adoration.”

You bite back, dancing in another circle and attempting to keep your composure. “Yes, and it was so devastating to hear that he has lost that devotion from you. Quite irreversible, is it?”

“Indeed,” he nearly hisses, stopping in the middle to sneer at you. The dance continues but you hold your ground, staring at him with as much anger as you can muster. “Why do you ask such a question?”

“To inquire into your character, Mr. Lee.”

His eyes burn with an unanticipated flame. “And what did you discover?”

“Very little. I hear quite different stories about your character and it baffles me exceptionally.”

“My apologies,” he states, eyebrows furrowed in frustration. “I hope to clear your troubled thoughts going forward.”

You both resume the dance, but it somehow feels like the entire room has disappeared. The weight of your words builds the tension and you follow the steps of the dance you know by heart, but your eyes no longer drift to different parts of the room. They stay focused on Jeno, who is equally captured by you.

The two of you speak nothing more until you return to the same spots you started the dance in. The sound of applause jolts you out of your stupor and you take one last look at Jeno, offering him a polite curtsy before exiting the floor.

You’re startled when you nearly run into Yuta again on your way to the drawing room.

He says your name in a rigid tone. “You’re well acquainted with Mr. Lee?”

You almost stutter. “Not very well. I will admit, I’m surprised to see you at such an event, Mr. Nakamoto.”

“Are you? Your mother has brought it up to me on many occasions, especially noting that you would be in attendance.”

You clench a fist behind your back and silently curse your mother.

“Did she? I cannot imagine why she would think that would be of importance to you.”

“I am sure you have heard of my search for a companion to my estate. Lady Park has been stressing the issue and I am not one to avoid her suggestions,” he shares, taking a small step closer to you.

You take a step back. You and your sisters know all about Lady Park — the woman who financially supports Yuta until he gets a hold of your family’s fortune when you and your siblings are married off and your father has passed. She dictates every aspect of Yuta’s life and he must engage in her wishes to ensure his funds are properly taken care of.

“Mr. Nakamoto, I will save you the trouble. I have no desire to be married at this time, so whatever offer my mother promised you cannot be fulfilled on my account.”

He frowns. “Surely, a girl of your age understands the need for a husband in this economy. A comfortable life could save you the misfortune of attending these dances.”

“If you do not mind my candor, I do not believe a comfortable life for me would include you in it. I sincerely hope you are able to find a wife who is best suited to help you run your estate.”

You curtsy for him, ignoring the malicious sneer he throws your way. You scurry into the drawing room, searching for Yujin and finding her near the piano. Minji is playing to her heart’s content and it seems she has been doing so for hours, and your father walks over to tell her to be mindful of other people’s time.

You loop your arm around Yujin’s to get her attention.

“Oh, how was it?” She exclaims enthusiastically as you pull her away. “You did not look so pleased to be in Mr. Lee’s presence from what I could see.”

You huff. “Truly an understatement. And you will not believe the kind of proposal Mr. Nakamoto approached me with.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Do not tell me-“

“I denied it, of course. It would have been a loveless coupling, much to my mother’s chagrin.”

She frowns at your indifference. “You know, you are blissfully lucky to even have such an offer come across you. Your family has only been in high society for a few months yet you have already gotten a marriage proposal from a wealthy suitor.”

“Is that all you heard? A wealthy suitor,” you repeat with a scoff. “Yujin, Mr. Nakamoto has despised my family since Jimin came of age. I would like to think I should get a say in who I marry and not just because he is inheriting my father’s pocket.”

You brush off her continued sorrow over your situation. Your eyes scan the room, seeing your mother hang by the staircase with a glass of wine in her hands, loudly praising Jimin for catching the attention of Jaemin. Jimin, on the other hand, is conversing quietly with him a few feet away, awkwardly tucking her hair behind her ears and avoiding his gaze. Minji is tugging Minjeong along now that she is not berating a crowd with her piano playing, the both of them laughing at some of the guests around them.

“I believe my family is entertaining the masses well enough,” you muse.

She laughs and nods, sweeping your previous conversation about Yuta under the rug.

“The upside is that Mr. Na does not seem to mind,” she says, and the two of you watch him laugh at something Jimin has whispered.

“I think he is quite devoted to her.”

She hums. “But does she return his favor?”

You chuckle. “What are you on about? Of course she does! He’s all she ever thinks about.”

“All I am saying is that having a wonderful man like Mr. Na becoming smitten is a rare chance. However, if Jimin does not outwardly express her intentions, he could be deterred from continuing his advances.”

You shake your head. “She’s just shy, you know that. She is not the type to wear her heart on her sleeve like most other women.”

“But Mr. Na is not well acquainted with that fact. He does not know her as we do. She has to take advantage of his love before the clock runs out.”

You study your sister and her suitor, wondering if Yujin was right.

Your eyes drift over to catch Jeno’s, who is intently watching you from across the room. His hands are folded behind his back and despite the many women surrounding him, he only has his gaze directed at you. You interpret it in the wrong fashion, assuming he has once again taken on a mission to taunt you.

You hold your head high, hauling Yujin to the next room and disregarding the irritating presence of Lee Jeno.

—

It is weeks later when your family catches news that Jaemin is leaving the city.

Jimin is utterly distraught, ostracizing herself in her room while your mother frantically runs around the house, insisting the news cannot be true. You hesitantly approach Jimin as she is crying on her bed, curled up with her face stuffed in her pillow. You brush back her hair and sigh.

“Mr. Na is an idiot for leaving without proposing to you,” you say, trying your best to comfort her. “All of us could see he was so taken with you. I am sure he will return soon and bring you with him.”

“Do not bother,” she sniffles, wiping the tears falling down her cheeks. “I knew I could never be an acceptable fit for him. He saw our family and ran for the hills.”

“Stop putting yourself below him,” you scold. “You were a very acceptable match for him and it is his fault if he could not see how uniquely extraordinary you are. He will learn his regret soon.”

You leave her to wallow in her sadness, telling your mother to stop her fussing and leave Jimin alone. You catch some fresh air outside, basking in the sunlight before you hear the crunch of leaves from behind you.

You barely register Yujin’s form until she’s tackling you in a hug. You gasp and lock your arms tight around her.

“What on earth are you doing here?” You laugh, and she gives you another squeeze before pulling away. You take in the anxiety clouding her face.

“I have come to tell you the joyful news — Mr. Nakamoto and I are engaged.”

You take a step back, astonished by the reveal. You blink rapidly and stutter. “E-Engaged? To be wed?”

“Of course, silly. What other kind of engaged is there?” She drinks in your nauseated expression and sighs. “Do not give me that. You should be perfectly happy for me.”

“But he is ridiculous! And so much older than you. Yujin, you cannot possibly-“

“Yes, I can,” she replies in a stern tone. “Not all of us can afford to have choices. He is offering me a comfortable life and a beautiful home. And now, your family will no longer have to worry that some tyrant will swoop in and steal your father’s earnings.”

“But Yujin-“

She continues. “My father is very close to losing his job and my family is in danger of falling from high society. I do not have many prospects, and I am very thankful that Mr. Nakamoto approached me. I am terribly frightened, do you not see? So please, do not judge me.”

You embrace her. “I apologize, I did not realize how tough it must have been for you.”

She shakily returns your affection. “Promise me you will come visit when you can? Lady Park has a wonderful cottage that we will be staying in when we are married.”

You nod. “I most certainly will. I have to ensure you are being taken care of properly.”

She giggles. “I will miss you.”

After a tearful goodbye, you watch Yujin’s figure disappear into the horizon and return home. You feel a plethora of emotions swirling around your head from Yujin’s future — mainly concern but also a feeling of happiness for her safety. As much as you were not fond of Yuta, you know he would still treat her with respect.

You are taken aback when you enter your home to see your mother with a handful of garments in her arms. She rushes up the stairs with Minji following closely behind. You fume when you see her entering Jimin’s room.

“Mother, I told you to leave Jimin well enough alone!”

You ascend the staircase and follow them, confused when you see a suitcase splayed out on Jimin’s bed as your mother stuffs clothing into it as fast as she can.

“Oh, there you are!” Your mother exclaims at the sight of you. “Come here and help Jimin pack for her trip. Where in heavens did you disappear to?”

Your eldest sister is now up on her feet, looking slightly more lively. Minji is eagerly folding dresses for her.

You speak slowly. “I was out speaking with Yujin. She is betrothed to Mr. Nakamoto.”

They all pause at the news. Your mother is the most engaged, furious by the revelation.

“I told you! Mr. Nakamoto is a reputable man who could have brought you wonderful children.” You wince at the thought. “You should have accepted his proposal when he offered!”

“Oh mother,” Jimin interjects, coming to your defense. “The man did not even have the decency to ask father for permission.”

“What exactly are we packing for?” You ask, desperate to move the topic of conversation far from you.

Your mother immediately brightens, forgetting about nagging you for a second. “Jimin is going out of the city to stay with your aunt and uncle! She will remain for a visit until Mr. Na sees the error of his ways.”

You frown, approaching them as they continue to pack Jimin’s belongings.

“Are you sure this is what you want?”

“Of course it’s what she wants!”

You and Jimin ignore your mother’s enthusiasm. She nods at you, smiling softly.

“I think so. No, no, I believe so. I want to fight for him.”

You smile at the sparkle of determination in your sister’s eye. You happily help her fold the rest of her belongings.

Your mother has already called the carriage, with Minjeong holding the door open with a disinterested look on her face. Jimin envelops her in a hug as she passes and you see Minjeong’s hardened expression melt a little.

You all help Jimin into the carriage and wave her off, praying to the heavens that Na Jaemin will offer her a second chance.

—

You breathe in the smell of the quaint countryside, laughing when Yujin comes bursting out the front door of her cottage and embraces you tightly.

“I cannot believe you are finally here! I have waited so long for your arrival,” she says.

“I am delighted the weather was favorable enough for the trip,” you murmur, pulling away and smiling softly. “This is a lovely home, Yujin.”

“Oh please, you flatter me so. You have not yet seen the inside!”

She pulls you through the door, and you drink in the sight of the living room. It feels warm and cozy, which is exactly what you would expect from a home decorated by your friend.

Yuta comes walking down the long hallway, eyeing you.

“I see you have made a successful trip here.”

You curtsy. “Yes, Mr. Nakamoto. I am honored that you and Yujin have allowed me to stay for a short period.”

“You know you can stay for as long as you like!” Yujin exclaims. “I have missed your company a great many.”

She guides you into the room where you will take your stay. She helps you unpack your luggage, admiring the new dresses you have acquired in her absence.

“And how is Jimin? I was curious to know of her whereabouts since the last letter of yours arrived.”

You sigh. “It has been months since she left to stay with our aunt and uncle. No progress has been made for her and Mr. Na, and I fear for her heartbreak when she returns to us.”

Yujin frowns. “How dreadful. I do hope she is able to win his affections before it is too late.”

“Whatever the case may be, Mr. Na has surely lost a beautiful bride.”

She hums in agreement.

Yuta interrupts your conversation hours later, rushing into your room with a delighted expression.

“Yujin! Lady Park has asked us to come to supper,” he declares.

Yujin stands from her spot on your bed, clapping her hands in excitement.

“Oh, wonderful! That is absolutely delightful.” She turns to you, gripping your elbows. “You must come with us. Lady Park would be overjoyed to meet you.”

“O-Oh,” you stutter, unsure of what to say. “I haven’t got much to wear.”

Yuta brushes off your concern. “Lady Park is not averse to your manner of dress. Simply put on your best and you can accompany us.”

You join Yujin and Yuta that evening to meet Lady Park at her grand estate, which is merely a few miles away from their cottage. You hold your breath as you enter the grand drawing room, where Lady Park sits with her daughter, Chaeyoung.

You curtsy in respect alongside Yujin, and Lady Park eyes you warily.

“We are honored you have asked us to dine with you tonight, Lady Park,” Yujin says, hands folded neatly above her stomach.

You are about to voice your agreement until a creak in the hardwood distracts you. Your eyes flutter over to the doorway to catch the sight of Jeno entering.

“Mr. Lee,” you murmur in surprise. “I did not expect to see you here.”

The familiar burn of his stare welcomes you. He bows his head and you return the favor.

He says your name, and you feel a rush travel down your spine. You have not heard him speak since the night of the dance.

“I am a guest here,” he explains simply.

Lady Park stands from her seat on the chaise lounge.

“You are familiar with my nephew?”

You digest the information, storing away the fact that Yuta never mentioned Jeno was related to Lady Park.

“Yes, I had the privilege of meeting your nephew a few months ago, ma’am.”

You hear Jeno almost scoff at the suggestion of your encounter being anything but dreadful. You clench your fists behind your back to prevent an outburst.

“And this is my cousin,” Jeno introduces, stepping aside to allow another man to come into your line of vision. He smiles and bows. “Park Jisung.”

You pay your courtesy and Lady Park instructs the group to gather in the dining room for supper. You take a spot next to Jisung and across from Yujin.

Before you can get comfortable, Lady Park scolds Yuta. “Mr. Nakamoto, you cannot sit next to your wife and only converse with her. Switch with our guest.”

You awkwardly switch places with Yuta, now sitting next to Yujin and Jeno. Your shoulder brushes by his, and he instinctively leans closer to you. Your breath hitches slightly at the proximity.

With the seating arrangements in order, you all take your seats and begin dining into the feast.

Jeno clears his throat. “Has your family been faring well?”

It takes a moment for you to register that he is speaking to you. You glance at him, only to find him engrossed in his meal.

“They have been doing well, all things considered,” you reply. You cannot help but prod him for answers. “Jimin has actually gone to stay with our aunt and uncle, close to where Mr. Na is staying. Perhaps you have seen her.”

He looks at you. “I have not had the pleasure, no.”

You purse your lips. “What a shame. I know she would be delighted to have your company.”

