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gojonanami · 3 months

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❝ 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ❞

❝ WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU FAKE DATE SATORU GOJO WITH REAL FEELINGS? ❞

✧ pairing: satoru gojo x sorcerer!reader

✧ summary: you can't help but say yes when your longtime crush asks you to be his fake girlfriend for a year to get the gojo clan to stop arranging marriage proposals for him. but little did you know, he would be doing both of you a favor.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, fluff, reader is the same age as gojo, set during s1 of jjk, fake dating hijinks, drunk! gojo, jealous! reader + gojo, implied satosugu (sorta, i see it more in a soulmate way, whether its platonic or romantic), switch! gojo, oral (f + m), deepthroating, handjob (m), fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), creampie, naoya makes an appearance, gojo clan elders suck, gojo's made up clan responsibilities,

✧ wc: 16,043

✧ for my 2k celebration event: item 6 has been sold to @chuluoyi and an anon!

“C’mon, you don’t know until you try, sweetheart,”

You run at your temples, you didn’t need to feel burgeoning ache of a headache forming to know it was coming — but you knew it would whenever you met with this blue eyed idiot, “Satoru, the last time you said that, you nearly got me killed,” you didn’t care to re-live him sending you on a mission meant for him to take a grade 1 one curse, only to end up fighting two other grade 2 curses along with it.

You were lucky you made it by the skin of your teeth — and lucky that Shoko woke up when you showed up at her door, half dead.

“And this time, there’s no risk of death,” he grins, stirring his sugary drink that counts more as sugar than a drink, “that shows great personal growth, don’t ya think?”

“I think this conversation shows that just because you’re the strongest doesn’t mean you have an ounce of common sense,” you mutter, as you sip at your drink of choice, “Gojo, I can’t marry you — for one, there would be a risk of death — yours,”

“Eh you wouldn’t be able to kill me — you’re far too—“ and you raise an eyebrow, daring him to finish that sentence, “kind,”

You rolled your eyes, “One of the traits you’re looking for in your future partner?”

“The thing is, you wouldn’t have to marry me at all — it would be a big sham!” He said with a thumbs up, as if that made it any better at all, “just for a couple weeks so I can fool the Gojo Clan into complacency and to stop the search for my future spouse — you’d be sparing the hundreds, no thousands, of possible candidates from facing the burden of my rejection,”

“And I suppose the fact that the clan would get off your back is just a fringe benefit?” You sigh, “Gojo, why don’t you just tell them you don’t want to get married?”

“I’ve tried — but the stubborn old geezers won’t budge — I’m caught between a rock and a hard place — and you know me,” his lips curl, “I’m a lover, not a fighter,”

Yup, you have a headache now.

“What would we have to do to convince them we were together?”

Why were you considering this?

“Dates, a few public outings, meeting the geezers because they would insist, and you would need to show your face around the clan compound,” he lists off, sipping at his drink, “there may be other things, but we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” You may jump off a bridge by the time this is over and done with, “what do you say?”

“I have two questions,” and he leaned back in his chair, back and forth, impatience personified, “how long would we have to do it?” You didn’t want to be stuck in this arrangement for an undisclosed amount of time, but the second question was far more important, “ And why me?”

“Three months, maybe longer,” you gape at him, “I can pay you?” you raise an eyebrow, “I will pay you,” you sigh, “and choosing you was easy because—“

“If you make some sort of joke about me being single, I don’t care if you have infinity, I’ll find a way to murder you,” you grumble.

“Because you’re a sorcerer, you’re from a minor clan — so you’re an acceptable choice, and I trust you — you’re one of my closest friends,” he adds, for once his words are deprived of any humor.

And that answer was…almost worse than the joke. The word “friend” stuck in your side like a thorn you could never pull out, festering and growing until it had become a part of you — that ached only when you thought of it.

Your feelings for him, they were still there? You thought you had discarded them years ago, thought it was safe for you to move back to Tokyo from Kyoto, thought you had finally left that childhood crush behind — dead and buried — but here it was, still stubbornly clinging to life.

And now it would thrive with new roots, stems, leaves, and buds if you agreed to this.

He said your name, “Well?”

He remains as inscrutable as always, But you could never say no to him, could you? “Okay, fine,” it would also help you out in the form of another problem of Naoya Zenin who had been nothing but persistent since you came back…but you didn’t want to dwell on that. Your eyes find Gojo’s again — as they always did.

It was why you had left for Kyoto in the first place.

“Is this really necessary?” you grumbled, as the servants that served the Gojo clan fussed over your clothes — it was a traditional kimono in the colors of your clan — a deep indigo, embroidered with white koi fish that swam along the fabric, embroidered with waves. You supposed you were only grateful that Gojo didn’t leave you to get dressed yourself.

Gojo watched as they adjusted the obi around your waist, and your eyes remained fixed ahead, but your gaze couldn’t help but wander to him. Satoru Gojo was always unfairly gorgeous — there was a reason people fawned over him even when he had just rolled out of bed without even a once over at his appearance — but those same people probably would have passed out if they saw him as he was now.

His formal wear was a sky blue — the same as his eyes, a coat draped over his shoulders and loose trousers of snow white that was a nod to hair of the same color. His hair remained unkempt as it always was.

“Gonna change into that but not comb your hair?” You remark, and he smirks, running a hand through his hair.

“Well I think if I start being too well behaved, they’ll know it’s fake,” and the word sticks in your chest like a dagger between the ribs, as the servants finally finish with your clothes, and you sigh.

You straighten yourself, looking at yourself in the mirror, “How is it only been a couple hours and I’m already exhausted?”

“The suffocating grip of old geezers and their backwards traditions would do that to you,” but his eyes linger on you, “but lucky for you sweetheart, it seems to suit you,”

“Do you have to call me that?” You murmur, cheeks warming, as you pretend to busy yourself with adjusting your clothes in the mirror.

“You have to get used to it,” his footsteps draw closer, heart battering against your ribcage as he does — surely, it would break free of its bony cage by the end of this, as he slides a shiny pendant around your neck — a sliver infinity with a singular small blue gem glinting in the middle — “after all, you are mine now, aren’t you?”

“Gojo, this is—“

“Satoru,” he reminds you, as his fingers brush against your neck as he clasps the necklace, “how will it look if someone overhears you calling me by my last name in private?” And your fingers brush against the necklace, toying with the pendant as you positioned it properly, “do you like it? I had it made especially,”

Especially — the lack of ‘for you,’ stuck out to you, as you force a smile on your lips, “it’s perfect — it will definitely sell the act,” and your eyes can’t find his as he adjusts his sunglasses, “I’m surprised you’re not wearing your blindfold,” you turn to face him, “doesn’t it drain you not to wear it?”

“I can wear sunglasses sometimes — usually I get strange looks if I wear a blindfold in normal society — and here,” he pulls off the glasses as his cerulean irises seem to pierce your very form, “it reminds these old men who holds the cards here,” it was already hard enough for you to meet Gojo’s gaze as it was, it always felt as if he could stare right through you — and now, it felt as it your entire soul was beholden to him, “and as a bonus,” he draws close again, as he holds out his hand for your own. You resist the urge to bite your lip, inside giving your hand as he wished, and he lifts to his lips, before tilting his head to press the back of his hand to your cheek, “now I can look at my beautiful girlfriend unobstructed by these pesky eye coverings,”

You scoff, “You always have something to say, don’t you?” As you try and fail to move your hand away, “Gojo—“

“A good escort should never let their lady walk in without their hand being held, don’t you think?” And you sigh, as he leads you out of the frying pan and into the fire — you only hoped you wouldn’t be burned — your eyes sliding to Gojo again, fingers toying with the fabric over your chest — in more than one way.

“So you’ve gotten yourself a partner, eh, boy?” the elderly man sits with his eyes closed as he sips his tea, steam rolling off the surface in droves, but he seemed unbothered by the heat — perhaps because of the steam coming out of his ears, “I’m shocked,” you kept your gaze down, only had greeting him upon entering — stating your name and clan, before kneeling beside Satoru on a cushion.

“Shocked that someone like me could ever find my match? I know I’m truly one of a kind,” lips curled in that smirk that seemed to annoy almost everyone Satoru Gojo knew — including you — but no one showed the level of irritation that this man showed.

Gojo may be the head of the Gojo clan — but you supposed there were still people he had to answer too, if only due to age and tradition — the two very things Gojo hated the most.

“Why bother respecting those for aging when they haven’t done anything for me to respect?” he had said flippantly to Yaga one day during a lesson, “I rather die young than live to the age of these old coots without accomplishing a damn thing,” and then Yaga firmly smacked Gojo on the head right after, for disrespecting Gakuganji during the sister school exchange event.

And you had a feeling this meeting was about to go as well as that class did.

“Is this serious? Have you proposed?” and you have to keep a straight face, but your cheeks burn.

“Now, don’t embarrass me and my girlfriend,” his fingers intertwined with yours, “but this is serious — she’s the only woman I want to marry — and I’ll do anything to accomplish that,” he leans forward with a smile, squeezing your hand, “because I love her, and I only will ever love her,”

His gaze slides from Gojo to you, eyes boring into your skull, “and do you feel the same?”

You never have been one for lying — lying was an uncomfortable feeling that twisted and turned in your stomach like questionable leftovers that you took a gamble on eating, ones that wanted to come out the same way it went in. But you had learned with time because sometimes it was necessary for a sorcerer to lie, and when it was between telling a lie or dying, you’re forced to become quite adept at things you hate.

And you had learned, as you meet his hardened look, the best lies had some truth ingrained in them.

“I do, Satoru and I went to Jujutsu Tech together, and he’s the only man I ever loved,” perhaps it was too much truth, as you forced your voice to be steady, “he’s frustrating, irritating, full of himself—“

“You don’t have to be that honest—“ Satoru grumbled.

“But he’s also selfless, unendingly kind, a great teacher, and a good person, maybe even the best person I know,” you can’t bear to look at Satoru, “and he’s the only man I want to call my husband,”

The silence lingers in the room for a moment before the old man grunts, “I’ll believe it when I see it,”

“What kind of answer was that?” You asked as Satoru walked you back to the room, his fingers still laced with yours.

“It means we have to make him believe it — but he’ll at least stop arranging these meetings for me with prospectives,”

You raise an eyebrow, “and what will make him believe it?”

He smirks, as he tugs you a little closer, fingers under your chin, “I could kiss you right now, might sell the act,”

“No one can see us,”

“Someone’s always watching,” he murmurs, leaning far too close as your breath catches, eyes widening before they flutter shut and you wait. But instead his lips brush your forehead, followed by a flick, “gotcha,”

Your eyes snap open in a glare, “Gojo!” And he’s cackling.

“Satoru,” he corrects, as his hand leaves yours as he opens the sliding door to the room, “you coming?”

You pout, rubbing your forehead, as you brush past him — this was going to be a long few weeks.

“Why do I even have to go to this?” You were being led through a bustling mall, his arm around your waist, as if to prevent you from escaping (good idea). Your lips twisted in a grimace, you allowed him to drag you along, knowing him, he would carry you over his shoulder without a hint of shame (you don’t think he even contained the word shame in his own vernacular), “can’t you go and wear a ring and go by yourself?”

“A ring is not as good as having you on my arm now is it?” he bumps you with his hip, “plus, we’re not engaged yet, unless this is a proposal,” he raises an eyebrow, and your cheeks burn.

“Shut up, I’d never propose to you,” he laughs, but it’s almost strained.

“Never propose to me like that right? Because I deserve a better proposal than that,” he sighs, leading you into a store, “come on, we have to find you a nice outfit for the wedding,”

You glance at the store, your jaw dropping, “Gojo, this store is so expensive, I can’t afford this—“

He lowers his sunglasses just to show you that he’s rolling his eyes, “Who said you’re paying, Princess?” You stare at him, slack jawed, while a salesperson comes up to the two of you — though she’s clearly only interested in one of you.

“Hi, what can I help you with finding today?” her lips curled in a smile, as she twirled a strand of her around her fingers, “I’d be more than happy to assist you,” her gaze completely fixed on Gojo, without the slightest hint of acknowledgment for you to spare.

You bite back a scowl, plastering on a fake smile, as you lean into Gojo, “My boyfriend is looking to buy me an outfit for a wedding we’re attending — baby, could you tell her what style you want me to wear?”

Gojo glances at you, a flicker of surprise that is quickly covered up by a smirk, his arm tightening around your waist, “Yes, I have to make sure my sweetheart is looking her best — so can you please find these styles of dresses for me?” You can’t help the smile on your lips as the salesperson shuffles away, lips a thin line rather than the grin she once had.

“Didn’t know you were the jealous type,” Gojo chuckles, and you roll your eyes, hoping your expression didn’t give your heart away, the feelings you had stuffed into a crevice of your chest that threatened to burst.

So you choose to turn it on him instead, as you meet his gaze with a small smirk, “I don’t like people taking what’s mine,”

But he only takes it in stride, only as Gojo can, “I’m yours, huh?”

You shrug, choosing to hurt yourself rather than let him do it, “at least for the next two to three months,” and your gaze snaps away and looks to the saleswoman as she comes back with a selection, “if you get to choose my dress, I get to choose a suit for you, deal?”

Gojo raises an eyebrow, but smiles, “Anything for you, princess.”

“You just wanted to see me model for you, didn’t you?” Gojo emerges from the changing room in a black button down and white suit coat with a matching white tie — as he tilts his head, “I would say my best suit is my birthday suit,” and you grimace, “oh c’mon, it was a good joke, although—“

“Don’t say it’s true,” you lean back, phone in hand as you snap a picture as you did for the last three, “I love to see that self confidence of yours has grown into full blown arrogance,”

“How can I not be arrogant when I see you snapping pictures of me?” He crosses his arms, the fabric taut and straining over his chest, the top button undone, showing off the adam’s apple that bobs in his throat, “it’s definitely a step up from when you ignored me,”

You snap from your thoughts, “When did I ignore you?”

“When we graduated Jujutsu Tech, you’d spend time with Nanami or spend a weekend with Shoko, but whenever I was around, you wouldn’t even reply to a text,” your eyes fall to the floor, chewing your lip, “it wasn’t always like that — I thought we were close,”

It was true — but it wasn’t because you hated him. It was the opposite. You had tried to be his friend, but the more you were his friend, the more it hurt — hurt to see him smile at you like everyone else, hurt to see him with his eyes on the one he wanted, and with his arm around Suguru.

And you really didn’t hate Suguru — it was the opposite really — you thought they were perfect, a person who grounded him, made him a better person, and with a much tighter grip on reality than Gojo did — perhaps too tight. Too tight that it shattered apart in his hands, the pieces too far gone to pick out — and too far gone to save him.

You tried to be there for him — knock on his door when you knew he was home and force him to shower while you and Shoko cleaned up his room. You stayed even when Shoko had long left, holding his hand as he hid his tears from you with his back turned, and you didn’t admit you could hear his nearly silent tears. But eventually, it turned into movie nights, meals shared, and even grocery runs.

And it became harder and harder to hide how you felt — each minute spent with him was another drop in a bucket that was already overflowing to begin with. At first it had been a crush — an unattainable crush that you were happy to leave at just that. But eventually, it became so much more — you had fallen in love with him, when you really shouldn’t have. Because he didn’t need a partner — he needed a friend.

“Gojo, I didn’t ignore you—“

“I’ve called you sweetheart, did your number change and then magically change back when you came back to Tokyo?”

But once he had pulled himself together, you were graduating and you requested to be put in Kyoto — your excuse being you were tired being in the city — but to Satoru, you gave no excuse, you quietly left without a word. Because you were really tired of having your heart broken — so you needed space, and you were willing to do anything to get it.

“Gojo, I didn’t really talk much to Nanami or Shoko when I left either, I just needed space—“

“Space from what?” You sighed, parting your lips when his phone rings. He checks it before taking it, “another mission? Yeah, I can leave tonight,” you bit your lip, “send Ijichi to take me to the airport. Yeah, ok,” and he hangs up, “we’ll have to cut this short. I have to go overseas,”

“How long will you be gone?”

“Probably just a few days. I’ll be back soon,” you bite your lip, and he tilts his head, “you worried about me, Princess?”

You flush, opening and closing your mouth, “I am,” and he blinks, seemingly surprised, “come back safe. Text me to let me know when you land,”

His lips curl, as he ruffles your hair, “I will — and I’ll be back soon enough. Promise,” and he pauses, “you want a souvenir?”

“You don’t have to—“

“I want to,” he cuts you off, and your cheeks warm.

And just then, he gets a text, “Ijichi Is almost here. I’ll have him drop you back first,” and he turns to change out of his clothes.

“Satoru,” you catch him by the sleeve, and he pauses, “I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you after all of that. It had nothing to do with you, there was just a lot going on—“ he says your name, but you shake your head, “but it won’t happen again, I promise,”

“Good,” he steps back into the changing room, a grin on his lips, “I wouldn’t let you get away this time anyway, sweetheart.”

“Gojo?” You say again, and he tilts his head, “get the indigo suit,”

He grins, “and you have good taste, well, of course you do,” he holds the door open, “I am your boyfriend after all.”

And the door of the fitting room swings shut, and you hope he’s not looking at you, as your cheeks burn, your heart squeezing in spite of every thought of your mind telling not to go there — not to go down that road, but you should have known, the moment you said yes to this plan—

You were already there.

You had never known that the buzz of your phone could make you more happy — or anxious.

But it had been over the course of the last few days. Because you’re probably an idiot, but that wasn’t the point.

how bad of an idea would it be for me to try this Karanga and Chapati place that Yuta recommended?

You snorted, Satoru, the last time you had curry — that wasn’t even that spicy, you couldn’t taste anything for a week.

Another buzz, But Yuta said it’s not so bad

You roll your eyes, imagining the pout he undoubtedly has on his lips — Yuta has never seen you cry over a bowl of curry — stick with your desserts, and you chuckle as you add: you may be the strongest but you have the weakest taste buds

It takes some time for another response to come — and when it does, you realize a grave error on your part was made: never point out any flaw to this idiot because he will take it as a challenge.

This is Yuta — Gojo-sensei tried it and he’s now in the bathroom. He told me to tell you he’d text you later.

This was how the last few days flew by — texts with updates about his mission, his work, and his check-ins with Yuta. And the night before he was flying back, just as you were cooking dinner, he called you—

“Gojo? Isn’t it 2:00 AM there right now?”

“You learned the time difference for me?” you heard his words slur over the other line, “Sweethearttttt,” I went out with Yuta and Miguel, and I may have gotten a littttttle tipsy,”

“Isn’t it like 2:00 AM there?”

He clicks his tongue, “Miguel challenged me to a drinking contest,” and you groan, rubbing a hand down your face, “but they got me back into my hotel room, even though I’m not tired,” he mumbles, as you hear the crinkle of his bedsheets and the rustling of his comforter.

“Have you drank water? How much alcohol did you have?”

“Are you worried about me?” he giggles, before sighing, “I’m glad,”

“Why are you glad?” You hold the phone between your cheek and shoulder as you stir the pan with your dinner currently in it.

“Because it means you care about me,” he murmurs, “everyone who cares about me always leaves,” he gives a small bitter chuckle, “maybe it’s better for you not to care about me. It’s dangerous to care about someone like me — the type to die young or live far too long,”

“Gojo—“

“Satoru,” he mutters, voice growing thick with sleep, “call me Satoru,” and his soft snores fill your ear as he falls into the sandman’s grasp — a small reprieve from his feelings — while you were left to dwell in them.

All this time you had been thinking how you felt, what you were dealing with, what you wanted — and all these years and you hadn’t thought about how your actions made him felt. You thought he was beyond any hurt you could possibly inflict — his infinity meant that he was leagues above anywhere you could possibly reach — but it didn’t.

He wasn’t. He was a person — and when had you stopped treating him as one?

You texted Yuta: make sure your sensei is lying on his side and make him drink some water. And don’t let Miguel goad him into drinking ever again.

Yuta: got it. sorry about that sensei — gojo wouldn’t listen

You scoffed, chuckling at how Yuta called you sensei but did not afford Gojo the same courtesy.

You stayed on the phone with Gojo, hearing Yuta come in and persuading him to drink some water, before he fell back asleep, but even in his drunken state, he wouldn’t give up his phone — Yuta snapping a picture and sending it to you. You laughed when you saw it — loml with a dozen hearts and a picture of you in your obi, clearly taken when you weren’t looking, but it wasn’t those things that made you laugh — it was the way Gojo clung to his phone, fingers wrapped around it desperately, as he slept.

You stayed on the phone with him all night, even when you went to bed — of course just to make sure he’s fine — the call waking you when it disconnected after reaching the max call time. Your eyes flutter open, glancing at the time — 5:00 AM. And almost like clockwork, your phone rings again, Gojo’s number flashing on your screen.

You pick up, “Mm, hello?” you yawn, “finally awake sleeping beauty?”

“Glad you finally decided to acknowledge my beauty,” his voice is gravelly, thick with sleep, and god, you can’t help but imagine waking to this voice every day — “ugh I have a headache,” he murmurs, the crumple you hear must be him burying his face in his pillow because the next question he asks is muffled, “why were we on the phone?”

“You called me last night after drinking, and refused to hang up after Yuta helped you get settled,” you chuckle, as you hear his groan over the phone, “I got a new contact picture for you out of it, love of my life,”

“Glad you’re finally on board,” he mutters, growing quiet, “why didn’t you hang up?”

You pause, “what do you mean?” You ask slowly.

“You could’ve hung up at any time, but you stayed on the phone, even when you fell asleep,” his voice was soft, “why?”

“I just,” you bit your lip, you couldn’t lie to him, at least not completely, “I just wanted to make sure you were okay, and you didn’t want to hang up — so I didn’t,”

He’s silent for a moment, and you almost wish you could sink into the Earth — but he only says, “okay, now what’s the plan for the day, Princess?”

Your lips curl, “Well my day has not really began yet since it’s 5:00 AM here, so I’m probably going to sleep for several hours and wake up at an hour that is not bereft of god,”

“You really couldn’t just say ‘ungodly?’” He snorts.

“Well, 5:00 AM makes me wax poetic, what can I say?” Another yawn parts your lips, “I’m going to sleep,”

But he doesn’t hang up, “I’ll be here, sweetheart.”

You glanced at the time, he’s late.

Well, he wouldn’t be Gojo if he didn’t make an entrance. You slumped on the couch — even if he was getting home from his mission, there was no guarantee he’d stop by your place to see you. He might want to just go home — or stop by Jujutsu Tech, or be anywhere else. You couldn’t have expectations — expectations were only a way to be disappointed, a drop from soaring that would only be met with the impact of the cold, unforgiving ground.

Especially expectations from a fake relationship. You lay on the couch, staring at the ceiling — why were being such an idiot about this? The TV drones on in the background, illuminating the dark of the living room, as you sit barely paying attention to a random rom com you had picked.

Maybe it was because Satoru had spent the rest of today on the phone with you, even through a security check (warning the security officers not to hang up his call) and at the gate. And then every day after that, he had called and texted you like clockwork — stupid things— good morning and good night, random memes that made him think of you, pictures of his day (including ones of him messing with his students), questions of what sweet you wanted from the shop he had decided to frequent, calls about your day and his own, and hours long conversations about nothing at all. Maybe because you could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke to you — or maybe it was because you were just down bad.

It was probably the latter.

You take a throw pillow and pull it over your face. What were you thinking? Falling for your old crush and fake boyfriend a night before a wedding was a trope in a bad rom com that you spent your weekend night watching — it shouldn’t be how you feel.

“That’s a nice look,” you jump, pulling the pillow away, to be met with Gojo’s gaze hidden behind another pair of sunglasses, “honey, I’m home,”

You bite back your smile, “one, this isn’t your home, and two, how did you get inside?”

“It’s pretty easy when you can teleport, you should try it sometime,” he sits beside you, more like collapses as he falls into the couch, his head resting against the top, “although if someone moved in with me, it’d be much easier,” and you laugh.

“Shouldn’t you ask a girl out before you ask her to move in?” he shrugs, his arm resting across the top of the couch.

“I’m anything but traditional,” he sighs, glancing at the TV, “what are we watching?”

“A bad rom com,”

He snorts, “watching it to mercilessly pick it apart?” And you raise an eyebrow, “what? I did stay awake for some of those movies— it was some of my favorite memories during that time and some of the only times I could actually sleep,”

“Yeah, it was a nice way for both of us to turn our brains off for a bit,” you glanced at him, “thought it’d be nice for us too,” his gaze slides to you curiously, “I know there’s been a lot on your mind — with itadori and the special grades,”

He sighs, running fingers through his hair, “Yeah, old geezers seem to cause problems in all parts of my life,” you snort, “can’t believe they’d try to do away with Itadori while I was gone,”

“They don’t see anyone as innocent — they see whether you’re an asset or a threat, unfortunately, they see Itadori not as the former,” you shake your head, as your eyes stare at the movie flashing on the screen, but you don’t really watch, “they’re too far gone to see the innocence of children,”

“You sound like Kento,” and your eyes meet his, his cerulean gaze already on you, his sunglasses discarded on your coffee table.

“Funny, thought I sounded like you,” he blinks a moment, “Satoru, you’re all about preserving the youth of children — that’s why you saved Megumi, Yuta, and Yuji — even when you had every reason not to,”

“How could I not? Youth belongs to the young after all,” a wistful smile on his lips, “i don’t want the same to happen to them that happened to us,”

“To us,” you repeat, a sharp pain sticks between your ribs at the flash of Haibara’s smile and the whisper of Suguru’s laugh, “more like to them,”

“Yeah,” a silence falling over the two of you as the white noise of the TV filled the quiet, “but sometimes I think we went down along with them,”

You shake your head, “I think a part of us did — a part of us will stay there—“ frozen in time and seeping like poison in our bones, “but we’re still here,” you risk to toe the line you’d never cross, your fingers brushing his, “and it’s not over for us,”

And his eyes flicker to your fingers threaded with his, as his fingers squeeze yours slowly, the corner of his lips quirk upwards, as you stretch and sit up, fingers falling away from his, a yawn on your lips, “should we get some sleep?”

“Come on, let’s finish the movie,” he murmurs, even though sleep seems to weigh heavily on his body, eyelids fluttering shut as he turns to you, cheek pressed against the couch, “hey,” he murmurs, “it wasn’t the movies that let me relax,” and you can hear the unspoken meaning in those words — but that was the problem.

It was unspoken.

Your fingers twitch, wanting nothing more than to brush your fingers against his cheek — but you can’t.

You’d allowed yourself to toe the line you’d long drawn in the sand that you’d built into a wall — you had even allowed yourself to stir a few bricks from its place, but you couldn’t cross it. Not now.

Your eyes are growing heavy. Maybe not ever.

Your neck hurts.

The first thought you have as you rouse into aching consciousness. Why was it so bright? Did you forget to draw your curtains? You draw an arm over your face, already dreading the waking hours, until you realize it’s your day off, and you sigh, relaxing into your bed.

Or what you thought was your bed.

Except your bed couldn’t move, nor could it pull you closer. But now something or someone was, an arm around your waist with movement behind you that made breath warm your ear. And you probably would have screamed, if you hadn’t heard the familiar voice whisper your name in your ear.

Gojo.

Gojo???

Your head slowly turned to be met with the strongest sorcerer very much passed out, half behind you, half on top of you — his blue eyes hidden under his eyelids for once instead of any covering that he used to protect himself. His snowy white locks brushed against your skin, the close proximity doing nothing to alleviate your feelings — you had only hoped you could see one flaw, one ick, and maybe you’d be done. But on Satoru Gojo? The man born to be perfect — the same one who sang karaoke for the first time as a teen only to be so incredible that it moved your server to tears?

You really should have fucking known better.

Your breath caught, and you wondered if it was possible to die from embarrassment—if no one had, you would surely be the first case. You were always a trail blazer.

And you tried to shift again, if only to maneuver yourself out of this situation, but he moved along with you, seeking out the contact he was losing. And this only ended with him lying on top of you, his head buried in the crook of your neck, and his legs straddling one of your legs— and then you felt it — a very distinct bulge pressed against your thigh.

Fuck. Your. Life.

He mumbled in his sleep, nose brushing against the hollow of your neck, drawing another shiver from your body. You had a rare opportunity to touch him — didn’t you, no infinity between the two of you — just him and you. You were in a position probably many desired to be in — admirers and enemies alike (neither category being mutually exclusive). You supposed old habits die hard — and so did old crushes.

Could you let yourself enjoy this for a moment? Enjoy the feeling, no matter how real it never would be? Maybe it was wrong, but — your eyes fluttered shut as your arm wrapped loosely around Gojo — you certainly didn’t want to be the one to wake up first.

And you weren’t — your eyes flutter open to movement, and your eyes meet cerulean eyes, lips parted in surprise, “Morning,” he manages, a flush of pink coloring his cheeks, “did we fall asleep?”

“I guess we did,” you bite your lip, “are you going to—”

And he blinks, before scrambling off of you, “Sorry,” he mumbles, as he turns away to fidget with his phone.

“Guess that was one very boring movie,” you murmur.

“Or I was in a very comfortable bed,” he replies with a smirk that turns to a grimace.

“What is it?”

“Naoya Zenin is making an appearance at the wedding we’re attending tomorrow,” and you groan, as he raises an eyebrow, “how many proposals had he made you?”

You scoff, “Proposals? More like propositions,” you shake your head, already aching from the sleep you had barely shaken off and now it had graduated to a shooting pain that made your eye twitch at the thought of that man, “he’s offered to do me the ‘honor’ of being the next heir’s husband half a dozen times. If he ever becomes the head of the Zenin clan, I may help Maki annihilate them myself,”

Naoya Zenin — the most pretentious and egocentric man you had the displeasure of meeting. Even his pretty face could do nothing to fix his hideous personality ridden with misogyny, hatred, and spite. And you’d been offered his hand in marriage half a dozen times due to your lineage in a lesser known clan family with a unique cursed energy. It was a strategic move to try and secure his place — as was every move he made — he had no room for anyone he deemed useless to his plan.

Unfortunately, you did not fall into that special category.

“That won’t happen,” Gojo replies, texting on his phone, “plus, he’s too weak to force that to happen — not to mention he’s a first class prick,”

“You say that, but you basically propositioned me,” you teased, as his eyes flit up from his phone, as you rise from the couch, “quite the proposal you came to me with,”

He pauses a moment, a small smile on his lips, “one, i don’t recall proposing, and trust me that’s something I’d remember,” and you roll your eyes, “and two, aren’t you just as bad, since you said yes, sweetheart?”

“Can you blame a girl wanting a little extra money?” And he locks his phone, drawing close, your breath catching as he lets himself linger for a second too long.

“Can you blame a man for wanting a beautiful and intelligent woman?” And he’s leaning close, but he leans back, only grabbing his coat from the couch, still slung over as it had been. He spares you a smirk at your bewildered expression, “close your mouth, you’ll catch flies, princess, and what a shame that would be,” you scowl, and he laughs as he heads to the door, slipping on his shoes, with a final glance and grin thrown over his shoulder as he opened your door, “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

Right. Tomorrow. The wedding.

Fuck. You were so screwed.

KNOCK. KNOCK.

Fuck. You scrambled from your vanity as you finished putting the finishing touches on your look for tonight. You didn’t think Satoru Gojo of all people could ever be on time, but you supposed there was a first time for everything.

You slipped the dress over your head, careful not to smear your makeup or mess up your hair. You were starting to regret not having the Gojo family’s attendants get you ready for this event, if only so you could have turned your mind off for this time. But you knew all too well that your mind could never give you a break — with all of that free time came free real estate for your anxiety to set up camp and put down roots for all the things that could possibly go wrong. So it was better this way, as you reach for the ties on the back of your dress — of course, maybe if you had let yourself be helped, you could actually have someone to tie your corset back on this dress.

Another knock.

“Sweetheart?” You hear Gojo’s muffled voice through the door, “you’re not planning on standing me up are you?”

You stumble your way to the door, clutching the back of your dress, as you take a breath and throw it open, “Can you tie the back of my dress?”

Fuck. He looked gorgeous. His hair was parted and combed off to the side, a deep blue suit coat and a crisp white collared shirt tucked into a matching suit pant. A pair of sunglasses were tucked into the chest pocket of his jacket in front of a white pocket square.

“No hello, ‘can you tie my dress?’” Gojo tilts his head, his eyes graze over your appearance, as he steps inside and closes the door behind him, “turn around,” And you do, fingers still clutching at the fabric at the back of your dress, cheeks burning as you do, “gonna have to let go, and let me help you, sweetheart,”

You slowly let go, but his warm fingers brush against the skin of your bare back as he holds the dress up from slipping, carefully lacing the corset, “I was right, blue is your color,” he murmurs, as he tugs lightly at the strings, “let me know when it’s tight enough,”

“It’s good now,” you sigh — though the corset wasn’t as tight as your chest now, you face him now, trying to adjust your hair.

“Let me,” one hand cups your chin gently, your breath catching and you can only hope he can’t feel your pulse through your skin. His fingers run through your soft tresses, your eyes unable to meet his — but you wonder if he can see right through you anyway — “you’ve never been good at asking for help,”

“Look who’s talking,” you glare at him, as he chuckles, “well, I asked you didn’t I?”

“Why did you ask me?” You raise an eyebrow, “I’m sure you could have asked anyone,”

“Well, I didn’t want just anyone,” he murmurs, fingers tracing the blush you had lined your cheeks with, “I wanted you,”

“Why?” And he parts his lips, a soft smile that pulls at his features — was it a hint of pink across his cheeks.

“Because—“ and your phone goes off — a reminder with the time of the wedding. And the moment’s broken, as reality settles over you again, “We’ll be late,”

“I don’t mind being late,” and a heat burns from his touch, from the tips of your fingers to the his fingers leave your cheek, warmth fading as quickly as it came, but he offers his hand, “but if it’s for you, I can be on time,” and your fingers find his, interlacing, before he tugs you close, his arm around your waist, “as long as you stay by my side.”

You never were one for weddings. At least not one like this.