He hums. “Is that so? Is she the only one who would enjoy my companionship at this time?”

Your mouth hangs open in surprise at his confidence. A sliver of his true personality shows, with the corner of his lips threatening to lift.

Lady Park interrupts your exchange as she calls your name.

“Do you play the piano?”

You shake your head, trying to disregard that Lee Jeno’s character seems to be more than that of a boring nobleman. “Not very well, ma’am. I’m afraid that is a talent reserved for my youngest sister.”

“And your sisters — how many of you are out in society?”

You smile as politely as you can. “All of us, ma’am.”

Lady Park is shocked by the revelation. “All of you? All at once? The youngest being out before the oldest ones are married? Why, that is unheard of.”

“I should not think to burden my younger sisters simply because the oldest ones are not yet wed. They deserve to have their fair share of enjoyment,” you voice, ignoring her continued surprise by your candor.

“You have a lot of opinions for a girl so young and still not in charge of her own household,” Lady Park sighs. “It would do you well to hold your tongue.”

Your fingers tighten around your spoon but you’re amazed when Jeno speaks up.

“I think she is very gifted for her age, considering her family was not born in the faces of high society. I do not think playing the piano would truly showcase the talent she encompasses.”

Lady Park’s lips dissolve into a thin line at her nephew’s impudence. You swallow the jarring emotions you feel at Jeno’s blatant defense of you.

“Well, I must be carrying the customs of my time then. However, I shall hear you play a piece for us after supper.”

“Ma’am, I stress to you that I do not lie when I say I play the piano poorly-“

Yuta hisses your name across the table, throwing you a stern glance. Yujin has a pleading look painting her own features.

“She would be happy to play for you,” Yuta says firmly, with no room for argument.

You swallow your dispute, looking back down at your bowl of soup as Lady Park scolds her daughter for her poor posture. In the corner of your eye, you see Jeno’s hand twitch.

Your head raises and you catch his stare — his eyes no longer holding the small glimmer of amusement you caught earlier.

The last thing you want is for Lee Jeno to feel sorry for you, so you return to finishing your meal, brushing off his concern.

After dinner, you go back to the drawing room and hesitantly take a seat at the grand piano in the corner of the room.

Your fingers clumsily press down on the keys, playing an off-tune version of the last piece you memorized. The group continues to chatter behind you as Lady Park invites Yujin to come visit whenever she pleases. Jeno slowly approaches you and you shake your head.

“There is no need to point out my terrible sense of musical inclination, Mr. Lee. It is a flaw I’m very well acquainted with.”

“I had no intention to do so,” he replies. “And no gentleman would ever raise attention to a fault a woman believes she has, even if he disagrees with her.”

You stop playing briefly to look up at him. He’s already staring back at you, his eyes now conveying an emotion you cannot recognize. You wonder what you would find if you peeled back a few layers of his hard exterior.

Jisung draws near, his hand cupping Jeno’s shoulder with familiarity.

“You must tell me how my dear cousin behaved when he was in your town.”

You laugh under your breath. “I must disappoint you, Mr. Park, as your cousin was very indifferent during his stay. Despite the many women begging for a dance and the lack of suitors on the floor, Mr. Lee still insisted on keeping to himself and refusing to make conversation with others.”

Jisung chuckles. “Truth be told, that sounds very akin to the cousin I know. I have never seen him dance with another woman willingly.”

You pause, remembering how Jeno asked you to dance the night of Jaemin’s ball. You recall how nervous he looked when he faced you, almost as if he was jumping out of his socks.

Jeno clenches his jaw. “Well, dear cousin, I am sure you understand how difficult it is for me to gab about with people I’m not familiar with. Dances are not something I take pleasure in.”

You interject. “Even if it is a woman’s choice of love language? A way you can show her your affection?”

The corner of his mouth twitches as he catches on to what you’re referring to.

“Perhaps then, there could be an exception.”

Lady Park admonishes you for not playing as instructed and you return to the piano, paying no heed to Jeno’s presence for the rest of the evening.

—

Your hand aches as you finish writing your letter to Jimin, sealing the envelope carefully.

You are anxious by the state of your sister’s duress, as it seems Mr. Na has still not come to visit her. Jimin is growing more and more disappointed by the day, feeling as if she has burdened your family with this ridiculous adventure. You wish you could see her and tell her that she would never be a burden to you, but writing a letter is the only communication you can give to her at this time while you continue your stay with Yujin and Yuta.

Just as you place the envelope back down on the table in your room, the door swings open.

You’re startled when Jeno walks through the door, his eyes frantic.

“Mr. Lee,” you say, failing to hide the surprise in your voice as you stand.

You both pay your respects and you wait for him to explain the meaning of his visit, as it has been a week since you saw him at Lady Park’s dinner festivities. However, the words seem to be caught in his throat because he says nothing to you, opening and closing his mouth furiously.

“Mr. and Mrs. Nakamoto went to the village,” you bring up, pondering if that was the reason he was here.

“Yes,” he clears his throat, fiddling with the sleeves of his coat. “Yes, it is a nice day to go to the village.”

You nod, still trying to decipher the reason why he’s here with no notice.

“This- This is a beautiful home,” he notes, bouncing from one foot to another.

It is the most disheveled you have ever seen him.

“Yes, I think so as well. Should I fetch us some tea?”

He immediately shakes his head. “No, no.”

You sit in an unpleasant silence for another few moments before you hear the front door open, signaling Yujin and Yuta’s return.

“Have a good day,” Jeno quickly says, walking swiftly down the hallway and out the cottage, not even bothering to acknowledge Yujin’s presence when he passes by.

Yujin stares incredulously after him, eyes darting over to you.

“What on earth have you done to poor Mr. Lee?”

You shake your head, puzzled by the odd interaction.

“I have no idea.”

—

“There are many conveniences which others may supply and which we cannot procure for ourselves…”

You fight the yawn threatening to come out as Yuta drones on in his sermon. One of the downsides of staying with Yujin and Yuta was the weekly attendance at the local church, where Yuta often read verses for the people. Yujin is always enthralled by her husband’s lectures, but you do not share her level of enthusiasm.

You lean over to whisper to Jisung, who is seated next to you.

“How much longer will you be in town, Mr. Park?”

“As long as my cousin needs,” he answers. “I am at his disposal.”

You scoff, imagining exactly how many people Jeno had at his disposal.

“I wonder why he does not marry so he can bring a woman alongside him instead of dragging you,” you quip.

Jisung laughs quietly. “If he did choose a woman, she would be very lucky. Jeno is a loyal man to both friends and family alike. I heard he recently helped save a friend from an unwise marriage.”

You frown. “Who was the friend?”

“One of his closest companions, Na Jaemin.”

Your features twist into a scowl, and you spot Jeno sitting across the church. Your chest fills with an indescribable rage.

“Did he explain why?” You ask Jisung.

“There were a lot of objections to the lady. I believe her family was not considered to be the right fit for a nobleman of his status.”

You could nearly feel the steam coming out of your ears. So this was the truth — Jeno found your family completely unruly and unfit for his standards and in return, he cut off Jimin’s chance of finding love. All of the pieces click into place and you clench your fists, wondering who gave him the right to dictate the fate of your family.

As soon as the sermon ends, you find the quickest exit, refusing to wait for Yujin and Yuta. You decide you must get back to their cottage to write to Jimin, insisting she come home and end her useless pining after Jaemin.

You gasp when you realize it’s raining, the heavy downpour soaking your dress. You waste no time, running as fast as you can until the church is no longer in sight.

After a mile, you see a nearby gazebo and decide to take shelter there to catch your breath. You place a hand on your chest, staring down at the hem of your dress, which is now covered in mud and dirt.

The call of your name causes you to gasp, and you look up to find the main character of your distress.

Jeno is also completely soaked from head to toe and offers you no time to say a word. “I have struggled in vain and I can bear it no longer. These past few months have been a torment. I came here with the sole purpose of seeing you and I must tell you how I am feeling. I am fighting against my family’s expectation and the inferiority of your birth because I am asking you to end my agony.”

You shake your head. “I do not understand-“

“I love you,” he confesses. You freeze, appalled by the revelation. “Most ardently. Please do me the honor by accepting my hand.”

You grit your teeth. “I apologize, Mr. Lee, for having caused you pain since our first meeting. I assure you it was not my intention.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Is this your reply?”

“Yes.”

“So it is a rejection?”

“Yes.”

He swallows. “May I ask why you are so quick to voice your refusal?”

You laugh. “Then may I ask why you think it is so brave of you to confess your love for me against your better judgment? I must be so uncouth for you to hold onto your feelings for so long instead of speaking them to me!”

“I did not mean-“

“And I am frankly horrified to think that you believe me to have no dignity that I would accept the hand in marriage of a man who has ruined the fate of my eldest sister, whom I admire with all of my heart!”

His expression falls at the mention of Jimin, and you laugh mockingly at catching his lie.

“Do you deny it, Mr. Lee? Breaking up a young couple in the height of their affection and forcing my sister to question her self-worth?”

“I do not deny it,” he replies sternly.

“What gave you the right-“

“I watched them out of respect for my friend and realized his attachment was deeper than hers,” he explains, but it only causes you to grow angrier.

“She’s shy! She has never been courted so seriously by another man before, especially not one that became so public,” you vouch for her.

He stands his ground. “Jaemin had realized she was not returning his affection with the same amount of passion-“

“Only after you suggested it!”

“I did it for his own good!”

“My sister rarely shows her true feelings to me,” you yell, and Jeno is taken aback. “You will never understand the burden an eldest sister has to face when there are no sons born to the family. You will never understand the weight on her shoulders when Mr. Nakamoto is knocking on the door, waiting to take away what little fortune your family possesses!”

He continues to defend himself. “There was a call into the character of your family and the suggestion of an advantageous marriage-“

You sneer. “How dare you assume Jimin would pursue such a thing!”

“It was not her, but your mother, on the other hand-“

You taunt him. “And what of Lee Donghyuck?”

He narrows his eyes and takes a step closer to you. “Lee Donghyuck?” He speaks the name as if someone poured acid on his tongue.

“What excuse could you possibly conjure of your behavior towards him?”

He purses his lips. “You take a great deal of interest in Donghyuck.”

“How can you defend the misfortunes you have put him in?”

He smiles mockingly. “Ah yes, I’m sure his misfortunes are vast in comparison to mine. I see that this is how you view me — a horrible villain who casts a dark shadow wherever he goes.”

“You are the one who has decided to insult the inferiority of my birth, which is beyond my own control! That arrogance and selfish disdain for the feelings of others is why I believe you are the last man in the world I would ever consider to marry!”

His expression crumbles. It is only now that you recognize how short the proximity between you two has gotten. He seems to have grasped the situation as well, eyes flickering downwards to stare at your lips. You swear that he begins to lean in before he stops himself.

You think you would let him kiss you, despite all signs pointing to it being a bad idea. The desire building in your stomach has you questioning your common sense.

There is no possible way you want Lee Jeno to kiss you, to mark you as his, to marry you in front of all those presumptuous nobles like Lady Park-

“Forgive me for taking up so much of your time.”

He turns and walks away, leaving you panting with a gaping hole in your chest.

—

Days pass before you hear from Jeno.

You contemplate returning home, but Yujin convinces you to stay for a little while longer. You write out a letter to Jimin to tell her everything, but for some reason, you never send it. You fear the gruesome picture you will paint of Jeno and consequently, Jimin’s feelings towards him. You somehow care for your sister’s approval for the rich nobleman although you turned down his proposal.

It’s another dreary night when Jeno shakes the cottage with his presence. You hear his blazing footsteps behind you but you refuse to look at him, staring at the wall in your room with your back turned to him.

He clears his throat. “I came to drop off this.”

You do not know what he has left, ignoring the miniscule part of your brain that screams at you to check.

You speculate on what he looks like — was he wearing that dreary trench coat he likes to walk around in? Was he wearing a mask of contempt at his behavior? Did he really mean what he said? Did he really love you?

“I shall not repeat the confessions that were so insulting to you, but if I may, I will address the two offenses you have laid against me,” he says.

You want to see him. You want to see if he has that stricken expression on his face, if he still has a hint of playfulness hidden in his eyes.

But when you turn around, he is gone. You would believe you had imagined him if not for the letter sitting neatly on the windowsill.

You swallow and open it, eyes scanning over his neat penmanship.

My father loved Donghyuck like a son. After his passing, my father left him a generous living, but Donghyuck made it clear that he would not be taking orders. He gambled away his living within weeks and demanded for more money from me, insisting it was what my father would have wanted. I refused, and he severed all acquaintance thereafter. He returned to us last summer in an attempt to court my sister, Jayoon, and convince her to elope with him. My sister is to inherit half of our estate. When it was made clear Donghyuck would not be receiving a penny of that inheritance, he disappeared once more. I will not try to explain the depth of Jayoon’s despair.

You gasp, eyes shuffling through the ink in disbelief. You could not comprehend the deceit and maliciousness Donghyuck possessed. The man you met was so poised and charismatic, but you suppose all the best con men were.

As for the matter of your sister and Jaemin, though the motives which governed me may to you appear insufficient, they were in the service of a friend.

Yujin’s voice pulls you out of your stupor. She enters your room, carrying a tray of your meal for the night. A worried look crosses her face at the sight of you, and that is when you realize you have started to cry. You wipe the tears falling down your cheeks.

“Are you okay?” Yujin asks, frantically coming over to you.

You hide Jeno’s letter behind your back, clutching onto it for dear life.

“I-I hardly think so.”

She lays her forehead on yours, understanding what you need.

“I believe it’s time for you to return home.”

—

“Honestly, if he passed by me in the street, I would hardly even recognize him.”

You brush off Jimin’s blatant lie and ignore the way she is combing her fingers through her hair as a nervous tick. She frowns at your faint smirk.

“It is true!” She claims, hitting your arm with mischief. “Anyway, what news comes from your visit with Mr. and Mrs. Nakamoto?”

You returned home shortly after Jeno delivered his letter. Yujin was sorrowful to see you go, but she recognized you needed to be with your family, no matter how loud and boisterous they could get. Jimin arrived a day before you, declaring her efforts worthless, much to your mother’s displeasure.

Jimin insists the experience was a pleasant one and that she learned a great many, and you would not dare refute her claims despite the numerous letters you received that say the opposite.

You smile at your sister’s question. “Nothing exciting.”

You had decided to keep the contents of Jeno’s letter for yourself, afraid to admit your blossoming feelings and ignorance at your accusations towards him. Considering Jimin is handling the loss of Jaemin better than expected, you also did not want to burden her with the truth.

The door to the drawing room bursts open and Minji comes parading through, screaming wildly.

“The heavens have truly blessed me!”

You raise an eyebrow at her as she collapses on the lounge, dress flowing across her hips in an improper fashion. Minjeong follows her into the room, looking cross with her hands folded across her chest.

“They are not sending you there because you are a suitable wife, they are sending you there because you are a disgrace to the family!”

“Minjeong!” You scold her, watching as Minji simply laughs at her sister’s insult. “What on earth are you two jabbering about?”

“Father is sending me to live with the Baek family,” Minji divulges, wiggling her feet in excitement.

Jimin stands, outraged by the information. “What? Minji, the Baek family live across town!”

“Yes, and is it not so delightful?” She giggles, ignoring you and Jimin’s worries. “There will be a handful of suitors there at my disposal!”

You and Jimin exchange a knowing glance before heading to your father’s office. He appears to be expecting your arrival, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose in anticipation of your anger.

“Father, you cannot send Minji away to the Baek family,” Jimin begins.

You continue. “She will make a fool out of herself and ridicule this family! She needs to be educated properly here, at home.”

Your father sighs. “Girls, you know I have tried with your sister, but she has become too complacent for my teachings. I trust Colonel Baek and his family to educate her about becoming well-behaved.”

“Father!” Jimin yells, utterly displeased. “Minji is not some farm animal you can dispose of as you please! She is part of this family, and her careless behavior is ours to own.”

“You cannot send her away or we might lose her forever.”

Your father shakes his head. “I’m sorry, girls, but my decision has been made. Minji will live with the Baek family and we will pray for success to come her way.”

You both scoff at him, infuriated by his carelessness. You leave his office and travel to the den in the kitchen, where your aunt and uncle are quietly eating. They have decided to stay for a while after dropping off Jimin.

Your aunt calls your name with joy. “Oh, you must join us this time out to the gardens in the district. It would do you well to take in some fresh air.”

You smile politely and take a seat on the bench across from your aunt. Your mind is still whirling at the thought of Minji, all alone, faring for herself at the countryside.

“I am satisfied staying here. I just returned from a trip to see a friend.”

Your uncle waves you off. “Come with us! There are many soldiers stationed in the area and plenty of suitors for your eyes to take in.”

“I have no desire to converse with them, uncle. Men are overtaken by their own arrogance or stupidity, and it would be a waste of my time to entertain them.”

Your aunt laughs mockingly at your pessimistic declaration.

“Well, what a voice of bitterness! My dear, do not allow your opinion of one man to cloud the wonderful soldiers who could bend and worship the ground you walk on,” your aunt advises.

You shake your head in disagreement.

“Men bring nothing but heartache.”

—

Much to your chagrin, your aunt and uncle convince you to travel with them through the district.

You are slightly grateful for their coercion as the breathtaking weather allows you to take a break from your resounding problems, albeit momentarily.

You stop in the middle of the journey as one of the wheels on your carriage is starting to lose its weight, and the coachman requires you to pull over so he can fix it. You lean on one of the nearby trees as your aunt and uncle sit beside you.

“Where exactly are we?” You ask, taking a look at your surroundings, yet all that encompasses you is trees.

“I believe we are close to the Lee estate.”

Your ears perk up. “Lee Jeno?”

“Yes, that’s the fellow,” your uncle murmurs. “I heard his estate is surrounded by a great lake. I have an immense desire to see it for myself.”

“Oh, let’s not,” you immediately object.

Your aunt and uncle turn to you with a raised eyebrow, curious about your swift rejection.

You clear your throat. “I mean, he is awfully busy, I am sure. We would not want to bother him.”

“Do not fret, dear,” your aunt assures. “Great men like him are usually never home.”

You swallow down your further protests, refusing to tell your aunt and uncle the real reason why you cannot see Jeno again.

Once the carriage is fixed, you travel to the Lee estate. As many have vouched, the estate expands beyond your wildest dreams. A large lake covers the entire front yard, with more windows and doors around the house than you could ever conjure up in your mind.

One of the maidens comes out to greet you. Your aunt and uncle are eager to receive a tour and you glance around, picturing the spots where Jeno would walk through, probably dragging that awful trench coat behind him. You giggle at the thought.

“Has something caught your interest, ma’am?” The maiden asks you and you jump, quickly wiping the smile off of your face.

“Oh, no, no. I was simply wondering if Mr. Lee’s sister was home.”

She nods. “Yes, the young girl is likely wrapped up in her piano lesson. You may go search for her while I show your aunt and uncle the gardens if you wish.”

Your aunt touches your arm fondly. “Meet us back at the lodging when you are finished.”

You faintly hear the sound of the piano drift from upstairs, and you follow the noise. You drink in your sights as you go, marveling at the expensive marble columns and gold accents of the house. You ponder over the idea of Jeno choosing the decorations himself.

You finally find the door to one of the drawing rooms, and you open it by a sliver. You catch a glimpse of Jayoon’s long hair with her back turned towards you, her fingers playing a melody as if she had memorized it from birth. You gape at the young girl’s talent.

Your heart beats wildly in your chest when Jeno’s frame comes into view, tapping Jayoon on the shoulder and surprising her. She gasps and jumps into his arms, clearly not expecting his presence.

You make the mistake of moving your foot, which causes the hard flooring to creak beneath your weight. The sound alerts Jeno and his head turns to the entrance of the doorway, where he catches your eye.

You wheeze, quickly spinning around and darting back down the stairs. You must look like a clumsy oaf but you do not care, trying your best at getting as far from the estate as possible. You manage to find yourself outside, but before you can descend down the back entryway, you hear Jeno calling your name.

You squeeze your eyes shut momentarily before slowly facing him.

“I-I apologize, I thought you were out of town.”

He swallows, his once confident stare now filled with nothing but anxiety.

“I came home a day early,” he explains.

He’s wearing that long trench coat again. You wonder if he ever takes it off.

“We wouldn’t have come if we had known you were here-“

“I had some business with my steward-“

You both pause when you realize you’re speaking over one another. His eyes soften at the sight of you.

You avoid his gaze.

“I’m visiting with my aunt and uncle.”

He nods. “And are you having a pleasant trip?”

You blink nervously. “Yes. Tomorrow we are heading to the district before going back home.”

“Tomorrow?” You swear you hear the disappointment in his voice, but it could be a figment of your imagination. “Are you staying nearby?”

You nod and tell him where you’ll be lodging. You place your hand over your chest in an attempt to control your frenzied heartbeat.

“I apologize again for intruding. They said the house was open for visitors and I had no idea you would be home-“

“You’re always welcome here,” he says, his voice filled with honesty. Goosebumps rise on your arms at his frank statement. “Shall I see you into town?”

“No, no,” you object, taking a step back. “I would much prefer to walk. I like to do that — to walk.”

You want to hit yourself over the head. You sound foolish.

Jeno just smiles, laughing to himself. You do not think you have ever seen him this way. Your stomach erupts with butterflies at the sight of his handsome grin.

“Yes, I’m well acquainted with that fact.”

You stare down at your feet, recalling the day you had run nearly three miles in the rain instead of waiting for Yujin and Yuta’s carriage. You’re curious if Jeno had to also run that far just to catch you. Did he catch a cold?

“I shall see myself off then. Goodbye, Mr. Lee.”

You curtsy, refusing to take another glance at him before fleeing the grounds of the estate.

You think about him on your walk back into the village. You envision him as a child, running through the gardens and playing games with the staff. You smile at the thought.

When you find the inn you’ll be staying at for the night, you inform your aunt and uncle of your return before slipping into your room. You decide to freshen up before supper, ridding your mind of any thoughts related to Jeno. You remind yourself that you will likely not see him again, so any of these confusing feelings that are rising need to be squashed.

Your aunt and uncle, however, have a different idea when you join them downstairs.

“My dear, Mr. Lee was just here!”

“What?”

“Yes!” Your uncle is overjoyed. “He invited us to dine with him tomorrow. You don’t mind delaying our journey another day, do you?”

“I-I suppose not.”

An ominous shiver runs down your spine.

—

A lively tune greets you at the Lee estate.

You pause when you see Jayoon playing at the keys with Jeno standing beside the piano to hear her. She stops when she sees you enter the drawing room, jumping up and running over to curtsy before you. She says your name with clear fondness.

You smile and return the curtsy, a little startled by her warmth towards you.

“My sister, Jayoon,” Jeno introduces, walking over. Your breath hitches at his presence.

“My brother has told me so much about you,” Jayoon beams. Your eyes flit to Jeno’s frame, and his head is bowed slightly in embarrassment. “I feel as if we are friends already.”

“It is an honor to finally meet you,” you say. “You play the piano beautifully.”

She bashfully stares down at her feet. “You flatter me so. My brother tells me you’re an exceptional player as well.”

You laugh. “Then he has uttered the most ridiculous lie.”

Jeno chuckles, staring yearningly at you.

“To be fair, I said you were a good player.”

“Ah, well good is not quite exceptional, now is it?”

He smiles at your jest. You both fail to notice how long you have been gazing at one another until Jayoon clears her throat. You divert your eyes and Jeno ignores how red his ears have gotten.

He addresses your aunt and uncle, who are standing behind you.

“I have heard your uncle is fond of fishing.”

“Yes, very much so,” your uncle replies with elation.

“I would be honored if you joined me out on the lake today,” Jeno invites, and your uncle nearly jumps for joy.

“And what about you?” Jayoon asks. “Do you play duets on the piano?”

You chuckle. “Not if I can help it.”

“Oh, brother, you must make her!” Jayoon says playfully.

Jeno looks at you. “She has quite the independent mind, dear sister. I am afraid I cannot make her do anything she does not wish.”

You do not return his stare, fearing you’ll get lost in his eyes.

Jeno and your uncle head to the lake to begin their fishing session while you and your aunt stay with Jayoon to chat and play the piano. You’re in the midst of drinking tea when Jayoon says something that nearly causes you to choke.

“My brother talks of you quite a lot,” Jayoon reveals with a knowing smile. Your aunt’s eyebrow ticks up. “He says you are different from the noblewomen we usually conversate with.”

“Yes, that sounds like something he would say,” you murmur, refusing to peer over at your aunt, who you know has a million questions to bombard you with. “I do not believe your brother chats with many noblewomen to begin with.”

Jayoon giggles. “You would fare on the correct side in relation to that guess. I have desired for him to find a lifelong partner but there has been no one who has peaked his interest until recently.”

You fiddle with your teacup, ignoring Jayoon’s smirk.

Your aunt’s puzzled tone speaks first. “How long has Mr. Lee been acquainted with my niece?”

“A few months only,” you answer before Jayoon can say something else that would embarrass you. “We met when Mr. Na first came into town.”

“Ah yes,” your aunt sighs, very familiar with Jaemin considering Jimin stayed in her home for weeks to capture his attention. “Does Mr. Na come to visit here often, Jayoon?”

She shakes her head. “Not as much lately. I believe he has been preoccupied for most of the season.”

Your aunt grumbles under her breath. You’re pleased by her disdain for Jaemin, understanding how tough this time has been for Jimin.

A maiden suddenly knocks on the door and Jayoon instructs her to enter. She says she has a letter for you and you furrow your eyebrows, taking the envelope from her hands. You recognize Jimin’s handwriting and rip open the letter immediately.

You gasp when you read its contents, placing Jayoon and your aunt on high alert.

“What is it, dear? What’s happened?”

You clutch your chest, heaving. “W-We must return home! At once!”

The two women try to stop you but you sprint out of the house and onto the lake, calling for your uncle with the most desperate voice you can muster. Jeno spots you first, quickly dropping his fishing rod and rushing over to you.

“What’s wrong? Are you injured?”

He clutches your elbows, scanning your figure for any visible wounds. You cannot stop the tears flowing down your face, your mind too overtaken with fear to think about how close Jeno is.

“It’s Minji,” you cry. “S-She has run away! With Lee Donghyuck!”

You crumble and he wraps his arms around you. Your uncle hurriedly comes to your side.

“What? When has this happened?”

“I do not know,” you choke back on your tears as Jeno gently wipes them away. “They do not know where she has gone! She has no money, no connections, no future!”

“This is my fault,” Jeno whispers. “I should have exposed Donghyuck.”

Your uncle gently takes the letter from your fingers, reading the words for himself. You hear Jayoon and your aunt approach, catching their breath from chasing you.

“What is it? What has her so enervated?” Your aunt questions.

Your uncle relays the message, including the part where your father has gone to the Baek family to search for Minji.

Jeno strokes your hair in comfort and you knock back your better judgment, digging your face into the collar of his trench coat.

“We must find Minji as soon as we can,” your aunt gasps. “If the news gets out, the family will be ruined!”

“I will fix it,” Jeno says with conviction.

You shake your head. “You can’t. This is my fault — I should have told my family the truth about Donghyuck or this wouldn’t have happened.”

“Do not blame yourself,” Jeno hisses, cupping his hands over your cheeks and forcing you to look at him. His eyes are filled with steadfast determination. “We will get this sorted.”