A stuffy event held in an extravagant manner — a large banquet hall for the reception, but now the guests roamed the gardens the hall opened out into — lush greenery serving as a perfect backdrop for this wedding — a distant branch of the Zenin family was marrying, which meant all of the main clans were invited to attend. Including several elders of the Gojo clan.

And now you were being subjected to this as well — several dozen eyes on you — all due to the man whose arm you were on. His arm wrapped almost protectively around your waist, his lips nearly brushed against your ear when he whispered in it, letting you know just exactly who was coming over.

“I didn’t think you were one to care for remembering these things,” you wave at the couple that just left the two of you, his fingers grazing the skin behind your ear as he tucked a stray strand behind it.

“I usually don’t care, but I know it’d make you uncomfortable otherwise, especially among all these people,” he smirks, his fingers finding yours, and squeezing, “plus, we need to make a good impression, don’t we?”

“I think we’re making an impression just by being together,” you murmur, and he raises an eyebrow, “everyone’s staring — didn’t you notice?” and he shrugs, a sly smile on his lips.

“Didn’t notice,” he tilts his head, his eyes fixed on you, “I was too busy looking elsewhere, I guess,”

Your cheeks burn, but as your lips part to respond, you see him walking over to the discreet corner you had parked yourselves in, “Fuck,” you mutter under your breath, your fingers tightening around his.

Naoya Zenin strides over in a black yukata kimono, his silver hair pushed back, his lips twisted in a slimy smile that made your skin crawl, your name leaving his lips, “it’s been far too long, you’re looking lovely,” his eyes raked over you like hot coals, “though the company you keep—”

“Has improved markedly,” Satoru’s lips curl in a grin, “do you have business with my girlfriend?”

Naoya raises an eyebrow, “Girlfriend?”

Satoru’s arm tightens around your waist, “I didn’t realize you went hard of hearing — I know your hair had started to go, but your hearing too—” you hid your snort poorly, Naoya’s sharp gaze flickering between the two of you.

“I’m younger than you are, and my hair is bleached,” he snaps, “or are those six eyes not sharp enough to see that as well? They certainly aren’t enough for you to have found Suguru Geto before he caused a war,”

And Satoru’s hurt is imperceptible — a hint of hurt that only shows in the tightness of his jaw for a millisecond, before he’s only giving another laugh.

“At least I am already the head of my clan, because even if I were without my six eyes,” he smirks, but a certain meanness pulls at his features, “I’m still not as weak as you are—”

Naoya’s expression sours, curdled into a foul scowl, “What did you—”

“Alright,” you hold up your hands, “Let’s save the dick measuring contest for later, okay? This is a wedding, let’s not cause a scene, ok?” you glance between the two of them, and Satoru pouts — while Naoya seems all too pleased, a grin broken across his lips.

“This is why you’re the perfect woman — you know how to mediate between men’s egos, and—”

“Naoya, I said let’s not cause a scene, and you’re two steps away from me causing one right now,” you snap, “I wasn’t interested the first dozen times you asked me when I was single, so why would you think I’d be interested now, when I have a boyfriend?”

His face flushes red, and you’re not sure whether it’s in anger or embarrassment, “I doubt you’re even really a couple,” he hisses, “I know all about the proposals that this idiot has been getting and the pressure to marry,” he runs his fingers through his hair, “I’m sure you’ll come running to me once he’s done using you—“

Satoru surges forward, but you press a hand against his chest, “We don’t need to justify our relationship to you, so think what you want — but even if Satoru and I break up, I rather die single than ever spend a minute with you,” and you look at Satoru, your gaze softening, “and I rather spend be single for the rest of my life than spend another minute without him,” and you slide your eyes back to Naoya, his fists clenched, as you lean in, “so fuck off.”

He opens his mouth to reply, but the staff begin to wave everyone into their seats, and the wedding begins. The two of you sit, a silence falling over as others take their seats beside you. A subtle tension as music filled the air and the wedding proceedings began—but you could have cared less— god what the fuck had you said to Naoya? How had Gojo taken it? Does he know how you feel? Does he think it’s an act?

Then his fingers find yours, “Thank you,” he whispers softly, managing only those two words before the wedding begins.

And it dawns on you — it wasn’t what you said, it was the fact you had defended him, your heart aches, it was the fact you had defended him when Naoya insulted Suguru.

Your eyes stay fixed forward as the ceremony begins — it was never about you — as you pulled your fingers away from him.

Like it always never was.

The wedding ceremony goes by — as does the reception, without much to-do. The only silver lining is that there’s far too much small talk for the two of you to have a moment to talk alone, especially when the two of you spot the Gojo clan elders side-eyeing you from the table of old folks, not to mention Naoya hovering around that same table, the same scowl on his face. The only remark that Satoru whispered as the two of you floated by the table pointedly, a smirk on his lips as he waved and held you close to his side — “one quick hollow purple could solve my problems,”

You gave a forced chuckle at that — unfortunately not yours.

And finally, the two of you head home — in relative silence, the drive being short to Gojo’s apartment, where your car was parked. You sigh as he pulls in, “I’ll head out I guess—”

“Why don’t you just stay the night?” and your gaze snaps to his, the first time all night, “it’s really late, and I have a guest room—”

“My apartment isn’t—”

“Your apartment isn’t far, but I thought we could…talk,” and your heart gallops to a start — talking was the last thing you wanted to do.

“What is there to talk about?” And his fingers brush against your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“Maybe about why you can’t meet my eyes?” You huff, looking away.

“Can you blame me? Your blue eyes are freaky,” you grumble, and you can hear the judgment in the silence, a first for Gojo, “Gojo, what do you want me to say?”

He stays quiet for a moment, “You don’t have to say anything, just come inside,” So you do — following him inside, the silence hanging over you like a guillotine waiting to slice, “Thank you for what you said—“

The door clicks behind him, as you stop, “Gojo—“

“Satoru,” he corrects, and you’re shaking your head.

“You don’t have to thank me, I was just—“

“But what you said—“

“I said what I had to—“

“You didn’t have to say all that, Princess,” his voice grows soft, “you know you didn’t,” and he’s drawing closer across his living room.

“He was upsetting you,” you murmur, eyes unable to find his again, falling instead to his plush carpet laid against his hardwood, “I couldn’t stand by and let him — I know it hurt when he brought up Suguru—“

“Suguru?” he repeats, and your eyes find his, finally, and you find his brow furrowed, “is that what you think I was thanking you for?”

“What else would you—“ and he’s stepping even closer, your breath stuck in your throat as his fingertips graze your cheek again, “Satoru—“

“Did I mention how beautiful you looked tonight?” he murmurs, a soft chuckle in his voice, “you always look beautiful, but tonight in particular, I couldn’t take my eyes off you,”

“You don’t have to—“

“That’s just it, I don’t have to,” his palm slides against your cheek, “I want to — I want to when it’s you,”

“But, i can’t do this, not like this,” tears burn at the corners of your eyes, water threatening to spill out of a too full glass that had been full for far too long, “not when it will give me—“ you cut yourself off before you cut your own heart out, but he’s only forcing the scalpel back into your hand.

“Give you what?”

And you can’t turn back now — you’d turned from this road far too many times, sprinted in the opposite direction only to end up here again — you needed to do this, even if it lead to a dead end cliff, “Give me the wrong idea,” and you’re turning away, but his hand catches you by the wrist, “stop, I—“

“It’s not the wrong idea,” and you stop.

No, it was. It was, right?

“Satoru—“ and his fingers find your own, as he steps closer, “please, don’t—“

“If you want me to really stop and forget about this, I will,” he murmurs, “I’ll turn around and open the door and let you go home right now, sweetheart. I won’t bring this up again,” but you don’t move away, you don’t say anything, so he continues, “but if you don’t want that, and you want the same thing I do—“

“And what is it that you want?” And you hear his soft chuckle, his cheek brushing against you, as his fingers tuck your hair behind your ear.

“I thought that was obvious, but I guess I’ll have to spell it out for you,” he squeezes your hand, as he guides your face to look back at him, his lips curled in a small smile, “I want you,”

Your breath is shaky, no, no — he doesn’t mean that, “No you don’t,”

He tilts his head, “You don’t think I don’t know what I want?”

“Satoru, I don’t want to be a substitute for others—“

And his hands are sliding around your middle, pulling you closer, “You think I could ever think of you as a second choice?”

“But—“ and every doubt from when you were younger wells up, every fear of not being enough — but they are erased away, crumbled into dust, by the way he looks at you — entire multitudes of skies all made to look at you.

“You keep finding reasons not to do this,” and his fingers skim your cheek, before resting under your chin, “but have you tried finding a reason why we should?”

“Satoru—“ you can’t help but lean into his touch — god, he was a temptation personified — everything you ever wanted, even when you tried not to want it. These feelings were never fake — so why not give in? Just this once. Your fingers slide against his cheek, and you can feel his skin burn under your touch, “do you have any idea what you do to me?”

“No, sweetheart,” he leans in even closer, your breaths becoming one, “but I’d love to find out,”

His lips brush yours — it’s chaste, hesitant, testing the waters — he tastes like sugar, and you almost laugh — he tastes like the frosting from the wedding cake that he had swiped a slice of on the way out that he finished before you two had reached his car. His eyes flutter open for half a second, before your lips are crashing to his this time — a new record for addiction? A second maybe and you were too far gone.

His hands cup your cheeks, one sliding to the back of your neck, as the other slides down to your waist to pull you ever closer.

“Did you find it out?” You murmur between kisses, lips meeting and parting if only to allow you both a breath. And his snowy eyelashes flutter, as his lips quirk upwards.

“Think I need another,” and his lips swallow any coherent thoughts you have, his hands slipping down your sides, lips parting again, “another,” he murmurs, a kiss, “another,”

“How many do you need?” you ask breathlessly, a chuckle caught in your throat, and his lips press desperate kisses along your jaw, a smirk against your skin.

“Is infinity an answer?” And you laugh, “have to take responsibility — I’m addicted to you,”

“And if I’m addicted?” His hands squeeze your hips, drawing a gasp from your lips.

“I’d be more than happy to take responsibility for you, Princess — always have,”

Your heart beats against the bars of its cage, threatening to burst out — but you couldn’t — not without knowing, “And if you break my heart?”

“I won’t ever break your heart,” he leans down to press butterfly kisses to your cheek, “but even if I do, I’ll put it back together,”

“Promise?” You murmur, and his lips meet yours again, and again, as he’s leading you towards his bedroom, his fingers running through your hair.

And the door to his bedroom swings shut, “Promise.”

“How long are you going to tease me?” you’re grumbling, cheeks hot and eyes averted, the back of your hand pressed against your lips, as Satoru presses needy kisses along your neckline of your dress.

He looks up at you through his snowy lashes, and you don’t know if you want to slap the smile off his lips or kiss it off, “You’ve been teasing me for years, you can’t give me this time, sweetheart?” His teeth graze the juncture of your neck and shoulder, “plus, do y’know how fun it is to watch you squirm?”

Slap. It’s definitely a slap.

“You’re insufferable,” and he smirks when your breath catches when his lips ghost over the swell of your chest.

“Yet you’re the one who's under me—“ and you try to get up only for him to pin you back down, a pout on his lips, “alright, alright, can’t blame me for wanting to see you squirm, Princess, how many chances will I get?”

“Only this one if you keep this up,” and he’s finding your lips in a languid kiss, an apology with no words, a smile filled with affection that only made it hard for you to feign annoyance.

“Then I better make this count,” he’s gently helping you up, turning you around to undo your corset strings — but you wonder if he’s undoing it or tangling it, “why did we choose a dress with such a complicated back?” It’s his turn to grumble and it only draws a giggle from you.

“Surprised you haven’t hollow purple’d it by now,”

“Trust me if you weren’t in it, I would have,” he sighs, as the fabric begins to loosen up, slipping off your shoulders.

“And here I thought you were good at everything,” you chuckle as he helps you shimmy out of the dress, the fabric falling away from you in a small pool around your ankles. Pools of blue rake over your exposed body, raising goosebumps in its wake, as your arms reflexively try to cover yourself, but his hands find your own, easing them away.

“I’m good at what counts, Princess,” he kisses your wrist, pulse jumping under his touch, nose brushing against it, he hovers over you, as he undoes his tie, fingers tugging at the knot, as he undoes the top button of his shirt, “and I’ll show you.”

~~~~

Satoru had dreamed of this — of you and him. He knew when he realized it — although it was too late when he did. Maybe it was the night before you left — the night after graduation — before you left — you had fallen asleep watching the movie you had put on. Your lips parted and mouth ajar, your eyes fluttered shut, and you were out. He had leaned over to grab his phone to snap a picture to tease you with later, only for your fingers to grab onto him, your head on his shoulder, a quiet murmur of his name.

“Satoru,” — not Gojo, as you had always called him. And he knew he wanted to hear you say it again and again. His fingers brushed a stray strand of hair away, his head leaning against yours.

Suguru was everything to him for a time — he had come to Satoru at a time where he thought no one else would ever be able to understand him. No one else would be able to reach him — because how does a person reach for a god? But here you were — and the way your head rested on his shoulder and your lips said his name made him want nothing more than you by his side.

And when you left — you didn’t reply to his messages, you disappeared, just like everyone else did in his life. He was always left alone in the end — maybe it was his fate.

But then you came back — came back almost right after Suguru left for good. And that part of his heart that was meant for you began to thrive again and again — as he spent more time with you.

And god, when his clan started to pressure him to find someone to marry — he wrote them off as he always did. He thought he could ride out the ridiculous proposals and dates they had arranged for him — but as he thought more about who he wanted to spend his time with, who he wanted to see after a tiring mission, and who he couldn’t imagine being without —-

And he realized it was you.

“Satoru, don’t tease me,” you pouted, teeth bearing down on your bottom lip, legs spread for him, his eyes flirting between your all too cute expression and the growing wet patch on your panties, “fuck, please—“

“Gonna have to tell me what you want, sweetheart,” he presses a wet kiss to your inner thigh, his arm hooked under your knee, your foot pressed against his back, “where do you want me?”

“You fuck-er—“ the last syllable is a gasp as he kisses your sensitive clit through your soaked underwear, “Toru—“ a whine leaves your throat.

Fuck, you’re so cute, his fingers toy with the elastic of your panties — and all of this was worth it, worth it to see if these feelings were what he thought they were, worth it to make you smile, and worth to end up with you.

“How can I refuse you when you say my name like that?” he’s tugging your underwear away, exposing your sipping cunt to a rush of air and his warm breath, “all this f’me, baby?” You mumble something he can’t quite make out, “what was that?”

Your glassy eyes look up at him, blown wide with lust, “Only f’you, Satoru,” fuck, his dick twitches — he could bust just looking at you.

“Fuck, baby,” he murmurs, “g’nna make me cum just with your words,” but he diverts his attention to your needy cunt, his long fingers graze over your pussy, collecting the precum on his fingertips, before he pinches your clit.

“Toru,” you squirm, as he grins down at you, all too pleased.

“Imagine if the elders could see you like this — spread out for me like a good little wife,” he’s leaning down to kiss your fluttering folds, leaning back for you to see the shiny pre that clings to his lips that his pink tongue darts out to clean off, “sweetest thing I’ve tasted,”

“Please, Toru, fuck—“ and finally his finger is circling your hole, before sinking in knuckle deep — fuck, you were fucking tight — he could melt from your warmth, pulling him in like a siren to a drunken sailor, “oh my god,”

“You don’t have to call me ‘god,’ princess,” and he earns a glare from you that fades into an open mouthed moan as he begins to pump his finger in and out, “so good for me,” and he’s adding another finger, the wet squelch of your cunt growing louder, as he reaches a hand down to graze against his erection if only for a little relief.

He wishes he could memorize the way you looked right now — perfect little lips parted for him, his name and soft pants the only sounds you could manage to make, your back arching into his touch, and the way you moaned when his lips found their way around your clit.

His tongue circles your clit at first before his lips suck at the hard pearl, fingers parting your dripping folds, finally finding that spot that had your walls giving that telltale spasm, “Toru, I’m close—g’nna cum—“ you whimper, his fingers pistoning in and out of your cunt as he sucks hard at your clit, and you cum, hard, around his fingers, drenching his face and finger alike, as he fucks you through your orgasm.

You’re beautiful — lips parted and chest heaving, as you moan his name again, “good girl,” he’s murmuring, as your eyes flutter open, to watch him lick his lips and fingers clean, “might get addicted to how you taste, sweetheart,”

And you’re boneless, but still you’re still reaching for him, pulling him into a languid kiss, his cock twitching as he shifts himself over you, hands pressed into the mattress, his clothed cock rubbing against your drenched folds.

“Wanna make you feel good,” you mumble against his lips, and he’s pulling back an inch — but unknowingly, he’s given you a mile, as you flip him onto his back.

You’re a vision — your perked up nipples visible through your bra, halfway slipping off your shoulders as it is, hair a lovely mess, and pretty lips kiss ruined.

“My turn,” and your lips burn a trail down his jaw, along the curve of his neck and the cut of his collarbone. You take your time, if only to pay him back in full for all the teasing he did, “didn’t know you taste so sweet, Toru,” your tongue drags up his chest, “must be all the sugar you eat,”

And your lips smile against his abs at the sharp gasp he fails to stifle, “I’ll have you know I’m very sweet—“ and your fingers graze over his clothed erection — his hips buck up into your touch, “I’m known for it,” he hisses, as a giggle escapes your lips.

“Uh-huh, I’m sure almost everyone would care to disagree,” the tip of his cock strains against the fabric, the dark wet patch growing larger the more your thumb beared down on it, “but I wouldn’t be one of them,” and you’re dragging the fabric down his hips, freeing his cock, your eyes nearly hypnotized by the slight of it, thick beads of precum dripping from the slit, before your gaze finds his again, softening, “because I know how much you do for others — and how much you’ve lost because of it,” you kiss his inner thigh softly, nose brushing against the skin.

“As long I don’t lose you,” he says softly, “I think I’ll be okay,”

And your fingers find their way around the base of his cock, drawing a ragged gasp from his lips, before you lean down and flick your tongue against his leaking tip, “I’m not going anywhere, Toru.”

Your tongue drags a thick stripe up his cock, before beginning to trace along one of his veins, your fingers slipping up to use his pre to rub up and down his length. Your thumb teases his slit, and a hiss leaves his lips, a smirk against his dick.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you know exactly what you’re doing to me,” his cheeks burn, dusted with pink surely — as he watches you lick the precum that dripped down your fingers onto your wrist, “knew that mouth would be s’fucking good—“

“Turns out you don’t shut up even in bed,” and that earns you a cheeky grin that parts into an ‘o’ as his dick sinks into your mouth. He swears he was closer to death than he was when Toji nearly killed him — not that he’d like to remember that man in this moment — but you’d surely be the death of him, and you would be — if he had to spend another second without you in his life.

Fuck, he looks down at you, eyes half shut, his white knuckled fingers gripping the sheets — you’re gorgeous as you swallow him whole — sucking and licking, nose brushing against his pubes as your eyes water, as you bob along his length from tip to base and back again.

“S’good for me, so pretty, fuck—” he groans, when his tip brushes against your throat, his fingers finding your scalp to try and ease you off, I’m s’close princess, g’nna cum—” But your hands only slide to his ass to hold yourself against him, as his dick twitches in your mouth, and your fingers drift to his sack while your tongue flicks along his slit and he’s done. He’s cumming down your throat, hot release painting your mouth.

He’s watching you with half lidded eyes pull away from him— a string of cum and spit strung between your lips and his dick, before beginning to drip from the corner of your mouth. And fuck, it’s enough to make him hard all over again. You lean over him, wiping the release from your lips, as you kiss up his body.

“Now who’s good at everything?” and he huffs out a chuckle.

“I stand corrected — actually, don’t think I’ll be standing for a while after that but—” and he’s finding your lips in a kiss, tasting himself you, his teeth grazing your bottom lip, as your fingers find his erection again, stroking it, before he’s flipped you onto your back. He runs a hand through his snowy locks, a smile on his lips, “don’t think you’ll be doing much standing after this either,”

“So full of yourself,” you roll your eyes.

“That’s what you’re going to be full of in a second—”

“Oh my god—” and your laugh dies on your lips as he starts to tease your entrance with the head of his cock, “Toru,” you whine, as he watches your needy cunt flutter around nothing as he drags his length up and down your dripping hole, watching your releases mix, “please—”

“So polite,” he hums, as he leans down to press a kiss to your lips, “now how can I refuse that?” and he begins to sink his length into your cunt, warm walls nearly pulling his cock in deeper, as he groans your name, “s’perfect, s’good for me, princess, made for me,” and inch by inch, until he’s finally bottoming out.

“Toru, ngh, s’big—” you gasp, lips parted in a silent moan, as you pull him even closer, face buried in the crook of his neck, but his fingers tugging your hair to show your face.

“Let me see you,” he murmurs, as his lips meet yours in a sloppy kiss as he continues to thrust into you — his hips meeting yours, the wet squelch and skin slapping echoing in his ears. A gasp parting your lips as you pull apart, your head thrown back in a moan as your walls flutter around him as his tip breaches that one spot inside you.

“Haa, I’m close, Toru,” you groan, and he’s nodding, his fingers reaching between your bodies to find your clit.

“Cum for me, pretty girl,” and you do — cumming hard, as he notches himself deep inside you, before spilling inside you, his hot release deep in your pussy. He’s moaning your name, as your bodies slow and his fingers cup your cheek gently, and his lips find yours.

He slowly rolls off of you, your warmth leaving him for a moment, before he’s pulling you close again, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Is this a dream?” you mumble, eyes fluttering shut, and a small chuckle leaves his lips, legs entangled.

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, “If it is, I hope I never wake up, Princess.”

Your body aches — that’s your first thought as you stir into consciousness. Fuck, why does you feel so sore? Your eyes try to flutter open, but the sunlight blinds you — a soft groan leaves your lips. You shift, as you stretch, your back aching and muscles tight, but then someone moves behind you, an arm wrapping around your waist.

Your eyes shoot open, as your head slowly turns to find looking at Satoru. A gasp is caught in your lips.

Fuck, it was real.

You slowly turn to face him, his soft breaths leaving his pink lips — god he’s so gorgeous. His pretty white eyelashes resting against his skin, lips parted ever so slightly, and his snowy hair askew and mussed. Your fingers ghost over his cheek lightly — how many people have seen him asleep like this? How many had seen him with his guard down? You knew he didn’t sleep nearly enough, you were surprised he was still asleep — but, your cheeks burned, you both did spend half the night awake.

But there were more pressing things to think about — what did this mean? You chew on your bottom lip, he had said he wanted you — but what did he want? Just last night? Or something more.

“I can’t sleep with your thoughts grinding so much,” he mumbles, heat rushing to your cheeks, he’s burying his face in the crook of your neck, “why are you awake so early?” His nose brushes against your neck, his lips pressing softly against your pulse.

“I just woke up,” you murmur, a small shiver running up your spine, as you relax into his touch, your fingers running through his soft locks, “did all my thinking wake you?”

“Yes, and you’ll have to compensate me,” and you snort.

“You’re rich, like old money rich,” he’s pressing sweet kisses to your skin, heat climbing up your body.

“Money isn’t what I want,” he nuzzles you, nose brushing against the skin of your neck, “wonder what other ways you can repay me,”

You chuckle, humming at his touch — god even the simplest of touches has your logic up in ash, “I’m sure you can figure out some other methods of payment,”

And his lips find yours again — it’s a lazy morning kiss, soft and slow, but not bereft of any of the passion from the night before. His fingers slide down your body, as he pulls you impossibly closer.

“My preferred method of payment wouldn’t have us leaving this room until tomorrow morning,” his lips curl in a smirk, “but I’ll collect my charge tonight — how about I make us breakfast?”

“You can make breakfast?” You raise an eyebrow.

“I know how to scramble an egg,” he shrugs, and you snort only for him to pout, and you smile, your fingers brushing against his cheek, before your thumb runs down his lips.

“How about we make breakfast together?”

“Was that really your first time making tamagoyaki?” you raise an eyebrow, as you pick up a piece of the rolled omelet between your chopsticks.

“Promise,” and you bite it — it was perfect — the texture, the taste, the seasoning. And you stare at him, an eyebrow raised.

“Either you’re lying or you really are good at everything,” you mutter, and he grins, as he takes a bite of his food — a sweeter tamagoyaki he had made for himself, far too smug for his own good.

“I think I proved that last night, Princess,” and you nearly choke on your food. And you chew thoughtfully — you two hadn’t even breached what last night meant yet. You had simply been dancing around it, or at least you had. You didn’t want to be the one to bring it up — or rather, you picked up another piece of tamagoyaki up, you didn’t know how to, “what’s going on in that head of yours?”

And your eyes snap up, “What do you mean?”

He tilts his head, “You’re not hard to read — you keep thinking about something,” and his lips curl, “last night?” Your hesitation gives you away — and he only smiles wider, “should I refresh your memory?” And your cheeks are burning, and he chuckles, “come on, sweetheart, let’s just talk,”

You bite your lip — you needed to do this, you couldn’t run away from how you felt, not again — your fingers fidgeting with your chopsticks, before you place them down on your bowl, “What did last night mean?”

And his lips curl, but this smile he has is softer, “What do you think sweetheart? Do you think I’m really the—“ And his phone rings, and he picks up his phone, eyes flickering to the caller, and you wave him off, “you can take the call,”

He sighs, “One second,” he gets up to speak, and he hangs up a few minutes later, “text me a location,”

“Who was that?” And he’s shaking his head, a sigh on his lips, his hand on the back of his neck.

“The ever breathing and ever irritating geezers want me to meet them to speak about something involving the clan,” he meets your gaze, a flicker of an emotion in his eyes — a drop of water that disappears into the sea as quickly as it formed, “and it’s a good opportunity for me to discuss something I have been wanting to speak with them about,”

“Something?” and his lips quirk in a small smile.

“I’ll be back soon enough to explain, sweetheart,” he walks over to you, “will you wait here for me? Think I’ll be able to come back faster if I know you’re here waiting for me,”

And you can’t help the small flutter your treacherous heart gives, “The great Satoru Gojo will rush for me?”

“Oh, he would rush day and night if it meant he could come home to you,” and his fingers find your cheek, drawn like a magnet — why was it you could never look away from him? Even in a crowd, your eyes always found his gaze.

And you’d go to him — like a moth to a flame, “I think I’d prefer just Satoru,” you lean into his touch, your hand over his, “I do owe him after all,”

“You do,” he leans forward to press a kiss to your forehead, before he’s pulling away, a smile on his lips, “consider that a deposit.”

You didn’t know what to do with yourself.

Alone in Satoru’s place — you didn’t know what to do with yourself. He had left right after breakfast, and he told you where the TV was, books, and told you could order anything or use anything you needed. But, this place was so him — each place you went, there was just another reminder of him that seemed trail after you, but at the same time, without him, it was like a shell of a place — no soul present.

And you supposed the soul wasn’t present.

You ended up back in the bedroom, crawling back under the covers. Fuck, they even smelled of him — you squeezed your eyes shut.

You really didn’t know what you were doing — did you?

You laid on your back. What were you supposed to make of what happened last night and this morning for that matter? Was this real now? A real relationship with Satoru — you turned over on your stomach, pulling the covers over your head — you could barely imagine it.

And your phone goes off, as you reach for it blindly on the nightstand. But it wasn’t the white haired sorcerer you hoped it was — your eyebrows knit together — at least you didn’t think it was. A text from a number you don’t recognize — and a picture to top it off from the preview.

You nearly deleted it — only to spot a familiar mop of white in the picture.

Your blood runs cold at the sight. Satoru? He was at a restaurant with — a woman? You didn’t recognize her, but his hand held hers, picture taken mid laugh. Your cheeks burn — no, no — there had to be an explanation.

A text now — Want to see what your boyfriend does in his spare time? Is he done using you now?

There’s only one person who’d text like that.

Naoya, how fuck did you even get this picture? You stare at the photo — have you fallen so far in your clan that you have the time to stalk Satoru now?

He replied, it’s not my fault that they are dining in a Zenin owned business.

Another picture — Satoru and her were hugging, his arm around her waist, far too close to be friendly.

You don’t think — you call him. It rings and rings, but no answer — the cut to voicemail makes your heart sink.

Another text — even if you don’t believe me, do you think this will be the last of your problems? When you’re Satoru Gojo, anyone close to you will have a target on their back — if only to use your blood to paint one on his head.

You knew you couldn’t trust this. You knew there was an explanation. You knew Satoru wouldn’t do this to you.

But even still, you wished you could tell your heart that.

“What is this?” Satoru was led to a table at the restaurant the old geezers had chosen — but there were no wrinkly old cranks in sight. Instead, there was a woman.

“Are you Satoru Gojo?” And he raises an eyebrow, hands sliding into his pockets.

“The one and only, now I don’t suppose the old fools of the Gojo clan turned into a woman — so who are you?” She swirls the glass in her hand, before downing the liquid in one go.

“Figures they had to lie to get you here — seems like we’ve been set up,” she gestures to the chair in front of her, “I’m Airi,” and he takes a reluctant seat, “I was told this was a meeting for us to meet for a potential engagement,” and he scoffs, he should have figured it was something like this, “but judging by the look on your face, you didn’t know that,”

“I was expecting to meet

I suppose we’re on the same page,”

He tilts his head, “Really?”

“Gojo, you may be a catch, but to me, you’re nothing more than a potential knife to my neck,” she places her glass down, leaning back in her chair, “and plus, I have someone I’m interested in,” and her eyes slide down, “and judging by the bite mark on your neck, you do too,”

He pays it no mind, a laugh leaving his lips at the thought of you waiting for him at his apartment, “I do,” and he sighs, pushing his chair out, before getting to his feet. “and I have to get back to her,”

She follows suit pushing out her own chair, rising, a waiter walking by, and she trips. It’s a reflex, he catches her by the wrist and by the waist, steadying her.

“Sorry,” she pulls away immediately, looking back for the waiter, before biting her tongue, “fucking waiter tripped me,” the two of them glance around, but see no one, “I’ll have to talk to my grandfather’s advisors about this. No one trips the granddaughter of Naobito Zenin,” she mutters, and Satoru’s eyes snap to her.

“You’re a Zenin?” And it clicks, the wedding, “who arranged this meeting?”

She tilts her head, “My father, but he heard about this from my cousin, Naoya—“

He checks his phone — and he sees a missed call from you.

Fuck. It was a set-up — in both ways.

“I have to go,” and he can only hope you wouldn’t do the same to him when he came back.

Satoru calls you, but you don’t pick up. You can’t bring yourself to stare back at the photo he had set as his contact photo — the picture Yuta had taken of him clutching at his phone with your picture on his screen.

You needed to talk to him in person.

And it’s not long before he’s back home — practically teleporting at your feet.

You swear, stumbling and he grabs you, tugging you close, “Got you,” he smiles, tugging off his blindfold for you to see his eyes — the startling blue that you still couldn’t navigate without drowning in its depths, “does that mean I can keep you?” and you want to pull away, you want to run, but you can’t help but melt into his touch, your fingers gently clutching at the front of his shirt.

“That depends on whether I’m the only person you’ve said that to,” and you look up at him, his brow furrowed, “and held like this,”

“The meeting today, it was supposed to be with the elders — I was going to discuss our relationship again but—“ you show him the pictures on your phone, and his brow knit together, “how did you—“ and he doesn’t finish his sentence before he realizes, “it was a set-up,”

“I know,” and relief washes over features for a moment, but your eyes can’t meet his, your lips a thin line.

And he glances at the photo again, seeing the one where he’s holding Airi, “She tripped, sweetheart, trust me—“ his hand cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing the length of your cheek, “I don’t want to hold anyone but you,”

“I know Naoya and the Gojo clan probably set this up,” you whisper, leaning into his touch, “but—” you pull away from him, every step away from him a fissure in the foundation of this bridge built, “I don’t think I can do this anymore,”

And he’s blinking, “Why?”

“I’m not good enough,” you’re shaking your head, stepping back as he steps forward, “I hurt you by leaving, and I was this close to doing it again—”

“But you didn’t—”

“And your clan doesn’t want us together, and I don’t know, I feel even if we’re together,” the words that leave your lips break your heart and his, we’ll only hurt each other in the end,”

“Why do you always push me away when we get close?”

“No I don’t—”

“You don’t think the sorcerer that’s an expert at pushing others away — wouldn’t know if he’s getting pushed away?”

“This isn’t working out,” you cut him off, as the slice cuts through thin air — but it’s not your head that goes rolling — it’s his heart, “we should stop — I think your clan has been convinced,”

He’s silent for a moment, before he replies, “well, I haven’t been convinced,”

You scoff, his hands by his side, as his quiet footsteps approach you, “convinced of what?”

“Convinced that,” he stops in front of you, “you don’t feel the same way I do,” Your breath catches, as his fingers find your cheek, “all these years, sweetheart, and you didn’t know?”

“But,” you can’t process this, it doesn’t make sense, “but Suguru—“

“Was important to me yes,” he murmurs, “but it’s been years, and it doesn’t mean I can’t have deep feelings for someone else — especially when I’ve had them for over a decade,”

“You—“ was this real? As he stood before you, in his living room low lights, sunlight streaming in from his windows, “what?”

He laughs, “Didn’t know it was possible to render you speechless, sweetheart — guess there’s a first time for everything,” he steps over your missteps with the same ease he does everything, “I really do have to spell everything out for you, don’t I?” The back of his fingers ghost over your cheek, “I’m in love with you—“

“No,” you’re shaking your head, and his face falls, “Satoru, we can’t—“

“But—“

“Your clan doesn’t approve of me, they won’t stop trying to break us up, and I could put you in danger,” you murmur, “they could use me against you — just like Suguru did,” you couldn’t bear the thought of that, “and is that worth it? Worth it for something that may not be real?” You ask the question you’re afraid of asking him — of asking yourself — “was it ever real?”

And he’s still trying to reach for you, despite it all — he knows it’s dangerous to be around him, he knows anyone close to him is in danger — and that’s why he was okay when you left. If only you’d be safe — but he knew that if he always played it safe, he would never be happy, “It’s real to me,”

“It’s not to me,” you turn towards the door, “I’m sorry.”

And this time he doesn’t stop you.

It’s for the best.

That’s what you tell yourself. The same thing you say when you’re leaving his place. The same thing you say the next morning you wake up with only a pain in your chest and a dull ache in your head. The same thing when you accept a long mission overseas.

It was for the best.

Then why — then why did you think of him? Each and every day, every minute, every second. But it was for the best. He was safer without you, it was easier without you, it was better — better and yet each day seemed to drag when you couldn’t talk to him. And your notes were filled with unsent texts to him — and your mind was filled with nothing but memories.

And you couldn’t touch memories nor could you talk to them.

Several months later, you’re sitting in a plane, watching the animation of the plane fly back towards Tokyo. You had been checking in with Yaga several times a month, but you hadn’t heard a thing from Satoru.

Or rather, Gojo. Not that you expected to — not after what you did.

And soon enough, you’re arriving home — heading inside your home to find a bunch of your mail had fallen out of your mailbox, knocked out of the rickety box from the storm the night before. You pick up the drenched mail between two fingers that was stuck to the sides of your walls, as you fumble with your keys to open the door. Your suitcase and mail fall to the fall as you close the door behind you, sighing.

Fuck. You were home.

You dragged your suitcase inside, picking up the mail off the floor. You collapsed on your couch, tossing the wet envelopes onto the table — when a name catches your eye.

Gojo?

You pick up an envelope — the frilly envelope doing nothing to protect the contents inside — you barely can make out any of the text, except the faint inked kanji of his name.

You gingerly open the envelope, peeling out the insides — and your heart drops.

Is this an invitation? The faint text was blurred and smudged from the rain — the contents all but faded and you could only make out three things — ““marriage,” today’s date, and bits and pieces of what you thought was an address.

Satoru was…getting married?

It felt like logic had fled your mind and panic took its place — as you looked up the parts of the address that you were able to decipher. And you found it — it was a popular venue not far from here.

You didn’t think — you grabbed your keys and drove.

You couldn’t let him get married, no, no — you had made a mistake when you left. You thought he was better off, you thought it was for the best — but it wasn’t. It couldn’t be when your chest hurt like this — felt as if your heart was splitting in two with a sword stuck between your ribs. It couldn’t be because you pushed him away because you were scared — scared of getting hurt again, scared of hurting him, scared of being with the only person you ever had loved.

Basically, you pulled up to the venue, you were an idiot.

You hadn’t changed, you hadn’t showered off your who knows how long of a flight, and now you were on the steps of a wedding venue that Satoru was getting married at. You froze before the doors.

You couldn’t do this. He didn’t deserve to have his day ruined by you — not when you had ruined enough. If he had found someone else to spend his life with — whether it was arranged or not, he deserved to be happy.

Even if it wasn’t with you.

So you step down — walking off a distance to watch when the couple emerged — which judging by how dark it was and how staff were already almost done setting up — would be any minute now.

So you wait.

And finally when the doors swing open, you steel yourself — knowing it would do nothing, nothing to shield you from the pain of seeing—and your eyes find the groom.

That wasn’t Satoru.

He certainly had the white hair, but he did not have his blue eyes — he had a lovely bride regardless, who looked at him the way you had always looked at Satoru. Was that the look you had hidden away for so many years? And why were you still hiding?

And your eyes find Satoru almost instantly — as fast as his eyes find you seemingly, as your name escapes his lips — as he parts through the crowd to your side. He’s wearing the other suit he had tried on — the white suit that had been your second favorite — his white locks parted and combed to the side, but still impossibly unkempt as they always were.

“You got my invitation?” you blink, tilting your head.

“But you—what?” and his brow furrows.

“Don’t tell me you lost your ability to read and speak while overseas, princess,” and a small chuckle escapes your lips as you shake your head, wringing your hands.

“Satoru, the invitation was wet because of the rain, I thought—” your voice wavers, glancing away as your cheeks burn, “I thought you were getting married.”

He raises an eyebrow, lips curling, “And you were about to burst in and object?”

You roll your eyes, but even so you can’t meet his gaze, “Satoru—”

His smile only grows wider, “What were you going to say? A passionate speech about how you’re still—” And you’re tugging him close by the collar, and his breath catches, your name leaving his lips.

“I’m in love with you, Satoru,” your voice is steady as you speak, your hand sliding to his cheek, “I always have been — I was just afraid to admit it, I didn’t want to hurt you — whether it was by my own hand or not,” and his brow furrows, but you continue, “but I’m not scared anymore — because it hurts more to be nothing than something with you—”

And his lips find yours. It’s everything you want — because it's him, he’s everything you’d ever wanted, and everything you’d ever want. You want the way his arm slides around your waist to pull you closer, you want the way his hand cups your cheek, you want the way his lips smile against yours, and you’d want his past, present, and future. And you’d do anything to keep it.

“Promise you’ll never leave like that again?” he murmurs, his arm tightening around your waist as he says the words, his forehead pressed against yours, “I already have abandonment issues,” and you chuckle, your fingers finding his cheek.

“I promise,” you murmur, “I’m sorry I left — both times I left, and there won’t ever be a third,”

And he smiles, “You proposing to me, sweetheart? I’m not one to rush into things, gotta take me out on a proper date first,”

“How about tonight?” you find his lips again, the taste of sugar on his lips — undoubtedly from indulging in a slice or several of wedding cake.

“So soon?” he hums,and his gaze softens, as he presses a kiss to your forehead, “someone’s eager,” and your fingers intertwine with his, squeezing his, as you would a million times more,

“Well, you don’t know until you try.”

✧ a/n: ahhh another celebration fic done!! this one was lowkey a struggle towards the end so i hope this turned out okay. it's beyond me understanding if it did or not lmao. i hope you guys enjoy ahhh -- gotta probably put up a poll to decide the next celebration fic this weekend :) (it's only because i'm horribly indecisive).

✧ taglist: @yunjinabla, @weluvsza, @yamaguccitadashi, @gojobbg, @soulofoz, @hfdkhjghjkghfj, @forest-fruits-jam, @cerene-dipity, @sleazymac-n-cheesy, @reaperxdeath, @octopishisahybridanimal, @hanlay, @whereflowerswenttodie, @tsukimefuku, @numbing3scapism, @arcswonderland, @kirashuu, @fushitoru, @spider-fan72, @jayathelostdragon, @sunflowmaryam, @satorusmochis, @catsgomurp, @simply-a-s1mp, @kentocalls, @weluvsza, @lucy-xv0202, @mazzd4, @dontshuugo, @zz-snow-zz

#sab [mlist]#satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo smut #satoru gojo fanfiction #satoru gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo smut #jjk x reader #jjk fanfiction #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #gojo x you #gojo satoru smut #satoru gojo fluff

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fastandcarlos · 8 days

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Living With The LeClercs » Charles LeClerc

Summary: take a peek into the life of the leclerc family and see what they get up to

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liked by carlossainz55, pierregasly and 1,402,505 others

charles_leclerc: off season complete ✅ batteries are recharged after yet another amazing holiday with the fam

39,503 comments

scuderiaferrari: looking forward to having you back with us next week charles 🏎️

landonorris: i refuse to accept that y/d/n is yours, she's too beautiful to have your genes

ynusername: @/landonorris she just takes after her mother instead 😇

username1: nooooo, f1 season means we get less dad pics from you charles

username2: i don't ever want the dad charles era to end 😭

ynusername: thank you for the best three months, i couldn't wish for a better dad to our little humans 💕

schecoperez: you're putting me to shame with all these adorable snaps, i better start uploading too

lance_stroll: calling dibs on being first to offer babysitting during the season btw

danielricciado: @/lance_stroll you take one i'll take the other, mini charles' are a lot to handle

lance_stroll: @/danielricciardo you've got yourself a deal

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liked by scuderiaferrari, landonorris and 832,420 others

charles_leclerc: race day is always better with these two babies causing chaos 🥰

29,908 comments

carlossainz55: as cute as your children are, can you hurry up and stop uploading to instagram...some of us have got meetings

username3: y/s/n is hands down the coolest kid at the paddock this weekend

username4: why do i get the impresson project leclerc jr is well underway with y/d/n 🤔

oscarpiastri: STOP SHOWING OFF HOW BEAUTIFUL YOUR FAMILY ARE 😡

maxverstappen1: maybe y/s/n will have a better chance of beating me to the top of the podium than you

charles_leclerc: @/maxverstappen1 one day...he's got his eyes on you! apparently you're his favourite driver

maxverstappen1: @/charles_leclerc tell him that he's got excellent taste

ynusername: not you promoting letting toddlers get behind the wheel of high speed cars 🙄

danielricciardo: if you're looking for a coach, you know who to ask

charles_leclerc: @/danielricciado you think i'm not capable of coaching my son

danielricciardo: @/charles_leclerc sure...but if you want him to learn from a proper driver, just gimme a call 😂

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liked by charles_leclerc, georgerussell63 and 294,405 others

ynusername: following this man around all day, trying to keep the kids from hugging daddy is a hard day’s work (see second pic for proof 😂)

12,492 comments

landonorris: if charles isn't interested, tell the kids that uncle lando will always be ready for a cuddle

iamrebeccad: i've never done so many steps before, who knew chasing after 3 year olds was such hard work 💫

ynusername: @/iamrebeccad i did try to warn you!! you should've listened

pierregasly: he's just tryna play it cool y/n, he isn't as cool as he used to be

username5: imagine being lucky enough to walk around the paddock and just see y/s/n and y/d/n everywhere

kevinmagnussen: tell them to have a sniff of charles after being in a race car for 2 hours y/n...that will soon be enough to put them off 💩

lilymhe: i want them to chase me and give me all the cuddles in the world

username6: you just know in any free moment charles is secretly looking around wanting his kids back beside him

username7: everyone say thank you to y/n for yet another round of hot dad charles pics 🙏🏻

oscarpiastri: why can't you hug me as lovingly as you hug your son? you're supposed to me my dad too

charles_leclerc: @/oscarpiastri "adopted"

oscarpiastri: @/charles_leclerc IT ALL STILL COUNTS

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by alex_albon, oscarpiastri and 829,407 others

charles_leclerc: like father like son…the leclerc smile is deadly

78,445 comments

username8: officially the cutest photographs to ever be uploaded to the internet 🥺

username9: excuse me charles leclerc you cannot just spring photos like this on us without warning

oscarpiastri: i smile like this too...family?? 🥰

maxverstappen1: if i had to pick y/s/n definitely looks cuter

username10: i was not emotionally ready for this adorableness 💔

carlossainz55: deadly?? you look like the squishiest marshmallow

username11: @/carlossainz55 i think you've been spending too much time on the internet 😬

ynusername: my two favourite boys, how did I ever get so lucky?

charles_leclerc: @/ynusername there's no way you're the lucky one, that title belongs to me mi amor

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by ynusername, carlossainz55 and 527,492 others

charles_leclerc: I’ve been posting a lot about my human kids recently, so here’s a shoutout to my other child so he doesn’t feel left out

43,482 comments

oscarpiastri: damn i almost thought that this post was gonna be about me

charles_leclerc: @/oscarpiastri i swear one more comment and i will block you, son or not

landonorris: how dare you mistreat leo like this

username12: @/landonorris #justice4leo

username13: charles leclerc...father of 3

ynusername: leo could never be forgotton, he's our favourite four legged child

alex_albon: @/ynusername also your only four legged child 🤔

estebanocon: cute kids, cute dog...how do you do it leclerc??

yukitsunoda0511: asking for a friend...do your kids also poo in the middle of the paddock or just your dog

username14: @/yukitsunoda0511 YUKI not you stitching charles up like this! 😂😂

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by estebanocon, lance_stroll and 728,493 others

charles_leclerc: my favourite things to do, being a dad with a bit of gaming too 🥺💕

53,684 comments

ynusername: where does being a husband rank in all of them??

charles_leclerc: @/ynusername you’re still my number one 😍

username15: if charles won't appreciate you come and marry me instead

maxverstappen1: so bad at fifa you've resorted to table football i see 🫢

carlossainz55: don't worry charlie, i'll beat you at that kinda football too

username16: not you forgetting the woman that gave you those two adorable humans charles 🤦🏻‍♀️

username17: public apology incoming

danielricciardo: and you just happened to be playing table football with your top off did you? 🤔

charles_leclerc: @/danielricciardo it was all just coincidence...promise

georgerussell63: charles leclerc giving the fan girls what they want since 2018

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by lewishamilton, landonorris and 842,348 others

charles_leclerc: appreciation for the wife so she doesn’t get jealous 😂 I love you honey, thank you for our perfect family ✨🔥

53,372 comments

carlossainz55: if you heard him gush about you as much as i do y/n you'd know there is never anything to be jealous of

ynusername: @/carlossainz55 what sorta thing does he say?? 🤔

charles_leclerc: @/carlossainz55 do not throw me under the bus like this!!

landonorris: one of you looks perfect, the other looks like he needs a haircut and to sort his beard out

username18: i hope you know how lucky you are charles

username19: how does y/n manage to look that good running around after y/s/n, y/d/n and charles all day???

logansargeant: can you stop making all us single people feel even more single pls 😭

schecoperez: the second best family in formula one

danielricciardo: @/schecoperez SAVAGE! 💪🏻

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by ynusername, scuderiaferrari and 1,392,503 others

charles_leclerc: just a post to remind you all I can do both…no dad bod around here 🫢

101,372 comments

username20: DADDY!? 💦

landonorris: how many takes did it take you to get that shot in the gym?

carlossainz55: @/landonorris i was there...for several hours

username21: soft dad charles will always be my fave

ynusername: is there anything that you can't do? you take my breath away charles leclerc 💫💕

oscarpiastri: one day i hope to be as strong as you are...dad

charles_leclerc: @/oscarpiastri BLOCKED

alex_albon: i don't know who looks more tired, you or y/d/n

charles_leclerc: @/alex_albon me, definitely me, but i wouldn't change it for the world

#f1 #f1 imagine #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #f1 reaction #f1 smau #f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #formula 1 smau #formula 1 x you #formula 1 social media #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 fanfic #formula one #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you

2K notes · View notes

impeakcharacterdesign · 6 months

Text

Just the Tip

— Thomas Hewitt x Fem!Reader —

MDNI!!!

Summary: It’s the 1960s and Luda Mae frowns upon premarital sex like any good Christian woman. You and Tommy are young, hot, and in love but the only problem is that Tommy was raised to wait until marriage and never lets you two go any further than kissing and some groping.

But the devil lives in the hot Texan sun and even God takes a break from the summer heat.

Notes: this is super short, just pure smut, self indulgent I’m obsessed with big boy Tommy 😭😭😭 i swear I’m working on part 2 of my sister Sinclair fic but Tommy has me in a choke hold and I needed an outlet.

No TW that I can think of other than bad smut and maybe ??? Coercion??? Cause Tommy wants to be a good boy and stop before y’all go too far but you flash him and then he’s absolutely 100% in. A bit of religious stuff, period typical sexism but vaguely. Let me know if I should add anything else and I’ll get right on it. Reader isn’t ever referred to using “she/her” pronouns but is described as having breasts and does have female genitalia so I tagged it fem reader to be safe

Enjoy!!!

The early morning sun burned, chasing away what little cool air remained of the night before. While the barn shaded you from the unforgiving sun and hid you from disapproving eyes — or lecherous in the case of the older men of the family — it also trapped in the heat your two bodies gave off.

Thomas pressed his open mouth to your own, tongue swiping over your teeth eager to taste you. Your hands gripped his dark hair, ruining any half-effort attempt he had made earlier in the day to smooth down his unruly hair. He held you in his arms, body pressed tightly against him in an attempt to get as close as possible, his large frame hiding you even further from prying eyes than the shadowed corners of the old barn. The kiss was deep and hungry and served as a brief respite from Luda Maes ever watching eyes. While she had been fine with you living with the family before you and Tommy were married, she forbade you from sharing a room or being intimate, a rule she absolutely refused to budge on and one that Uncle Charlie took a strange glee in ribbing you about. But much like the Texan heat, the heated looks you gave each other were unavoidable and only grew hotter as the summer days went on. Luda Mae wanted to wait until the following spring to make your union official but at the rate the town was drying up, there wouldn't even be a priest to officiate the ceremony, much less any guest to attend. You highly doubted anyone outside of the family would want to witness your union anyway but still, Luda Mae didn't want the few who would to get wise and start counting months.

These stolen moments in the barn were as good as you could get — and by god were they good.