“I shall join your father in his search for Minji,” your uncle declares. “Mr. Lee, I ask for your favor in borrowing one of your carriages.”

“Of course,” Jeno agrees. “Jayoon, please show him the way.”

Jayoon casts another glance at you embraced in Jeno’s arms before guiding your uncle away.

“I will ask for our carriage to be prepared to take you home,” your aunt says, also leaving the two of you.

You sniffle, feeling shameful by your appearance in front of Jeno. He stares at you in distress.

“I apologize for my behavior-“

“I wish you would cease asking forgiveness in front of me. You never have to.”

Your breath hitches at his candor. Your bodies are as close to one another as the rainy day he first confessed to you. If you tilt your head forward a few inches, you could plant a kiss on his lips.

You compose yourself and take a step back.

“Mr. Lee, I-I should go.”

“Yes, yes,” he mumbles, clearly taken aback by his own actions. “I hope your family can remedy the situation.”

You turn to leave but he stutters out a request.

“And please, take care of yourself.”

You glance back at him, eyes welled with tears.

“You as well, Mr. Lee.”

—

When you return home, your mother is bedridden and wailing.

You and Jimin gather around her bed as she sobs. “Oh, what shall we do? You are all ruined. Who will wed you now with a fallen sister? And now your poor father will have to go off and fight Lee Donghyuck!”

You and Jimin exchange a glance. Jimin clears her throat.

“Father hasn’t even found Mr. Lee yet, mother.”

Your mother ignores her and continues. “And then Mr. Nakamoto will turn us out when your father is killed! Oh, Minji must know what this will do for my nerves. How can she vex her poor mother like this?”

You decide to head downstairs, agreeing that your mother’s avid concerns would not be subdued any time soon. You frown when you see Minjeong in the kitchen, holding a letter in her hands.

“What have you got there?”

Jimin snatches it out of Minjeong’s grasp and scans it herself. “It’s addressed to father. It’s in uncle’s writing.”

You hear the familiar sound of the carriage pulling up and you all dart outside, frantically waving the letter around.

“Father! Father!”

He groans, taking a step out of the carriage. “Let me get my bearings first.”

“It’s a letter for you! From uncle!” You say, thrusting it into his hands.

He opens it as he walks back to the house, dismissing your frantic jumping to read the contents.

“Well?” Minjeong says impatiently. “What does it say?”

“He’s found them.”

Jimin gasps. “Are they married?”

He squints. “I cannot make out the script-“

You seize it and read it for yourself. Jimin and Minjeong lurk over your shoulder.

“Are they married?” Jimin asks again.

You sigh. “They will be, under the condition that father pays Lee Donghyuck a small sum for Minji per year.”

Minjeong scoffs. “A small sum! How barbaric!”

“Well? Will you pay it, father?” Jimin questions. Minjeong takes the letter from you to read it again.

“Of course I will agree. The matter of the question is how much your uncle has already laid on this wretched man,” your father exhales, walking back into the house sluggishly.

You turn to Jimin. “What does he mean?”

She shrugs. “Uncle must have threatened Mr. Lee wickedly. For the situation, with the three of us still unmarried and the family’s reputation hanging by a thread, Mr. Lee would be foolish to only settle for a small sum.”

You scowl. “Heaven forbid the day we have to welcome that wretched man into the family.”

The day comes sooner than you think. Minji and Donghyuck arrive a few weeks later, with Minji beaming at her newfound status as a married woman. You roll your eyes at her airy nature at the dinner table.

“You must all visit the Baek family soon. That is the place to get husbands! I hope you have half of my good luck.”

“Good luck?” Minjeong scoffs. “You nearly ruined our family!”

Your mother scolds Minjeong for her outburst before turning to Minji with a smile.

“I want to hear every detail, my darling Minji.”

You and Jimin chuckle at your mother’s quick change in heart. She was out of bed and celebrating as soon as you told her the news of Minji getting married.

You exchange a look with Donghyuck across the table, and he appears remorseful. You mock him and laugh.

Minji rattles off the story about the last few weeks with Donghyuck and their wedding. You tell her you do not want to hear it but she ignores you.

“I wondered if my dear Donghyuck would be married in his blue coat, as I love the way he looks in it. And of course, because of the quick ceremony, I worried that uncle would not make it in time to be the best man. Luckily, he arrived on time or else I would’ve had to ask Mr. Lee Jeno but I don’t really like that man.”

You pause. “Lee Jeno?”

Minji gasps and covers her mouth, making sure no one else at the table heard her slip up. “Oh heavens, I forgot. I should not have said a word.”

You prod her further. “Mr. Lee was at your wedding?”

She lowers her voice into a whisper, and you realize she cannot help herself in dishing out the truth.

“He was the one who discovered us. He paid for everything — the wedding ceremony, Donghyuck’s sum, all of my new dresses, everything!” Her elated expression turns serious. “But do not say a word to anyone! He told me not to tell.”

You’re astounded by the secret. “M-Mr. Lee?” You clarify for your own sanity.

She shoots you a sour look. “Quit it!”

You sit back in your chair, feeling as if you need to catch your breath. You cannot believe Jeno went out of his way to save Minji and fix her horrid nuptials to Donghyuck. It’s no wonder that Donghyuck only asked for a small sum from your father as Jeno must have paid the rest.

You digest the information, wondering how it was possible for a man like Lee Jeno to exist and how it was possible that he so clearly loved a girl like you.

—

You hear rumors of Jaemin’s return to town, pushing Jimin to a state of disarray. She insists she does not care about his arrival, but when a local butcher tells you that he comes without a woman by his side, her interest is clearly piqued. You attempt to convince her to locate him, but she still persists she does not care about the origin of his visit.

You are lounging in the drawing room when Minjeong comes bursting through the door.

“He is here! Mr. Na is here!”

Her announcement sends the room into a frenzy, with your mother gasping and shooting out of her chair, nearly tripping over the furniture. Jimin is on her feet, combing her fingers through her hair and straightening her dress. You flee to the window, shocked when you see not only Jaemin approaching, but Jeno walking right beside him.

“Act natural, girls!” Your mother shouts, struggling to stand.

You quickly draw back from the window, hand over your heart. You are not thoroughly prepared to face Jeno again, especially now knowing how far he has gone to ensure your family wasn’t laid to ruin.

Your mother pushes Minjeong down into a seat and shoves some fabric into her hands to make it appear like she’s been embroidering. Jimin cries at you in despair and you help her tie a ribbon around her waist and brush her hair.

Your mother throws you a book and you all hurriedly sit in different areas of the room, looking as natural as you possibly can.

There is a knock on the door before one of your handmaidens enters.

“Mr. Na and Mr. Lee,” she introduces, stepping aside so the men can set foot in.

You all stand, curtsying as they bow. You beg your heart rate to stop thumping in your ears.

Jeno looks so attractive that it makes you want to curl into yourself and scream. He avoids your gaze, and you contemplate if he no longer wants to be with you because of Minji’s incident.

Jaemin opens his mouth to speak, but your mother beats him to it.

“How glad we are to see you again, Mr. Na! I am sure you have heard of my youngest getting married while you were away. We are very proud of her accomplishments.”

Jaemin smiles politely. “Yes, I heard the great news. I offer my congratulations.”

His eyes drift to Jimin’s form, and you see your sister smile timidly at him.

Your mother continues. “It is a shame that Mr. Lee Donghyuck lives so far. Having my youngest taken away at such an early age is no easy feat.”

You interrupt her, hoping to salvage the conversation for Jimin’s sake.

“How long are you in town for, Mr. Na?”

“Just a few weeks for the hunt.”

You forget that now is the best time for hunting season, and many men in town partake in the activity. Your eyes flit once again to Jeno’s form, and you catch him staring at you briefly before he looks away. The butterflies in your stomach will surely make you ill.

“Oh, Mr. Na, you must come here once you get bored of the game in town. My husband would love to oblige you,” your mother invites.

Jaemin’s smile never wavers. “Yes, that sounds splendid. Thank you.”

“How are you, Mr. Lee?” You ask.

You cannot help yourself. You have dreamed about him since you left the estate and he has to take accountability for your sleepless nights.

He momentarily glances at you. “I’m quite well, thank you.”

“I hope the weather is favorable when you go hunting,” you say.

He nods. “I return home tomorrow. I will not be participating in this year’s hunt.”

Your heart drops. “So soon?”

He refuses to look at you again.

“My Jimin looks beautiful, does she not?” Your mother questions Jaemin.

He stutters. “O-Oh yes, she does indeed.”

The room is filled with silence, and while you’re pleading for Jeno to look at you, Jimin is desperately wanting Jaemin to say more.

Jaemin swallows before clearing his throat. “W-Well, we must be going, I think. It was lovely to see you all again.”

“You must come visit,” your mother reminds him. “You promised last time you were in town that you would attend a family dinner.”

Jaemin awkwardly nods before scurrying out of the house. Jeno lingers, looking disappointed.

He bows his head. “Excuse me.”

The request for him to stay lays on the tip of your tongue but he exits before you can ask.

Once the two men are gone, you all collapse back in your seats. You rush to Jimin’s side as your mother voices, “How unusual!”

Your sister seems as optimistic as ever, despite the gloomy look in her eye.

“Perhaps that was for the best,” she hollowly laughs. “Now I will not have to go to bed wondering about my fate. He’s clearly moved on and is no longer interested.”

“Jimin,” you sigh, placing a hand over hers. “You do not have to fabricate your feelings to me. I may also be hiding some truths that I am not content with.”

Her head whips around. “Like what?”

Before you can finally tell her your secret, Minjeong’s voice screeches.

“He is back!”

“What?” Your mother screams, flinging her body at the window.

You catch the billowing of Jaemin’s coat before you’re being hauled up again by your mother. Jaemin enters the room in a more uncoordinated fashion, not even alerting the handmaiden so she can announce his presence. His hair is sticking up in random directions, indicating he was likely running his hands through it nervously.

“I apologize for my abrupt actions, but I would like to request an audience with Jimin if I may.”

All of your mouths drop open. Your mother speaks first.

“Everyone into the kitchen,” she instructs, and you nearly trip when she pushes you forward.

You grab Minjeong’s wrist and tug her with you. Your mother closes the door behind her and all three of you immediately press your ears against it to listen in.

“First, I must tell you that I have been a halfwitted and reckless fool,” you hear Jaemin start to say. You scoff, internally agreeing with him. Minjeong elbows you to be quiet. “And second, I want to atone for the months I have been away. My fair Jimin, I will wrong you no further. Would you do me the honor of accepting my hand in marriage?”

You all gasp.

Moments pass before Jimin’s shaky voice replies, “Yes, a thousand times yes!”

Your mother bursts open the door and screeches in delight.

“My heavens, I never believed the day would come!”

You hurry in to envelope Jimin in a hug and congratulate her. The embrace gives you a direct view of the window, where a stony Lee Jeno stands in a far distance. You hold your breath, hoping he would come inside as well and give his own second version of a proposal. You would not hesitate to accept this time.

However, he merely situates himself there for a few seconds longer before turning away and leaving. You shut your eyes, quelling the ache in your chest and pulling Jimin closer to congratulate her once again.

—

That night, you giggle as you lay in bed with your sister.

“A spring wedding!” She exclaims, and your heart is full at the sight of her happiness. “Oh, he just looked so nervous but he had no idea how my heart was pounding out of my chest, sister. I wish for you to be this happy one day.”

Unlike the way Minji declared it to demean you, Jimin says it with pure virtue.

You fake a smile, thinking about how you screwed up your chances of ever being with Jeno.

“Maybe Mr. Nakamoto has a friend.”

She bursts into laughter at your joke and you pretend to share her joy. Your satisfaction, however, is broken by the sound of a carriage pulling up outside.

You frown. “Do you hear that?”

It was already well past midnight, so if a visitor was approaching, it must have been with urgent news. You and Jimin hop out of bed and rush downstairs, where the rest of your family is also starting to gather.

There’s a knock at the door and your father wobbles over to answer it.

You gasp when you see who is behind it.

“L-Lady Park?”

The woman shuffles in haggardly, and you all curtsy and bow at her presence. She looks disturbed, mouth twisted into an angry frown.

Your father awkwardly talks first. “May I offer you a cup of tea, madam?”

“Absolutely not. I need to speak with your second oldest alone.”

All eyes turn to you. You swallow and step forward, gesturing to the drawing room and leading Lady Park inside. You shut the door, placing a candle on a nearby table to provide you some semblance of sight.

Your palms sweat at the thought of what Lady Park had to confront you with. Perhaps you should not have messed around with Jimin — maybe Lady Park really was here to marry you off to one of Mr. Nakamoto’s friends.

“I am sure you are not puzzled by the reasoning behind my visit.”

You blink. “You are mistaken, ma’am. I cannot conjure up why you have honored my family here tonight by your presence.”

She scowls. “I warn you, dear girl, I am not one to be trifled with. A message has reached me that my nephew, Mr. Lee, has intended to unite you in the union of marriage.” You freeze, your mind running through a myriad of scenarios. “I know this to be a scandalous falsehood, so I instantly traveled here to make my sentiments known.”

You narrow your eyes at her degrading tone. “If you had thought the rumor so impossible, I ponder why you decided to travel so far.”

She steps forward, her scowl transforming into an expression filled with more hatred.

“I came to hear it be contradicted.”

“Your appearance will only serve as a confirmation if indeed such a report exists,” you say.

“If?” She spits out bitterly. “Are you meaning to pretend to not know of it? Were you not the one who started such a malicious lie to bring down the reputation of my dear nephew?”

“I have never heard of it!” You defend yourself.

“So my nephew has not made you an offer of marriage?”

You raise your head high. “You are the one who has declared such a thing to be impossible.”

You can practically see her shake with rage. “Mr. Lee has been engaged to my daughter since their infancy. Now what have you to say?”