Tommy’s large hands groped at your breasts, pawing roughy at your nipples through the worn fabric of your old dress. It wasn’t long before you found yourself in the familiar position of being sprawled out on the barn floor, coarse hay a discomfort you had long learned to endure for the sake of pleasure.

You desperately thrust your sex up onto his growing bulge, whining when he groaned and pinned your hips with his own, preventing you from getting your desired stimulation. “Please Tommy,” you beg, lips separating, “We don’t have to do too much, I just wanna touch you.” You press open-mouthed kisses to his neck, pulling softly at the flesh with your teeth and tongue dragging across the bites to taste the salt on his skin. Your hands eagerly worked to untuck his faded green shirt and wrap around him, roaming the vast expanse of his back. His whole body shuddered in your arms, an attempt to hold back from eating you whole.

You know Thomas will put an end to your romp soon, the tense lines of his shoulders and the way he shuts his eyes a sign that he's reaching his limit, that if you two don't stop now you won't be able to stop — but that’s exactly what you want.

You're tired of holding back, of this constant edging you have to endure when you’re in his presence and it gets harder every day. Just yesterday afternoon, Uncle Charlie sprayed Tommy with the hose, telling him that he was filthy and needed to get out of those clothes before he went inside. Watching as he undressed by the back door so that you could put his clothes on the line to dry had nearly given you a heatstroke — and if Charlie’s leering grin was any clue, you swear he did it on purpose in an attempt to rile you up. You ran off before you sinned right there in the yard, the memory of Thomas's shirt clinging to his arms, his chest glistening with water had kept you company well into the night.

So before Tommy puts a stop to your roll in the hay you make your move. You lift your dress up past your breast and expose yourself to him, you can see his breath stutter in his chest, this was quickly becoming the farthest you two had ever gone.

“Just watch me, Tommy, watch me,” you say breathlessly.

And he does, he sits on his haunches like a predator, his engorged cock straining against his pants and imagining just a taste has your tongue darting out to wet your lips, his gaze fixated on the movement.

Sliding your panties off your legs, your fingers dip briefly into your wet hole, gathering slick to rub onto your clit. At the very first touch, you let out a shuddering breath and you watch as his shoulders heave.

You begin rubbing your clit at an intense pace already turned on from the earlier heavy petting, not once breaking eye contact with Thomas as you do. With each moan you muffle you see his eyes grow darker with desire breathing with his mouth open as though he could taste your scent in the air. When he finally lets his cock spring free you let out your loudest moan yet. It’s better than you ever thought. His cock is thick and heavy, drooping slightly under its own weight but still undeniably firm. It curves slightly and you imagine that if it was inside you it would scrape against your walls in a way you've never been able to do with just your fingers.

Thomas grips his cock firmly and gives it a few tugs, eyes alternating between hungrily drinking in the sight of your blissed-out expression and your dripping pussy. You buck your hips, desperate to press your clit against your fingers and Thomas jerks his length even faster, rubbing his tip and spreading his precum on his hand.

God, you wished it was you that was touching him.

Thomas settles onto his knees and after a brief hesitation begins to shuffle closer to you. The sight of him crawling to you on his knees with his dripping length in hand made your pussy clench around nothing and you let out a whimper. You remove your fingers from your clit, feeling the heat radiating from his cock as he settles on top of you, legs spreading around his waist, your hips slightly raised and resting on his thighs.

The tip hesitantly pressed against your clit and your moan fills the small space before you can suppress it. This was better than you were hoping and it felt as though you were pressing against the boundaries the lord had set for you. Tommy’s eyes find yours looking for reassurance, asking without words, “Do you think this is okay?”

You find enough comprehension in your lust-addled brain to come up with a coherent answer, “It should be fine, I think,” you stammer out, “I mean, it’s not like — not like you’re putting it in so, it should be fine.”

You’re not overly familiar with the word of God outside of Sunday services and Luda Mae’s lectures, both of which you were forced to attend and spent tuning out in favor of watching the sweat build on Tommy’s brow while he worked through the window.

You think that if God could feel the weight of Thomas like you did, feel the heat like you could, you think he’d forgive the sin of your act.

It seems like that was all the reassurance that Thomas needed because no sooner than the words fumbled their way out of your mouth that he begins to drag the length of his cock against your slit.

God, if this is what hell was supposed to be like, burning and full of decadence, then perhaps you didn’t mind being a sinner.

The way he ruts against you is euphoric. Heavy breaths escape you both and you can’t help the words that spill from your lips.

“God, Tommy, I wish you would put it inside me,” you whine out “‘wanna feel your fat cock in my pussy, wanna get filled,” you might as well be begging at this point, and Tommy's increases his pace to the point that you think he wants the same thing, that he’s desperate to thrust into you rather than against you and —

And then the tip of his cock catches on your entrance and you both stop breathing.

“Maybe — Maybe it doesn’t count.” You stammer out, “It didn’t go in and it’s just the tip, and I don’t think that the tip counts” With the slightest twitch of his hips the tip of his cock has slipped inside.

"It's - it's just the tip it's fine” Your words sound empty even to you but the reassurance is all Tommy needs to push forward and let the head of his cock slide into your welcoming heat

His soul nearly leaves his body when he feels your raw pussy on the head of his cock. He jerks his length furiously and your fingers begin to move against your clit again, eager to meet your high with Thomas.

But it’s not enough. He was right there, right there just one push of his hips he’d be right where you needed him

“Please Tommy” Canting your hips slightly so the tip begins to dig deeper into you, you begin to plead once more, “wanna feel you fill me up, wanna remember the shape of your cock please”

Thomas feels years of control break at your words and with one swing of his hips, he bottoms out instantly. You feel like you've been punched in the gut as the air rushes out of you and you let out a sound like a wounded animal. Tommy stays still deep inside you, shaking and heaving, absolutely drunk on the feeling of your soaked walls clenching vigorously around his length.

You feel full in a way you've never thought possible. His length throbs, its girth stretching you in a way that burns.

When he finally starts thrusting, you’re not ready. He’s like a man possessed, solely focused on the feel of you around him, your skin pressed against his, his blood pounding in his ears.

“Wait— Tommy, ah, slow — slow down, oh god!” You can’t hold back your moans and he can’t stop, both fully engrossed in the feel of each other with no control over your own lust. Thomas crashes his lips onto yours in a halfhearted attempt to keep down your moans, it’s sloppy, clashing teeth and drooling tongues, spit escaping your lips, unlike any you’ve shared before.

This is completely different from what you’ve imagined your first time together would be like. It’s not your wedding night, you're laying on the dirty barn floor and there’s absolutely nothing gentle about the way Tommy is ravaging you. Your pussy is sopping wet and with every thrust, it lets out an embarrassing squelch, your juices and Tommy’s pre-cum leak down your ass and make a sticky mess in his dark pubes.

He doesn’t stop even as your walls spasm around him, cumming on his cock and digging your nails into his strong back. He works you through your orgasm even as your mouth clumsily forms the words to beg for him to slow down or to give you a moment. It’s too much, the sensations completely overloading your brain and all you can do is hold on tightly to him, lost in the ecstasy of your release.

Thomas lets out a deep, guttural groan as he cums, hips stuttering as he bullies his fat cock into the deepest part of your sex, filling you to the brim and your vision goes white.

Boneless, neither one of you makes a move to separate from the other, so thoroughly satisfied and content to lie where you are holding each other, Thomas’s softening cocking slipping out of you and spilling his release onto the ground.

His weight on you is comforting, you gently press kisses to his face and bask in the way his heavy breaths caress your sweaty skin.

“I love you.” You whisper into the shell of his ear and he squeezes you against him, repeating the words in his garbled voice the best he could. Your love is just for the two of you, no one else had a place in your world, no one else had the right to peak in on your affection or gawk at your differences.

This moment in time was just for the two of you.

“Thomas! Where the hell are ya, boy!”

Well, until Uncle Charlie’s voice brought you back down to reality.

4K notes · View notes

bunny584 · 4 months

Text

OBSESSED: SHOKO (feat. The Boys)

A/N: This took an entirely different route than I expected when I first started dribbling it. This was a fun one 🤭

C/W: Cuckholding, Mature, 18+

Fact: You are the hottest woman alive.

Fact: Shoko is no better than a man.

Shoko is no better than a man because she has used you — your pictures, your smile, your tight hugs — as her personal spank bank.

Truthfully, she can’t really pinpoint the moment you broke her brain.

All she remembers is that there was an inflection point in time. Before meeting you. And after meeting you.

And the funniest part of it all is that you two have nothing in common.

Shoko is a sorcerer at Jujutsu Tech. You are a normie at University of Tokyo.

Shoko can count on one hand how many people she can tolerate. People flock to you in droves. And you like it.

Shoko is red wine and cigarettes. You are champagne and birthday cake.

So how the hell did a bubble gum, pretty pink, girly girl, princess work her way into Shoko’s life? And take permanent residence in a little (extremely large) part of her brain?

Not to mention the havoc you are wreaking in her heart. Whatever is left of the cold, shriveled plumbing system keeping her alive.

When was it exactly?

Shoko lights another cigarette on her short 2 mile walk home. You have a habit of making her burn through her vices.

Was it the night you went out dancing?

When the dress you wore made Shoko see God?

You grinded every part of your mind-altering curves on her, and Shoko left sopping wet. At home she immediately reached for her vibrator. Unable to look herself in the eye for a full day after that.

Or maybe it was the time you fell asleep curled up in her lap. Wearing one of her old ratty softball shirts, smelling like her shampoo. Small, rhythmic breaths flowing from your lips.

You looked like the missing puzzle piece in Shoko’s life.

No, no.

It’s definitely was the time you came barreling into her apartment with balloons and flowers and cupcakes that were too sweet. All because Shoko had finally mastered her reversed curse technique before the prodigal sons.

You can barely even grasp the concept of curses. And why would you?

A soft, gentle soul like you couldn’t muster enough negativity to form a curse.

You live in the clouds. Among the angels. You can’t see curses and yet — somehow —you’re the most supernatural person in any room.

She’s completely, fully, idiotically smitten with you.

And so is everybody else.

You pretty, unaware little thing. You have the two strongest sorcerers at Jujutsu Tech and their personal medic wrapped around your dainty fingers and you have no idea.

Suguru? He stares. Vision sharper than a hawk. He watches you talk, eat, walk, text, think. Suguru anticipates your next breath and would kiss oxygen into your mouth if he could. Even still, despite how taken he is, Suguru is the best at concealing his puppy love.

Satoru is the absolute worst.

Limitless goes off the second you step into a room. And Satoru rarely clicks off his technique otherwise. Even when it’s just Shoko or Suguru around.

He all but chains you to his body. He’s always lifting you, hugging you, carrying you, holding your hand, holding your hair. Satoru would crawl inside of your body and live there, if he could.

Then there’s Shoko.

Who seethes when anyone looks your way. But also masturbates to the thought of other people touching you.

A fucking mess of a conundrum, right?

The first time it happened was about 8 months ago. Definitely one too many glasses of Cabernet were poured. You two were gabbing on the phone. Exchanging the best and worst sex you’ve had to date.

And you. In that melodic, breathy, gossamer thin voice of yours that belongs in Heaven’s choir started saying the dirtiest things. About how cock-drunk you were. How you begged and pleaded for more. Swallowed cum like it was your only sustenance. And squirted all over your lover, only to kiss it off his face after.

Shoko touched herself until she came right then and there. On the phone. You unknowingly talking her through her one of the most satisfying orgasms of her life.

Since then it’s been a horrible habit she’s given into time and time again.

And who’s to say? Maybe it’s from constantly being in the shadows of Suguru’s Sun and Satoru’s Moon that there’s comfort in watching from the side lines?

Maybe she’s found the sweet pleasure in that pain and it’s manifested as her lust for others having their way with you? And her blind infatuation with you?

No, wait.

Not blind.

With you it’s like she has the Six Eyes. And with you, so does everyone else.

Shoko drags in a long, exasperated breath. Pausing just outside her apartment entrance, stomping out the last of her menthol.

If the time she spent mulling over you in her mind could be converted caloric energy - she’d be a supermodel by now.

Whatever.

Today’s the best day of the week. Friday.

Which means when Shoko opens her door, you’re going to be fussing about the kitchen. Cooking some kind of dessert for Movie Night.

The Boys usually trip over themselves getting to Shoko’s apartment after classes. But there’s always an idyllic 15 minutes where Shoko has you all to herself.

15 minutes in Heaven. Like she’s a damn middle school girl.

Shoko opens her door and nearly flatlines.

You’re evil.

An evil, mean, cruel tease.

You KNOW anyone with eyes would have a stroke at the site of you.

Fully bent over at the waist, rummaging through pots and pans. Not a single blemish on your silky smooth skin. Your lilac boy shorts could not BE any tighter. And of course, they’re just short enough to not cover the plump shelf of your lower ass cheeks.

Shoko’s hands start twitching. Like she’s going through withdrawal.

You pop back up with a triumphant “there it is!” An empty small pot in your hands. And Shoko thinks she’ll have to add a heart attack to her growing list of ailments.

Your matching lilac tank top is egregiously and deliciously small. The sliver of tummy between the hem of the top and waist of your shorts could bring civilizations to collapse.

Not to mention that the apartment is cold. And your nipples are so painfully responsive.

Sin.

You are sin.

Wrapped in the most beautiful frame of a woman.

“Babe!! You’re already home. I let myself in because the icing for these cupcakes takes forever to get right.”

You flash your Colgate smile, ensnaring Shoko in your trap.

“You’re going to give Satoru and Suguru a heart attack.” Her, you’re going to give her a heart attack.

“Hmm? Why do you say that?” So non-chalant. So oblivious.

Shoko gestures to your outfit. Attempting to mirror your nonchalance. But, ironically, she can feel her face tumbling down the descending shades of red.

Genuine confusion weaves though your features and she almost screams.

“Shoko please. You know they don’t see me that way!”

Everyone, gorgeous. EVERYONE. Sees you that way.

Before she could edge another word out, the familiar hum of Limitless buzzing inward splits Shoko’s thoughts in half.

Dammit, they’re early.

“Daddy’s Home!”

Satoru charges straight at you because of course he would.

“Satoru!!!” You’re a plaything in his arms. Legs tightening around his waist.

Shoko would pay an inordinate amount of money to trade places with him.

She watches through an envy-green screen. How easily Satoru spins you and tosses you on the kitchen counter. Situating himself between your soft thighs.

How would your body bounce against his hips thrusting into you?

“You have to taste this, pretty boy.”

Tsk. He’s not THAT pretty.

Both Shoko and Suguru watch through parted lips as you shove half a cupcake into Satoru’s mouth. Neither of you miss how his tongue flicks between your fingers. Or how his hips lean closer to your barely clothed flower.

He lets out an exaggerated groan. “Fucking, perfect. I could eat your cupcake..all night.”

“You perv.”

You laugh and shove Satoru back from between your legs. Then turn in Shoko’s direction.

Silently curving your index finger forward, you beckon. Both Shoko and Suguru start toward you like well-trained, love-struck pets.

“No pouting Suguru, you’re pretty too. And up next.”

And Shoko’s shoulders sink like the child who is picked last for dodge ball teams.

Her eyes trail Suguru’s back - wishing to every God she was born with a technique allowing her to take over a host’s body.

“Me next.” He settles between your legs.

Suguru, the master of subtlety. Everyone but you can pick up on the strain in his baritone.

There’s something so painfully sensual about the way he grips both of your thighs. Your skin is so smooth, so pliant under his large hands. Waiting on your fingers to invade his mouth.

How pretty would your lips look like wrapped around his fingers? Do your cheeks hollow out when you suck on something larger?

Shoko crosses her right foot over the left. As if jamming her thighs together would stop the growing pool of lust between her legs.

“Alright babe, best for last. I have something for you too.”

Suguru takes his time pulling away from the warmth of your core. And Shoko has to strap her mind to her body to keep from sprinting at you.

Eventually, she nestles between your legs and is at eye level with your pert nipples. Immediately caught in a trance. So close to her mouth.

“Blushing so much!” Your thumb pulls Shoko’s focus back to earth.

Blushing so much because she wants to watch her best friends fuck you. Then lick your cunt clean after they’re done.

“I’m not, what’s my surprise?”

“So demanding.” You giggle. Your palm takes away Shoko’s view of your perky, hard nipples.

“Open.”

Shoko’s jaw hangs at your command. Cold glass hits her lips before the full bodied, decadent Cabernet does.

Red wine. Because she hates sweets.

You’re as thoughtful as you are beautiful and everything you do is a turn on.

“Mmmm,” Shoko hums and you gift her vision back.

“Amazing, right?” You take your own sip, maintaining eye contact.

Shoko’s eyes fall to your lips. And how you roll the wine over your tongue. Savoring each drop.

How would your tongue feel rolling around her mouth? Her neck? Her nipple? What kind of sounds would you make if her tongue rolled around your petals? Your clit? What do you taste—

“Movie time?” You break Satoru, Suguru and Shoko’s daze.

All three of them scramble around you. Grabbing your cupcakes, snacks and wine to settle in on Shoko’s huge sectional couch.

You drape your body over Satoru and Suguru’s lap. A little loose limbed kitten. Shoko situates herself on the long arm of her chair.

Far enough to drown into her own spiral. Close enough to register everything you do in the the most permanent part of her mind.

You nuzzle your cheek into Suguru’s thigh. His forearm immediately drops in front of his crotch. Undoubtedly to avoid spearing you with his manhood.

“Play with my hair, Suguru?”

“Yes. Of course.”

His free hand weaves into your hair. The soft, decadent moan you exhale sent visible shudders down their spines.

Shoko’s eyes laser to Satoru’s hands. His eyes haven’t touched the screen since the movie began. His grasp encompasses your entire back thighs. Slowly gliding them up to the delicate mounds of your ass.

“God that feels amazing.”

Satoru’s Adams Apple drags along the column of his throat. “Yeah?”

“So good.”

You deepen the arch in your back and the physical restraint Satoru imposes on himself is visible.

The only person watching the movie is you.

And the room tilts on its axis the moment you melt deeper into the boys’ hands. Their names, quiet praise, seep from your lips.

Satoru and Suguru exchange hooded gazes.

As if to commiserate about how fucking hot you are. And how it’s taking active awareness of every single muscle to not do vulgar things to you.

Not even a backward glance Shoko’s way.

Again.

Leaving Shoko out of the conversation. Again.

She angrily tosses a blanket over her lap. Frustration bubbling up her throat. Her fingers clumsily fumble with her zipper. She’s pissed. Angry. Fucking jealous.

And so turned on she might crawl out of her skin if she doesn’t touch herself this goddamn second.

Shoko’s fingers are ice cold against her warm, wet clit. It’s agonizing. How incredible the pressure feels.

You look delicious. So small between their laps. Far too tiny to handle them both.

But God it would be so hot.

It would be so fucking hot. To watch you choke all over Suguru’s cock. Slobber into his lap. All while Satoru bullies his length into your soft, dewy pussy. Helpless. Overstimulated.

Getting used like the pretty Barbie doll you are.

And the way they touch you, so brazenly, in front of her.

Like Shoko’s presence isn’t even remotely threatening. She isn’t any competition for their big hands and broad shoulders. Masculine frames. That’s why she’s just sitting there. Pathetic. Rubbing herself dumb just watching.

She would be so happy, so fucking eager to lap you clean. Pet your swollen, abused folds when they’re done with you. Hump a pillow while she sucks your nipples. You’d moan and whine and squirm under her touch.

Would you beg? Or laugh at how pitiful she is? Getting off to remnants of you when the Boys have had their way?

Shoko accidentally choking on her own drool draws almost everyone’s attention to her. The hand that was molesting her sensitive bud freezes.

Suguru’s eyes flicker back down to you, sleeping beauty.

Their coordinated touch lulled you to bed. Satoru’s eyes linger on Shoko long enough to make her simmer under his gaze. She blinks back to the movie, credits now scrolling up the screen.

How long was Shoko day dreaming?

“Let’s get her to bed.” Suguru gently pulls you onto his chest. You sleepily drape your arms around his neck.

Satoru follows close behind him into Shoko’s room. Because putting the smallest little kitten to bed is a two person job.

Shoko scrambles to zip up her pants and swipe the last of her arousal on the blanket. She gets to the doorway and watches the Boys dote over you in a way that makes them slightly more endearing.

You wake up long enough to murmur goodnight. Floating your arms in the air so the boys can bring their hugs to you. Both of them place quick pecks on your forehead. Leaving you with the cutest, most content smile on your sleepy face.

At least Suguru can hold it together. He weaves out of Shoko’s room quickly.

Satoru, however, keeps stopping along the 10 foot pace to the doorway to just stare. As if a monster from your nightmares will pop up the second he leaves you alone.

Shoko snorts, arms crossing her chest. “Put it back in your pants, yes?”

“Look who is talking.” Sly grin pulls across Satoru’s perfect, blinding teeth. Shoko could punch him right now.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Ieiri. I have the fucking six eyes. What do you think I’m talking about.”

Satoru wires around Shoko’s stunned body.

He and Suguru are out of her apartment before she can bat her eyelashes 5 times.

Shoko all but sprints to the kitchen. She gulps the rest of her red wine. Something. Anything to burn Satoru’s comment out of her mind. And to put out the desperate flame between her legs.

You’re in her bed.

She’s just been masturbating watching her two best friends touch you.

One of her best friends is FULLY aware of this all.

Her hands shakenly pour another, head sized glass of Cabernet. Which is doing absolutely nothing for how lusty she feels right now. And everything to destroy her self control.

Why does she have to sit on the sidelines?

Why do they get access to you that she doesn’t?

She downs the last few drops of red wine. Storming back to her room. She’s going to confront this once and for all.

You’re strewn over her bed like a silk scarf. Rolling, tender hills of flesh. Valleys of feminine curves. Shoko grips both of your dainty wrists. Tossing you onto your back.

Sleepy groans bubble out of you. Your eyes lazily slide open. Not an ounce of concern on your face. Full of trust. Even though Shoko is glaring down at you like she wants to crawl in your skin.

“Bad dream?”

“No.” Shoko is kurt. Angry. Jealous.

“What is it?”

“I just…” Moonlight is kissing your face in the way Shoko wants to.

“T-The boys,” Your eyes flutter expectantly. Nose crinkling in fuzzy confusion.

“The-the boys always get to touch you. And pick you up. And tuck you in. And kiss you. And-and I-im just…”

“Do you want to kiss me?”

Shoko hears her heart stop beating.

What did you just ask? So casually. As if you didn’t just catapult her into another dimension.

“H-huh? What?” Shoko didn’t hear you right.

There’s no way.

“I asked if you want to kiss me.” Something other than innocence lines your voice. And it pets Shoko’s flame

“I—I uh. M-. Yes.”

“So kiss me.”

Only one second of shocked hesitation passes before Shoko crashes her lips into yours.

Of course your lips taste like this. Marshmallow soft. Cotton candy sweet. Mini explosions of pleasure surge in all directions of her body.

“God,” Shoko groans, bringing the back of your head impossibly closer to her.

Melting into the soft hills and rolls of your sweet tongue. Shoko whines into your mouth like the desperate puppy she is. She’s drunk. Intoxicated. And it has nothing to do with the wine.

Do you know that?

Have you always known?

How does anyone ever make it out of their embrace with you with their wits about them?

“Baby,” you sigh into Shoko’s swollen lips.

Her hands tremble against your waist. Twitching to explore. Dying to map every inch of your body.

She lets out little, staccato moans of protest when you pull away.

“Feel better?”

Your starry eyes sparkle between Shoko’s. Sleepy, pretty smile playing on your puffy lips.

Shoko nods wordlessly. You’ve already stolen her logic and her heart. Might as well add her voice to the list.

You place a chaste kiss on Shoko’s lips before cocooning underneath the sheets.

Like you didn’t just make her fall in love.

“Goodnight, baby.”

PART. II

2K notes · View notes

sweetlemontart · 10 months

Text

call me by his name | yoon jeonghan [M]

summary ⇾ to you, one of jeonghan's most admirable trait is his candid nature. he's straightforward with most people—if he's angry, they'll definitely know. but with you? he'd rather swim the ocean day and night than take his anger out on you. well, that is, of course, unless you ask him to.

PAIRING // yoon jeonghan x fem!reader

GENRE // explicit smut, established relationship, some fluff, mostly smut, sub!reader, jeonghan tries to be angry hard!dom but is actually a soft!dom cause he's too in love with mc, not much plot tbh mostly just smut

WARNING // 18+, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, oral sex and fingering (f receiving), degradation, choking, hair pulling, some spanking, creampie, slight dacryphilia, orgasm denial(?) ig, mentions of mc's past relationship with ex!seungcheol

WORD COUNT // 8.6k

AUTHOR’S NOTE // me casually coming back on here and posting after almost 2 years of radio silence (ꈍᴗꈍ)♡ btw this is my very first svt fic hehe i started liking them like a month ago? watching going svt is the only thing keeping me sane during my second year of uni :') i love jeonghan and all his manipulating mind games & cheating ways, it's the most attractive thing to me !! might drop a wonwoo fic soon too bcs he's a cutie and his wip is coming along nicely. hope u guys have been doing good hehe do like and reblog if u enjoy reading this, song rec is blue foundation - eyes on fire (skeler remix)

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Jeonghan isn't a particularly placid man. He's not excessively ill-tempered per se, but he is remarkably patient when it comes to you. You know how he is when he's angry, and you can't recall a single time when you've been on the receiving end of his wrath.

When something ticks him off, his eyes will darken and the heated stare he gives is shrouded beneath his lashes. When he is truly livid, he'll usually walk away from the situation, and there'll be no room for anyone to say something they'll end up regretting later on.

It's incredible, really, that he possesses the ability to bottle his anger up when it involves you. Anger is an emotion that can rarely be suppressed, but Jeonghan does it with remarkable ease.

On any other day, perhaps you'd appreciate his effort to control his anger, but not tonight. You've made a serious mistake, one that goes against the one thing Jeonghan had explicitly stated from the start of your relationship—keeping secrets is a recipe for a failed relationship, so if you have something important to say, just say it. Jeonghan is a great boyfriend. He gives you the freedom and privacy to do things you want to do, but this particular boundary was crystal clear, and you just crossed it.

It was your fault, really. You had broken up with Choi Seungcheol only a year prior to dating Jeonghan. The break-up had been a mutual agreement, and there were no hard feelings involved. Over time, you gradually drifted apart and had minimal to no contact until... well, two weeks ago.

It had been at a dinner party hosted by one of your acquaintances, someone who just happened to be Seungcheol's cousin. Jeonghan hadn't been able to accompany you, so you hadn't been able to introduce him to Seungcheol. Meeting Seungcheol again after more than a year hadn't been awkward. It was like meeting up with an old friend.

Tonight, however, the universe seems like it's conspiring against you. You had been preparing dinner when you heard a notification chime on your phone. You had haphazardly tossed your phone onto the living room couch before cooking, and your boyfriend just happened to be doing his Lego in the living room, so you called out to him to check the notification.

There was shuffling in the living room as he stood. When he strolled into the kitchen, his eyebrows were furrowed in confusion as he held your phone in one hand, eyes fixed on the screen. "Who's Choi Seungcheol and why is he asking to catch up over lunch?"

Fuck.

To be fair, you really weren't expecting Seungcheol to contact you after the dinner party. You had gone without contacting each other for more than a year, so what changed now? You had told him that you found someone new, so he definitely knew there was no possibility of rekindling your relationship. He was most likely trying to be friendly, but you understand why it would seem questionable to Jeonghan.

Contrary to what you expected, Jeonghan hadn't gotten angry at you. He simply listened to your explanation and nodded. He became quiet, a glazed look in his eyes that you couldn't interpret. Then, he sets your phone down on the kitchen counter and hummed. Oh, he was annoyed, that much was obvious.

"Okay, well, I trust you. Just... don't do it again," Jeonghan spoke with a slight frown, then walked out of the kitchen as though you hadn't just violated the one, single rule that you had both agreed to abide by.

Perhaps you've gone stupid, because as your boyfriend walked out of the kitchen, you found yourself trailing close behind him. A tinge of irritation slowly bubbled up in your chest as you watched him casually plop down onto the floor to continue doing the Lego set he had been doing since earlier.

"Is that it?" you asked him.

Jeonghan momentarily diverted his attention from his Lego to meet your gaze. He blinked a few times. "I'm sorry?"

"You just... you're not even getting angry at me?"

"Um, am I supposed to be angry at you?"

You were taken aback by his response because it suddenly occurred to you just how silly you sounded. Did you really want him to get angry at you?

"Yes?"

Jeonghan nodded wordlessly, seemingly mulling over something in his head.

"I made a mistake, you should be mad at me."

There was a pregnant pause before he chuckled, but there was nothing humorous about it. If anything, it sounded a little... sinister. "You want me to get mad at you, baby? Want me to show you how I'm really feeling?"

You swallowed. Suddenly, you felt small under the weight of his unyielding stare. You shouldn't have nodded, shouldn't have ever said anything about it at all, because now, Jeonghan has you on the bed, doing the one thing you had practically begged him to do—take his anger out on you.

"G-God, please..." You're not sure what it is you're begging for. It's hard to think straight when Jeonghan is between your legs, lapping at your dripping cunt with his tongue. He had warned you not to touch him, but after several attempts of burying your fingers into his silky hair, he decided to take matters into his own hand, grabbing both of your wrists in one hand and pinning them to your heaving chest.

Your fingers continuously curl and uncurl against your chest, desperately trying to grab at something to ground yourself. The pleasure coursing through you makes your head spin, your mouth feeling as dry as cotton as you continue to chant your boyfriend's name.

Jeonghan hums against you, mouth suckling at your swollen bundle of nerves. Your jaw drops open at the feeling, eyes screwing shut as you let a moan slip past your lips. He repeats the cycle a few more times—kissing, sucking, licking—until you feel the familiar knot tightening in your stomach.

To your disappointment, Jeonghan withdraws his mouth from you but is quick to replace it with his fingers. He's familiar with your body by now, knowing what gives you the most pleasure and which spots to press to have you coming undone in minutes.

He's rubbing tight circles into your clit with his thumb, middle and ring fingers ghosting over your hole, not dipping in, only lingering there to serve as a reminder of the control he has over you. "Keep your hands there," he says, squeezing at your wrists once as a warning. Then he lets go of your hands and settles his palm on the inside of your thigh, spreading you open further.

"Jeonghan..." you whimper, legs beginning to shake as the telltale sign of your climax begins to show.

"I need you to cum on my fingers once before you can have my cock," he says, voice coming out huskier than normal.

Straining your neck, you peer down at your boyfriend with half-lidded eyes, only to feel a rush of heat in your stomach when you see that he's already looking at you. In the dim light of your bedside lamp, you can just make out his blown-out pupils, almost obscured beneath the strands of dark hair falling over his forehead. His lips curl up into a wicked smirk, and your focus shifts from his eyes to the way his mouth glistens with your wetness. It feels so shameful, but the sight only makes you drip even more.

"My angel wants me to be angry at her, right?" he asks you, pressing down harder on your clit, which makes you yelp with surprise, head dropping back onto your pillow.

"Don't stop, please, I'm cumming... F-Fuck!" It's all you manage to say as you begin to writhe under Jeonghan's hold.

He clicks his teeth in disapproval when you shift your hands from your chest to your sides, fingers tightly grabbing at the bedsheet, twisting at it recklessly. He lets it slide, however, knowing you're trying your best not to touch him like he knows you so desperately want to.

His ring finger dips into your hole just slightly, and the stretch isn't much, but it makes you keen anyway, breath catching in your throat as he plunges it deeper and deeper until it reaches his knuckle. He doesn't move it after that, keeping it buried there as he continues to play with your clit.

"I've barely even started and you're already like this," he says in a mocking tone, teasingly biting down at your plush thigh. "Go ahead and cum for me, then. Show me how much you want my cock, baby..."

Your body caves to his words. The knot in your stomach snaps, and you cum with a loud moan that you don't even attempt to hide. Without warning, Jeonghan promptly replaces his thumb on your clit with his mouth, sucking hard, prolonging the pleasure. He doesn't mind the way your whole body is trembling or the way your thighs try to snap shut.

"H-Hannie, fuck... fuck..."

The way you're mumbling out incoherent words only makes the blood rush down to his cock. He's painfully hard in his pants, wanting nothing more than to sink himself right into your tight pussy. It's getting increasingly difficult to think with his head than his dick. His self-restraint is starting to fray at the edge.

"That's it, baby..." he mumbles, removing his ring finger from inside you, grinning when your hole tries to suck the digit back in.

With his index and middle finger, Jeonghan spreads your pussy lips apart, ignoring your whine of protest as he continues to stare at your soaked cunt. It's humiliating to be so exposed and vulnerable like this, but why do you enjoy it so much?

Jeonghan snickers, warm breath hitting your bare pussy. "Baby, I wish you could see yourself right now. Your cute pussy is clenching around nothing."

With a sheepish whine, you splay your hands over your face, feeling your cheeks burn with embarrassment. "Hannie..." you grumble, hoping he would show you some compassion and stop teasing. But of course, Yoon Jeonghan wouldn't just stop there. You should know better by now that there is no one in the world more cunning and sly than your boyfriend.

Jeonghan pushes himself up into a sitting position, sighing when he sees the way you've covered your face. He doesn't like it when you hide from him but surprisingly doesn't say anything about it.

When you feel him shift on the bed, your curiosity gets the best of you. Peering cautiously through the gaps of your fingers, you're left dumbfounded at the sight of your boyfriend tugging his shirt over his head. The wisps of his dark hair that had been snagged by the shirt are left askew, and the view would be endearing if it wasn't for the devious look in his eyes as he looks at you.

Then he stands, and for a second, you're afraid he might leave you there. It wouldn't be unlike Jeonghan to suddenly leave. He's unpredictable, always trying to be a step ahead of everyone. This time, however, all he does is stand by the end of the bed, eyes roaming over your exposed figure as if trying to determine the next course of action that will deliver the most favourable outcome for him. Damn him and his mind games.

With slow movement, you press your legs together, concealing your most intimate part from your boyfriend. He shakes his head in disapproval, but you make no move to rectify your mistake. It's impossible not to hide from him when he's looking down at you as though he wants to devour you inch by inch—like a lion ogling at a wounded deer.

Very slowly, he begins to undo the string of his sweatpants. It aggravates you to see how composed he is, movements unhurried as if he doesn't see just how much you need him. Surely he notices how your eyes rove over his bare torso, committing to memory every little detail about his body even if you've seen it myriad times before. He's not particularly muscular; he's more lean than anything, elegant, and refined in all the right places. It only makes the waiting feel even more agonising.

"Don't tease, Hannie, please," you plead, your pulse quickening when he finally steps out of his pants.

"Don't tease? Aw, princess, you were the one getting all friendly with your ex, and now you want me to treat you like a good girl who hasn't been whoring around behind my back?" His tone is condescending, sending a surge of electricity up your spine.

You're suddenly reminded of what landed you in the current predicament in the first place. You want to explain and justify yourself, but you're rendered speechless when Jeonghan sweeps a hand down over his torso, eventually wrapping around his hard cock. He tugs once, twice, hissing slightly at the much-needed contact, smearing pre-cum all over the tip and shaft, the ring on his pinky glinting in the low light.

Sitting upright, you're about to speak and deny his previous statement, but the words die down in your throat when he suddenly climbs onto the bed, slowly crawling closer to you.

You squeak in surprise when he grabs at one of your legs, tugging you down just slightly so that your face is parallel to his. Then, he settles himself between your legs, cock pressed against your stomach. He has you right where he wants you.

Jeonghan captures your lips in a kiss, wasting no time to slip his tongue into your mouth, tangling it with yours. You sigh into his mouth, tasting the remnants of your wetness on his tongue and lips. It's a pleasant mix of bitter and sweet, a combination that makes you feel dazed despite the fact that he hasn't done anything to you yet.

Jeonghan sinks his teeth into your bottom lip, relishing the way you mewl. He starts pressing wet kisses onto your jaw, trailing down to your neck and collarbone. "You smell so good, pretty," he mumbles against your skin, licking at your sternum.

Reaching a hand down, you grab at his hard cock, wanting nothing more than for him to slip himself inside. You're sure you're dripping down onto the bedsheet by now. Jeonghan, however, has other plans. You only get to pump him twice before he slaps your hand away, pinning your wrist to the bed. "Don't act like such an impatient whore..."

Your whine of protest trails out into a moan when Jeonghan suddenly wraps his mouth around your nipple. His mouth is hot against the sensitive bud, and the light grazes of his teeth against it makes you arch your back.

Jeonghan's eyes suddenly meet yours, hooded with lust. He's suckling so noisily, hips grinding into yours. It's so obscene—the way he's looking at you, the sounds he's making, the way his balls press down on your clit whenever he grinds into you. Feeling overwhelmed by the onslaught of sensory, you turn your head to the side, burying your face into your pillow as you huff out a shaky breath.

You should've known Jeonghan wouldn't be too pleased with this. He withdraws his mouth from your chest with a lewd pop. His hand leaves your wrist in favour of grabbing at your chin. His grip is harsh, but not enough to hurt. With a sharp yank, he forces you to face forward, where you have no other choice than to meet his eyes.

He clicks his tongue disappointedly, and your eyes flick down to his lips, red and puffy from sucking. This doesn't help your case at all, because Jeonghan immediately starts vigorously shaking your face left and right, compelling you to look back into his eyes. Your head feels dizzy, but you don't miss the look in his eyes. There's irritation swirling in them now, imbued with desire and the hunger to ravage your body until you're left a broken, muddled mess. It makes you shudder, legs squeezing tight on each side of his hips.

"You know better than to hide from me, right?" His thumb caresses the skin of your jaw. The touch is so soft, a stark contrast to the way he's glaring down at you. When you take a little too long to answer, Jeonghan taps at your cheek a few times, hard enough for you to feel the sting.

"Y-Yes..."

He coos, stroking your stinging cheek. "Mhm, but you're not behaving very well tonight, are you?"

"I've been good, Hannie," you assert, trying to maintain your composed front even though you desperately need him to fill you to the brim. You're aching, and you need his cock to soothe the pain. Noticing his sceptical gaze, you decide to reword your sentence. "I'm sorry. I'll be good, I promise."

Jeonghan is thinking about something, silently plotting something in his head. Fuck, you're screwed now. The intensity of his gaze tells you he's about to do something that's unlikely to be in your favour.

"You want to hide from me that bad, hm?"

You're quick to shake your head. "No, Hannie, I want you to see me."

Jeonghan scowls, pecking your lips once before sitting up on his knees. "On your stomach."

You frown, dread washing over you. He knows how much you loathe that position. "Jeonghan, please, no..."

Jeonghan's face remains impassive. "I won't ask you twice."