“If that is the case, then there is no reason Mr. Lee would make an offer to me.”

“You listen to me, you selfish girl — if you think a woman of inferior birth with a scandalous sister who married the first suitor she came across can come in and tarnish Mr. Lee’s reputation, I will surely prove you wrong. Now tell me the truth, are you engaged to him?”

You contain yourself. “I am not.”

“And do you promise to never enter such an engagement?”

You put your foot down. You refuse to allow this woman to come into your home, insult you, and forbid you from marrying the man you know you yearn for.

“I shall never promise such a thing. You have traveled here in the dead of night to offend me in every possible way and I will tolerate it no longer. I must ask you to leave.”

You swing open the door, exposing your entire family on the opposite side of it, who were likely listening in on your ordeal. Lady Park gives you one last glance, and if looks could kill, you would be six feet underground.

“I have never been so disrespected in my entire life!” Lady Park declares before taking her leave, shutting the front door with great force.

“My dear, what is going on?”

“Why does she think something is happening between you and Mr. Lee?”

“Did Mr. Lee propose to you?”

You flee from your family’s questioning, running up the stairs with tears in your eyes.

“For once in your life, leave me alone!”

—

It is the break of dawn when you decide to take a walk.

You could not sleep all night. Jimin slipped into your bed at one point and comforted you wordlessly, wrapping her arms around you. You thought about Jeno and Lady Park’s scornful words. If you had a little less dignity, you would have told her how her nephew proposed to you but in all your stupidity, you denied him. She would probably get a laugh out of that.

You stare down at your feet, kicking around the patches of weeds childishly. Your breath hitches when another pair of shoes land before you.

You raise your head to see Lee Jeno standing there in all of his glory.

You say the first thing that comes to mind.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“Nor I.”

You nod, pulling your jacket tighter around your shoulders. “Your aunt was here-“

“I should make amends for such insolent behavior.”

You shake your head. “After everything you have done to save Minji and I suspect to help Jimin, I should be the one apologizing for my behavior.”

“I told you that you never have to apologize to me, didn’t I? You must know I did all of it for you.” He says, smiling. You wonder if you could ever be this infatuated with another human being. “I came here because I beg you not to trifle with me. My aunt’s visit has provided me hope — a feeling I thought had disappeared months ago. I plead with you to tell me if your affections have changed.”

He takes a step closer to you. His eyes melt with a familiar fondness.

“If they have changed, I must tell you that you have bewitched me, body and soul. I love you, and I wish to never be parted from you from this day forth.”

You can no longer hold back your grin. You close the distance, gently tugging on the lapels of his dreary trench coat. You press your lips to his and his control officially snaps, one hand wrapping around your middle and tugging you closer. He kisses you with fervor, as if it is the last thing on earth he will ever get to do.

You giggle and pull back to catch your breath.

“Tell me, please,” he whispers with desperation. “I can bear it no longer.”

“I love you,” you say, stroking your fingers through his hair. “I love, love, love you.”

He kisses you again, hand traveling to the back of your neck and pulling you as close as humanly possible. He kisses you like he is afraid that you will slip out of his grasp. Warmth pools at the bottom of your stomach at his obvious desire.

“W-We should speak to my father,” you pant against his mouth.

“Yes, yes,” he agrees, catching his own breath. “A spring wedding? Or we could get married now, I have no objection-“

You giggle. “Mr. Lee, don’t get too ahead of yourself.”

“I cannot help it. I have waited too long for you to be in my embrace.”

“Then we shall not wait a second longer.”

—

You marry Lee Jeno on a beautiful day in spring.

The ceremony is simple at your request, and your mother cries when you walk down the aisle. Yujin sobs when she sees you in a veil, joyful that you have finally found your happy ending.

Your father was initially confused when you came to his office hand in hand with your betrothed until you explained to him the true nature of your feelings and all of the actions Jeno had taken to save your family. Jimin and Minjeong demanded to know all of the details you kept from them, and Minji even traveled into town to also hear your side of events.

Jeno has the wedding planned faster than you can blink, stressing that he cannot endure another day without you as his wife.

You have awoken something primal in him, and it shows on your wedding night.

He nearly breaks open the bedroom door as he pushes you in, shutting it loudly and practically throwing you on the bed. You laugh when he hovers over you, pressing kisses down your neck.

“Jeno, Jeno,” you hum, smiling as he tugs your wedding dress up. “Slow down, my love.”

“I want to taste you,” he groans against your collarbone.

His deep voice sends a shiver down your spine. You have only heard stories about what happens between a husband and his wife in their bedroom. They were usually filled with salacious recountings from many of the schoolgirls around you growing up. You honestly have no idea what you’re in for tonight, but all you know is that you would let Jeno take you at his heart’s desire.

“Too many buttons,” he grumbles against your chest, and you gasp when he rips your dress clean down the middle.

“Jeno!” You begin to scold but it turns into a moan when his lips latch onto your left breast, tongue flicking at your nipple lewdly.

“You’re mine, are you not? My wife, my forever,” he mumbles, kissing down your stomach until he is face to face with your core.

You tense at the sight of him being so close to an intimate part of your body. He senses your nerves, looking up at you and interlacing his hands with yours.

“It is quite alright, Mrs. Lee,” he smirks at your new surname. “You can trust me.”

You take a deep breath and relax. “I trust you.”

The first swipe of his tongue against your core takes your breath away. Your spine arches at the exhilarating feeling. He moves your hand until it is resting on his hair, urging you to pull at the strands as you please.

He laps at your folds eagerly, lips mouthing over you passionately. You cry when he suddenly takes your clit in his mouth and sucks hard.

He unlocks a new type of pleasure you never believed was possible — tremors running down your body as you chase the high. You fail to realize your hips are moving on their own accord, twisting and riding his face.

When the pleasure begins to subside, Jeno pulls away and lets you catch your breath.

“What was that?” You wheeze.

He chuckles, hoisting himself up to kiss you. He trails kisses across your cheek.

“Did it feel good, my pearl?”

“I-I need to feel that again.”

His laughter is like music to your ears. He nuzzles his face into your neck.

“Would you like me to show you how much better I can make you feel?”

You nod and he raises his head to see you. “I love you,” he murmurs, leaning forward to kiss you again.

Since the day you confessed your feelings, he hasn’t failed to remind you of his love nearly every hour of every day.

“When this is over, will I bear your child?” You ask, genuinely curious about the answer.

He strokes your hair gently. “Is that something you want?”

You laugh and bob your head. “Of course. We simply cannot live in this grand house by ourselves. I fear I will go hysterical.”

“Then we will have as many children as you like, Mrs. Lee.”

He begins to undress and you eye him as respectfully as you can. You wish you had known Jeno was hiding his muscular glory underneath those boring trench coats. You likely would not have rejected him the first time if you were made aware.

“Please resist drooling.”

You narrow your eyes playfully. “You’re my husband. I may drool as I please.”

He grins and throws his coat and shirt to the side, slowly unbuttoning his pants. Your mouth waters when he finally takes off his undergarments.

His cock is beautiful, if you’re even allowed to say that. Pretty and pink and long. A bit of liquid leaks from the tip and you suddenly get a craving to taste it.

“We have all the time for you to do that later. I want to show you a good time now,” he says as if he can read your mind.

You smile and pull him close, pressing your lips together. You watch as he gives his cock a few tugs before lining it up to your entrance.

“This may hurt at first, but I promise it will feel satisfactory if you loosen your body,” he says, ensuring that you are listening carefully.

You nod, happy twinkle never disappearing from your eyes.

“I trust you.”

The first thrust is painful. You exhale, focusing on not tensing up your body too much as Jeno instructed. He soothes you, fingers running up and down your sides lightly.

“You are so perfect for me,” he hums. “I should have married you sooner.”

When he’s finally all the way inside, you take a deep breath. He rests his forehead on yours.

“Good?”

You stroke his cheek fondly. “Good, my love.”

He rolls his hips into yours and you groan. He picks up a steady beat until the furrow in your brow vanishes. A wave of pleasure shoots up your spine and you gasp, triggering Jeno to pick up his pace.

He grips the headboard tightly between his fingers, planting his knees on the mattress before driving into you.

“O-Oh!” You moan, not anticipating how intoxicating this would feel.

You raise your hips and subconsciously move to meet his thrusts. He groans at your effort, slowly losing it at how tight you feel around him.

“Here,” he says, moving one hand downwards to pinch your clit and roll it between his fingers.

“Ungh,” you wail, throwing your head back. “That’s so good, Jeno. Keep going.”

Vulgar sounds fill the bedroom with skin slapping skin and your moans mixed with his grunts. You probably look maniacal with the way you’re desperately chasing your high, but you have no care in the world right now.

Your mind is merely screaming Jeno’s name.

He collapses back on you, kissing you with an intensity you could not describe. You swear you see stars explode behind your eyes.

“May I try something?” He pants into your mouth.

You agree and he withdraws himself from you, nearly causing you to whimper at the loss. He grabs your hips and twists you around, taking off the scraps of your dress and flinging it to the floor. His hand pushes down your head and arches your back. You turn your head to the side and moan.

“Please, Jeno, please-“

He eases himself back inside, answering your pleas.

He breathes heavily, squeezing his eyes shut. “You are torturing me beyond no end.”

This position hits a different spot inside of you. You mewl, clawing at the sheets. You have never felt closer to Jeno until this moment with the way his cock fits so perfectly inside of you.

He leans down to press kisses to your shoulders.

“May I use you as I wish?”

The question almost has you whining.

“Whatever you like, my love. Please, use me for your pleasure.”

He drills into you, forcing his cock into your dripping hole until you weep for him. You bury your face into his pillow, preventing your screams from growing too loud when you ultimately fall into your second climax. It hits a lot harder than the first, especially since Jeno shows no signs of stopping.

You cry when he changes positions again, falling to his side and moving you to do the same, hiking up your leg until it’s wrapped around his hip. He angles himself so that he hits you deeper.

You wonder if you look like a woman vexed, completely overtaken by lust. He pounds into you to coax your third orgasm to come to bay.

You beg for him, unsure of what you’re pleading for.

“Please, please, please-“

His hand strikes at your clit, slapping it with an unexpected force. You dive headfirst into your peak, crying and whimpering until your throat is sore.

Your body tries to squirm away from Jeno’s sharp thrusts but he doesn’t let you, holding you down and turning you so that your stomach presses against the mattress again.

His cock beats into your soaking cunt before he reaches his own high, groaning loudly as he spills his seed deep into you. It is only then that he finally slows down, collapsing onto the bed and pulling you into his arms.

You both pant, trying to catch your breath as his cum leaks down your thighs.

“So we can do that all the time now?” You huff.

He laughs and kisses your forehead.

“Whenever you would like, Mrs. Lee.”

#nct fluff #nct smut #jeno #jeno smut

2K notes · View notes

hyunnie04 · 6 months

Text

cat and mouse

summary: your co-worker has been on your case ever since you've started your time at the company. a strange turn of events and circumstance changes all that.

pairing: coworker! lee know x reader

trope: enemies to lovers <3, office au

genre: slight angst, smut, and fluff

warnings: fem-bodied reader, oral, creampie, overstim, unprotected sex, bulge kink, spitting, etc. 18+ mdni

word count: 9.8k

a/n: a little practice piece for you guys, i hope i did well;; so sorry this took me so long to write :( i also hope it's cohesive enough, i keep writing this fic on and off sleep deprived lol

tick…

tock…

tick…

to-

“the clock isn’t going to speed up just because you keep staring at it.” the cubicle beside you chirps in, momentarily shaking you out of your thoughts. by now, you’ve trained to pay him no mind as you keep your focus on the clock that reads 4:56 pm, almost taunting you in a way.

a few more minutes and you’ll be home free for the weekend. maybe you can finally relax and get away from your dreaded paperwork. perhaps look through your shopping apps since you had nothing else better to do for the weekend, or better yet- you could run a well deserved bath with that bath bomb you always wanted to use but never got a chance to. all the possibilities sounded heavenly although all that would have to actually wait until you get home.

one other thing that you had been anticipating all day was having that dinner after work with jeongin- your close friend and coworker from a different department. he had been begging you for ages to finally try that one soba place that opened up nearby with him. you being a good friend, agreed.

“you might actually melt the clock if you keep doing that y’know.” your cubicle neighbor- lee minho smirks, now standing and leaning over your workspace.

"what do you want?" pointedly asking him.

"oh, nothing. nothing."

“you just don’t ever shut up, do you?” you deadpan and tilt your chin up to stare at him, minho just offers a sly smirk in return. he always liked to bother and butt into your business for some odd reason.

minho shrugs, “it’s fun teasing you. you do that thing where you scrunch your nose when you get riled up.” a vain visibly pops up from your forehead, but turn to your computer, hoping to drown him out with your typing.

you knew better than to give him a reaction. if you had a penny for how many times that particular vein popped from your forehead because of minho, you’d probably be a millionaire by now.

“oh, one more thing-” the brown haired man saunters back to his desk, and comes back to yours with a huge stack of papers. he unceremoniously plops it down, the annoying feline-like grin on his face.

“what’s…this?” raising an eyebrow at him, you hope it's not what you think he's planning. you have plans. he crosses his arms and pushes his framed glasses back.

“paperwork, of course.” you wanted to strangle him. “yes, i’m well aware that this is paperwork. why is it now on my desk?”

before you could protest any further, “they want this finished by next week.” he leans to practically whisper in your ear. minho grins mischievously after he sees your pink flustered face take a step back.

the humongous stack was already on his desk, so your boss most likely assigned it to him in the first place. you furrow your eyebrows and turn to him, worst fear coming true.

"ohh no. not in a million years." you get up from your seat, avoiding the offending pile. he starts going back to his desk, neatly placing his things in it's organizers.