"You know I take a long time to cum when I can't see your face," you grumble, feeling your stomach churn, chest tightening.

"Who said you were cumming tonight?"

The question sends you into a frenzy. "Please, I'm sorry, I won't do it again, please, please..."

When Jeonghan has his mind set on something, no amount of begging or grovelling will sway him. He's glowering at you, and three seconds pass before you relent. Having his cock inside you is better than nothing at all.

"There you go, baby," he says when you finally shift onto your stomach. He's quick to straddle your thighs. "Wasn't so hard, was it?"

You say nothing, feeling sulky now that you can't look at your boyfriend's pretty face anymore. "Angh!" you yelp when you feel a spank on your ass. Jeonghan does it a few more times, rubbing the tender skin between each hit. The touch should be soothing, but it only makes your ass burn even more, raw from his smacking.

Gritting your teeth from the tantalizing sting, you bite back an apology, knowing it's probably the last thing Jeonghan wants from you. Saying sorry would only make it worst for you. He's testing you, pushing the boundaries to see how much you can endure before you break and plead for some semblance of his kindness. The longer you hold out, the better.

You feel him dip his head down, pressing his face into the crook of your neck, taking a deep inhale to breathe in your smell. The fragrance of your perfume and natural scent is exhilarating. He wants to stay there and breathe you in all day, fill his lungs with your sweet scent so that he can still smell you even when you're miles away from him.

A groan rumbles in his chest, you can feel it on your upper back, can hear it right beside your ear. He starts pressing kisses down your shoulder blade, digging his teeth into the smooth flesh.

"Keep your head down," he warns you, as though he knows about your urge to turn and look at him. He sits up, his knees on each side of your legs, willowy fingers kneading your hips.

You whine into your pillow, eyes brimming with frustrated tears. Your whole body is trembling, yearning to see him, touch him, tug on the silken strands of his dark hair. God, just the thought of it has slick gushing out of your throbbing hole.

"I'll be good," you promise him, voice coming out breathy, desperation bleeding through. "Just, please..." you beg, quietly moaning when you feel Jeonghan's hands on your inner thighs, spreading your legs just enough for him to comfortably press the tip of his leaking cock onto your cunt.

You hear him chuckle when your whole body stiffens, anticipating the moment when he'll finally fuck you full. He sighs to himself, looking at the way your pussy is all coated in your wetness, slick gushing out onto his cockhead as he brushes it over your clit.

"Hmm, but you only behave after you're caught doing something bad, isn't that right?"

You don't answer, unsure whether you should defend yourself or agree with his question. You gasp when you feel him slide in just slightly, stretching you out, tip prodding at your gummy walls just enough to make you feel the agonizing stretch. "More, Hannie," you mutter, practically drooling at the prospect that it would only take a roll of his hips for him to fill you up.

However, the delicious stretch never comes, and you're left there feeling stupid, panting with only his tip buried inside of you. You whine once, lifting your head to look back at him. Big mistake. You've barely craned your neck before you feel his hand pushing down onto the crown of your head, fingers yanking at your mussed-up hair, shoving the side of your face back into the pillow.

With a growl, Jeonghan leans down to press his lips against your ear. "What's with you today, princess? You've always been such a good girl for me, but you keep pushing my fucking buttons today. You want me angry, hm? Is that what you want?"

His crude words shouldn't make you feel the way you do, but when he speaks, his hot breath against your ear makes your eyes roll back, pussy clenching around the tip of his cock, desperate to suck more of him in. You respond with a quiet apology, voice quivering from the arousal wracking through your body. You crave him, ache for him like a desert thirsts for rain. "Need you..."

Then, as if he senses your distress, he decides to show you some mercy. Little by little, he slides into you, slipping in easily, aided by the wetness seeping out of your pulsating hole. He ignores the way you call out his name with a shattered gasp, slowly pressing forward until his hips are flush against your ass and his cock is snug in your heat, buried to the hilt.

You can feel Jeonghan's groan rumbling in his chest, and the noise makes your pussy clamp down on him tighter. You're fisting at the bedsheet, feeling relieved, desperate, and frantic all at the same time. God, why isn't he moving? You want him to fuck you into the bed, want him to ruin you, use you until you can barely remember your name.

Perhaps this is Jeonghan's way of taking his anger out on you—tormenting you until you're reduced to nothing but a sputtering, drooling wreck. Maybe he wants to see you plead, beg. Or maybe, he wants you to curse him out, chastise him, berate him for putting you through this torture.

Afraid of further repercussions, you decide to patiently wait, clenching your teeth to bite back from begging him to move. Seconds seem to drag on endlessly, and you resort to imagining the sight you'd be met with if you were to turn around. Would you see Jeonghan's face contorted into a mixture of frustration and hunger? Would his eyes be crazed and heated? Maybe he's enjoying the excruciating wait, peering down at you with an amused grin, tongue peeking out to rest against his lower lip just slightly. You're dying to know.

Then, as if he is satisfied with your unwavering determination to remain still for him, he loosens his hold on your hair, gently brushing the dishevelled strands back. His thumb extends out to stroke at the tendrils of baby hair stuck to your temple, damp with perspiration. "You want me to move, baby?"

The question catches you off guard, and for a moment, you have half a mind to consider saying yes, but a nagging feeling tells you it might be a trick question. Jeonghan must've sensed your apprehension because you hear him chuckle.

Without any warning, he draws his hips back, pulling out until only his tip remains inside before plunging in again. Your jaw slackens into a silent moan. The lack of stimulation has made your body feel so attuned to his, sensitive to every little movement. You feel the rise and fall of his chest against your back, feel his breath on your neck, and the ridges of the veins on his cock against your pussy.

"It's not a trick question, you know?"

You're quick to nod your head as best as you can. "Please move," you breathe out, feeling like you're on the verge of just turning around and demanding him to fuck you the way you both need it.

His hand grapples onto the sheets by your head, delivering another thrust into your cunt. His movement is languid, as though he wants to take his time. It's driving you crazy, just how collected he seems compared to you. Your body feels as though it's burning, lit ablaze by his kisses, touches, and every single point of contact between his skin and yours.

Your eyes zero in on his hand propped up on the bed, right in front of your eyes, honing in on the way the sheets bunch between his fingers and the way his ring sits snug on his pinky. Subconsciously, you reach out for it, fingertips digging into his knuckles, nails pinching into the skin when he thrusts again. The movement is more rushed this time, jostling you up on the bed just a little, which makes you gasp.

He removes your hand from him, hurriedly pressing your palm into the bed, cradling your hand from behind, his fingers sliding through the spaces of yours to intertwine them. The gesture feels so intimate, and it leaves you feeling disoriented. "Fuck, Hannie, so good..."

Jeonghan chuckles, peppering kisses all over your bare shoulder, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake wherever his lips meet your skin. "I've barely even started, baby."

Jeonghan pushes himself up onto his knees, letting go of your hand to place both his hands on your hips. He doesn't miss the way you groan at the loss of his warmth on your back, but he dismisses it. He pushes in once, twice, his gaze fixed on the point where his cock keeps appearing and disappearing into your drenched cunt.

You barely register it when Jeonghan hauls you up onto your hands and knees, lost in the thought of him, only comprehending the situation when he once again slides into your aching pussy. You make a strangled noise in the back of your throat, elbows buckling, almost sending your face flopping back into your pillow.

Jeonghan doesn't feel the need to take it slow anymore. His thrusts are no longer feeble, and his pace is steady. The sound of skin meeting skin fills his ears, mixed with your broken moans. It sounds like an obscene euphony, a harmony that makes his head feel foggy and hazed.

"Fuck, pretty, you're enjoying this, aren't you?" Jeonghan grunts, sneaking a glance down, only for his pace to falter when he sees the way your slick is coating your inner thighs. The view is so lewd, salacious, dirty, and messy. "My messy fucking baby," he mumbles, picking up his speed, eyes fluttering when he feels your walls tightening around him.

"Jeonghan... Jeonghan..." You're chanting his name like a mantra, eyes pinched close, savouring the feeling of being pumped full.

"Yeah... that's my name, baby," Jeonghan responds, restrain starting to slip, evident in the way his voice cracks just slightly at the last syllable. "Can you cum like this?"

You promptly shake your head. "N-No." It's not entirely a lie. You hate relying on your imagination like this. You want to be able to touch him, hold him, want to be able to look into his eyes as you let your orgasm crash down on you. You want to see the way his hair frames his pretty face, want to see his flushed cheeks and the sweat gathering at the dips of his collarbones. You want to see him, or you think you'll die on the spot.

"Good. Don't cum, princess."

"W-What?" you squeak out.

Jeonghan snorts out a laugh. "I told you before—you're not cumming tonight."

You gulp, stooping down low onto your elbow, too weak to support yourself up on your hands. "I wanna cum, H-Hannie... Please let me..."

Jeonghan only snickers, ramming into you harder, letting out a content sigh when your moans seem to escalate, becoming more wanton and desperate. You're squeezing him so tight, white ring of your milky slick forming a ring at the base of his cock, causing him to groan out loud. He'd like to think that he's in full control, but everything about you is making him feel delirious—your smell, your pussy, your moans.

Ever the competitive man, Jeonghan feels like he's losing this game. He's supposed to be angry at you, but why does it feel like you have the upper hand? Feeling irked by this sudden revelation, he stretches a hand out, wrapping it around your neck. He hears the surprised gasp you let out when he pulls you upright into his chest.

Your hands immediately fly up to circle around his wrist, taken aback by the sudden change of positions. His other arm slithers around your waist, keeping you balanced as he continues to fuck you from behind. "Fuck, Hannie, your cock feels so good," you can't help but murmur, arching your hips just slightly so he can reach deeper into you.

He scoffs, burying his face into the crook of your neck, placing open-mouthed kisses on the spot underneath your ear, strands of his hair tickling your skin. As he expects, your head lolls the other way, granting him better access to your neck. "Of course it feels good, baby. I've fucked you so many times your pussy is used to me now. Wouldn't be able to take another cock without thinking of mine, would you? Wouldn't feel so good if it wasn't my cock, right?"

His fingers dig into the sides of your neck, constricting just enough for you to gradually feel the drowsiness from the lack of air. It's intoxicating, being able to surrender yourself to another person completely, knowing they have you in the palm of their hand.

You're too preoccupied with the feeling of his hand around your throat to realise his other hand sneaking down to settle between your legs, middle and ring fingers starting to draw gentle circles into your bundle of nerves. It's almost too much—the way his cock slides in and out of you, the way his lips skim over your neck, the chokehold he has on you, the breathy groans he murmurs against your skin.

"Unghh! F-Fuck, Jeonghan, 'm gonna cum..."

He chuckles, delighted at the turn of events. He doesn't stop the motion of his fingers against your clit and instead presses down harder, making your head roll back onto his shoulder, a throaty moan spilling past your lips into the open air.

"Oh?" he says in a sardonic tone. "You said you couldn't cum like this. Or were you just lying to me, baby?" His mocking shouldn't have such power over you, but it makes your heart pound with the intensity of a raging storm.

"N-No, it's because you're... your fingers—"

"Hmm, what's with my fingers, angel?"

The fingers on your clit start moving faster, motions rushed and relentless, bringing you to the verge of your climax quicker than you would ever anticipate. The sudden shift in speed makes you cry out in shock, eyes pinching shut. You're quick to bring a hand down to his wrist, tugging, trying to yank his hand away from between your legs.

He doesn't relent, slapping your hand away and briefly resuming his assault on your aching bud. "Don't try to stop me now. I thought you wanted to cum."

"You told me not to," you rush out, heat starting to swell in your stomach, ready to burst.

Jeonghan lets out a chortle. "That's right, baby. Ah, you listen so well..." Stretching his tongue out, he licks a broad path up your neck, stopping right underneath your jaw, where he proceeds to suck the skin. He wants to mark you, claim you. What better way than to bruise your pretty skin, right? To show everyone only a sliver of what goes on between you and him behind closed doors.

"Oh, god, let me cum, please, please..." You have no other option than to resort to begging. Cumming without his consent would be catastrophic now. Not being able to see his face is punishment already to you, you're terrified of just how far he'd be willing to go to take his anger out on you.

Jeonghan presses the tip of his nose into the plushness of your cheek, humming as though he's weighing his options. "I don't think so, princess," he mumbles, the snap of his hips not once faltering, maintaining its hasty rhythm. "I don't think you deserve to cum."

You don't have much time left. Simple begging won't work now. You're wracking your brain for anything, anything. Forcing him to cum before you would be close to impossible, noting just how composed he seems. He's breathing hard, gravelly groans bubbling up in his chest, but he's nowhere near how wrecked you are.

Through your haze, you suddenly grow aware of the hand still draped over your throat. He's not pressing or squeezing, simply just letting his hand rest there as a means to keep you balanced on your knees as he fucks you open from behind.

Sheer desperation makes you reach both hands up to claw at the hand on your neck. You're clinging onto the last threads of your rationality, knowing if Jeonghan puts even the slightest amount of pressure on his grip, all your sanity will go out the window, and you'd be hurled face-first into your much-awaited orgasm. You're playing with fire, you know it, but you only have one chance.

"Unghh, f-fuck, please, choke me... I've been a bad girl, H-Hannie, choke me as punishment, and let me cum..."

You feel his mouth stretch into a grin against your cheek. Your walls are clenching around him so tight, pulsing, so hot and tight. He knows he has won. It's this notion of winning that has him thinking about giving in, but one look at your face has him reeling back his words. The furrow of your eyebrows, your slack jaw, your scarlet cheeks... it makes him feel sadistic. You wanted him to be angry at you anyway, what boyfriend would he be if he didn't give you any reason to make him angry?

Then, Jeonghan watches. He tightens the hand around your neck, and continues his assault on your clit with the other, all while he continues to ram his dick into you again and again. You start to babble out incoherent words, and that's when he finally strikes.

"Don't cum."

Those are the two simple words that send you dissolving into a whirl of pleasure and euphoria. Your ears feel like they're ringing as pure, white heat consumes you whole, moaning out your boyfriend's name repeatedly as you go rigid in his embrace. It's like shockwaves, rippling through you so forcibly you have no choice but to succumb to the raging tides, riding it out until you can fully apprehend the situation again.

Gradually, you begin to notice the way Jeonghan holds you tight to him, how both his hands wrap around your waist to keep your body pressed to his, how his hips have stilled, hard cock still sheathed in your throbbing heat. He's pressing soft kisses onto your shoulder, coaxing you down from your high.

Jeonghan lets your tired figure collapse onto the bed before sitting back and propping himself up on his heels. The sight is so endearing to him—you, still huffing breathlessly, hushed whines slipping past your lips at every exhale, so spent after only one orgasm. Jeonghan feels like it's so perverse of him to reach a hand down to stroke at his still-hard cock, touching himself to the sight of your curled figure. From this angle, he can see the mess between your thighs, remnants of your juices and his pre-cum smeared all over your puffy pussy lips. Oh, he definitely isn't done with you just yet.

He hears you mumble his name groggily. Jeonghan's not sure whether you're calling out to him or just saying meaningless things in your post-orgasm haze. He doesn't waste time thinking, though, immediately swooping down to cage you between his arms, kissing along your hairline. "Tired already?"

Your eyes flutter open, looking up at your boyfriend who hovers above you with a smirk that makes your heart skip a beat. Fuck, you're really in for it.

He coos at you, but it sounds sarcastic. "I told you to hold it, didn't I?"

You puff out a breath, shifting onto your back, obediently parting your legs so Jeonghan can slot himself in between them. "But your fingers—"

"Good girls don't talk back, do they, pretty?"

"N-No..."

He nods, eyes wandering downward, not trying to hide the way they zero in on your breasts. "No, they don't... But you're not a good girl, are you?" he asks, lowering himself to blow cool air onto your nipple, earning a choked gasp from you. Without any warning, he latches his mouth onto the skin at the top of your breast, sucking earnestly, not letting up until he's finally satisfied with the reddening of the skin there. He always loved to see the reddish hue of your hickeys turn into delicate shades of blue and purple as they heal.

"I can be your good girl..."

"No, no, baby, you're a lying whore who doesn't do as they're told."

"Hannie, I asked you so many times—"

Jeonghan doesn't give you a chance to object, immediately slanting his lips over yours. He pushes his tongue past your spit-coated lips, exploring every crevice of your mouth, letting his tongue tangle with yours lasciviously. He feels you sigh against his mouth, hands coming up to curl around the nape of his neck.

Reaching a hand down, he positions his cock over your entrance, plunging himself into your sopping pussy without any notice. It's easy to sink back into you—you're still sopping wet and stretched open from before.

Shocked, you break away from the kiss to let out a sharp cry, nails digging into his shoulders, threatening to break the skin there. "God, J-Jeonghan!"

He doesn't give you any time to adjust, quickly finding a rhythm that makes you arch your chest, pebbled nipples brushing against his front. You finally have the chance to look at him, really look at him. Fuck, you wouldn't trade this sight for anything else. He's the most beautiful thing you've ever had the privilege of seeing.

He notices your lovestruck eyes, cock twitching inside you as he pounds into you. He thinks you're so pretty, all splayed out underneath him, so pliant, letting him do whatever he pleases with you. Your hair fans out over the pillow under your head, thin tendrils of it clinging onto your dewy temple and neck. He understands why you love to see his face so much whenever you fuck—he thinks he could cum earlier than anticipated if you keep looking at him with that infatuated gaze.

"Fuck, baby..." he curses, and it's the first time you've seen him lose his composure. "Fuck, you're such a pretty little thing..."

Your body sings at the compliment, shuddering, legs pressing into his sides, wanting to close shut but unable to. You're light-headed, still sensitive from your previous orgasm, but this feels too good to stop. With quivering hands, you slip your fingers through his hair, tugging and pulling carelessly. He's growing his hair out, so the length falls just shy of his shoulders, some strands curling over his neck like delicate tendrils of silk.

Jeonghan's low groan pulls you out of your dazed thoughts. "Hannie..."

"Mhm, am I fucking you good, gorgeous? No one else can fuck you like I can, hm?"

You rake your nails across the nape of his neck, whimpering when he shifts just a little, hitching one of your legs up and hooking it around his slender waist. He thrusts a few more times, and his cock brushes against a spot that has you jolting, mewling as he grazes it repeatedly.

"Oh? Right there?" Jeonghan noses at your cheekbone, listening to your gasps and whimpers, feeling his abdomen tighten at the obscene sounds you let out.

"R-Right there..."

"That's it... You think Seungcheol can get you like this?"

At the mention of your ex's name, you whine loudly. A part of you hadn't expected Jeonghan to remember the earlier incident, but you should've known better. It seems stupid to think Yoon Jeonghan wouldn't remember an incident that occurred only an hour ago.

"H-Hannie..."

"Hm, you gonna meet him for lunch? Gonna let him try to win you over? Gonna let him have what's mine?"

You shake your head, on the verge of sobbing, feeling your eyes fill with tears. "Wouldn't do that," you rasp. "I'm yours, Hannie..."

Jeonghan doesn't seem very convinced. "Yeah? You're mine?" he mutters against the apple of your cheek. His voice is low, any traces of anger or annoyance concealed. "You wanna say you're mine, with his contact still saved in your phone, baby? Don't be silly."

Your heel digs into Jeonghan's lower back, anchoring him to you as he continues to drill into you. "But I am yours—"

"Are you?"

"Y-Yes, always yours..." A hard thrust has you gasping, tears trickling down your temple, getting caught in your hair.

Jeonghan's pace stutters, distracted by the way you blink up at him through your damp lashes. Tears gather at your lash line, and he can't help but want more. It's a sick thought, but Jeonghan doesn't care much. How could he care when he's balls deep inside of you, feeling like he's about to explode from the way your heat wraps around him so well? He wants to see you cry for him, sob, snivel, all because you can't get enough of his cock. He wants you to cum so hard you see stars and forget about everything but him, him, him. Choi Seungcheol will be the last thing on your mind.

When Jeonghan lowers himself down onto his elbow, he seals his mouth to yours, kissing you fervently. It's a bruising kiss, teeth digging into lips, tongue rolling together in an alluring dance. After some time, Jeonghan reluctantly pulls back, taking a much-needed breath. He groans at the sight of your lips, all plump and damp with a mixture of his and your spit. "Fuck, baby... you're mine, aren't you?"

"Y-Yes, yes!" you babble, vision blurring as more tears fill your eyes.

"You're gonna let me fill you up? Have your pussy dripping my cum for days so you don't forget who you belong to. You like the sound of that?"

"God, yes, yes..."

Your thighs are starting to shake, Jeonghan can feel it on his hips. He brings his lips over yours again, not kissing you, just barely letting it brush over yours. He can feel every hot breath you release against his mouth. "Say his name, baby."

"Unghh... Hannie—"

He snickers. "I said his name, not mine," he says darkly, pecking your lips once.

You're confused and so goddamn frustrated. You're teetering on the precipice of your orgasm, and he wants to play mind games with you now? "No," you whine, shaking your head.

"No? Why are you so scared?"

"F-Fuck, please!"

"I won't get mad at you for saying it, princess." His voice has dropped down an octave. It feels like it's seeping into your brain, turning it into mush.

"C-Can't..." you murmur, drool gathering in your mouth the more Jeonghan splits you open.

"You can't? Why? Scared you might cum if you say his name? Scared you'll think of him when you cum?"

Your eyes grow wide in alarm. "N-No! I wouldn't do that, oh god, f-fuck..."

"Then say it or you're not cumming," he threatens, grinding harder into you, angling his pelvis just slightly so that it brushes against your clit every time he thrusts in. He watches your eyes roll back, pleasure fogging up your brain. He feels your juices coat his pelvis, splashing over his lower abdomen. Whenever his cock dips in and out, the wet sounds resound throughout the room, and it makes him hiss. "Say it," he repeats, knowing he won't last much longer.

You frantically shake your head, moans coming out stuttered. "N-No, please don't, I can't...Hannie—"

Jeonghan notes the way you're starting to sound distant. "Say it or I'm leaving you here to cum by yourself."

Your eyes meet his—frazzled, panicked, dazed. "Please, I can't!"

"You wanted me mad, right? This is it, princess. Show some gratitude and say his fucking name."

You're trying hard to read him, to possibly decipher his intentions, but it's so hard when you feel like you're on the verge of passing out from the onslaught of pleasure. You reach one hand down to rake at the skin of his lower back, earning a throaty groan from him, a sound that makes your skin prickle. Your other hand settles on his face, cupping his jaw softly, as if begging him.

Your eyes roam over his face, taking in his exquisite beauty that always leaves you short of breath. His tousled hair hangs over his forehead, dangling in front of his eyes, dark like pools of obsidian, drawing you into their depth. There's a radiant flush that colours his cheeks, drawing your attention to the contour of his cheekbones and jaw, dusted lightly with sweat, highlighting the sharp features. Then his lips—so inviting and soft, parting with each breath.

Jeonghan feels almost flattered under the weight of your affectionate stare. He briefly closes his eyes, breathing in through his nose, trying to pull himself together. He tries to push everything out of his mind—your delicious sounds, your intoxicating scent, your warm cunt around his cock. It's your sweet, quiet whine that pulls him out of his reverie. When he locks eyes with you again, he knows there's nothing he can do to delay his impending climax—not when you're looking up at him so tenderly, eyes fixated on him like a moth drawn to a mesmerizing flame.

"I c-cant... Don't make me say his name, p-please..."

Jeonghan swallows hard, one hand curving at the nape of your neck. With his grip he tilts your head up, letting your lips caress his. "Say my name, then. Say my name when you cum. Look at me and show me who you belong to..."

You cum with a shout of Jeonghan's name, your whole body shaking at the sudden explosion. You squirm in your boyfriend's hold, toes curling over the back of his thighs as the pleasure ravages your whole body, surging through every nerve and every cell. It's numbing and so overwhelming at the same time, every inch of your skin humming with electricity, and every vein feeling like they've been set ablaze. For a moment, nothing else in the world matters except you and Jeonghan, entwined in each other as you lose yourself in the whirlwind of pleasure.

"Fuck, fuck, should I fill you up, baby?" Jeonghan's voice quivers just slightly.

The question sends another flood of ecstasy through you, cunt fluttering around his cock a second time. "Yes, yes—"

Your voice is like a siren's call to him, beckoning him, tempting him. Jeonghan is only a man, and he's not immune to a force as powerful as you. He sinks his teeth into your neck as he finally empties himself inside you with a drawn-out groan. Your tight cunt is pulsing so tightly around him, milking him, forcing every drop of cum to spill into you and coat your walls. A rather high-pitched whine escapes his lips as he slumps into you, hips flushed to yours, aching balls slick with the mixture of your release and his.

You're panting heavily as you wrap your arms around Jeonghan, blinking up at the ceiling blearily, feeling filled to the brim with his cum still in you. Despite having the urge to clean yourself up and get rid of the stickiness between your legs, you lie there for another minute, feeling so content with Jeonghan's weight atop yours and his lips on your neck. Being with him is pure bliss.

"Jeonghan," you say softly after some time, not wanting to ruin the peace and quiet.

He hums, rolling over to the side to lie on his back, letting his softening cock slip out of you. He pulls you into him with one arm, allowing you to settle half of your body on top of his. He lets out a pleased sigh, one hand grazing over your bare back, fingertips gliding down the dip of your spine.

Placing a palm on his chest, you rest your chin on the back of your hand, gazing up at him tiredly. He seems to glow so prettily, eyes fluttered shut and a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. Despite the heaviness of your eyelids, you gather your resolve, knowing that you still have something to clarify with him.

Without thinking too much, you mumble Jeonghan's name again and smile when his eyes flutter open to peer down at you drowsily. His free hand comes up to brush back the hair from your eyes.

"I'm sorry for not letting you know," you mutter, the weight of your guilt just now settling in your heart. If you don't apologise now, the feeling might devour you whole. "I should've told you..."

The hand on your back ceases moving, palm splaying on your upper back, warm against your skin. "Baby, I wasn't really—you know—angry about it. I was a little stumped, sure, but... I trust you. I always trust you."

You shake your head, pulling yourself up slightly to look at him better. "You deserve to be angry. Jeonghan, you should be so angry at me. I should've told you as soon as I got home from that dinner party."

Jeonghan chuckles, much to your dismay. "Okay, then why didn't you?"

"I just... didn't think it was important. I felt like it wasn't anything worth telling you. It's not a good excuse, I know."

"Is Seungcheol important to you?"

Your eyes widen in disbelief, unable to fully grasp what you just heard. "What! No, of course not!"

"Then what's there to apologise about?" Jeonghan says with a snicker. "Did you kiss him at the party? Did he try to make any move on you? Did he seem interested in you?"

"No to all of those. I... I told him I already found someone else," you admit in a quiet voice.

When Jeonghan smiles at you, it looks somewhat smug. "That's my girl... Besides, it wasn't his face that you were sitting on when you got back home from that party, was it?"

Appalled by Jeonghan's words, you bring your palm down on his chest, smacking him. "You're disgusting, Yoon Jeonghan."

He only laughs, eyes crinkling as he pulls you even closer. "Don't act like you don't love it."

You say nothing, only bringing your head down to rest it on his chest again. His heartbeat is strong against your ear, and his skin feels warm under your cheek.

"So..." Jeonghan begins. "Round two in the shower?"

He doesn't have to ask twice—you're already off the bed and sauntering towards the bathroom.

3K notes · View notes

readychilledwine · 4 months

Note

Could i request something where az and reader are mates. They have a huge fight and “break up” and reader leaves the court. She finds out that she is pregnant and writes him a letter. He never shows up so she thinks he doesn’t want the baby. Rhys visit the court she is in and sees her with a child maybe a couple months old. He is mad because she didn’t told him and when he ask her why she keeps his nephew away she tells him that she wrote az but he never answered. Rhys is mad and ask az what is up with him to just leave his pregnant mate. Unbeknownst to him that az was searching for her the whole time. Az tells him that he never got a letter and they find out that maybe elain burned it. It takes some time for them but they find their way back and just fluff azriel dad who teaches his son how to fly.

( you could write more angst between reader and az because of elain or you could use a maid or something who wants az)

Here Without You

Summary - Being a single mother was more painful than you'd ever thought it would be, especially when your son's father was just a court away.

Warnings - Angst, Elain showing those claws, single mom status, a child, PPD and the thoughts that come with it, **edited to add** cheating

A/N - I had one of my friends who is a single mom help me with this one while also imagining my life without baby daddy, and um, yeah. We cried a lot, so hopefully, you all do too.

*message from Liz regarding the ending at the end*

💙Peep my Azriel Masterlist Here💙

You had decided whatever you had done to offend the Mother must have been truly unforgettable and unforgivable as you sank against the wall of your family chambers in the Day Court Palace.

Being a new mother was the hardest thing you had ever and will ever do. You had finally gotten Nox down after 3 hours of fussing and tears, and now you waited. He'd sleep 2 hours if you were lucky, wake up crying, and you'd start the process over.

You had wished for your mate more times than you could count, but that bridge was long gone and burned. He had ensured of that by not coming when you wrote him, by not even bothering to write you a response.

The last fight between you and Azriel had been ugly. Glasses had been thrown, a bottle of wine knocked over in rage, cruel words you would both have to live with ringing in your ears like a scream. 350 years. Gone. Thrown away like garbage. All for Elain.

Selfish, plotting, destructive Elain.

You stood, body swaying with sleep deprivation setting in before sitting at the table where your now cold food set. You were too tired to eat, choosing to instead drink the water you had been desperately craving 4 hour ago.

You had wished you could turn it to wine, drink it with no consequences, and still feed Nox when he woke, but that was not the reality of the world. So, instead, you allowed the room temperature flavorless beverage to slide down your throat before moving like a ghost to the couch. There was no point in getting comfortable in your own bed. You would have to be up soon anyway. It wasn’t as if you had help.

You were alone.

And that wasn't even the most painful part of it.

The most painful part was setting in doubt. The growing disbelief that you weren't capable of this, that Nox deserved more, that you should have dropped him at the cabin you had no doubt Elain had moved into, leaving him with her and Azriel to allow you to-

You cut your brain off, refusing to put those words into a full thought. Refusing to believe that your disappearance or death was better for your son than this.

This had to be enough, you had to be enough, because Gods if it wasn't and you weren't, then what truly was the point in living any longer.

Helion entered your chambers the next morning, eyes falling to where you were sat on the floor, shoulders shaking as sobs tore through you. He placed a large warm hand on your shoulder before taking Nox from your arms. "I know I can not offer much of a break due to his feeding cycle, but when is the last time you ate a hot meal, y/n?"

You shook your head. He was 2 weeks old. You supposed it had been before labor. Since then, it had been moments begging for just a second of deep sleep. Moments begging for the Mother to help you, to guide you. Moments where those prayers went unanswered as if they were just thrown into a void. "I don't remember."

Helion could have killed Azriel for you, for Lucien, for Nox. He almost had when you had winnowed yourself here, collapsing in his arms from the exhaustion magic and a growing babe had caused your body.

You hadn't known when you came to the Day Court, begging your oldest friend for a week of safety and healing that you were pregnant, but the High Lord had scented it the second you appeared.

It left him wondering how the hell Azriel hadn't.

"Let me hire a wet nurse for you," he offered again, knowing you would turn it down since your depressive state had you hyper fixated in this belief that all you were good for now was your breasts, and if you gave that duty away, what purpose did you have? "At least for the next few hours. To give you time to rest?"

You still shook your head, messy, tangled hair trying to sway. "I can't. I can't burden someone else."

Helion turned his head away from you, willing himself not to cry at the emptiness of your voice, at the lifelessness you had become.

"The Night Court and Spring are coming today," he started slowly. "I am the magic selected neutral ground for Tamlin and Rhysand to begin setting a peace treaty and trade routes." He waited for your reaction, almost breaking further as you gave him none. "Do you want to see any of them?"

"Lucien and Tamlin."

Helion felt his heart shatter for Cassian, the male who had been asking about you for months now. "The general-"

"Is Azriel's brother. And probably has taken his side. Attempts to see me are probably to give him some sick sort of satisfaction."

He dropped the subject immediately. Nox was asleep, content in the High Lord's arms. "I have time before they arrive, go nap." Helion ordered it, eyes blazing a soft gold and forcing you into submission.

Your bed had never felt so soft.

Helion was walking with Nox around the Palace, smiling and cooing the little male. He was always content when he was being held, and you were so deeply asleep you hadn't even noticed Helion holding the boy to your chest as he nursed. He walked towards where Lucien and Tamlin were.

His son, his pride and joy, looked just radiant in his Day Court attire. The soft, off-white pleaded fabric draping him showed the new healthy build he had gained since Azriel and Elain's transgressions, a golden snake wrapped his bicep, new golden earrings adorned those many piercings.

Lucien paused, a look of concern etching his face when he saw Nox before shaking his head rapidly.

But it was too late, Helion was already in the room where Rhysand also stood with the Inner Circle. The Lord of Night's face fell as he looked at the Illyrian boy, looking so happy up at Helion as he dozed off.

Cassian had frozen, mid sentence with Nesta. He had tried to take a step, wanting to see the babe he immediately knew was his nephew. His eyes met Helion's pleading with permission to approach. Elain's face had paled. A mix of guilt and fear running across it before she schooled it into a faked look of hurt and sadness.

But it was Azriel's face the broke the High Lord. It was a look he knew all too well.

The look of a father who missed the birth of his child.

The look of a father who didn't know he had a child.

The look of a father mourning lost time.

Lucien moved to Helion, taking Nox before leaving the room quickly. The boy did as he always did when his head found Lucien's warm bare shoulder. He released a heavy breath, snuggling into that familiar scent and warmth. "Your mother did not call for me last night," they all heard his soft voice trailing off, speaking to their nephew softly.

"You will tell me everything I do not know," Rhysand demanded as if he was in his own court. "When the fuck was he born. Why were we not informed of her pregnancy?"

Tamlin looked to Helion, digging the shit further. "Is she in the same room as last time?" The Lord of Day nodded. "I will go see her while you all deal with this."

Helion didn't answer, walking to the centered round table and taking the head seat. "To begin, Rhysand, this is my court. You will not make demands of me in my home." They all sat, aside from Azriel. His gaze was locked on the hallway Lucien and Tamlin had gone down.

If he ran, he could catch them. He could see you. He could-

The slam of hands on a table ripped him from his thoughts, and his head snapped to Helion. The High Lord was blazing, glowing like the sun itself, heat radiating from him. "Sit. Down."

An hour later and Rhysand had the bridge of his nose pinched between his fingers. "You saw her send each letter?"

Helion rolled his eyes, nodding again. "Every month after every check up and once after the birth."

Rhys pointed to Azriel. "But you never got them?"

"My son wouldn't be in another court if I had," Azriel's voice mirrored yours. Broken, empty, mourning. Mourning what was, what he had missed and would never get back. "You're sure she sent them to me?"

Helion could have snapped his neck. "Who else would have fathered her babe? You are the one who stepped out of the bonds of marriage and mateship. Not her."

Azriel paused, a sudden look of anger gracing his face as he looked up at Elain, shadows curling his ears. Nuala appeared, setting envelopes down in front of Rhysand. "In her room. Under her bed in a locked chest. Along with every communication you had tried to send to y/n, my lord."

Feyre gasped, turning her back to Elain and leaning further into Rhysand, holding Nyx tightly between them. She remembered those first few weeks. The sleepless nights, the pain, the emotional down pour. She would not have survived without Rhysand. Without Nesta and Mor. Without Cassian and you and Azriel. Her sister, the one who had held her as darkness swallowed her mind after her son's birth, had allowed you to endure this alone.

Azriel's hands shook, reaching for that stack. He separated out the letters. 10 for him. 2 for Rhysand and Feyre. 2 for Mor. 2 for Amren. 4 for Cassian and Nesta.

Helion stood. "I will let you all process this. Call for me when you are ready to do negotiations. The sooner you all leave, the better for her."

Rhysand's eyes shot up. "You won't let us explain to her-"

"Does it change the fact that he took Elain to their marriage bed? Does it change that he signed the annulment papers." Silence filled the room. "I believe that's why she left. Correct?" Rhys grit his teeth nodding. "Then all this changes is me, someone she trusts and feels safe with right now, informing her of what happened and allowing her to decide if she wants to reach out again from that point." He made a pointed look at Elain. "Which would not matter since I cannot see you removing the parasite from your court."

Helion walked into your room to Lucien and Nox laying skin to skin, a blanket over them as Tamlin held you, long fingers running through your dark hair. "And?" His son said.

"Your mate hid the letters regarding her pregnancy." Lucien whistled. "She's a snake hiding behind beautiful scales."

Azriel had tracked down your room with his shadows easily. The inner circle had been excused for the negotiations and allowed to explore the city. Cassian had flown Elain home, Mor and Amren winnowing Nesta behind them. Cassian wanted Elain out of his house, and Azriel could not have been more grateful to his brother for having his back.

He entered the room slowly and quietly. You were placing the babe in a crib on the balcony. It was shaded from the sun, shielded to remain the perfect temperature, and yet gave him access to fresh air, to the breeze.

You turned, eyes wide the second you saw Azriel. He moved to you so quickly that you could hardly process it. One second, your feet were on the ground, and the next, arms held you tight against him. Azriel was breathing deeply, memorizing your scent all over again.

He set you down, keeping you close to his chest, and sent a prayer to the Mother. "Elain hid all the letters," he began slowly. "She kept them all in her room. I didn't know. Had I known about you, about him, I would have crawled the very depths of hell to bring you back home to me."

You didn't answer. Tears fell as your body relaxed into him. It wasn't fair. The hold he had on you. The need you still felt in your bones when he touched your skin. You ached for Azriel so deeply it echoed into your bones. You longed for his smell. His voice.

Azriel took your silence as permission to continue. "I made a mistake. I will never be able to make up for it. Elain knew the second you left, I wanted to correct this. I was so blinded by her, by the feeling of being needed like that again, that I forgot how precious your independence was. How beautiful it is."

He couldn't stop himself from kissing the top of your head. "You are all I think about. Morning, noon, and night, it is always and will always be you. I am so sorry for what I have done. I am sorry for hurting you, for ruining us, for hurting the family we should be raising together. There are no words for my remorse."

"Why?" Your voice broke as you asked. "Why wasn't I enough?"

Azriel pulled back to look at you, hand raising to hold your chin and force eye contact. "Y/n, you are not at fault for my actions. You did nothing wrong. There is no partial blame, no what ifs. I fucked up. I made a mistake and it cost both of us everything. You are the victim of my actions, not the catalyst."

He saw you process those words and saw as they sunk in. "You were and are more than I will ever deserve. I want to spend my lifetime making up for it. Becoming a male you are proud of. I want to be the father I never got to have. I want to be the husband and mate you deserve. I know it will take time, and I do not expect your forgiveness today, but if you give me a chance, I will go to my grave worshipping the ground you two walk."

"Do you want to meet our son?" He broke at the question, feeling the bond opening back on your end. "This doesn't mean we're back together. It means we need to coparent for him while we work on things." He nodded rapidly, following you to the bassinet.

It felt like the world was coming full circle. You knew it would take time, that you two had many things to discuss first. This was a needed good start, though. Your pain eased slightly as you pulled back the curtains to the crib and whispered, "Azriel, this is Nox, your son."

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho

**I have received some pretty nasty anon asks, some unconstructive comments, and a good amount of general negativity regarding this fic. If you are unhappy with the ending and want to know why I made the choices I made as the author, click #discussingherewithoutyou. Unconstructive comments will be receiving the same copy and paste answer from here forward.

My time and content are free. If you do not like them, scroll.

General Taglist:

@mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium

Azriel Taglist:

@elle4404

#acotar #acotar x reader #send asks #send anons #azriel acotar #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x yn #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #discussingherewithoutyou

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wonusite · 1 year

Text

Crossing Boundaries

❝ Seungcheol has always demanded that all of his employees keep professional boundaries, but it frustrates him that his son’s nanny is a little too good at keeping things professional. ❞

pairing: choi seungcheol x female reader

genre: single dad au, nanny au, fluff, smut

word count: 8.6k

warnings: dilf!cheol, ceo!cheol, nanny!reader, imbalance of power, a brief mention of death, mutual pining (a copious amount of it), jealousy, seungcheol is down horrendous, daddy kink, breeding kink, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex, squirting, multiple creampies, overstimulation, cockwarming

a/n: will never get over this concept. huge shout out to dilf cheol nonny for fueling my muse and helping make this happen. based off this request. minors dni!

There were three basic rules when it came to working for Choi Seungcheol:

1. Be on time.

2. Be efficient.

3. Maintain professional boundaries.

The rules were simple enough, but you quickly learned that there was nothing simple about them. Seungcheol was nothing if not a strict man. He demanded excellence, and anyone who didn’t live up to his rigorous standards ended up fired. Any person who managed to keep their job for a month could keep a job anywhere. At least, that’s what his entire staff seemed to think.

They weren’t exactly wrong. His standards were impossibly high, and he left little to no room for any error. It’s the very reason why Seungcheol had gone through five nannies before you, each worse than the last, according to him.

Because of this daunting fact, you’ve been very careful to never fall bellow his expectations. All the meticulous routines you made for yourself became like second nature within the first month, and it’s what kept your job secure for the last four years.

In all that time you had managed to follow the rules, but that didn’t mean it was easy. Especially since you came to absolutely adore the six-year-old boy that you were hired to take care of. Choi Taehyun was the cutest and most endearing kid you’d ever met. As soon as you met him, he had wedged his way into your heart and secured a permanent place for himself there.

The overt fondness you felt proved to be dangerous because from the very beginning, Seungcheol was adamant that you never overstep your duties as a nanny. It was his way of saying you’re not his mother so never try to act like you are. According to Josh (his assistant and the person who helped you get the job), your boss only acted this way because he still hadn't fully overcame his wife’s death. You could understand his pain which is why you were always careful not to do anything that could be seen as crossing the line.

But now, as you’re looking at Taehyun’s tear-filled eyes, all the professionalism you’ve had so far just seems to evaporate from your body. His bottom lip is trembling as he tries his hardest to muffle the whimpers and sobs at the edge of his throat. A concerned frown tugs your lips down when you go to gently wipe his fallen tears.

“Tae, what’s wrong?” You ask, feeling like someone is squeezing your heart painfully.

“Daddy’s not going to watch my play.”

The aforementioned play was something Taehyun and his entire class had been working on for about a month. He was extremely excited about it because he was assigned one of the main roles.

“It’s not fair.” Taehyun cries softly, clinging to your hands that were gently wiping his cheeks. “All my friends’ mommies and daddies are gonna watch.”

The discomfort in your chest grows as tears continue to spill from his eyes. All you can do is hug the little boy close to you in an effort to comfort him. He buries his wet face into your shoulder, clinging on to you like he never wants to let you go.

“I’m sorry, baby. You know your daddy would watch you if he could. I know he’s just as sad as you are that he can’t be there.” You rub gentles circles on his back, desperate to stop his tears from flowing.

Then, you say something you know your boss would definitely not approve of. “I know it’s not the same, but if you want, I can come watch you instead.”

Taehyun’s whimpers turn into soft sniffles as he pulls back to look at you. His eyes are still filled with tears, but now a hopeful look has taken over his gaze. “Really? You’ll come watch me?”

You realize that what you’re doing is literally bulldozing through the boundaries you’ve stayed within so far, but you would do just about anything for Choi Taehyun. There was no way you could let him be sad for another moment. So, you disregard the foreboding feeling in your gut and smile at the young boy.

“Of course I will.”

“Promise?” He’s looking at you with his huge doe eyes, pinky stuck out at you, wearing the most hopeful expression you’ve ever seen.

As Taehyun wraps his arms around you in joy, you contemplate whether or not it’s smart of you to let your emotions dictate your actions this way.

Meanwhile, your boss feels like he’s losing his mind.

As the CEO of a major conglomerate, he’s always been a level-headed, professional man. There isn’t a single thing that could make him lose his composure or make him get out of character.

This, however, doesn’t seem to apply whenever it involves his sweet, caring nanny.

Ever since you came into his life, things had changed drastically for him. You had unknowingly brightened his life in a way that he never thought was possible after his wife’s passing. Years hadn’t healed the pain, but for some reason your presence and actions had done what time couldn’t.

Seungcheol doesn’t realize the extent of his feelings until his personal assistant casually mentions that he was in the midst of arranging a date between you and the head of marketing, Jeon Wonwoo. A feeling that could only be described as rabid jealousy lights up in the pit of his stomach and expands up into his chest as Josh unwittingly goes on about how his subordinate is exactly your type.

“I don’t think that would be appropriate.” Seungcheol cuts in when Joshua says you agreed to go on this date after seeing a picture of Wonwoo. “When things don’t work out between them, it’ll bring tension into the office. The last thing I want is for either of them to feel uncomfortable.”

The way his boss said when and not if doesn’t go unnoticed.

Also, Seungcheol’s logic is seriously flawed. They both know it. In all the time you’ve worked as the CEO’s nanny, never once had you came to see him while he was working. You were annoyingly good at keeping boundaries and never overstepping. It never bothered him before, but now that he keeps thinking about it, it’s starting to.

Josh doesn’t comment on what’s blatantly obvious, mostly because he feels stupid for not realizing it sooner. It’s also clear that his boss is only barely coming to terms with his own feelings. Instead of rubbing salt in the wound, Josh is quick to assure Seungcheol that he won’t go forward with the setup before bringing his attention to his next schedule.

If only that would’ve helped him get his mind off of you.

Seungcheol is distracted during his meetings. These very large feelings are at the forefront of his mind, and they don’t fade in the slightest even as the day goes on. He starts to go over every time you’ve smiled at him in that sweet way you do. His heart jumps whenever he thinks back to those memories.

He can’t help but feel like an idiot for being so blind to his own feelings.

Things don’t feel the same when he goes home. When he finds you helping his son with his homework, all these feelings hit him at once. It’s almost funny how he never noticed the burning feeling in his chest. You’re so sweet and attentive and entirely focused on Taehyun that you don’t notice his presence. A tender smile takes over his face.

Briefly, Seungcheol thinks he wouldn’t mind coming home and seeing this lovely sight every day.

He only snaps out of his daydreams when you raise your head and stand up to greet him with a kind smile. “Mr. Choi. You’re back early.”

Seungcheol, he wants to say. Call me Seungcheol.

“Dad!”

He’s quickly distracted when he feels a small body collide with his legs. Seungcheol’s heart swells with affection as he bends down to pick up his son. Taehyun giggles happily as he wraps his small arms around his father’s neck.

Being so endeared by the sight of your boss hugging his son and peppering his little face with kisses isn’t anything new. It’s so cute that you can feel a goofy smile slowly form on your face. In the back of your mind, you know exactly why this overt fondness is clinging to your heart. But in this moment in time, you’re not willing to unpack the inappropriate feelings you have for your boss

Seungcheol doesn’t make it easy, though. For some reason he insists on helping you prepare dinner. He’s strangely eager, and you can’t really reject his offer to help. It’s both exciting and nerve-wracking to spend time with your sexy boss like this since he usually only talks to you about Taehyun.

You can’t take your eyes off Seungcheol as he rolls up his sleeves and puts on a spare apron. It’s unfair that he looks as good as he does, and you can barely keep your calm when he starts to wash the vegetables you bought in the morning. His actions feel so domestic and so sweet that you have to try your hardest to act like you’re not enjoying it as much as you are.

“I hope Taehyun didn’t wear you out too much.” Your boss says as you start to chop the freshly washed vegetables. “He’s had a lot of energy lately.”

“That’s normal for boys his age.” You say kindly. “And Taehyun’s very well-behaved, especially compared to kids his own age. You’ve raised him well, Mr. Choi.”

Seungcheol beams at the compliment, embracing the fluttering he feels in his torso and chest. Briefly, he thinks that you don’t give yourself enough credit. After all, you’ve helped raise his son more than anyone.

“In that case, I hope you can join us for dinner.”

His invitation shouldn’t make you feel the way it does. You swallow thickly, chopping movements slowing as you contemplate your answer. It’s not like you’ve never had dinner with the a father-son duo, but it was always on the insistence of Taehyun. But now that Seungcheol was the one asking, you didn’t know what to do.

Up until now, you had been very careful to not overstep the boundaries your boss had set in place by your boss, and you couldn’t understand why the same man who hated when people didn’t remain professional and respect his boundaries was asking you to do just that. Given that your big fat crush is extremely hard to hide, you’re sure that putting some distance between you two is the right thing to do.

But with the way Seungcheol’s shining eyes are imploringly staring at you, it’s hard to think of a reason to reject his invitation.

“Mr. Choi.” You say nervously as you two begin to set up the dinner table. “I... I have something to tell you.”

His gaze is intent, and you try to remain as calm as possible. “Since you won’t be able to attend Taehyun’s play, I’m going to watch him instead.”

“You?”

Your boss’s expression is unreadable, and you can’t tell what he’s thinking. Still, you soldier on and try to pretend you’re not as intimidated as you are.

“Yes. It’s something that’s important to me, and I hope you don’t mind me being there for him.”

If Seungcheol had any doubts about his feelings, he definitely didn’t now. To think that you would care so much about his son warms his heart and further cements what he already knew about you. He gives you a smile, heart bursting with affection. “I don’t mind at all. I’m glad you’ll be able to be there to watch my son.”

Honestly, Josh had managed to rework his schedule so he could see the play and surprise Taehyun, but surprising the both of you was good too.

Somehow, you manage to conceal the shock you feel. You didn’t think he would agree so easily, let alone be pleased with the idea. Instead of questioning it any further, you only thank the skies that he didn’t react angrily.

It’s hard to pretend that eating together doesn’t fill you with a copious amount of joy. Listening to Taehyun tell you all about how he can count higher than his best friend while you and Seungcheol praise him makes you feel like you’re part of their family. Maybe it’s wrong or even delusional, but you can’t help wanting to have this dynamic with them indefinitely.

“You’re leaving already?”

Taehyun is looking up at you with his large doe eyes, and you can’t help but break down a little on the inside at the disappointment they hold.

“I’ll be back tom—”

“Stay.” Seungcheol says, walking towards you. “I could really use your help putting this little monster to sleep.”

Ignoring the blatant domesticity of reading Taehyun a bedtime story together is near impossible. It gets even worse when your boss insists you stay until his son falls asleep. You almost feel like you’ve been dropped in an alternate universe when you’re ready to leave and your boss stops you again.

“Let me take you home.” Seungcheol says as you’re gathering your things. “Please.”

It’s not fair that he can seem so cute while saying this to you, and despite your better judgement, you say yes all while knowing that it’s not going to help you squash the onslaught of emotions in your chest.

Something was up with your boss.

You’re not sure why he was acting like he had gotten body snatched, but truthfully, you can’t say that you hate it. Having breakfast and dinner with him and Taehyun was something you loved more than you let show. This warm, mushy feeling always wrapped itself around you and clung on to you every time it happened despite it having become part of your routine.

The change is significant, and you can tell you’re not the only one who’s noticed. Josh had made a few teasing remarks, but never blatantly said what you knew he was thinking. (He was the first to know about your not-so-little crush on your boss so it wasn’t really surprising.) Of course, Taehyun had also noticed, although he was much more vocal about it.

“Dad, you always smile so big when all us eat together.”

The blush that dusts your boss’s cheeks is absolutely adorable, and you can barely keep a straight face when Seungcheol clears his throat to answer his son. “That’s because it makes me happy.”

It’s not fair that he can say something like that so casually and like it doesn’t literally make your entire heart pulse with affection. Somehow, you manage to keep all your feelings tampered down so they don’t show.

And for the most part it works. Until the day of Taehyun’s play, that is.

Seungcheol had assured you that supporting his son in his stead was definitely not crossing the line, but it was near impossible from feeling like that’s exactly what you were doing. It doesn’t help that you feel so out of place among the parents, either. To be fair, none of them were paying you any attention. You were just too in your head.

After fighting with your inexplicable anxiousness, you decided to just silently go to the auditorium without being noticed. This plan would’ve gone well if an unfamiliar voice hadn’t loudly called out your full government name, drawing the attention of many of the gathered parents. A woman who you recognized to be the principal’s wife approaches you with a tight-lipped smile.

Mrs. Ren looks you up and down, the condescending smile on her face widening impossibly. “I didn’t realize you were going to be here.”

Her attitude didn’t surprise you since many of the other moms had commented about her being very attracted to your boss. Apparently she had staked this weird claim on him despite being married, and no one dared to go against her because of who she was. Clearly, she didn’t like that you were overstepping the duties of a typical nanny.

Not that you cared, but having so many eyes on you was unsettling.

“Why wouldn’t I be here?” You challenged, not daring to back down. “Taehyun is family, after all.”

You don’t miss the quiet gasps or the angry widening of Mrs. Ren’s eyes. Honestly, you had no idea why you blurted that out even though that’s how you really felt about the cute little boy you took care of.

“So, it’s true?” The woman behind her exclaimed in shock. “You’re really going to marry Seungcheol?”

Woah. Wait. What?

You can feel your eyes get big as this unknown woman goes on about how she knew her husband hadn’t lied to her. There was no time to fully process her words because Mrs. Ren practically had steam coming out of her ears as she sneered at you.

“You?” The principal's wife screeched. “You’re engaged to Choi Seungcheol?”

It’s almost funny how unreasonably angry you know she’s gotten, but you’re too thrown off by the entire situation to laugh. You decide to clear up this absurd claim before it can go any further.

“I think there’s been a misunderstanding—”

You cut yourself off when a strong hand is gently placed on your waist. The warmth of a muscular body pressed against your side has you looking over to see none other than your hot boss, and you have to stop yourself from flinching because he looks absolutely livid. His presence makes you feel relieved and mortified all at the same time which leaves you feeling confused. But damn, does that mean glare look attractive on him.

“I didn’t expect this reaction from you, Mrs. Ren.” His cold tone sends shivers down your spine. “Are you not happy that I’ve finally decided to settle down again?”

The entire situation feels like a bizarre dream, and you can only be sure it’s not because of the very real heat coming from Seungcheol’s hand (which is still firmly on your waist). You can barely fathom the fact that Choi Seungcheol is actually lying about being engaged to you to help you save face, and you don’t know if you’re more embarrassed or charmed at this point.

“Tha-That’s not it!” She splutters, red in the face. “I was just surprised because I didn’t know you were dating again in the first place!”

It’s a lame excuse, one that doesn’t seem to satisfy your boss. “I’m sure that was it. There’s no way you would bear any ill will toward my family, right?”

You feel like you might actually swoon at his words. To hear him refer to you as his family makes an unmistakable warmth spread through your body. Sure, he was only doing it to help you, but still. The intention alone was enough to make your heart race.

The face Mrs. Ren makes looks like she’s seconds away from bursting with anger and mortification. How she manages to answer Seungcheol calmly is beyond you. “Of course not.”

“Good.”

His hand falls from your waist and grabs your own. It takes all your willpower to not melt into a puddle of mush as he starts to guide you away from the prying eyes. You let him drag you along, mind too full of rampant thoughts to really process what just happened.

“Seungcheol!” A voice calls. “Wait!”

You both stop, turning to see the woman from before. She gives your boss a devious smirk as she stops in front of you two, seemingly pleased.

“Aren’t you two a match made in heaven.” She says, grin getting bigger with every word. “Keeping this little affair a secret. When Jeonghan told me about it, I didn’t believe it since I haven’t seen you two together, but with the way you looked swooped in like Prince Charming—”

As she trails off with a swoon, you realize that she’s Yoon Minji, wife of your boss’s lifelong friend and business associate. Your mind is so muddled that you barely catch her invite you both to dinner before leaving to go find a seat.

After she leaves, Seungcheol keeps guiding you to the auditorium without saying a word. The silence is painful, but you’re forced to endure it since you don’t know what to say. Thanking him for helping you would be a good start, but then you don’t know if you’d be able to hold yourself back from asking why the wife of his best friend thought you two were engaged to be married.

“Y/N.” Seungcheol says your name softly as you two stop just outside the doors that lead to the auditorium. “Once again, I want to thank you for coming. I know it’s going to mean a lot to Taehyun that you came to watch him.”

The way you look at him with your pretty eyes makes Seungcheol want to kiss you senseless. His heart is beating fiercely in his chest, and he wonders how he could’ve never noticed these intense feelings before. The smile you give him is blinding, and he wishes that look would remain on your face forever.

“I’m happy to be here, and I know that it’s going to mean the world to Tae that you were able to make it.”

Seungcheol swallows thickly. “Also, I’m sorry about what happened back there. I hope I didn’t make you feel uncomfortable with what I said.”

His gaze is so tender that you feel your breath hitch. You’re heart is beating like it’s about to jump out and jump right into Seungcheol’s hands. Unsurprisingly, that’s where it feels like it’s been for the past year. You’re snapped out of your intrusive thoughts when you realize that you’re still holding hands. Neither of you make a move to let go.

“You didn’t.” You’re quick to assure him. “I’m actually really grateful that you helped me. I hope I didn’t inconvenience you.”

“Never.”

His smile is so pretty it makes you want to do unspeakable things to him, and you have to remind yourself of where you’re at and who you are. That reminder does little to squash the fire burning fiercely in your chest, though. Especially when Seungcheol guides you inside the auditorium, hand still wrapped around yours.

Seungcheol didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but when he was about to enter the kitchen, your phone was on the counter and on speaker. It was inevitable that he heard his assistant’s voice as he spoke to you. He might’ve given you the privacy you deserved had he not caught what you two were talking about.

“How have you still not found something?” Josh’s concerned voice booms through the phone. “Your lease literally ends in two weeks.”

Originally, you had planned to move into a nice apartment building not too far from your job, but that fell through when you found out the prices had gone up significantly in the last month. It’s not like you were underpaid or anything (Seungcheol was very generous and the benefits were nothing short of impressive), but living there would mean spending more than half of your check on just rent alone. And as generous as your boss was, you know you could never bring yourself to ask for a raise.

“Everything I’ve looked at is either in a sketchy neighborhood or looks like it’ll need serious repairs.” You sigh as you start wiping down the stove. “I’m starting to think I should’ve never rejected Mr. Choi’s offer of being a live-in nanny.”

“Just tell him you changed your mind.” Josh says like it wouldn’t be a big deal. “He might give you the best room in the employee house. You know the one with the balcony!”

You disregard his teasing tone and scowl. “There’s no way I’m going to backtrack now. Do you know how humiliated I’ll be when he tells me no? I’ll have to quit right then and there!”

Even though you can’t see your friend, you can easily picture him rolling his eyes. “What do you plan on doing then?”

You pout at the phone. “Can’t I just live with you and Junhui? Your place is so nice.”

“You’ll have to stay in the living room, and you won’t have anywhere to put your things.”

Seungcheol sees your shoulders slump, and he has to stop himself from walking into the kitchen and taking you into his arms. He can only watch helplessly as you sigh quietly before responding in a voice that sounds too dejected for his liking.

“Maybe I’ll just move back in with my parents.”

This might’ve made Seungcheol feel better had his assistant not cut in with the obvious flaws in your plan. “Won’t the commute be too much, though? You can’t do that every day. Not with how early and late you have to work.”

There’s a pause, and then the next words that come out of Josh’s mouth make Seungcheol feel like someone punched him in the stomach.

“Unless you’re planning on resigning.”

Your silence makes the feeling in his stomach worsen, and your response doesn’t make him feel all that better. “Well, no, but... I don’t know. Maybe I’ll have to.”

Seungcheol slowly backs away, heart thumping irregularly in his chest. The thought of you quitting and no longer being in his life is more devastating than he could’ve imagined. It torments him and leaves him feeling cold.

For the rest of the evening, he can’t get his mind off the conversation he heard or how it leaves him feeling.

Even as he lays in his bed in the middle of the night, he can’t stop thinking about it. He goes over the situation over and over in his head until he finally decides that he can’t give you up, selfish as his reasons may be. All Seungcheol has to do is make sure his son won’t have an issue with what he’s planning to do.

“Taehyun.” He says softly as he’s tucks his son into bed alone for the first time in months. “You like Y/N, don’t you?”

The way the little boy vigorously nods his head makes his heart warm. “Yeah! She’s nice and pretty and I like when she calls me Tae!”

Seungcheol swallows, feeling more nervous than ever. “Then... how would you feel about her being around more often?”

Taehyun blinks slowly, weary eyes looking at his dad questioningly. As always, his son is silently asking to explain and get to the point. It’s hard to suppress a smile when he does things that remind Seungcheol how similar they are.

“What I mean is... would you like it if Y/N came to live here with us?”

It’s a relief when his son springs up, eyes shining with unadulterated excitement. “Y/N is going to live with us?” His happiness is evident. “Really?”

Seungcheol smiles tenderly, reaching over to ruffle his hair.

“I have to ask her first, but if she says yes, then she’ll come stay with us—as long as that’s something you want.”

“I do want it!” Taehyun says, bouncing on his knees. “Then we can all live together like a family!”

Yes, Seungcheol thinks as he affectionately caresses his son’s face. Like a family.

The next morning, you’re surprised to see your boss still hasn’t left for work even when you’re ready to take Taehyun to school. It’s even more surprising when he suggests you all go together. You can’t deny the request since Taehyun is all too happy to have you both take him to school.

It’s hard to ignore the stares you’re getting as you and Seungcheol walk Taehyun into the school. He’s holding both your hands, happily swinging them and talking animatedly. Funnily enough, the young boy manages to make the nerves you feel disappear with his infectious smile. You can easily disregard the gawking and whispers after seeing how happy your boss’s son is.

Seungcheol also doesn’t seem to mind the attention you two are attracting. He acts like his impassive self even as he’s driving you back to the mansion. The entire time he’s really just thinking of the best way to ask you to live with him and his son. Even though he knows you most likely won't say no, he still feels nervous.

“Y/N.” He says as he pulls into his long driveway. “Before you go, I have a request.”

You feel nervous, but manage to plaster a smile on your face. “Yes, sir?”

Seungcheol feels as if his heart jumped up into his throat. “Well, you see... my schedule is going to change drastically these next few months. I’m going to be working earlier and coming home much later. There are also be times where I’ll have to leave the city for business for extended periods of time.”

You’re not saying anything, and he knows he has to get to the point quickly.

“I was going to request that you come live with Taehyun and I during this time. It’ll be more convenient for everyone this way. I hope you’ll consider it.”

At this moment, your boss looks so earnest that you aren’t sure how to adequately express the influx of emotions you’re suddenly feeling. It all feels like a dream to you that you begin to wonder if his words are actually real. Either way, the warmth seeping into your bones pushes you to give the handsome man in front of you an answer.

“Yes, of course I will.”

Every time you wake up and find yourself in a luxurious room, you feel like you’ve been dropped in the middle of a blissful dream. Weeks have gone by, but it still feels unreal. Unlike your expectations, your boss moved you into the main house and gave you the room right across from his. It was hard to not let your fantasizing mind wander despite knowing he had done it out of convenience and nothing else.

Your life continues to be stuck in a routine until Taehyun goes to visit his grandparents. It’s strange without him around, and unsurprisingly, you begin to miss him after the first day. Your boss insists that you can take the week off and have it for yourself, but you still have no desire to actually do anything.

Seungcheol notices your listless attitude and feels determined to change it.

“Tonight?”

“You don’t want to?”

The way Seungcheol is looking like a pouty puppy is not good for your heart. Although you really don’t feel like going to dinner with Minji and Jeonghan, you can’t say no to the adorably hot man in front of you.

“No, it’s not that, I just—” You’re flustered, but don’t want him to think you don’t want to go with him. “They still think we’re engaged, right?”

You almost regret asking because Seungcheol’s hopeful look slowly fades away and is replaced by poorly concealed dejection. “Yeah. Sorry. I still haven’t cleared things up. We don’t have to go if that makes you feel uncomfortable.”

“I don’t mind.” You tell him truthfully. “I just didn’t want it to seem like I was crossing the line.”

Seungcheol has to physically restrain himself from falling to his knees and telling you that you’re the only person who’s allowed to cross the line with him. Instead he manages to smile at you like he’s not physically dying inside. “You’re not.”

As you’re walking in to what seems to be like one of the most expensive restaurants in the city, you’re glad you spend a good fifteen minutes deciding on the perfect thing to wear. Seungcheol had seemed to like it, at least. His eyes were practically sparkling when he’d seen you.

It’s hard to ignore this intense pressure you feel when you sit down at the table. Minji and Jeonghan greet you amicably like you’re one of their old friends, but you know it’s only because they think you’re engaged to Seungcheol which you most definitely are not.

Luckily, the conversation flows naturally and smoothly until Jeonghan asks a question that leaves you without a single thing to say.

“I need to know the story of how you two fell in love because this man is not one who crosses the line with his employees.”

You’d like to know the same thing yourself. Not that Seungcheol was actually in love with you or had actually done that much to push past these rules he had set, but he’d done more than you ever believed him capable of doing.

“I can’t really remember how it happened.” Seungcheol says honestly. “After a while, I found myself excited to go home and see her. Every time she smiled at me, I felt like my heart was going to explode. When she went home, I missed her even though I knew she was coming back. Eventually, I realized that I couldn’t picture my life without her in it.”

You’re staring. You know you are, but you can’t help it. He sounds so sincere with those shimmering eyes of his, and you feel like your own heart is on the verge of exploding. Even though it’s all an act, you start to feel those familiar butterflies invade your stomach and chest.

“Oh my god!” Minji squeals, slapping her husband’s arm repeatedly. “How cute is that? I swear you guys make me want a love like yours.”

As Jeonghan lets out an offended noise and starts to list off all the romantic and extravagant things he’s done in order to show Minji his love, you can only laugh along and pretend like your boss’s words didn’t affect you as much as they did.

When you get back home, your heart is still unable to let go of those sweet words. Even as you walk up to your room with Seungcheol still by your side, you can’t let them go despite knowing he didn’t mean them.

Now that it’s time to say goodnight, you feel strange parting ways even though he’ll literally be in the room across from yours. “I had a really good time tonight. Thanks for inviting me.”

“I’m glad you had a good time. I was kind of worried you weren’t going to.”

You always had a good time when you were with him, not that you would dare to say that out loud.

“You really surprised me, Mr Choi. I had no idea you were such a good actor.”

You had expected him to laugh, but instead he only looks at you with a somber gaze. “I told you to call me Seungcheol.”

His voice comes out so authoritative that it makes your insides clench, and his lidded gaze makes your heart leap up into your throat. You manage to find your voice even though it comes out a bit weak. “But we’re not pretending anymore...”

His gaze sharpens. “I’ve never pretended to love you.”

His words hang in the air, and they shock you so much that they make you unconsciously give into his request from before. “Seungcheol.” You say breathlessly.

The way his name rolls off your tongue makes his heart stutter, and he briefly thinks he could listen to you say his name forever. Both your eyes are burning fiercely with this emotion that has been blatant to all those around you. Except this time you can both see it.

You’re not sure who makes the first move, but suddenly his mouth is covering yours, tongue licking along your bottom lip. The feeling is electric, and you throw all your inhibitions to the wind as you pull Seungcheol closer.

Your heart is pounding fiercely as you two stumble into his room, pulling off the the clothes you’re wearing, touching each other desperately as if you think this moment might end at any moment. It won’t though, and you become conscious of that fact as you’re laying on the softest sheets you’ve ever felt, completely naked.

Seungcheol is gazing at you with so much affection and want that it makes you feel like he plans to eat you up. He kisses along your inner thighs, gently licking and biting at your soft skin. His warm hands caress the outside of your thighs, gently digging his fingers into the soft skin.

“So pretty.”

You can feel your breath hitch in anticipation as his hands smooth down your inner thighs until he’s pressing two fingers against your aching clit. It’s dizzying the way Seungcheol rubs it in gentle circles that have you squirming and gasping in pleasure. His heated gaze flickers between your face and your dripping cunt, not wanting to miss the sight of you falling apart under him.

“Look at how wet you are, sweetheart. All for me.”

His voice has a possessive edge to it as he grinds down on the bed, hard cock rubbing uselessly against the sheets. The pleasure is minimal, and Seungcheol has to hold back a whine at the lack of relief.

“Please.” You mewl, shifting your hips up slightly.

Seungcheol keeps his dark eyes on you to make sure you’re watching him. He presses a soft kiss to your pulsing clit, and he has to groan when he sees you clench around nothing. The featherlight touch has you feeling so desperate and lightheaded that you’re unable to stop the wanton mewl that tumbles past your lips. “Seungcheol.”

Your voice is so needy and sweet that Seungcheol lets out a moan of his own before he dips his head between your thighs. The moan you let out is loud as he starts to suck and lick at your aching bud. His movements are smooth and gentle somehow, and it’s not long before you feel the coil in your stomach start to tighten.

Seungcheol is groaning and panting into your cunt as he laps up every bit of your juices. He’s eating you out like a starved man, and you love every second of it. The way he grabs your thighs and pulls your wet cunt closer to his mouth makes your head swim. One of your hands finds his hair while the other trails up your body to cup your tit. You pull and pinch at the taut nipple with a loud moan of Seungcheol’s name.

The sweet moans you’re letting out as Seungcheol spreads your slick all over your cunt makes his cock throb in anticipation. He wonders what you’ll sound like when he finally has his dick inside you. Your grip on his hair tightens when he circles his tongue on your puffy bud. The cute whines falling from your lips become louder as his he continues to fuck you with his tongue.

“So sweet.” Seungcheol groans against your dripping cunt. “Sweetest fucking thing I’ve ever tasted.”

Your pussy clenches around his tongue so tightly that it almost feels like it could be pulled off his mouth. But your moans and mewls coax him to keep going, loving the way you’re starting to blubber incoherently. “Fuh-Fuck! Feels so good...”

The way you take an awkward pause makes Seungcheol lift his head questioningly. Your whine of protest has his leaking cock throbbing almost painfully. “What is it?”

Your face feels hot, and you’re so lost in your pleasure that it pushes you to tell him the truth. “Can... Can I call you daddy?”

Seungcheol smashes his hot face back into your cunt, cock aching painfully. “Call me whatever you want, sweetheart. I’m all yours.”

His tongue and lips are massaging your swollen clit, and all you can do is throw your head back and arch your back to grind your hot cunt harder onto his mouth. It almost feels like too much, but strangely also like not enough at the same time.

“O-Oh, fuck! Daddy!”

The loud cry you let out as you squirt all over Seungcheol’s face makes him let out a guttural moan of his own. His entire chin and mouth is covered with your sweet juices, and he continues to lap it up like you’re the best thing he’s ever tasted—which you are.

Seungcheol sits up, licking his lips until he can’t taste you anymore. His grin is devious but also so hot. He’s gently caressing your still-quivering thighs, and you feel like you can faint from how much you’re enjoying it.

Then, your eyes drift down to his huge cock. It’s possibly the biggest one you've ever seen, and also the prettiest. You lick your own lips before looking back up at at his face. The way he’s looking at you with his dark eyes has you clenching around nothing.

“You’re okay to keep going?”

God, he’s so fucking sweet that you just want to fuck him until he can’t talk. You nod desperately, opening your legs wider.

“Fuck me, daddy.”

Your mouth drops open in a quiet moan when you feel Seungcheol’s thick cock push into your cunt with a lewd, wet sound. His large hands smooth down your thighs, squeezing and caressing so tenderly that it has your pussy clenching down on his throbbing dick. He swoops down to swallow your moan, lips messily colliding with yours.

His thrusts are so deep and slow that all you can do is gasp into his mouth. The fat tip of his cock is hitting your sweet spot so sharply that you have to buck your hips up to meet his movements. Seungcheol starts to trail his lips along your jaw and neck, gently nipping and kissing at the soft skin. The lewd squelch coming from your pussy is driving him insane. His entire cock is coated with your juices, and he’s never feel better than he does now.

“Fuck, angel. Look at you, taking daddy’s cock so well.” His voice is dizzying, and all you can do is cry out in pleasure.

Seungcheol leans back, just watching you writhe under him. You’re so pretty as you fuck yourself on his cock, squeezing him until it feels almost hard to move. His hand slowly trails down between your bodies, and you let out a loud moan of his name when he starts to roll your puffy clit with his long fingers.

White cream coats his entire length, leaving a milky ring at the base of his cock. You wetly gasp out his name, your nails digging into his forearms, but Seungcheol is relentless. He’s like a hungry beast as he pounds into your gushing hole and all you can do is desperately try to meet his thrusts.

“Fuck, look how you’re soaking daddy’s cock, baby. Making such a mess.” He groans, feeling your slick dripping down to his heavy balls.

You can only moan loudly for him to keep fucking you, already drunk on the feeling of his thick cock splitting you open. Seungcheol spits on your throbbing cunt, mixing in with your juices that are coating his dick. His bulbous tip is slamming against the spongy spot that has you seeing stars, forcing more slick out of you with every harsh thrust.

The coil in the pit of your stomach is close to snapping, and your mouth drops open as your thighs begin to tremble again.

“Fuh-Fuck, daddy! Love your big dick!”

His tantalizing smirk is so hot to you, and it makes you clench down on his cock and release another stream of slick. Seungcheol moans, eager to feel you cream on his cock like he’s dreamed of countless times. It just takes him angling his hips just right for his wish to come true.

Your toes curl in pleasure, a loud moan of his name tearing from your throats as a rush of wetness escapes you. Of course, Seungcheol keeps pounding you, roughly fucking you through one of the most intense orgasms you’ve ever had.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Cream all over my cock.” His voice rasps, thick with lust and adoration.

A thick white ring is at the base of his cock, slowly smearing down to his heavy sack. The sight is driving Seungcheol wild, almost as wild as the sight of your glistening folds stretching around him. “Give me another one, baby. I know you can.”

“Fuck, please.” Your cry. “Fill me up with your cum, daddy!”

It’s like something inside Seungcheol snaps when he hears your pleas. In an abrupt movement, he presses your legs to your chest and starts to pound into your hot cunt. Your tight walls are sucking him in like they’re also begging to be painted with his seed.

“You want my cum, angel?” Seungcheol coos, gently caressing your soft legs as he slams his cock into your sweet spot, balls slapping against your ass with every thrust. “Want me to fill you up until you’re carrying my baby, give Taehyun a little sibling?”

“Please!” You mewl when you feel his cock throb inside you. “Want to make you a daddy again. Stuff me full of your cum!”

Your voice is breathless and a little whiny, and Seungcheol feels like you’re making him lose his mind. “Fuck, baby. I’ll give it to you then. I’ll fill you up until I’m all you can feel.”

You continue to beg him for his cum, telling him how much you need it in your cunt. The more he fucks you, the less you can form actual words. Every fantasy you’ve had feels so dull compared to the real thing. All the times you’ve gotten off to the image of him fucking you or had wet dreams about him were absolutely obscene and filthy. Somehow, the reality was much better.

A rush of euphoria overwhelms you when you feel Seungcheol spills his cum directly against your cervix. You wrap your legs around him to make sure his cum goes as deep as possible. His hot load fills you up, painting every inch of your sensitive walls as he slowly rolls his hips into you.

You yank him down for a messy kiss, so desperate and needy for him that you don’t care about anything else. “Don’t stop, daddy.”

Seungcheol fucks his cum into you, wanting to mark you from the inside out now that he has you. He can feel your mixed releases slowly seep out of you, and he carnally thinks he’s going have to fill you up again so he can be sure he’s bred you properly.