“why can’t you finish it? you- what are you doing?” but minho was already grabbing his bag and blazer and looking at his wrist watch.

“would you look at the time- thanks for covering for me!” aaaand he's gone.

plopping down on your chair, you bury your face in your hands, stopping yourself from pulling out hair. frustration creases on your forehead. well, you could kiss that dinner with jeongin goodbye. now you definitely want to strangle him.

lee minho. if you were to find a personification of the word annoying, the brunette would certainly be it. that man has done nothing but annoy the hell out of you ever since you started your time in the company. other people in your department often regarded him as one of the most reliable and polite employees here.

you would inwardly scoff at the frequent mention of minho and his apparent “reliable-ness and politeness” since all he was, was just the opposite. to you at least. it was hard to believe at first.

but then you actually saw the way he carried himself with effortlessness and composure, handled business affairs, and how he mingled so seamlessly with fellow colleagues. it was nothing short of professional.

so you had a theory that he was only like that towards you. a complete dick only to you. you although weren’t quite sure why.

the girls in your department would often talk about him as well, mostly for his appearance. you really weren’t one for gossiping but you would listen in sometimes, curious about what they see in him. it was hard not to when they would gush about their workplace crushes and love lives so openly, a tinge of envy seeps through your bones every time it would be mentioned. you have got to get laid one day.

“he’s totally my type, you think i should ask him out?” your other cubicle neighbor says quite loudly during her break. her friend beside her shakes their head, “no, no you can’t.”

“why not? isn't he hot and available?” she asks absentmindedly. you start to zone out for a minute, only catching bits and pieces of their conversation. but you contemplate about what she said for a second, you would be lying if you said that lee minho was unattractive.

far from that actually. distinctly remembering catching a few glimpses of him from your first day, intrigued and interest piqued. his sharp nose and cheek bones, features were like sculpted by michaelangelo himself, his toned and lean figure accentuated by the perfectly well fit suit that he always seem to wear.

you definitely found him attractive at first.

that was until he started annoying you, so all of that was quickly out the window.

but you would probably end yourself before admitting that to anyone. you let out a disgruntled sigh, appearance wouldn’t really matter if he wasn’t such a knob to begin with.

as you approached your dimly lit street, all you could think about was that feline faced jerk. what was he thinking, dumping all that work on you last minute? you felt really bad about cancelling on jeongin, texting him earlier about the sudden change of schedule. the dark haired man you've come to know just replies with a little;

'we'll just try again next week lol'

you breathe out a relieved sigh, thankful that he wasn't mad. kicking the pebbles on the side of the road, you imagined that the little rocks were minho's face. you could not wait until you get home.

“stupid paperwork, stupid minho, stupid…”

your muttering fades and you suddenly stop in your tracks as your elderly neighbor waves you over from her front door, grandma lee or just grandma- as she insists you call her instead.

you bowed and greeted her, “hi grandma, did you need something?” you were quite close with the sweet old lady, her gray hair swaying lightly in the wind.

the elder would often check up on you after hearing that you traveled all the way from your hometown to the city, almost taking you in as her own. you were grateful for the company since homesickness would often creep up. she would also often bring you comically large jars of kimchi which you appreciated greatly.

she smiles as she gestures to the multiple bags she was holding, "i just need a little help getting these inside the house, dear." you take the heavy bags from her hands. what were in these, rocks? grandma claps her hands together in remembrance.

“have you had dinner yet? i made extra.”

grandma sets a bowl in front of you, the sight of seaweed soup instantly brings you comfort. your stomach grumbles as you dig in. she watches you intently as you practically inhale the soup, starved from the long and terrible day you had.

you sent her a polite questioning look. “i want to ask you for a favor.” she finally starts, flicking through the channels of her tv. the weather was on, the forecaster droning on about rain happening this week in the same monotone voice for the past 10 minutes. you look at her and nod immediately, she had done so much for you, doing a few favors aren't going to hurt.

“do you have a car, dear?”

blowing on the steaming hot seaweed soup, you nod again at her question, wondering where this conversation is heading.

“i need someone to drive me to my son’s house tomorrow, i'm staying over there for the weekend and my bags are a little heavy. would that be alright with you, dear?” you’ve heard about her family from her stories when she would have you over like now, little bits and pieces. you smile and agree.

a cheshire grin graces your features after a moment. “what’s in it for me?” it was a joke of course, grandma knew it too. having spent a large amount of time with her, your humor must’ve rubbed off at some point.

you didn’t expect her to actually answer but she replies, “actually, i’d like you to meet my grandson as well. i think you two would get along. he's the same age as you too.”

the aforementioned grandson was someone you’ve seen in a bunch of grandma lee’s hallway pictures. you remember that he was an only child, often the only kid and the lone subject in the photos. your favorite was the kid in red with a toothy grin. he must’ve been 5 when it was taken.

"it was a joke, grandma. i'm sure your grandson wouldn't want a stranger suddenly coming to meet him." she shakes her head,

"nonsense. that boy doesn't know what he wants." you laugh at her persistence. getting another bowl of rice, you ponder her offer for a second. maybe this could finally cure your dull and dry love life, it couldn't hurt to try. if worse comes to worst, you could just pretend it never happened.

“but of course, i’ll drive you there. i have nothing to do anyways.” you say with a mouthful of rice. grandma pats you on the back and continues to flick through the channels once more.

“thank you dear.”

the sunset blears through your windshield, sun rays momentarily blinding you. it was clear as day. the ride to her family’s house was relatively quiet, the elderly lady in your passenger seat preferred to sleep the whole ride through after handing you the address, giving you a moment to leave you in your thoughts.

pulling up to the neighborhood, you let out a low whistle. the house was at the end of the street, steep and uphill. it was surely going to be a struggle to get the car way up there.

you get to the curb, reverse and try to park your car as best as you can. the house was really pretty, you thought. it looked pretty lived in too, but in a cozy way. vines was sprawled all over the brick exterior and flowers had bloomed all over the property.

you wake up grandma and start to haul her luggage up and out the car.

"you go up, grandma. i'll catch up."

after struggling to get the multiple bags of luggage up hill, you finally waddle to the front door. the door was left slightly ajar, probably for your convenience. you took a quick peek around, hoping for someone to let you in.

calling out before entering, you were met with silence. you figured they were too busy catching up so you eventually let yourself in.

the furniture adorning the hallway and rooms were made out of wood, the handiwork and craftsmanship was evident, intricate carvings on each and every one of them. it must’ve been made by grandma lee’s son as you’ve heard from her many stories.

a ginger cat with white stripes greets you as you enter the front door, it strides over to you in intrigue. leaning down and dropping grandma's bags gently, you let the feline sniff your hand before allowing itself to be pet. soon enough it starts rubbing its body on your legs and purring loudly. adorable cat, you thought.

silence fills the house, aside from the soft chatter coming from the other side of the wall. the cat leaves it's spot, not wanting to be pet anymore. you sit up and observe the house again, noticing a myriad of family photos adorning the walls and some of the tables.

coming closer to one of the pictures, again, you encounter the same young boy in red but this time he was wearing a cap sideways and a puffer jacket that seemed to be way too big for him.

"hello! you must be y/n!" a feminine voice suddenly calls out from the living room. you straighten your back from the mention of your name, hoping she didn't catch you closely staring at their personal and probably private photos. grandma lee comes out from the living room as well and walks towards you with a younger and kind looking woman in tow. she had another cat in her arms, this time it's coat was gray with dark streaks.

you smile and greet her politely, exchanging pleasantries. you quietly pick up the neglected bags and place them near the guest room. they continue their conversation with each other from before, you now awkwardly standing in the middle. looking at your wrist watch, you figured you should probably head on home.

"i suppose i'll get going now, it was really nice meeting you." mrs. lee looked startled at your sudden announcement.

"why don't you stay for a while? it must've been a long drive here, you're probably hungry." these two women weren't related by blood but they practically were, having the same idea when it came to hospitality.

"well, i don't want to overstay my welcome. i'm just here to give grandma a ride." smoothening out your non-existent clothes wrinkles in apprehension.

she waves her hand in dismissal, "but you must stay, you're already here anyways." she grins and pats your back. mrs. lee didn't seem to budge at your refusal.

you relented, finally accepting her offer. "my son is in the kitchen whipping something up. he's a great cook." you totally forgot about her son being actually here. the joke offer from yesterday completely forgotten and flew out of your mind. slight embarrassment runs through you, realizing that the offer was somewhat serious. you would surely need to mentally prep yourself for more socialization than you've anticipated.

but you instantly believe her claim that her son was a great cook, the amazing and aromatic smell of what seems to be steak and multiple herbs and spices from the kitchen wafts through out the entire house.

"okay- while we're waiting," mrs. lee gestures for you to take a seat, "you should go sit on the couch, y/n. i've been dying to meet you."

she hands you a mug of hot tea and sits down next to you. "mom here talks about you all the time, thank you for keeping her company."

"it's no problem at all, i like her company too." and with that, the three of you fall into a smooth and comfortable rhythm of conversation. the younger of the two women across from you continues to poke and prod into life, not that you minded. she would ask you about your life, where were you from, where you went to school, and where you went to work and among other things.

she offers you stories of her son gleefully in return, laughing about a particularly embarrassing story when he was younger. you learned that he was quite fond and talented in dancing, loves cats, and loves to cook. oddly enough mrs. lee never mentioned his name at all, you didn't want to pry. now that you've thought about it, grandma hadn't mentioned his name at all either. all you had for a lead was initials you remember seeing etched on one of grandma's photos. you figured you'd meet this person soon enough anyways.

after a while, grandma lee retreats to the guest room they've set up, assuming that she'd want to fix her belongings. mrs. lee starts to drag you around the house, urging you to help her set the plates up and talk more while doing so. midway through placing the chopsticks on the table, the sound of pots and pans clanging from the other room shakes you out of your thoughts.

"mom?" a voice calls out from their kitchen. it must be her son. you slightly raise your eyebrows, he sounds oddly familiar but you can't place your finger who he might've sounded like. you quickly brush it off.

"yes?"

"have you seen the slow cooker?" the man finally reveals himself and pokes his head through the entryway to the kitchen.

you lift your head and lock eyes with the said person. shock freezes your movements, dropping the utensils that you were holding. blinking owlishly in surprise, you weren't sure if what you were seeing was real.

you feel the wind knock out of your lungs. this was not happening. the brown eyes, brown hair, and cat like face from work that you've come to dislike stared back. you must be hallucinating.

standing across from you was lee minho, the lee minho. grandma lee’s grandson. the same one that's been tormenting you all year round. you just couldn't believe it, wondering what kind of luck you had to end up here.

you think back to when you looking (--more like snooping) at grandma lee's framed hallway photos, the kid- that was him all along? you're really bad at recognizing faces, you thought to yourself. well, she certainly made him seem like a complete angel from the stories.

"oh! this is y/n. your grandmother invited her to eat dinner with us." mrs. lee pulls your figure closer into a side hug and beams at her son.

he furrows his eyebrows at you, glancing back and forth at you and his mother. he must be as confused and shocked as you are. "hi." minho says, nodding at your direction. you purse your lips and shuffle uncomfortably in place.

minho again asks where the slow cooker was since the first time he asked was ignored. he was wearing a loose fitting shirt, his broad shoulders looking more prominent. you realize you've never seen him outside of his work attire before. he looked comfortable, domestic even.

his mom says to check the cupboards, paying him no mind and continuing to set the table up. minho nods slowly, eyes not leaving yours and heads back to the kitchen. a little shell shocked about your little encounter, you clear your throat and go back to the task at hand. you'd just have to deal with this for the evening and then you could go home.

when the table was done, mrs. lee turns to you, "y/n? would you mind helping minho over there with bringing the side dishes to the table?" you freeze at the realization that you would have to interact with him alone.

"sure." you say meekly. she thanks you and goes to the guest room to presumably get the older lady for dinner. psyching your self up before entering the kitchen, his broad back facing you. he senses your presence and chuckles.

you were sure he was going to make this whole night unbearable.

"well, this is a nice surprise."

"what are you doing here?" stupid question from you seeing as this was his own house. mentally face palming your head, he hums smugly and starts dividing the side dishes onto smaller plates. you notice his very toned arms flexing as he puts the tubs away.

"i should be asking you that. i didn't expect you to be here." he says nonchalantly, but you could feel a sly smile forming on his face as he speaks.

"neither did i." you grumble and lightly shove him aside, wanting to get the side dishes out to the table already. you ignore the way he looks so domestic right now.

you stare at him from directly across the table, hoping he would keep his mouth shut. he smirks while he eats, purposefully riling you up and glancing at you with a knowing grin.

do not lose your cool, y/n.

silence rings out the dining room aside from the quiet clattering of utensils on plates.

"y/n?"

"i'm sorry?" you snap out of your little less than friendly staring contest with him.

"do... you know each other?" his mother finally breaks the silence and here eyes flickers back and forth between both of you.

"yes-"

"no-"

a full on headache is surely forming now, it's going to be hard to hide your annoyance. quick, think of a lie.

"we're coworkers. same company." you grimace as he answers for the both of you. no use in hiding it now. "oh! that's wonderful." the older lady to your right clasps her hands in delight.

"you didn't tell me you worked together." grandma turns to you grinning brightly. you avoid eye contact with her, nodding and forcing out a smile. you wanted nothing more than want the ground to swallow you up right then and there.

"you two must be close." his mother says, sipping at her drink. you were about to open your mouth to say that you really aren't actually, but minho beats you to the punch.

"we kind of are." minho rests his elbows on the table and turns to you. he's enjoying this. the bastard was enjoying this. resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you turn back to finish your meal.

hatred for the man aside, he really was a great cook as mentioned countless of times. you actually find yourself enjoying the meal he had prepared.