Your hot cunt is throbbing almost painfully, bordering on that delicious burn of being overstimulated. But you’re still hungry for more. So when he releases you from the press he had you in, you roll over and stick your ass out at him. You look back, satisfied when you see his dark eyes are on your sloppy pussy that’s dripping with his cum.

“Keep fucking me, daddy. Want more of your cum.”

That’s all it takes for Seungcheol to plunge back into your tight cunt, pounding into you like a savage beast. His leaking tip slams into your spongy spot repeatedly, making you cry out in absolute ecstasy. His big balls are slapping against your sensitive nub, adding to the mind-blurring pleasure you’re feeling.

“Fuck, Y/N. Your little cunt is still so fucking tight after being stretched open and bred.” Seungcheol growls, hands squeezing and slapping your ass as it bounces against his pelvis. “Creaming and dripping all over this cock, making a mess again.”

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he keeps fucking you with feral precision. “Fuck, daddy! So good!”

Seungcheol can feel your hot cunt clamping down on him again, and he lets out a deep moan. “Come for me again, baby. Show daddy just how good he’s making you feel.”

You can only mewl and whine, too list in the pleasure his big cock is providing you. Seungcheol’s thrusts become impossibly rougher and sharper. It feels like he’s rearranging your guts with how he’s pulling your pliant body to meet the snapping of his hips.

“Daddy!” You squeal in shock when he flips you on your side before hooking one of your legs over his shoulder and continues to fuck you mercilessly.

This new angle stretches your sore cunt more while exposing it to the cool air. You can only imagine how filthy you look down there, but Seungcheol seems to love it. All the pleasure your feelings is driving you insane, and you can only feel an insane amount of pleasure taking over your mind.

“Come inside me, daddy!” You moan wantonly, desperate to feel his hot cum fill you up again.

His soaked cock throbs inside you, eager to release inside your tight pussy. “Want me to? You that desperate to be a mommy, baby?”

When you nod desperately, he focuses on making you come again so he can give you what you both want. Seungcheol gives you one sharp thrust before he leans back slightly to watch you squirt and cover his lower half in your release. Your body gently convulses as quiet mewls pour from your mouth.

“You’re so fucking hot, sweetheart.” Seungcheol groans as he keeps fucking into your hot cunt. “Can’t get enough of you.”

He keeps slamming in and out of your wet pussy desperately, eager for his own release. Seungcheol comes with a yell of your name, spilling his hot cum deep inside you and pumping you full. His cum spurts along your sore walls until it feels like there’s no room for more of it. It seeps out around his cock, leaking down to your ass and his heavy balls.

Seungcheol doesn’t slow down. The oversensitivity you’re both feeling makes him more ravenous. He obsessed with the sight of you trembling on his cock, caught between begging for a break and pleading for more. He fucks his cum into you, desperate to make it go as deep as possible.

Wet noises seep into your foggy mind, playing dully in the background to your muddles thoughts of sex and Seungcheol. He’s successfully fucked you stupid, and you’ve never felt better than you did now. Your cunt is filled to the brim, his seed coating your every inch of your core. At some point, his thrusts slowed into thorough grinds, sticky strings of arousal and cum connecting your most intimate parts.

Seungcheol doesn’t pull out. Instead he collapses next to you and tugs you closer. He shoves his face in your collarbone, inhaling your scent as he feels raw cock throb inside you.

You hug him closer to you, gently caressing his hair. It’s a peaceful silence that fills the room, and you were close to drifting off to sleep until a thought occurs to you.

“Can I ask you something?”

Seungcheol nuzzles deeper into you, pressing a wet kiss on your soft skin. “Anything.”

“Why did Jeonghan think we were engaged in the first place?” You wonder, thinking it would be fine to ask this much since you have his cock and cum inside you.

There’s a pregnant pause until Seungcheol pulls back and looks at you with a slight pout. “That idiot wanted to set you up with his cousin. I had no other choice but to tell him you were already mine.”

You actually laugh, not believing this was the same man who told you to never overstep the boundaries he had. His pout is still there, and you lean in to kiss it right off his face. It’s languid and gentle, and leaves you feeling dizzy.

“Fine, but I still expect an actual ring.”

Seungcheol hugs you tighter, wondering if it’s too soon to show you the little black box he has in his nightstand.

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viennakarma · 6 months

Text

Everything I Wanted II.

LESTAPPEN X READER (PART 2)

Summary: Your journey to become a Motorsport legend wasn't easy, especially when your path clashed with your greatest rivals, Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc.

Word count: 8.9k

Tags: Driver reader, mentions of crash, angst, abusive parent, daddy issues, trust issues, character death (not reader), cursing, strong rivalry, misogyny in motorsport, invasive media, aggressive fans, reader suffers with cyberbullying and hate, smut, female reader, +18, unprotected sex, voyeurism, exhibtionism, edging, filthy, porn with plot, queer! everyone, polyamory lestappen, bit of dirty talking, pet names, not beta read

Relationships: Lestappen x Reader

Mentor!Kimi Raikkonen x Reader

Sebastian Vettel, Fernando Alonso, Lewis Hamilton x Platonic!Reader

Notes: this is full of motorsport categories inaccuracies, just go with the vibes please. There are a few inaccuracies regarding other drivers' lives, but they are just to fit the story. This chapter is very angsty and none of it is an attack at the drivers nor their fans and personalities, please.

I know I KNOW, this got out of hand, AGAIN. I promise next part (and hopefully last) is more focused on the romance, and the happy ending reader deserves.

Find me on Twitter!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

You spent Christmas with your mom, sharing a lot of presents and watching a bunch of stupid Christmas movies. New Year’s was now a tradition to spend with the Raikkonen Family, joined with the closest friends for a little get together. It was a good opportunity to reconnect with Kimi’s kids who missed you a lot during the season.

Charles never contacted you during winter break, which you were sure was the best after that mistake. You hated each other too much and the only thing that could come out of that was toxicity from the both of you. You refused to even acknowledge what had happened and its implications, that wouldn’t and couldn’t mean anything.

During the pre-season testing in Bahrain, you and Charles were back to whatever your relationship was before that one lapse in judgment months before.

Nobody noticed anything.

One day, Fernando pulled you aside for a little chat. You two sat side by side on big moving boxes, sipping on energy drinks.

“There’s something I have been wanting to talk to you about since last year,” he started, seemingly pensive, distant.

“Is everything ok?”

“Yeah, yeah. Remember after we first met when you asked me if I had advice for you regarding your career?” Fernando said, and you remembered.

Right after you had gotten close, you asked him for advice, you always did, especially about racing. But one day, you were chatting about his career, and you asked if had any lessons you should never forget. He had laughed joking about read all your contracts then asking if you were calling him old, but he said if he ever had any advice, he would tell you.

“Yes, have you got my answer yet?”

“Sí, Nena,” he paused, looking deep into your eyes, “enjoy.”

You frowned and he saw the confusion on your face.

“I see much of my younger self in you, you know? The same passion, this fiery desire to win, your goal for the championship, to conquer the world…” Fernando paused, looking up to the clear sky, the sunset coming around, “And I did. But I wish I had enjoyed it more. I should’ve gone to parties, I should’ve visited the countries we went to and tried the food, I should’ve made more friends, I should’ve had more lovers… I was so focused on winning, on getting my hands on that trophy of champion of the world, that I missed out on a lot.”

You felt your eyes tear up, and you wiped it before the tears came down. Putting your hand on his shoulder, you smiled at him.

“It’s such an honor race with you. And an even greater honor to have you as a friend, Nano” you whispered to him, you two laughed as his eyes watered too, and slapping his shoulder you laughed, “don’t make me cry, you old softie!”

You took his advice to your heart.

You went to the parties, you met new people, and that’s how after two entire seasons, you managed to befriend Lando, your teammate. You two had to open your hearts a little bit and meet in the middle. Which proved to be great, the whole team loved the change in your dynamic. You still weren’t besties, but you were close colleagues, and that was great. Everyone noticed the change and it reflected on how you started racing as a team instead of individually.

The car was even better than the year before, and the first race of the season you got a promising win.

That win, Lando’s pestering, and Fernando’s advice was how you ended up in a party after the Bahrain GP. Wearing a skimpy mini dress and 5 tequila shots deep, swaying your hips to the sound of Rihanna. You were dancing and singing with Lando and a few of his friends, loudly screaming the lyrics.

When it was way too hot for you, you grabbed a water bottle and beelined your way out of the crowded dance floor. You found a corner of the VIP section where the AC seemed to be working better, and as you stumbled inside the small space, you ran chest first into someone.

“Sorry,” you said, taking a step back and pressing your back against the cold wall.

“Enjoying your win?” Your head snapped up as you recognised Max’s voice. You had run into him.

Lando had mentioned inviting Max to the party, he had gotten a P2 in the race but you doubted he would go to a party he knew you would attend. You were obviously wrong.

“You know I am,” the victory was so good that nothing could ruin your mood.

“Well, then enjoy it. I’m coming for the win, again.” He warned you but his voice was devoid of anything, just sounded like he was casually telling you about the weather. But you knew that he was implying his championship the year before, rubbing it in your face.

“Don’t be so confident, Max,” you finished your water, smirking at him, “Enjoy the view of my rear!”

You flipped your hair, feeling his eyes on you the whole walk back to the dance floor.

And yet-

Somehow-

You ended up back at that small corner, dancing with your body pressed between Verstappen’s and the wall, his hand holding your jaw firmly, you rolled your hips against him, feeling the way his body responded to yours.

“We can’t-” he said to you, still, his eyes hadn’t left your lips, like he was so oh so tempted.

You rolled your eyes, annoyed. Sober you would never do that, but then, that was a problem for later. Checking to see if anyone was looking at you, you hooked a finger around his waistband and pulled him towards the bathroom.

As soon as the two of you were inside, you locked the door and Max pressed your back against the door, latching his lips to yours in a very desperate open mouthed kiss. You hugged his shoulders, opening your lips to him, his hands went down your sides and he grabbed your ass, pulling you into him. But that wasn’t enough, so he held your thighs and pulled up, carrying you. You locked your legs around his waist, and he stopped the kiss to walk, sitting you on the marble side of the sink, still between your legs, forcing his bulge against your panties, and eliciting a moan from you.

He took a half step back to hike your dress up, palming your cunt over your panties feeling the dampness of it, he tried to press his hand under your panties, but the lacy fabric didn’t leave much space, so he simply tore the bottom of them, exposing you to him. He just ran a finger over your slit, collecting your wetness for a brief moment before pushing a finger into you. Max watched your face with concentration, studying your body’s responses. Your hips shaking at the movement of his finger, and when the second one joined, you got louder. He curled his fingers up, his thumb pressing your clit, and you had to use both hands to hold onto him, your head lolling back against the mirror.

“Take it and shut the fuck up,” he grunted between clenched teeth.

He was pressing your insides so good, the slick sound of his fingers going in and out, his heavy breathing, the loud music outside and his laser focused fingers had you coming against his fingers in minutes. When he noticed you close, cunt spasming against his fingers, he pressed the other hand against your mouth, covering your moans when your toes curled and you orgasmed on his hand.

Max barely let you recover as he opened his jeans and stroked himself twice before pushing his cock into you in one swift move, making you gasp at the sudden intrusion.

“That’s what you wanted, right? Fucking teasing me all night,” He pushed particularly hard, hitting your g-spot, making you see stars, “you’re a fucking menace, y’know that? Fucking insufferable,” then his words became a mumbling of something dutch you couldn’t quite catch anymore with the way his hips snapped against yours, taking all your focus away and turning you into a mess of moaning.

Max fucked like he raced, focused and relentless, brutal. He hugged you with one arm around your waist to keep you in place and the other held you face, tilting your head so he could kiss you, or whatever that mess of saliva, tongues and teeth was. Your orgasm crashed through you unexpectedly, and you only hugged him tighter, pressing your face against his chest, biting into his skin through the fabric of his T-shirt to silence yourself, your teeth sinking into him was enough to send him also over the edge, coming with moans against your ear.

That night, you went home with shaking legs and an incoming headache, as Max left with the scraps of your panties in his pocket and your lipstick stain on his shirt, above his chest.

It was the seventh race of the year, Monaco, and you absolutely hated that specific track since your years of F2. During your two first years in F1 you had awful experiences, the rookie year you DNF and the year prior you had barely managed a P7. You were trying to keep your head up, be hopeful that you could at least try for top 5.

But since you couldn’t catch a fucking break, an old video of your teenage years resurfaced.

You were walking to your first round of interviews when Amanda, your PR manager, started walking by your side.

“There’s something. An old video of a karting competition resurfaced, where Max and Charles pretty much call you stupid,” Amanda was always direct, you could give it to her.

“Let me see the video” you asked, offering your hand for her phone.

“We don’t have time, but everyone will ask you about it. I need you to be the bigger person and act like it isn’t important, yes? They will try to taunt you and get a bad reaction from you, I need you to dismiss everything they throw at you. Agreed?”

You sighed. You knew the stuff from your teens were pretty bad, you rarely badmouthed Max or Charles, but they always felt threatened by you, so there were lots of instances they attacked you. Honestly, you just didn’t want to come out of this victimized. So as you entered the first round of interviews, you decided you were going to downplay anything they asked you.

“Y/N, have you seen the footage of you, Max and Charles from your teenage years that resurfaced recently?”

“No, uh, I haven’t.”

Someone pushed an iPad in your hands because of course, they wanted a live reaction from you. You pressed play, reading the subtitles someone put on the video. It was an amateur recording like a post race interview made by another teenage guy. First as Max walked out of the track, the guy asked what he thought of your win.

“It was luck, she’s not bright enough to think of a strategy,” Max said, walking away, clearly pissed having lost to you.

There was a cut and the camera was turned on again when Charles walked toward the guy asking the question. He repeated exactly the same question he had asked Max.

“Y/N, I don’t worry about her long term. She’s not going very far in this sport anyway,” Charles shrugged, seemingly unbothered.

As the video cut again, it showed your face, you remembered when that was. You were 14, and your dad had dropped you a few months earlier, so you were working your ass off balancing school, work and karting.

“Hey, Y/N. What do you think of your result today?”

“Uh, I tried a new strategy I learned earlier this week, thankfully it worked in my favor,” teen-You dried your forehead with your coat’s sleeve.

“What are your plans for this competition?”

“Well, I hope to be good enough to get into F4 next year, and work my way up into Formula 1,” you smiled softly and walked away after a quick bye.

The video ended and you still spent a few seconds staring at the black screen of the iPad. This interview didn’t come to your mind in more than a decade, but it was nice seeing how you made your 14-year-old dream come true.

“So, what do you say?” The reporter extended his mic to you.

“I guess I proved them wrong, right?” You giggled a little, “don’t take it to heart, really. We were all hormonal teenagers, I’m sure if someone digs, they will find a video of me saying the same stuff about them,” you shrugged, despite that being a lie, sounded dismissive enough.

“So it doesn’t upset you?” The reporter insisted, and you knew he wanted a scandal you weren’t willing to give.

“Of course not. I’ve always known my worth, and I’m P1 in the driver’s championship as of right now. So I don’t really care.”

The interviewers soon let the video go, when they realized you didn’t care about it. You weren’t sure if anyone would also approach Charles or Max with questions about the same video, but you couldn’t care less, you wanted to avoid drama for the time being so you could focus on the championship instead of this bullshit.

On the morning of qualifying, you were in your room, trying to meditate and clear your mind, when a knock interrupted you.

“Guys, I asked for twenty minutes so I could-” you stop yourself when you realize it isn’t anyone from your team, but it’s Max and Charles, “what are you doing here?”

“We came to apologize about the video,” Max started.

“Did your PR teams send you here?” You looked around, trying to catch a camera or even a phone recording.

“No uh, we realized we were very immature with you, and this video is just proof of how silly that was,” Charles sighed, seemingly embarrassed.

“You don’t need to apologize, I mean- the two of you really had it out for me, you called me dumb a lot,” you pointed to Max, then Charles, “and you called me ugly countless times. I don’t know why it would make any difference now.”

You were just so used to being defensive, to protect yourself from hatred you found it hard to believe them, to give them a chance to apologize because you couldn’t believe it to be genuine.

“Even if you don’t take it, or believe it, I would like to apologize for that behavior. I was just a stupid kid.” Max looked deep into your eyes, which could’ve made you uncomfortable if he didn’t seem so honest.

“I’m really sorry, Y/N. It was too idiotic to be like that to you, growing up. You were just a kid too.” Charles added.

You understood where that apology came from, it was stupid and embarrassing for all three of you this teenage rivalry when you all were barely mid racers back in the day. Sighing, you looked around, dropping your façade for a second, allowing yourself to display the same honesty they showed you.

It was hard and required some sort of deprogramming because you could only see them as rivals, like your dad had whispered in your brain so many times before, like their actions towards you had cemented dad’s words. They had said things that were on your mind for so long, that had made you defensive and deflective.

“Look, don’t worry about it. Whatever happened back then, it’s water under the bridge,” You shifted on your feet. As they started walking away, you added “this doesn’t mean we’re friends.”

They only nodded before leaving. Your routine went back to the same, and as the next scandal went on, people forgot about the silly video, but a very specific part of the fans started shipping you and both your rivals.

The rivalry never died down though.

Then, out of nowhere, Sebastian pulled you and Lewis aside to a conversation. Then he told you that he was going to retire by the end of the season. It was the first time the two of them saw you cry, and Sebastian hugged you tight, shushing your crying softly.

“I’m so sorry, I’m sorry,” he whispered, petting your head.

“No, don’t apologize,” you let him go, drying your face, “I have listened to you talking countless times about how you missed the kids. Don’t apologize for choosing to be a great dad. I know Hanna and the kiddos will be ecstatic.”

“You two are my closest friends here, that’s why I wanted to tell you first, before my announcement.”

“Thank you, Seb,” you said, eyes still watering, “I’m going to miss having you around.”

“Thank you for telling us beforehand,” Lewis said, also visibly emotional.

The season was writing itself to be just as close as the year prior, but now you were slightly better at keeping the lead most.

That is until Zandvoort. This GP was always a nightmare to you, because it was full of Max’s fans, and they absolutely hated you for being his rival. You had been booed when you were on the podium the year before, so now, you and Amanda decided it was best to keep your head down during the whole week. Not out of shame, but more of a matter of safety, you didn’t know how far the crowd could go in antagonizing you. When you were booed the other year, Max had said it was part of the sport and dismissed the conversation.

The morning of free practice, you went into the paddock very low-key and kept to yourself. You arrived with a little cup of coffee and got mentally ready for a hostile environment the whole weekend. That, until you spotted a small group of people dressed with your color and wearing your number, waving wildly to you.

In a spur of the moment decision, you went there, getting close to the barrier to sign a few caps and take a few selfies. In retrospect, you knew you shouldn’t have done that, especially with only two bodyguards accompanying you.

You were finishing chatting with your fans when you felt something heavy hit the side of your head and the impact made you stumble backwards, you were confused as you heard the screams and felt one of the bodyguards pull you back, as the other jumped the barrier and started running. You patted your temple and something wet and sticky was dripping down the side of your face. You stared at the small group of fans who were looking at you horrified. Staring at the hand, you saw the red staining your fingers, and as the bodyguard kept pulling you away to somewhere safer, the thing flowed even more and got into your left eye.

You wondered if it was blood as you touched your temple but felt nothing, not a gash nor small cut. You covered your left eye as it started to sting from what you supposed smelt like paint.

“Hey, hey, what happened? You’re bleeding!” Max jogged up to you.

“Not blood, just paint” you muttered, trying to use your coat to clean your face.

“Someone threw a paint ball at her,” the bodyguard said.

“Fuck, it’s burning!” You exclaimed, feeling tears in your left eye.

“Come here, the RB hospitality is close,” Max said, holding your wrist, he stopped shortly pointing to your bodyguard, “and you, sort this and find the person who did it.”

You let yourself be taken by Max into the RB territory, the burning so annoying that you rather take whatever solution he was thinking of. He held your waist and placed you sitting on a sink, and then you felt water streaming down your face.

“Stay still,” Max commanded, holding a hose over your head, pouring water down your face, “now blink slowly, let the water wash it,” his voice soft as you did what he told you to. Slowly but surely, it washed the paint away, relieving your left eye from the stinging. Max held the hose up and held your chin, tilting your head up so he could check your eye, still letting the water stream down your face.

You took a few minutes, breathing and regulating your heartbeat from that scare, trying to come back to normal and understand fully what was going on. From what you gathered, you were chatting with fans when someone else came and threw something with paint at you.

“How does it feel?”

“It’s better, already stopped burning,” you told him, feeling your heart miss a beat at the close proximity you found yourself to him. You were sitting on a sink, Max standing between your legs pretty much like you two had done months before for entirely different reasons.

“Open your eye, let me see,” he asked, and you tried to blink it open, “can you see?”

“It’s a little blurry but I believe it will get better,” you explained, and he didn’t let go of your chin. Suddenly, he covered your right eye with the other hand, leaving you only with your left eye sight.

“How many fingers am I putting up?” He showed it to your left eye. The vision was a bit blurry but you still could make out the shapes very clearly.

“Four, Max. It’s just a little bit blurry, probably will get better in a few minutes” you sounded annoyed, you tried to move but he pressed a hand against your waist, keeping you in place.

“Now, what happened?” He asked finally. You ignored the proximity, and the hand still on your body.

“We’re in Zandvoort, that’s what happened,” you shrugged, really annoyed about it.

“What do you mean?” He was visibly confused. You scoffed because you knew it wasn’t something he didn’t know, since the year before he has dismissed the importance of how hostile people were to you.

“We’re massively surrounded by your fans, Max.”

“I don’t understand.”

“They hate me because you hate me, and they think because you hate me they’re justified in their hostility towards me,” You explained, with a sigh, you pushed away from Max, “this GP has been like this for me ever since Rookie year.”

“I don’t hate you,” he said, brows furrowed.

“You do. And they do too,” you pointed down at the paint that had also stained your shirt as proof.

“I don’t,” he insisted and you rolled your eyes, jumping off the sink, but he didn’t give you space, which made you stand chest to chest with him, “I promise.”

You stared at him, breathless. That wasn’t part of the game you played, being kind, sounding worried and making promises. None of that was part of this whole rivalry. Pushing his chest, you tried getting away but he caged you against the sink, body flush against yours.

“Do you believe me?” He asked and your eyes fell to his lips, and you allowed yourself to remember the desperate and chaotic kisses you had shared in a dimly lit bathroom, “I don’t support any of this behavior.”

You heard voices and steps approaching, which made you finally push him away, walking towards the door. Whatever little magic had been happening between those walls was undone the moment you remembered none of that would’ve happened if he had politely put a stop to it earlier.

“It’s part of the sport and I have to deal with it, right?” You returned the very same words he had said about you when you were booed by the crowd the year prior.

As you opened the door, you were faced with Sebastian. He stopped, taking you in and then pulling you in a hug.

“Are you ok? We just heard what happened!” He murmured, guiding you out of the bathroom. He held your shoulders and looked at your face, checking how your left eye was still a little red, “we should take you to see a doctor, come on.”

Lewis soon arrived at the entrance of the RBR station, he warned about the reporters crowding outside, waiting for a glimpse of you after the attack. The British man gave you a Mercedes coat so you put it over your head and avoid the cameras waiting outside. With the bodyguards and both Lewis and Sebastian leading you away, you ended up at the medical center, and after a quick examination, the doctor gave you eye drops to put throughout the day.

Your Principal suggested you sit the FP1 out, letting the reserve driver take your place while you recovered. By the middle of FP1, your eyesight was 100% and you went to get ready for FP2. The whole day you felt like everyone was being extra careful, tiptoeing around you. You hated feeling like you were being pitied, so when the inevitable round of interviews came, you knew what you had to do.

“We heard about your incident earlier today, how are you feeling about it?” Someone asked.

“I’m pretty upset, to be honest. Formula 1 is a sport loved around the whole world, and the paddock overall is supposed to be a safe place not only for the fans, but also the workers and drivers. What happened today is unacceptable and could’ve been much worse. I’m voicing my dissatisfaction and I intend to, through legal means, take this complaint to the FIA.”

Later that night, as you laid awake on your bed, scrolling through the repercussions of the day, you stopped when you saw a snippet of Max's interview.

“What happened today was dangerous and unacceptable, I don’t support this behavior and I stand with Y/N,” that was all he said, but Max usually was a man of few words, always knowing when it was enough.

You knew he should’ve voiced that much earlier in your career, specifically after the booing the year before, but still- He also could have opted to not say anything at all, and he didn’t.

Amanda also sent you the news that the fan who had attacked you was found and banned for life from Formula 1.

After calling Sebastian, you managed to get ahold of Max’s phone number and texted him a simple message.

Thank you. Twice. - Lioness

The text went to read almost immediately, and the three dots appeared from his side of the screen. You wait, and wait, and wait. And then the dots disappeared, and an answer never came.

After a solid P2 that weekend in Zandvoort, you went home for the summer break. You and your mom had planned to go to Monaco for a little while since you were planning on buying a place there. From there, you and your mom would go all around the French Riviera to enjoy the sea and spend a few days in a spa resort. Then, you would go back home and relax before going to Ibiza for a weekend to meet Lando and his friends to enjoy some partying.

Everything went according to plan, but one day when you came back home after the trip to the French Riviera, you found your mom passed out on the living room floor.

You called an ambulance, quickly taking her into the hospital. Everything was a blur, the tests and scans, your mom still unconscious on a hospital bed, and the results. The results that pulled the floor from under your feet.

Your brain couldn’t fully compute what was said. Cancer Stage 4. Surgery. Palliative care.

The world was muted around you as you sat on a chair in the waiting room, hands shaking when you tried to understand what was happening. You somehow ended up calling the one other person you trust.

“Y/N? What happened?”

“I don’t understand- she just- she just passed out and I thought- but- but they said- palliative care” you try to come up with words.

“Talk to me. Are you sick?” Kimi’s voice is so focused and a little soothing.

“It’s mom”

“Send your location, I’m going there,” that’s all he said.

Waiting for Kimi gave you some sense of purpose, because it’s Kimi. He could fix anything. He fixed your life when you were 14, he can do it again. He would get there and find a way to help. Your mind got so clouded when the word cancer was thrown in the conversation, that you probably missed the part about treatments and- and surgery and stuff.

In your mother’s room there was a comfortable couch where you tried to settle to sleep, but you only spent countless hours awake. You hoped to see the doctor again to try and get him to explain everything for a second time.

You wished you were smart and quick, but no, you just sat there holding onto the hope that Kimi had a way to fix this.

Kimi arrived early the next morning, knocking on the door before entering. You stood up, hugging him tight.

“What happened?”

“It’s pancreatic cancer, they said. We need to see more about surgery and- and treatments.”

You and Kimi found the doctor, who explained again, and in that moment you finally understood what he meant the first time around. She was in a late stage of pancreatic cancer, which was usually a very difficult illness to find before it is too late, due to the placement of the organ in the body and late symptoms. The only options were either to try a very risky surgery and chemo so she could extend her life for around 8 months to a year. Or she could go home to live her last few months the way she wanted.

You begged and cried and bribed and offered every single solution your brain could muster to try and save her. Kimi held you when you fell to the floor, sobbing.

When your mom woke up and you and Kimi told her the diagnosis, she cried too, sobbing in your arms as you tried to hold it together for her sake. It took a couple of days for her to choose to go home. The two of you spent the last days of summer break traveling around the world a bit more, visiting temples and statues, and seeing nature and everything good the world had to offer, going to places motorsport hadn’t taken you to.

Your mom went to every race week from there on, even when she felt especially weak, even when you had to hire a full time medical team for her.

Your focus on the season was solely on the moment between entering the car and leaving the car. You still managed to race like you’ve done before, calm and controlled, with the help of your engineers and team, you still could put the car where you wanted it, paving your way for a solid world championship that year. It was like your brain was seeing racing as the one thing in your life you had full control over, so sometimes you even felt like you and the car were one.

You didn’t tell anyone about her. Though every driver noticed how distant you were, even Charles and Max and the ones that weren’t very close to you noticed how you were only fulfilling your obligations and leaving, you weren’t even celebrating your wins, leaving the fastest you could after a race.

The Singapore GP was tough for you, having to leave your mom home alone with the medical staff and a couple of friends from her book club, since she wasn’t strong enough to travel anymore. Your attention was failing all throughout media day and free practices. Qualifying was shit compared to your performance the rest of the season.

In Q3 you did a reasonable sector 1 and 2 but you messed up sector 3 completely. It was a complete accident when you got in the way of a Ferrari when he was doing his fast lap, and you ended up messing his qualy too. Jace let you know it was none other than Charles Leclerc, who was setting the pace for a pole position. Out of 19 drivers, you had to ruin his lap. In the end, Max got pole, Charles qualified P3 and you qualified P5.

You went through the motions during the post qualifying press. You were about to leave after debriefing, when Charles Leclerc found you on the way to the parking lot. You pulled your coat tighter around yourself protectively as he walked up to you. You were hoping to escape his fury at least until after the race the next day. Before he could even get a word in, you started.

“Look, I know I messed up your pole. I know you won’t believe me, but it wasn’t intentional. I really thought there was no one doing fast laps on the track, I thought everyone was either still doing out laps or in the pits, so when you-”

“Calm down, breathe,” he interrupted you, “I’m not here to fight.”

“No?” You frowned, confused with the kindness in his eyes.

“We know you’re going through something, and I’m sure I’m the last person you want to hear this from, but you’re not alone. And you should really consider talking with someone on the grid. They’re all- we’re all worried about you.”

The words felt alien coming from his mouth, but the gentleness was so comforting you felt a lump in your throat.

“Why do you think I’m not ok?” You muttered trying to sound confident, but your voice failed, betraying you.

“You’re skinny and you look sleep deprived for a few weeks now,” Charles said directly.

“Damn, thanks.”

“I don’t mean it like that, you know it,” he paused, putting both hands on his pockets, “have you been eating?” Your lack of response made him press further, “have you eaten today?”

You pressed your lips together, not wanting to answer that.

“Let’s go, I’ll drive you to the hotel, we’ll stop on the way to grab some food,” Charles gestured to his car, a few meters away. You stood there, shocked as he started walking away, then he stopped looking over his shoulder, “come on, I don’t have all the time in the world.”

As you sat in his Ferrari, Charles put music on and you didn’t do much talking, but it was tranquil. He called the restaurant to order take out on the way, and 30 minutes later he dropped you off at the hotel with a bag full of food.

“Thank you, Charles.” You whispered before leaving the car.

You ate the food while on a video call with your mom.

You recovered well during the race, finishing P2, behind Max and ahead of Charles.

Your mom passed away a few days after the Japanese Grand Prix, the one you had won and dedicated it to her from the top step of the podium, even if she wasn’t there, just watching from home. You went home and stayed with her, holding her hands and hugging her as much as you could.

Some part of you knew she was somehow fighting, because she had promised you the year before she would be there when you became world champion. You could see she was hoping to make it to the end of the season, but you also knew she wouldn’t, and you rather she didn’t have to endure any more pain just for your sake.

“You don’t need to fight anymore, ma,” you whispered before she went to sleep, “you raised a strong woman, too. I will see you on the other side, ok? You can rest now, I love you.”

“I’m so proud of you, honey. I love you to the moon and back.”

You made it through her small funeral, following what she had written down before passing. An intimate funeral, full of flowers and a toast to her life. You cried the whole time, with Kimi and Minttu taking turns at comforting you as they could. Coming back to an empty home smelling of cleaning products made you almost lose your mind, and the sight of you in such despair was enough for Kimi to convince you to stay with them until you had to travel for the next race, in almost seven days.

The days passed in a crying blur, you let part of your team know about your mom’s passing. Only Amanda, Jace and your Principal. Jace tried to convince you to take a break and not go to the next race in Austin, but you quickly shut it off. Not only because racing was the one thing keeping you sane amidst the chaos, but because you were so close to the championship, and it was still close competition with Max and Charles, so you couldn’t afford to lose a race and the points that could come with it.

You had to honor your mom in some way.

That’s how you ended up on a plane to Austin with Kimi and Amanda. You knew Kimi had convinced you to let him go because he was sure you’d have a mental breakdown anytime along the weekend, but deep down you appreciated the company. Arriving there, Jace was the first to hug you and whisper his condolences, as well as your TP too.

You survived the entire weekend without breaking down crying in public, but that was your worst race in a few months, the first time out of a podium since Spa. You ended up P5, which luckily wasn’t too bad because Max finished P4 which you were grateful for as he was the one who was P2 in the driver’s championship close behind you.

After that week, you packed your stuff and moved to the new condo in Monaco you had bought during summer break. Despite loving your mom to pieces, you couldn’t manage to live alone in the house you bought for her a couple of years before, it was lonely and it hit you with overwhelming waves of sadness all the time. You distracted yourself a lot with buying furniture and decorations for the new place, and discovering Monte Carlo in a whole new way. The one comfort in all that, was knowing your mom wasn’t suffering anymore.

Then you went straight to Mexico for the next Grand Prix, this time, Kimi left you because he had to come home to Minttu and the kids. Amanda had been such a support for you, that you knew you had to give her something special for the holidays, out of gratitude.

Everything was going as expected until the press conference. You were there with Charles, Max, Sebastian and Lando. You suspected they were putting you always in the same group as Max and Charles because, as the season nearing the end, only three races left, they were your close competition.

While someone asked something of Charles, you were whispering with Sebastian, chatting about Mexican foods you wanted to try after the race. Then, something bizarre happened, and phones started to ping all around the room, between reporters, cameras and everyone else started checking their phones. It seemed like something out of a black mirror nightmare.

You reached for your phone but then remembered you left it to charge in your room.

“This question is for Y/N,” a reporter asked, reading something from his phone, “there’s a new article that just came out saying your mom passed away a couple of weeks ago, is that true?”

Your blood ran cold, and every sound felt like it was muted inside the room. Wide eyed, you searched for Amanda, who was somewhere on the opposite side of the room, and when you found her, she was pale. Then, there was a cacophony of voices and cameras and questions, that made you suddenly overwhelmed.

Swallowing, trying to reassess, you found Sebastian already standing, holding your shoulders. Looking around you noticed how the other three drivers had stood up, making some sort of shield around you, protecting you from the cameras and reporters swarming around.

“We can go, ok? Come on,” Sebastian was saying when Amanda caught up to you, leaning beside Sebastian.

“We can leave, right now,” she said, holding your hand.

Still a little confused, you nodded and let them both guide you back to your room.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry for your loss,” Sebastian hugged you, running his hands on your back for comfort.

“How- how did they find out?” You ask Amanda.

“An article came out, I’m not sure. Someone was probably digging into your life, but don’t worry, I put the team on it already.”

“How do- how we diffuse this? How do we proceed? We need to address this, right?” You started blabbering, trying to wrap your head around everything.

“That was very disrespectful of them to ask like that!” Sebastian exclaimed, making you two jolt.

“We’ll do whatever you’re comfortable with. Do you want me to release a note asking for privacy?” Amanda suggested.

“Can I write something and then run it by you?” You asked, she only nodded.

After a moment, both Amanda and Seb left you alone as you typed a note on your phone. You rewrote and deleted a few times before settling on something heartfelt and respectful but also, calling out the invasion of privacy.

My mom passed away a few days ago after battling with cancer for the past few months.

She had requested of me to keep it a secret until after the season was over, so I could mourn her without the weight of racing over my shoulders.

But obviously someone went digging and disrespected not only one of her last wishes but also disrespected my grief and my right to privacy. I love my mom but I’ll not be answering any more questions about her illness or death, please respect me and respect her memory.

All the love, Y/N

Nobody asked anything over the weekend, but again, it felt like everyone was tiptoeing around you. As soon as you first saw Nano the next day, he held you tight for almost a minute whispering his condolences, and it made you almost cry again. Lewis also spared you a hug, saying if you ever needed anything, to contact him.

You survived that weekend, and decided to go straight to Brazil for the next GP instead of going back to Monaco. In São Paulo you mostly slept your worries and fears away. You had promised yourself to try and focus on the season only, to make your dream come true, to fulfill your mom’s promise in some way.

With Ferrari’s bad strategy in Mexico, they had ruined Charles’ chance at the championship. Now your only competition was Max and the Red Bull rocketship.

You rewatched the race a couple of times as you usually did, to try and catch any mistakes you or your team may have made, to fix it for the next one. But also to try and notice any weaknesses of your rivals, if it was something you could use in your own favor.