"tell me what you two get up to at work, i want to hear all of it."

you shift uncomfortably in your seat, being honest wouldn't be the best idea. you didn't want these two lovely women to know how much of an unpleasant man their son and grandson is. and it was his house after all, the best decision might be to at least be civil with him.

so you play along with his facade, not wanting to disappoint them even if it was probably going to bite you in the ass later.

minho starts cutting the meat up into bite sized pieces while the conversation between the two ladies continue. he places it on your plate without saying anything. this takes you by surprise, looking at his face for an answer.

the two audience members among the dining table seems to have noticed your little exchange. a wrinkly hand touches over yours catches your attention.

"oh, so are you two..." she trails off, implication heavy on her tone.

"no- no, grandma. i told you i wasn't seeing anyone." you shoot a discrete glare towards minho.

"ah, i see..."

you shrink down your seat for the remainder of the hour, embarrassment flooding your being. why did he have to do that? you were already practically fighting for your life not to get too involved with all this, and he pulls that?

after that very eventful dinner, it was already nearing 8 pm. you figured that you should probably get out of their hair, not wanting to disturb them than you already had. that bubble bath and movie marathon you had planned in your head sounded amazing right about now. maybe that would help you forget about this crazy night.

"grandma," she turns in response, "i think i better get going." you smile at her, digging through your pockets for the car keys. a different cat from the other two that you've met takes long strides, stopping by your feet. you greet it by petting it's head gently. you wondered how many cats they have.

"now? look at the weather dear," you look briefly at the window nearest you, surely enough it was heavily pouring. you deflate at the sight.

"i don't think it's a great idea to drive out in a storm." she looks at you in concern. crap. the conversation at dinner must've carried you away, not even noticing the angry rumble of thunder that came from the sky. she was right, you don't think you could drive out there immediately.

the last time you drove into hard pelting rain, you couldn’t see through the windshield and almost crashed your car in the process. you could still remember how your car swerved and screeched when you couldn't control the way the tires' direction.

reluctantly dropping your hands to your side in defeat, "i guess i can wait it out for a bit." you finally say.

"yes, please do stay. we made extra dessert!" mrs. lee chuckles, seemingly enjoying your presence. glancing at minho, he was leaning on the side of the couch watching the exchange between you three, uncharacteristically silent and expression unreadable.

you reckon he wasn't all that thrilled about the whole thing either.

"the storm isn't letting up." minho sighs next to you, observing the dark and heavy rain pelting the window. it continues to pour down, filing in the silence.

"great." you mumble lowly, crossing your arms. a loud cackle of thunder makes you jump from your spot. he just laughs in response. you could feel your heart pounding out of your chest, anxiety quietly eating at you. damn weather man. you should've paid more attention to the forecast.

the smart watch on your wrist flashes with a notification. it was 11 pm now. "you should stay until tomorrow, dear."

you feel a comforting hand on your back, it was mrs. lee. it was only her staying with you two right now since grandma had already retired back to her room.

"tomorrow? oh, i- uh... i don't want to intrude." you stutter and look down, unsure how to accept her offer. but as much as you wanted to turn her down, you knew deep down you don't really have a choice in the matter.

another strike of thunder confirms your pitiful situation.

"i know what you're thinking, you can take minho's room." her words take you aback, that really wasn't what you were thinking. but she wasn't serious, was she?

at the mention of his name and apparent lending of his own bed, he whips his head towards his mother. he points to himself silently and gawks in disbelief.

you try to stifle a laugh at his ridiculous face. it wasn't often that you see minho all flustered.

realizing that mrs. lee might actually kick minho out of his room if you don't say anything, you decide to spare him. "that's okay, i'll take the couch."

"are you sure? the couch isn't the most comfortable..."

you reassure her that the couch is fine and not to worry. mrs. lee takes this as a confirmation that you'll stay for the night. she beams and grabs her son's shoulder,

"minho, do you have clothes that you can lend to y/n?" she catches you about to protest at the unnecessary offer, "don't worry about that, you're going to end up uncomfortable if you sleep in your clothes right now."

she leaves not long after with a quick good night to you both, also not leaving any room for any counter arguments. minho nods after registering what she said, hesitantly gesturing you to follow him towards the room at the end of the corridor.

he was quiet these past few hours, you observed. the annoying minho that you have gotten used to was no where to be found. putting yourself in his shoes, you understood. having a person that you dislike come into your home and spend the night would irk you as well.

the unexpected warm lighting and a subtle citrus scent with notes of jasmine and sandalwood welcomed you upon entering. it instantly brings comfort. not really expecting anything coming into his room, it was truly a pleasant surprise.

you stand awkwardly in the middle of his room, not wanting to touch or disrupt any of his space or belongings. he heads straight to his closet near his bed.

"it's alright, uh..."

minho ignores your attempt to refuse and starts digging deep for clothes that he could lend.

okay, nevermind.

you quietly glance at the homey decor that adorns the wall of his bedroom. multiple pictures of what you assume to be his friends were strewn all across the room. some of them seemed to be taken when he was in high school and some more recent. there were doing various funny and serious poses, minho seems to be really well liked.

"alright,"

he starts handing you a pair of black jogging pants and a plain white t-shirt. you reluctantly take the pile of clothes from him, your fingers momentarily brushing. you were certain you could hear your pulse thump in your ears. it confuses you greatly.

"this is the smallest one i have, sorry."

he coughs and rubs his neck, "the bathroom is over there, if you wanna change."

awkwardly shuffling on the way to the bathroom, a sigh of relief leaves your mouth as you lock the door behind. why were you so affected by a simple touch of his fingers? this was minho. you quickly shove the odd feeling down.

you hold the white shirt up to your torso, it was definitely too big. the hem of the shirt reaching your thighs and sleeves reaching your elbows as well.

peeling out of your clothes, and hold up minho's large shirt to finally wear. as you put it on, you could faintly smell the cleanness of detergent and a faint musky patchouli scent. your cheeks burn with the realization that you were really going to spend the night here.

when you return to the empty main corridor, the leather couch was already set up with a cozy looking blanket and multiple plush pillows. you struggle to hide a smile.

tossing and turning, you struggle to find a comfortable position on the couch. the blanket proving to be too hot right now, you push it off. you check your phone out of boredom and the led screen lights up.

1:19 am. it was in the middle of the night and the rain continues to pour outside. the occasional rumble of thunder once again evoking anxiety in you. sighing, you don't think you will be getting any sleep tonight. it's just you and your thoughts for now.

thinking back to this afternoon, the whole situation seems so absurd and surreal. who would've thought that you and minho would pretend being friends even if it was just for one night. it was a strange chance of circumstance.

the door from the end of hallway opens, a scruffy and disheveled minho rubs his eyes to get rid of his sleepiness. you sit up in curiosity to observe his sleepy state. he pads over the wooden floors to the kitchen looking for water, not sparing you a second glance.

when he was out of sight, you start thinking of ways to distract yourself, wanting to already succumb to slumber.

“oh, it’s you.” he says after coming back, finally noticing your slumped figure. "didn't sleep yet?" minho ruffles his hair haphazardly, trying to smoothen it down. you shake your head,

"insomnia. it's the thunder."

"ah."

"the couch is making your neck hurt isn't it?"

"yeah, that too."

he opens his mouth to hopefully offer another solution, but shuts it immediately. he wasn't sure if it would make you comfortable so he just stands there quietly.

"i'll go get you more pillows." he places his cup down on the coffee table before going to his room. minho stops in his tracks when he feels your fingers tug on his shirt. another strike of thunder flashes outside making you flinch.

"stay." you catch yourself saying before even realizing. it's selfish to ask but you don't think you could stand the thunder alone. watching him stare into your eyes, as if looking for an explanation- you offer him no words.

minho takes a seat at the end of the couch silently joining you, sipping at his mug. to fill the awkward silence, you clear your throat and fiddle with the ends of the cotton blanket.

you start thinking of ways to justify your selfish request of making him stay.

"i finished that damn paperwork you dumped on me. dick move by the way." you chortled to try to lighten the mood. he seems to notice your attempts to distract yourself and indulge your sudden desire to chat.

he folds his hands on his stomach, grinning. his bunny like teeth poking out. you always thought it was endearing. "it's fun seeing you all grumpy."

"sadist." you simper, the anger you felt from a yesterday dwindling at the surprisingly pleasant banter.

quietness takes over again. he stares into the celling, pondering. "i didn't know you were close with my grandmother." he says after a while. he avoids your gaze and places his mug back on the table.

"neither did i. it wasn't deliberate," you reply. he turns to you, curious about the story. so you explain to him how you met, for how long and that you didn't even recognize him despite seeing the photos.

he chuckles, "i bet it was this pose, wasn't it?" minho imitates the very same pose that he did in the photo, eliciting another laugh from you. it was exactly the same.

minho shuffles a little bit closer to you, now propping his arm on the back of the couch. you straighten up, now being hyperaware of his presence and proximity. he looks really different without his glasses.

a furry tail suddenly brushes against your exposed leg. you lean forward to check what had just rubbed past you, it was one of the cats. it meows for attention, pawing at the base of the couch.

"your cats are really cute." you watch him pick the orange haired feline and place it on his lap. one by one, two of the other cats that you've seen this afternoon start padding over to where you and minho were seated, jumping on the couch.

"that's dori," he points to the gray furred kitty. "doongie," an orange cat with a predominately white underbelly, "and soonie." the last one who's also orange but more so than the other. minho raises soonie's paw, waving it at you. cute.

"this one looks like you."

you scratch soonie's chin, the low purring getting louder the longer you do it. minho stares longingly at your eyes with an unreadable expression at the comment. you're not paying any attention to him.

after a while, the cats start to get tired of the two of you. they walk of to the end of the couch, now ignoring you and minho. you fold your arms and relaxing into the back of the couch, falling into a deep and comfortable silence that would be sorely missed.

"why do you hate me?" you say abruptly. the curiosity finally won, anxiety gnawing at your every fiber of your being. it was finally starting to be peaceful between you two and actually talking like normal people, your sudden comment might've affected it's chances of becoming true.

his head whips towards your direction in what you assume to be disbelief, furrowing his eyebrows. "since when did i hate you?"

you struggle to not scoff at his blatant charade, "minho, you have it out for me." this was strange and ridiculous. was he really being serious? how could he not be aware of the months of months of his incessant attitude towards you, and only you.

you remind yourself to be calm, to be civil. but he continues to feign ignorance. it was starting to get difficult.

"you don't treat me like the others, you constantly make my life harder by teasing me, and you dump your own paperwork on me. only me. the only time you talked to me normally was just a few minutes ago." your voice rising with exasperation.

"what did i do?" voice ultimately faltering, tired.

"i-..." minho refuses to meet your eyes, offering no solace.

instantly feeling vulnerable by your little outburst and by the lack of response on his end, you hug and bury the plush pillow for comfort. you wanted to go home. you wanted to go home and pretend this conversation did not happen. confrontation wasn't your strong suit.

after a long while of silence, he at last utters a low, "i'm so sorry."

"that was very, very stupid of me." minho's eyes are now trained on the hardwood floor, unable to even glance at you.

"what? the paperwork?" you scoff, "no, not just that. all of it."

you furrow your brows at him, "i just find you really really cute when you're mad." he continues. you stare at him, incredulousness and anger painting your features. before you could give him a piece of your mind, he speaks.

"and i realized i didn't know how to actually approach you normally without the teasing." he purses his lips, the cup on the table long forgotten. minho is staring up the celling now, still refusing to look to your direction.

"would you also believe me if i said i was jealous?"

you don't know what to say in return, heavily processing what he just said. what was happening? your mouth runs dry, confusion knocking the wind out of you.

"of your friend." he says, emphasizing the last part. you try to rack your brain of who he was referring to.

"jeongin?" you tilt your head. he says nothing, confirming the assumption. "i overheard him talking to his friends, bragging about how he was gonna take you out to this restaurant that he wants to drag you to." you couldn't possibly think of a reason why he would be jealous, you and jeongin are just friends. and why was he jealous in the first place?

"why are you so worked up about it? he's just a friend, minho."

"i'm not even sure myself," minho shakes his head in exasperation and turns to you. "but i like you, y/n."

standing there, paralyzed at his unexpected confession. minho likes you? he was giving you crap all year round, and yet he likes you? you shoot him a perplexed look, "wait, what?"

"let me get this straight," you hug your legs, trying to decipher what he was saying. "so your plan was to annoy the hell out of me, dump your paperwork seeing that you don't want me hanging out with jeongin because...you like me?"

"well, now it sounds stupid when you put it like that." he huffs, crossing his arms and pouting cutely.

deafening silence falls between you two, unable to say anything meaningful without stuttering and fumbling through your words. you just sat there, not really saying anything and staring at the floor. realizing that you probably don't feel the same, he sighs. its about time he went back to bed too.

"it's late. you should probably get some-"

before you knew it you felt your pulse roaring in your ears, grabbing his wrist and stopping him from standing up. you were going to regret it if you let him go.

"i like you too."

a magnetic pull causes you both to inch closer together, wordlessly gazing into each others eyes. you make the first move to lean into him, slowly placing an experimental peck on the side of his lips. you unsurely place your hands on his chest, "is this okay?"

his eyes flickering down to your lips and then back to your eyes. he licks his lips, still staring intensely- lovingly at you. he softly grins, tucking a lock of hair behind your ears and returns the kiss on your lips.

eyelids fluttering shut, you feel him press against you with much enthusiasm, deepening the kiss. you cup his cheeks as a reply, roughly pulling him towards you.

you already forgot about the rain outside.

he hoists you up his lap, a hand on your waist as he trails desperate kisses on your neck. minho pays his attention back to your lips, sloppy and open mouthed, saliva stringing from your mouths. urgency and eagerness was reflected in the way you both tangle your arms around each other, touching and caressing every part that you could reach.

all of the unresolved tension was slowly slipping away, replaced by desire.

a sudden meow breaks the two of you out of your trance. the green eyes of soonie stares up at the two of you, sitting quietly and their tail swishing side to side.

you loosen your arms around his neck, you two bursting out in laughter at the interruption.

"do you want to maybe take this to my room?" minho asks, placing a thumb on your lips. you didn't need to think twice.

your head hit his plush pillow, the cold and crisp linen feeling heavenly against your hot and flushed skin. shuffling up to the headboard, you watch minho with hazy eyes as he inches towards your form and props his knee on the edge of the bed.

he smirks as he sinks down on the mattress, hovering over your feverish body. minho sneaks a hand behind your back, grabbing you by the hips and flipping you over so effortlessly to the top as if you weighed nothing.

"now, where were we?" he murmurs into the column of your neck, his hot breath sending tingling and electrifying shivers down your spine. you respond by trailing your hands all over his clothed chest, wanting to get the offending article of clothing off.

he chuckles and grabs your wrists, halting you from doing so. minho kisses the inside of your wrist, a teasing smile dawns on his face. you look at him with desperate, pleading eyes, wanting to have him already.

minho adjusts his tight hold on you, biting his plush lips in anticipation. with you now towering over his figure, you lean down to capture the lips that you had been fantasizing about all evening and bury your hands into his hair. the kiss was wet and messy, your tongues sloppily and desperately swallowing each other's moans. a trail of saliva strings from both of your lips.

it was starting to get too hot for your liking. you cease your movements for a second to remove minho’s borrowed shirt from your body. minho’s eyes shamelessly rake over your chest, his finger leisurely trailing the middle of your breasts. you let out a low chuckle, finally unclasping the hook of your bra. you release a breathy shudder upon feeling something hard poking you from where you sat. grabbing both of his wrists, you eagerly put them up to your tits, you could feel your sensitive nipples harden because of his cold touch. minho starts pinching at the sensitive buds, prolonging his eye contact with you, clearly enjoying your erratic squirming.

you suck in a sharp breath and almost topple over him in pleasure as he takes a nipple into his mouth, hot, warm, and wet. it was overwhelming, having no one touch you like this before. he continues to lap at your hardening bud. minho groans, closing his eyes and further burying his head in your chest. your tits were covered in spit, glistening under the subtle light of his night lamp.

minho, while smothering himself in your chest, takes a moment to hook his arm over you. his skillful hands trail over to the waistband of your jogging pants and pulls it down. you oblige, leaning closer to him and lifting your hips so he wouldn’t have to leave your tits. you jump in surprise once you feel a light teasing smack on your now semi exposed ass, only covered by thin panties. it elicits a small moan from you, pulling his head closer. you lightly pet his head and thread your hands in his hair affectionately as he continues his sucking, feeling a coiling sensation from your core.

but before you could cum, he detaches from your breasts, leaving his lips glistening with his own spit and his breath raggedy. a sly grin that you have come to love and hate graces his face upon seeing you whimper. the lack of stimulation makes you deflate, heaving frustratedly at his relentless teasing.

the familiar throbbing heat from your pussy suddenly gives you an idea. his hungry gaze watches you in curiosity. the bulge you were currently sitting on now immediately taking all of your attention. you do an experimental hump on it, hoping to relieve the aching heat from your cunt. minho's hands fly to your hips, groaning at the sensation.

"all this time, you made me think that you hated me-" you moan out, the fabric of his pants providing just the right amount of resistance. "when really you liked me?"

he stifles his moans by biting his bottom lip, his pants surely soaked through now.

"i did say i liked seeing you mad." minho manages to grunt out, licking his lips. you almost reel in disbelief but you keep your composure.

"you're confusing." another thrust.

"and i'm still mad at you." you huff out. hips now wildly humping against every ridge and curve of his cock. the sight of him makes you delirious, even more so that you’re humping against him.

"i-i'll make it up to you," he murmurs lowly, hissing the more times you buck up against him. "fu-fuck..."

despite the way that you were using him, it does nothing to quell the horniness you were feeling, in fact, it even spurs you on further. the wet patch from your panties soak and slowly transfer on to the front of his pants, your own wetness spreading messily every time you grind on his delicious dick, the ridges providing the needed friction that you've been so desperately craving. minho watches you, your tits bouncing up and down- he feels like drooling. "i love it when you use me." he finally breathes out, hands still on your hips, his nails making crescents on your skin. and finally, you cum, his words sending you over the edge.

it tremors through your body, white hot cum leaks out from your panties and you can’t seem to hold yourself up any longer, collapsing on his broad chest. you clench your eyes shut in shyness, suddenly embarrassed from using minho so blatantly. he coos and pats your head in comfort, almost like how he pets his cats.

planning to make it up to him and eat his words, you sit up and shuffle down his hips. you admire the wet patch that stains his front, mouth watering. this surprises him, watching you with tantalizing eyes. you make a move to grab at his waistband, pulling it down slowly. he hisses out in pleasure as the waistband runs over his still clothed dick. minho’s boxers were thoroughly wet, you could see a dark patch on the front where you sat on him and where precum leaked out. you lift up a hand to experimentally give his bulge a tight little squeeze, him letting out a little shudder response.

it hardens even more under your touch- so you decide to tease him to test the waters even further, running your fingers over and over his tent causing him to hiss out, sending you a warning look. taking this as a sign, you lift the waistband of his boxers and stare at his eyes while doing so. it springs up immediately after freeing it from its confines. his long and fat cock stands tall, the tip a deep red, and the veins prominently running along the sides. the sight makes your mouth water in anticipation. you place a thumb on his cockhead, running slow circles on his slit causing it to drool heavily on your hand.

his cat like mouth parts in ecstasy once you start teasing the underside of his length with your hand and licking the oozing liquid up. minho’s hips start thrusting at the sensation, forcing you to hold him down. it was admittedly hard to do so, his thick thighs almost the size of your head but you still managed to restrain him from rutting wildly. the groan that leaves his lips sound is absolutely nothing short of sinful when you finally put your mouth on him. every desperate huff from him leaves you light headed, wishing you could record and replay it over and over again. when couldn’t fit all of him, you resorted to pumping the remaining of the shaft were you couldn’t reach. you egg him on even further by running a hand over his abs, seeing how his thighs and abdomen tense up.

you look up through your lashes to watch minho unravel. his eyes were screwed shut, focusing on the stimulation. while it bobs messily in your mouth, you try to pay special attention to his hot and heavy balls, rubbing it back and forth in the palm of your hand, hoping to get him to cum. minho closes his eyes shut again and tenses his thighs, finally cumming. his hands travel down to grasp at his length, taking it over yours, spurting his essence everywhere. minho finishes with a loud relieved groan, slapping his dick lazily against your cheek which you greedily lapped at.

“that might be the best head i’ve ever had, bunny.” he bites his lips, his voice light and airy. you quickly sit up from your position and gawked at him, suddenly feeling bashful at his apparent pet name for you.

minho gives you a mischievous cat like grin in return, feeling absolutely delighted at your expression. he begins to lightly graze your leg, leaving tentative touches and gentle pecks along the stretch of your lower limb. lifting your right leg up, you stop minho from inching any closer towards you by putting your foot on his chest.

"y/n..."

you pretend to think for a moment, stretching this out for as long as possible. he would just have to wait since he had yet to make up for being so mean to you. a little fun also wouldn’t hurt, right? no, you were quite wrong.

minho again grabs your ankle albeit more roughly this time and continues to place chaste kisses with more passion this time, clearly adamant about giving your legs and thighs hickeys. at long last, minho slides the wet and abused fabric off you, the panty is thoroughly soaked and it’s material sticking and clinging to your core.

he hooks ur leg over his shoulder, urging to part your legs apart and spreading them obscenely open. staring intensely into your eyes, minho starts teasing your core with feather light touches. “you like this?” he says his mischievous grin, continuing his ministrations. you offer him no response as he traces figures and shapes on your wet pussy that has you seeing stars. his fingers now erratically sliding up and down your folds. you almost sob at his nonchalant teasing, eyes clenching shut and begging him to put something in.

something about observing his veiny hand treading lightly just the outside of your lower lips leads you to tuck your face into your hands, the sight was like straight out of porn. “no, no. hands up bunny.” minho takes a hold of your wrists, putting them effortlessly above your head.

“you have to look.”

his free hand drags along your legs to pull them apart and starts lowering his chiseled face down to your core. his nose just close enough to feel the small exhaling puffs of hot air on your pussy, causing it to twitch in suspense. the brunette sneaks a peak at your trembling figure before diving right in, the first contact of his tongue on your cunt was searing hot, instantly making jolt out in shock and cry out. minho takes this as a sign to hold down your hips, pressing, flattening, and letting his tongue rampant against you all while avoiding your clit. he hums at the taste, huffing and delving further into your pussy, eating you out with such intensity, placing open mouthed sloppy kisses. he spits to make your pussy wetter so he could languidly and erratically make out with your cunt.

you throw your head back into the heaps of pillows behind you as he starts to pay attention to your clit, softly biting the bundle of nerves. minho then moves to swipe his index up at the large amount of cum and spit trickling from your core, using it as lube for his fingers. he gently prods his index in your entrance all while still licking you up. his long fingers, deliciously stretching your hole, deeper than all those nights you've tried to do so yourself. the bliss you were feeling was overwhelming. minho croaks out a little ‘hah, hah, hah…” every time he would come up for breath, completely drunk off your musky and intoxicating scent. you also don’t miss how he subtly humps the bed sheets he was lying under either. you began to arch your back upon hearing his desperate sounds, your arousal spurting on his face.

minho looks like a cat who got the cream, his pupils blown wide open and wetness trickling down the side of his mouth. he lets go of your hands after you were finished, the numb arm falling on your forehead as you catch your breath. he stands up to re-adjust your form on the bed, pulling you closer to his pelvis.

minho stares at your eyes, asking silently for permission. you look up at him with a toothy- fucked out grin.

the feelings that you couldn't place earlier was now clear, you wanted him.

minho reaches a hand over your face, caressing your flushed cheeks. he wordlessly leans to tenderly place a kiss onto your forehead and on your lips. you reciprocate lovingly, capturing his lips once again. minho without warning, pushes his long and girthy dick into you, the abrupt intrusion making you sob out. the bulbous head of his cock rubs deliciously against your gummy walls, you swore you could feel it in your throat.

“there we go. there we go…”

minho sets a rough pace, his hips thrusting against your pelvic bone. “ah-ah!”

toned and skillful arms cage you in, forcing you to look deep into his dark pools. "you better keep quiet, or else the whole house will hear you." that for some reason makes your cunt even wetter, weeping more than you thought was possible. the sole idea of getting caught with their precious son doing such lewd acts, it seems sacrilegious and absolutely sinful.

he once again reaches for your hardened nipple, tweaking and pinching the bud between his thumb and index. the bed was now creaking with how fast minho was going, you silently prayed that no one in the house suspects anything. the thought mortifies you.

minho leans against your figure and nuzzles up on your chest, looking up at you with an oh so innocent grin while he continues to pound your cunt. his movements start to stutter once he feels your walls clench around him. your mind begins to feel like mush but you still try to make an effort to suppress your groans of pleasure. a strangled sound between a moan and a whine leaves your throat once he hits that one particular spot in you.

“keep quiet, little kitty.”

you start squirming uncontrollably at the huskiness of his voice, not having experienced an intense orgasm like this before. “cum, you can do it.” your rutting hips stop to convulse for a moment, feeling your orgasm rip through the ends of your nerves. leaning back on his chest, you struggle to catch your breath, heaving from the aftermath of your orgasm.

fogginess still clouding your vision, you caught a small glimpse of minho to notice that he still hadn’t pulled out, his hands circling your waist gently. you unintentionally clench on his cock, yep he was still hard, very hard. minho sets his eyes on you, and gives you that look. oh no, you knew that look. the same one that he uses around the office to persuade a higher up to heed to his request. you nibble on your lower lip in excitement.

“one more, you can do one more right?” he coos, lifting your legs and his hips starting his monstrous once pace again. you double over in overstimulation, crying out in pleasure. his breath hitches after a particularly hard thrust, choosing to muffle his own cries by shoving his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your exhilarating scent. you respond by coyly playing with the hair on his nape, hoping that it would ground you to reality.

minho then sneaks a hand from below you and hugs your figure, pulling you impossibly closer. he swallows your moans, kissing you feverishly and running his hands wildly all throughout. it was so urgent, so intense, like he’s finding a way to meld your bodies together, his erratic and messy thrusts reflecting that.

your fingers clutch his thick bed sheets, euphoria piercing your body every time he drives another rough thrust into you. the lewd noises coming from the two of you echos and bounces off the walls, the conversation tomorrow morning was going to be so humiliating and awkward at the dining table.

you can’t hold it in any longer, and by the looks of it, neither can he. minho cums with a loud groan, spurting inside you. "goooood kitty." minho rasps out. you gape at the warmness, causing you to finish as well. minho reaches his hand downwards to spread your combined release, spreading it messily. it drips out of you obscenely as he pulls out.

you were positively flushed. he was too, sweat still glistening on the wide expanse of his chest and forehead. minho brushes your hair back affectionately before plopping down tiredly next to you. you turn to him, wanting to admire his fucked out features but he looks occupied and staring into space.

“what's the matter?”

"i really am sorry about the misunderstanding. i feel terrible that i made you feel like that. and i do really like you. wasn't lying about that." minho sighs out, closing his eyes for a moment and then faces you. “i want to start over, properly this time.”

"apology accepted. and yeah of course." you say, quite happy with how this whole misunderstanding turned out. "i really like you too." he kisses the top of your head, making you wrap an arm around him to cuddle.

"now you'll just have to figure out how to reject the girl beside your desk. she wants to ask you out."

"maybe we can start by just making out in front of her."

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