You noticed right away in the FP1 that your car wasn’t adhering to the track, you were losing balance and needed more force than usual to keep yourself in place. By FP2, you managed to control your car better, but that caused your tyres to wear off way more quickly.

Quali was one of the shittiest you’ve ever done in your career, taking you out in Q2 for the first time that year, placing you for a start at P12.

“Listen, we’ll do better tomorrow, ok?” Jace told you as soon as you entered the garage, seeing Max still out with a shot at pole position.

“Give me a few minutes to unwind, please,” you asked, dropping your helmet, balaclava and gloves at a nearby table.

You went straight to your room, searching for your phone. Immediately calling Kimi, you waited for him to pick up.

“I watched it,” he said first and foremost.

“If I do bad in the race tomorrow, and Max does well, then I’m gonna lose the championship, Kimi,” saying that out loud made you shiver in horror, “FUCK!” You screamed, kicking a chair.

“First of all, even if you did bad tomorrow, you’d still have a chance to fight for the championship in Abu Dhabi. You know that,” Kimi warned you as if he was scolding a little kid, “second of all, I never taught you this loser mindset. You’ll have to find a way to work around the problems in your car tomorrow.”

“Shit, I’m so fucked! How? How could I even-”

“Remember when I first met you? Your kart was with almost this same problem, yeah? Remember you got P2? You went ahead and fixed it. That’s what I need you to do tomorrow, don’t focus on what you can’t do, only focus on what you can do.”

“I’ll try my best.”

“No trying. Do it.”

After spending the entire night crafting plan A, B, C and Z with you strategists and engineers, you barely got any sleep, but you forced yourself to rest. In the morning, you went to the track early to meet with your team again, to run your strategies one more time, when you had an idea. You’d still follow the plans you had carefully crafted with the team, but you decided to make a Plan Star, as you had called. Interlagos didn’t have any safety car in the last two years, so it was dangerous to fully count on one. But your plan star consisted in the case of a safety car in this one specific window of laps, you’d go to the pits for hards, counting on everyone else being on old softs or mediums at that specific point in the race. But for it to work, you had to be the first of the front field to go in.

As the lights went out and you accelerated, you got already three positions up, landing in P9, and luckily, the points zone. Jace was worried in your ears, talking about the car and the tyres management. With controlled calm and Kimi’s voice in your head, you managed a few more positions in the first 14 laps, landing P7. You lost a bit of time there, since Nando was P6 and everyone knew how tough it always is to overtake him. But you eventually managed to get the position. Unfortunately, it was the moment you had to go to your first pitstop. Due to the problems in your car wearing off your tyres, you would have to go for a two-stop, which ended up costing you three positions again. But you were patient and you were rewarded when the other cars had to pit, which gave you back the four places you had lost.

The race you went on and you barely moved up or down from your P5, but you managed to concentrate.

Jace, on the other hand was sounding more and more worried about your second pit stop, about the difficulty in get closer to P4, about the P6 trying to enter DRS zone behind you, with your tyres wearing off, with the-

“Jace, I love you but please shut the fuck up, I know what to do,” you were praying for a miracle when suddenly, there was a yellow flag, and the safety car went out during the perfect window of laps, “fuck, Jace, this is plan star.”

“Copy,” he paused, his voice sounding secure, “Box, box.”

You changed into hards, no one else went to the pits, and the race restarted after three more laps. The safety car had closed the gap between you and the P4, which made you overtake him easily.

Jace was still keeping quiet to help your concentration, he only interrupted to warn you about overheating your tyres, and your velocity per lap compared to the next position. You started overtaking like a madwoman as much as your tyres allowed.

“That’s P1, Lioness,” Jace told you.

“Copy that.” You said with your voice shaken.

As you managed your P1, you went back to be aware of your surroundings, seeing a Red Bull right behind you, trying to overtake but you managed to hold position.

When you took the checkered flag, you sighed with relief, Kimi was right.

“Congratulations, Y/N! That’s a brilliant, brilliant win!” Jace’s voice was sounding shaken too.

“You’re crying, Jace?” You laughed softly.

“It’s an honor to tell you that you, Y/N Y/L/N, are a Formula 1 world champion!” Jace shouts, and behind him you can hear more people screaming.

“What? Jace you’re fucking with me!”

“No, Lioness, you’re the 2022 champion of the world!”

“But- but how? There’s one race left? And Max was right behind me!”

“No, Verstappen DNFed during that one yellow flag. Behind you was Perez.”

You made the calculations quickly in your head. Max was P2 in the championship, but this DNF meant no points, and even if he managed to win the last race in Abu Dhabi, he wouldn’t be able to equal you in points. So-

“OH MY GOD, oh my god!” You screamed your lungs out, feeling the tears streaming down into your balaclava, “Fuck yes! I’m Formula 1 World Champion! Thank you, thank you so much guys! Jace, holy shit, I’m the champion!”

“You’re the champion!” Jace confirmed.

You felt joy in a way you hadn’t felt in a long, long time, as you stopped your car on the number one spot. Still a little dizzy from the thrill, you left the car, going straight to your team, heavily waiting for you. They all hugged you, hitting your helmet, saying congratulations and everything. You took a moment to hug Jace and Amanda, who had been of great support throughout the year.

After getting weighted and being congratulated by the other two on the podium, Perez and Hamilton, the latter hugging you tight as he took you off the floor, you drank water as you waited for the post race interview with Nico Rosberg.

You were giddy, barely holding yourself together with how happy you were feeling, how you wanted to hold the trophy, how grateful you were and more importantly, how you felt a great weight being lifted off your shoulders.

“Y/N, congratulations on becoming a World Champion! I have to say, as a girl dad, it is great to see you become the first woman ever to win this title. How do you feel? What do you want to say?” Nico offered, with a kind smile.

“To be honest, I can barely contain myself. It’s such an honor to be here and be the world champion. I look at the past and see my younger self who never thought would make it to Formula 1. It’s such a dream come true, after this year’s hardships, I’m glad to achieve the greatest dream of them all!” You said, kinda quickly, rambling as you tried to put into words all the emotions mixed with the happiness, “I’m sorry, I know I’m taking up all your time, I just want to dedicated this win, and this championship to three people who saved my life: Kimi, thank you for being the salvation of my career when we first met; And my mom, who’s not here anymore, thank you for being the light in my darkest days. And lastly, I want to thank myself for working my ass off and never giving up.”

You muttered a thank you as Nico only laughed at your rambling. Before you moved to the cooldown, you grabbed the mic back again.

“May I add one last thing?” You asked for Nico, who only nodded, pointing to the camera again, “This is to my father: I made it, you asshole.”

You wanted to send the middle finger too, but you knew you couldn’t because of the FIA’s guidelines, and you were already risking a penalty for cursing on live TV. In the cooldown room, you sat beside Lewis, watching a few highlights of the race on the screen. It showed a couple of your overtakes.

“Damn, you overtook like crazy,” Lewis muttered, seemingly amazed.

“I pulled a Lewis Hamilton in Interlagos last year,” you joked, and he laughed.

That podium felt like the culmination of everything you had worked for your whole life, felt like recovering your love for the sport for what it was, for the fast cars and the adrenaline. Being on that podium in Brazil as a World Champion shifted something inside you forever. During your anthem, you laughed, and when you got the trophy, you cried, pointing the trophy to the sunny sky with a silent prayer to your mom. You barely noticed, but you felt the champagne raining on you, and opened your arms to shower in it. Putting the trophy down, you splashed the other bottle, laughing and wetting everyone that was close to you, Lewis, Checo, Jace, who had gone up representing the team.

When the celebration ended, you stayed behind a little more, watching the crowd from the podium, and they started chanting. It took you a few seconds to realize they were chanting your name.

You raised your trophy at them, and they cheered even louder. Then you pointed it to the sky again.

“Look, ma, I made it” you whispered to yourself, feeling the tears streaming down your face.

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changbinlov3r · 1 month

Text

Unwritten | B.C. | Part 1

Pairing: Chan x afab!reader

Summary: the only thing your best friend ever asked was for you to not fall for her older brother, but what should you do when you come back home for the summer and he seems like the most irresistible man in the world?

Genre: nonidol!au, fluff, angst, smut

Words count: ± 12,710

Warnings: other than reader is fucking oblivious, there's none for this part but this fic WILL contain +18 themes so minors DO NOT INTERACT.

Don't forget to support my writing by ✨reblogging✨

A/N: Yeri and reader are 2 years younger than Chan and for the sake of context Chan is 21 in this fic.

A/N²: so I have been writing this fic for a few months ☠️ and the plan was to have one big ass chapter but you know me(my dad didn't give me love so I need validation) so I'm going to post this story in 2 parts 😚 I hope you guys like it 🫶🏻

When you were fourteen, you met your best friend. Yeri and you clicked right away, since then you knew you two were meant to be.

Yeri had transferred schools and you thought it was strange that she never mentioned any of her old friends but she could be shy about it so you never asked.

The first and only thing Yeri ever asked you was to not like her older brother. Christopher, nicknamed Chan, was the most popular boy in her school and that's how you found out why she never mentioned any of her friends.

Turns out people only befriended Yeri because of her brother and when he rejected one of her friends, who was pretty popular, the girl and her whole group of friends turned against Yeri and made her life a living hell.

That's how she ended up in your school and after Chan got into a fight because of the bullying situation with her friends, he decided to finish high school in an all boys academy.

He was 16 when you met him for the first time and at the time you didn't understand what people saw in him and to be fair he never gave you any reason to like him. So when Yeri asked you to not fall for him, you laughed promising that that would never happen. How could you ever like him? He makes his life's mission to annoy you, since the first moment he laid eyes on you he made you his target, he would find anything to make fun of you.

For example, the first time you drank alcohol. You and Yeri stole a bottle of whisky from her father's collection when you were 15, you got so intoxicated that you threw up a few hours later and ended up falling asleep right there on the toilet with your hair full of vomit.

Chan found you in the morning, if you didn't know him well you'd think he was worried as he shook you awake, but the moment he saw you opening your eyes, he took his phone out of his pocket and took a bunch of pictures of you, pictures that he would use to blackmail you later on.

He did take the blow for the stolen whisky, his father took his car for a whole month and that's how you ended up being basically his servant for that month. He would make you go to the convenience store with him, saying he wouldn't be able to bring things back home all by himself. He would use you as his personal clock, telling you to wake him the time he decided like a fucking alarm. He would make you watch his games and cheer for him, while Yeri would send you apologetic smiles while watching you go through that since it was her idea to steal her father's whisky. Chan wouldn't stop torturing you even after Yeri begged him.

However, when he got his car back, he stopped using you as his servant. He even started picking you and Yeri at school after class, you guessed that he felt guilty about all the things he put you through but he never apologized for it.

When you got into your dream university, you felt the happiest. Yours and Yeri’s family made a barbecue together to celebrate that the both of you got into the schools you two wanted but you were going to different universities.

Yeri got into the same university as her brother, he got a scholarship with their music program two years before the both of you and Yeri got in to study liberal arts. You, on the other hand, wanted to study History and you also landed a scholarship since your grades were always the best in school and you did a bunch of extra curricular activities that would look good on your register.

You and Yeri cried your eyes out when you both had to separate, it was the most heartbreaking moment of your life. Never for a moment since you met her did you imagine staying away from her for more than a day and now you would go basically six months without seeing each other — in the worst case scenario, a whole year. Why did you two have to go to schools that are basically across the country from each other?

“We'll facetime every day”, Yeri mumbles almost inaudibly because of her sobs.

“Yes, don't worry”, you smile, holding her by the shoulders while tears fell down from your eyes.

“Jezz, you're not dying, you're just going to different schools”, Chan roll his eyes, passing through to finish storing his sister's bags in the car.

“You're saying that because you'll have her all to yourself”, you roll your eyes, whipping your tears.

“And I should be happy about that because…?” He teases, making you want to punch him in the face.

“If you don't want to, then let's exchange places”, you fire back, feeling annoyed already.

“Unless you have studied 4 semesters of music and know how to produce and write songs, I don't think you can take my place”, he says, condescending.

“Fuck off, it mustn't be hard to just mix tracks and write words in a paper”, you say angrily. You know that's not what he does, Chan is very talented and it takes a whole lot of love for music to be as good as he is but you want to piss him off, so you said what you said.

“You just insulted a whole profession with a sentence, congratulations”, he huffs his eyes, “let's go before I tell dad who really stole his whisky”

“You're so childish, it's been years, when are you going to stop bringing that up?” Yeri huffs, letting go of your goodbye hug.

“Who knows”, he opens the driver's door, “maybe one day y/n will do something else that's gonna make me forget about that”, he winks at you, before giving you a smug smile and going into the car. For a moment there, just for a moment you felt a wave of heat on your lower stomach and maybe, just maybe you found Chan attractive? Nah, that's not possible, all the emotion of the moment must be messing with your head.

You give your last kiss on Yeri’s cheek and watch her entering the car, waving goodbye at you until the vehicle disappears at the end of the road.

The worst case scenario happened. One year was the time that you had to stay away from your best friend. On your first break, Yeri got stuck in her school preparing for a presentation they would do right when classes started again, she didn't go back home so she could get ready and she crushed it, they filmed the whole thing and she sent it to you, you never felt more proud of her than by seeing her doing what she loves.

On your second break from college your professor offered you a spot on his summer class that would help you on advanced subjects later. The seniors from your major told you he almost never offered that opportunity to anyone and him taking a freshman in was unheard of, so you dreadfully accepted.

Finally on your third break you two managed to free yourselves from the university shackles and got to go back home.

You're currently on a plane, so you're going to get home quicker and won't lose time with your best friend. You were so anxious last night before that you barely slept and forgot to put your phone to charge, so as soon as you got on the plane your phone died. At least you wouldn't have to bother putting it on airplane mode.

Your family is not the most affectionate and that's not bad, their way of showing love was always acts of service rather than physical touch or words of affirmation but when your parents see you, even though they went to visit you at school, both of them cry and hug you like they haven't seen you in years.

You appreciate being cherished by them, even though you never really care about how they showed they love for you, now you feel truly loved. When your parents feel like they are okay with letting you go, you drop your bags in your room and don't waste any more time, going to Yeri's house.

Will she cry when she sees you? She's such a cry baby, oh you miss her so much. You can't wait to stay awake the whole night talking to her about your college lives, even though you facetime almost everyday it can't even compare to gossiping face to face.

You knock on the door a few times, something you're not used to doing but after so long without going to visit it seems disrespectful to just barge in. No one answers though, but you hear the sounds of splashing in the backyard. You can't believe Yeri went to the pool first thing when she came home rather than go looking for you, but you decide to not hold that against her since it's so hot you feel like you could melt any time now.

You decide to go directly to the backyard to surprise her, so you open the side gate and walk slowly, careful to not make much noise while sneaking on her. What you didn't expect was to not find Yeri, but Hyunjin, Chan's friend there, laughing about something while scrolling on his phone.

He didn't take long to notice you, eyeing you up and down and smirking. He didn't have the time to say anything, though, since Chan came out of the water at that moment, splashing water on his friend. The first thing you noticed was how muscular he had gotten over this brief period of time you didn't see each other. The droplets of water run slowly on his skin and the smile he gives you when he sees you could positively melt you more than the hot weather.

“Hey”, he says, putting his hands on the pool's border, raising his body up to help himself out of the water. And the moment you see his whole body, you hiccup.

Oh my god, are you nervous? Why would you be nervous close to your best friend's annoying brother? For fuck sake, get your shit together, are you in need to get laid? It's been so long you slept with someone that now you are lusting over anyone?

“Hi”, you wave, shyly. It's easier said than done, you just can't move, you really are nervous.

“What's up with the glow up?” Hyunjin asks you, as always very rude.

“What's up with your face? Got uglier?” You fire back, making him laugh.

“You wish I'd give you a chance”, he rolls his eyes, “give up, I won't even give you the time of day”, he throws his hair to the side, scoffing.

You roll your eyes, huffing. That's just how your relationship with him works, Hyunjin doesn't have to do much to piss you off, he and Chan are the perfect best friends.

“Hm, where's Yeri?” You ask, avoiding looking at Chan, his body is distracting and you can't let him catch you eyeing him up. He kept getting closer while you talked with Hyunjin so his distance right now is not the safest for your sanity.

“What do you mean?” He frowns, “her flight got delayed because of a wind storm, she told me she texted you about it”

You sigh, there was no better moment for your phone to have died than right when your best friend needed to talk to you.

“My phone died when I got to the plane and I haven't had the time to charge it yet”, you start mumbling, “is she okay? When is she coming?”

“Yeah, she's okay”, Chan says, blinking a few times to assimilate the information you just gave him. “She'll be here tomorrow morning, probably”

“Okay”, you nod, calming down but frown immediately. “But why are you here?” You ask and he smirks, tilting his head to the side.

“I live here”

You huff, rolling your eyes.

“You know what I meant. Shouldn't you both have traveled together?”

“We would have if she didn't bomb in one of her classes, also, I finished mine earlier this year so I came back sooner”

“Ah, okay”, you nod, “I'll go back home, then. I'll come back when Yeri arrives”

Immediately after finishing your sentence, Chan steps close to you, as if he would hold you in place but he stops before doing anything.

“Why don't you stay a bit longer?” He asks. “It's hot, you can enjoy the pool while you're here”

You think about it for a moment, before shaking your head.

“I didn't even bring a swimsuit and I'd rather not stay in the same space as that guy”, you stick your tongue out to Hyunjin, who's paying attention to his phone.

“I'll drive you back home, then”, Chan says right away.

“There's no need”, you shake your head again, chuckling, “my house is barely twenty minutes away”

“But it's super hot today”, he points out, “I won't feel comfortable letting you go home walking”, he finishes and for the first time in your life, you don't wanna fight back. Actually, his serious tone made your face grow hotter.

“Alright”, you nod and he smiles, telling you to wait for him to change clothes and that he'll be back soon. He gives you the keys to his car, so you can turn on the AC while you wait for him.

As always, Chan's car is neat just like his personality. Everything is organized and there's no trash or dirt, you start the car, closing the doors so you can feel the cold air.

You hold your hair up, taking the scrunchie off of your wrist to tie your hair, but it falls on the floor, making you groan and bend down to look for it. You can't really see down the seat, so you just tap on the floor trying to feel the fabric of your scrunchie but what you find is much more interesting. A bra. You feel your whole face hot, throwing it back beneath the seat the moment you see what the piece of cloth you're holding is. Woah, who would have guessed that Chan has bitches? And even though you feel a weird feeling in your chest, you think that everyone has their own taste so of course someone would like him even though he's the most annoying man on earth.

You got curious though, is she pretty? The girl he's seeing. She's probably super pretty, he has always been popular, of course he won't accept someone that's less than pretty. You did see a girl on his Instagram account, maybe she's his girlfriend.

You're taken out of your thoughts with the sound of the driver's door opening. Chan enters the car, fastening his seatbelt while starting the car.

“It's been a while since we last saw each other”, he says, not taking his eyes off of the road.

“Right? Who'd guess Yeri and I would have so many things come up, I'm dying to see her”, you finish excitedly.

“I was actually talking about you and I”, he answers and you look at him, seeing the man chewing on his bottom lip.

“Oh?” You frown, why would he? You're not even friends, “I guess it has really been a long while”, you nod.

You stay silent, not really understanding the ambiance and why you swear there's some tension there.

“How about school? Are you seeing anyone?” He asks, trying to change the subject.

“Hm, it's cool, I like what I'm studying”, you fidget with your fingers, “and no, I'm not seeing anyone”, you sigh, “there's just not really anyone that caught my eye I guess”, you tell him and you swear you can see a faint smile on his lips but before you can ask him about his girlfriend, he parks in front of your house.

“We are here”, Chan turns to you. You didn't even notice you were arriving already.

“Thank you for the ride, Chan. I'll see you tomorrow”, you tell him, getting out of the car and waving goodbye to him before walking to your door.

You find your phone thrown on the top of your bed, charging him just to find almost a hundred calls and texts from Yeri, talking about the chaos, the whole flight confusion and saying sorry she wouldn't get to see you right now.

You facetime her, waiting a few seconds and in a moment her bright smile shows up on the screen.

“Girl, I thought your plane had crashed”, it's the first thing she says.

“And why don't I see puffy eyes and despair in your voice?” You ask, ironically, making her roll her eyes.

“I doubt you'd let yourself die that way”, she informs you, “anyways, why couldn't I reach out to you?”

“My phone died and I hurried to see you right when I got home”, you smile sheepishly.

“Oh, was Chris home?” She asks and you nod, “that's good, my parents are out of town until next week, you'd have been stuck outside if he wasn't there”

“Yeah”, you nod, remembering the scene of Chan slipping out of the pool, how his wet swim trunks hugged his thighs and the water drops falling from his hair on his plump lips.

“Are you listening?” You hear Yeri say in a higher pitch, she always does that to catch your attention. Your face turns hot in an instant, what are those gross thoughts? You're going crazy, that's the only answer possible.

“I dozed off, couldn't sleep well because I was so excited to see you”, you make something up that is not entirely a lie.

“Ow, you're so cute”, she squeals, “I was gonna surprise you but since I'm gonna be late I'll tell you now”, Yeri says.

“What's it?”

“I'm taking my boyfriend with me on this trip”, Yeri giggles, making you frown instantly.

“What boyfriend?”

“You know, Minhwan, the guy I have been talking about for months now?” She declares as if it's obvious.

“The one who left you on read for an entire week and then came after you at a party just because you were with another guy?” You ask, incredulous.

“Yeah, he said he was sorry about that”, she giggles.

“Girl”, that's the only thing you can say, you can't believe your best friend is settling for that.

“What about you? Any hot guys on the plane?” She asks, changing the subject before you can nag her about her choice in men.

“Nah, an old couple seated by my side and they tried to set me up with their grandson”

“Oh? Did they show you pics? Was he handsome?” Yeri asks, excitedly.

“He's 39”, you tell her, smiling painfully, “they told me he’s nice and has two kids”

“Well, babes, we both know you're better alone”, your friend tries to cheer you up and you nod, agreeing with her, even though at that moment the only thing going through your mind is this crazy thought about Chan: what if?

You cry like an idiot when Yeri arrives, you missed her so much and you didn't even notice how much until you saw her again.

“You look so pretty”, you tell her, making her spin around so you can have a look. “I see college made you hotter”, you give her a thumbs up.

“Look who's talking”, she giggles, “I'm going to have to be your bodyguard this summer, guys are going to line up to see you”

You laugh, rolling your eyes and before you can say anything else, someone clears their throat, making you look in their direction just to see Yeri’s boyfriend there.

“Oh! This is my boyfriend, Minhwa”, she introduces you two. He gives you a charming smile, while sticking his hand to you.

“Hey”, he says, waiting for you to shake it, while you stare at him.

You don't like him, he seems like bad news, but is forced to shake his hand when your friend elbows you and whispers “be nice”

“Yeah, hi”, you say, not trying to hide your dissatisfaction but shaking his hand anyways. Just on time a loud horn sounds behind you, rescuing you from the awkward conversation that was about to happen.

“Chris is here”, Yeri squeals, grabbing her bags on the floor and walking to the car to greet her brother, who's already scolding her as soon as she lets go of his hug.

You watch Minhwan walk behind her and wait to be acknowledged by Chan, who eyes him up and down and glances at you. You shrug, shaking your head and he takes a deep breath, while Yeri introduces the two.

The trip back to their house is quiet, Yeri and her boyfriend go on the backseat while she talks about the city and shows him things of our childhood. He doesn't look all that interested but also doesn't tell her to stop talking.

When Chan parks the car, the couple gets out first, while you close your eyes, leaning back on the passenger seat, taking a deep breath.

“I guess no one thought that's her type”, Chan says, watching you opening your eyes slowly and turning your head to look at him.

“I don't think he's anyone's type”, you whisper and Chan chuckles.

“So you don't like a man who ignores you and then acts like nothing happened?” He teases, tilting his head to the side, making you chuckle.

“No, I like a man who shows how much he likes me”, you inform him, but the way Chan looks at you has a meaning you’re not sure you understand. He bites his bottom lip, nodding.

“That's good to know”, he says before opening the door and getting out of the car.

You frown, the way he's acting since you met him again is so weird. You definitely don't understand him.

After unpacking and updating you on a bunch of things, Yeri invites you to go to the pool. The day is sunny and hot, as expected of a typical summer afternoon. Chan invited his friends too, so Minhwa is basically the only stranger to you all.

Your best friend makes you wear a bikini, something you're not used to. You always try to cover yourself with a shirt or at least a swimsuit, not really confident about your body, but she’s not having it today saying that except for Minhwa everyone there has known you for years. You end up giving in, wearing the piece of fabric she provided to you.

“Just a question: is this supposed to cover me?” You ask, really wondering.

“You’re such a prude sometimes”, Yeri rolls her eyes. “This shows just enough, don’t worry about it”, she comforts you, but you’re not sure if it works. ‘Just enough’ for her surely is not enough for you. You decide to suck it up anyways, she’s right, everyone there except her boyfriend knows you since you were a teen, there’s nothing to be ashamed of.

That’s what you thought, at least. You’re sure there’s nothing much to look at but then why do you feel Chan’s eyes burning a hole in your body? You didn’t do anything to make him mad, so you’re not sure why he’s staring at you so intensely.

You sit on one of the chairs after greeting everyone, watching as Yeri jumps in the pool with her boyfriend, giggling and kissing him. You may not like him but it’s good to see her this happy.

You close your eyes, laying down on the chair, the sun is burning your skin when something is thrown at you. You open your eyes, a frown on your face while you stare at a towel. Your eyes wander to the figure by your side, just to find Chan standing there.

“What’s this?” You ask, lifting the towel off you.

“That’s for you to cover yourself, that thing you’re wearing is not doing the job properly”, he says, pointing at your bikini.

“Excuse me?” You ask, shocked.

“You’re excused, now please, cover up”, he repeats, looking around. He avoids looking at you when you toss the towel back to him.

“Fuck off”, you say, closing your eyes again, hearing him huff. Why does he have to be an asshole about this? Are you that ugly he can't bear one afternoon looking at your body?

You think Chan is going to leave you alone now, when you hear his footsteps fading away but then the sound of something being dragged hits your ears and you open your eyes again to see Chan bringing the chair closer to you.

“If you’re not going to cooperate, I might as well stay here to bother you”, he grins, comfortably sitting.

“Are you for real?” You roll your eyes, you thought this childish urge he has to annoy you had disappeared but clearly you were wrong. He ignores you, scrolling on his phone while he hums some stupid song he must have come up with.

After some time, you go into the pool, joking around with Yeri and playing games with the others. Chan is still there when you go back, watching you. If you didn’t know better you’d think he’s eye fucking you by the way he’s staring and it's scary how the thought that you wouldn’t mind if he really was comes to you mind.

You sigh, these strange thoughts keep appearing in your mind, you have to get over this before someone starts to notice, worse, before he starts noticing. You sit on your chair, taking your sunscreen out of your bag, applying it on your arms and face, on your chest, stomach and legs. You can’t reach your back, though and everyone is too engrossed in their playing for you to call someone to help, except Chan. You look at him discreetly, thinking if that’s a good idea, maybe you should just call it a day and go inside.

“Do you need some help?” He asks before you get to make your decision.

“Hm”, you try thinking fast, now much more nervous than before, “yeah”, you give in.

Chan smirks, stretching his hand to you so you can give him the sunscreen tube. You turn your back to him, without saying anything, not really wanting to prolong this awkward situation.

You hear the sound of the lotion being splashed in his hand and then the sound of him brushing his hands to spread the product, you won’t ever admit it but you’re dying with the anticipation of his hands on your skin. His long, strong fingers brush against your shoulder blades, spreading the sunscreen gently, massaging it for longer than necessary but you’re not complaining about it.

You feel your cheeks grow hotter, his hands go down to your lower back, putting more lotion on the area and caressing your skin. You shouldn’t feel this excited about it, you know you shouldn’t but the heat you feel on your lower stomach is not something you can control.

You get goosebumps when you feel his breathing too close to your skin, making you shiver.

“Do you like it when I touch you?” He murmurs, making your eyes grow wide. You turn around fast looking at him just to find him staring right back at you, lips stuck between his teeth and the corners of his goddamn sexy mouth upturned in a cocky smile. Before you can even answer him, your phone rings, making you jump out of the chair to at least a meter away from the man.

You pick your phone up, listening to your mom's voice asking you what you want for dinner, saying you weren't answering her texts.

“I-I'll go home now and we can go grocery shopping”, you stutter, trying to recompose yourself, trying to make your heartbeat go back to normal.

She answers telling you to hurry up then, because it's almost time to make dinner. You don't even look back at Chan, you can't really, he must've misspoken, there's no way he asked you that with an ulterior motive, there's no way. But even though you're telling yourself that you can't control the heat radiating from your cheeks, from your whole body actually.

You collect your things, running to Yeri in the pool and telling her you're going home, then you hurry back inside to change and run back home, still embarrassingly flustered.

You feel distracted the whole trip to the grocery store, you talk with your mom automatically, not really paying attention to anything other than the memories of Chan's hands on your skin, burning every bit he touched.

You're debating with yourself which snacks you should buy for your sleepover with Yeri in the weekend when you hear your name being called.

“y/n? Oh my god, it's been ages”, Yuna, a classmate from your highschool times approaches you.

“Oh, hi!” You smile at her, she was always very nice with you and Yeri when you studied together. “It really has been a long time”, you nod.

“Are you on break? Your mom told mine that you went to that school you always dreamed about”, she asks excitedly.

“Yeah, I'm visiting”, you look around to see if you can find your mom, you don't want to believe that you got lost even though you're a grown up.

“You know what? My boyfriend is throwing a party this friday, why don't you come?” She smiles, “bring Yeri too, I miss her”, she says.

“Oh, yeah”, you nod, “I'll talk to her and let you know”

“You still have the same phone number?” Yuna asks.

“I do. You can text me the details”, you smile at her. “Oh, my mom is here”, you point at the older woman, pointing to the watch on her wrist for you to hurry up.

“Okay, see you!” Yuna waves goodbye to you and your mom while she walks away.

You go out with Yeri alone for the first time since you met after all this time. She left Minhwa with Chan and the other guys, meeting you in the mall after. You visit every store in there, buying clothes and trying weird things you would never spend money on but can have a good laugh at.

“Yuna? She's nice”, Yeri says, putting on orange pants.

“Yeah, she texted me the details yesterday”, you look at her choice of clothes disgustingly, like you're any better wearing a large shirt with tiger print on it.

“We should go”, she nods, taking the piece of fabric off. “And then Saturday we can do our little sleepover in my house”

“Okay, I'll tell her we'll be there”, you watch as she turns to look at you. “Hm… I meant to ask you before but didn't get the chance… How's it? To see Hyunjin after a while?” You ask, cautiously. You have been avoiding this subject since Yeri is dating someone else now, but you couldn't help but notice the few glances she still throws at her childhood love.

“Oh, I'm fine”, she smiles without looking in your eyes and you know she's lying.

Yeri liked Hyunjin for a long time, even though he never gave her any signs that he liked her back. So when she got into college, she promised she would do anything to forget him.

“Are you sure?” You press, not really wanting to force her to tell the truth but also trying to show that you care.

“Yeah”, she smiles at you and look into your eyes, “and even if I'm not, I'm sure I'll be fine soon”

You pout, walking to her and opening your arms for a hug.

“My poor baby, you went through a lot but everything will be fine”, you caress her back while she wraps her arms around your waist. “I love you and that's all that matters”, you say proudly, making her laugh.

“Shall we buy some clothes for the party?” She lifts her head to peek at you and you laugh.

“Anything for you”, you answer, sighing.

You definitely shouldn't let Yeri choose your clothes for any event. You should have already learned that but every time she'll ask with puppy eyes and you'll give in because you can't say no to your best friend. So even though her clothing tastes are a lot more extravagant than yours, you always have hope that she'll choose something modest. But that's never the case and this time is no different.

She chose a black dress that can barely cover your ass, it has a cleavage so low you're not sure your boobs won't just pop out of there if you move too hastily. You put on safety shorts just to be sure, you don't want anyone to have a peek at your panties and also a strapless bra to make sure they are safe and sound right there.

You still feel exposed, but with Yeri hyping you up the whole time she helps you get ready, you start thinking that you don't look so bad. You do your own makeup, too afraid of what she'll try on you and you leave your hair down, carrying a hair tie on your wrist just in case it gets too hot.

You, Yeri and Minhwa take an uber to the party. It's already possible to listen to the loud music when the car is turning on the corner, dropping you three a bit far from the house since even the street is crowded.

You didn't even know there was a house this big in your town, it has a big garden, three floors and a pool that's probably the size of your house.

“You came!” You hear a squeal as soon as you enter the door to the house. Yuna comes running in your direction, hugging Yeri. “Girl, it's been so long”

“We need to catch up”, your best friend says excitedly, turning to Minhwa and introducing him to Yuna.

“You didn't bring your boyfriend?” Yuna asks you, making you tilt your head in confusion.

“I don't have one”, you answer.

“Oh? Ah, I see”, she seems confused, looking like she's trying to remember something. “Don't worry I'll help you find someone nice today”, she grabs your hand reassuringly, pulling you three to the middle of the crowd before you can say you're not interested in her proposition.

You see some familiar faces along the way, some people that attended the same school as you and some friends of Chan. You managed to not think about him for a couple of hours, not letting his voice appear in your mind just to make you confused. You even avoided going to Yeri's house, inviting her to get ready at yours.

Yuna stops you all when she meets a group of people, she introduces you all to her boyfriend and his friends. There are some girls there, pretty girls that make you a bit uncomfortable. Because they are naturally pretty and you suddenly feel like you're trying too hard just to look decent.

You fidget unconformably on your tiny dress, feeling embarrassed now. Everyone is talking but you feel left out, maybe it’s just your overthinking.

“Hey”, you hear a masculine voice right next to you, making you turn around to look at the guy. He's cute, a bit taller than you.

“Hi”, you smile, waving at him awkwardly, not needed to say that you're not very good at flirting.

“Jihoon!” Yuna says, “I was going to introduce you to y/n tonight”, she smirks.

“I think I remember her from school”, he answers, eyeing you and then he laughs with your panicked face, you don't remember him at all. “It's okay if you don't remember me, I was always buried in books and I basically slept in the science club”

“Oh, yeah”, you nod, “maybe that's it, I don't think I ever visited the science club in high school”, you laugh, making him smile.

“Why don't you get something to drink together?” Yuna suggests, winking at you.

“Sure”, you nod, looking at him who just shrugs. “Sorry about that, apparently she really wants to set me up with someone”, you tell him when you start walking together.

“I don't mind”, he chuckles, “not if it's a pretty girl she's trying to set me up with”, he grins at you, making you blush.

He's someone comfortable to talk to, you two start sharing stories about your school years, teachers you both recall and weird things that happened. You chose a beer to drink, it helps you talk more freely. Jihoon tells you that he just got out of a long term relationship and that Yuna is only trying to help, making you laugh, telling him you never had a boyfriend so you're not sure why she's so set on finding someone for you.

After an hour or so goes by, you already drank more than you're supposed to, laughing too much at the not so funny jokes Jihoon is telling. When a song you like starts playing, you grab his hand, pulling him to the dancefloor with you. You do feel a bit more bold when you have a little too much to drink, so you put your arms around Jihoon’s neck, pressing your body against his. He doesn't waste time, wrapping your waist with his arms, resting his hands on your lower back. You start grinding on him, hips moving with the music playing in the background.

You two look at each other and laugh and you feel like you could definitely kiss him at that moment if it wasn't for the strong hold you feel on your wrist before you're yanked away from the man who looks extremely confused while you're dragged away.

You look at the person who's pulling you out of the house, you know that back too well for your own good.

“Chan?” You ask, even though you know it's him. “Let go of me”, you yell now, trying to stop him and get out of his grip. But he's too strong, he only releases you when you're far away from the house.

“What are you thinking?” He turns to you, face red in anger.

“That's something I should be asking”, you scowl, surprised with his reaction, you don't think you have ever seen Chan that mad.

“You were rubbing yourself on that guy in the middle of a party!” He grunts, “and what's that you're wearing?” He scowls, pointing at your clothes.

“It's a dress”, you say, sheepishly. The way he's looking at you makes you feel embarrassed.

“That shouldn't even be called clothing, it's just a piece of fabric”, Chan sighs, “did Yeri make you dress like that?” He asks, looking around to try and calm himself.

“She didn't make me do anything I didn't want to”, you tell him, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “I'm not a child, I can take care of myself”, you say. “And what's it to you if I was rubbing on some dude? I could be fucking him in the middle of the crowd and you still wouldn't have anything to do with it”, you spit it out, feeling mad out of nowhere. He should be worrying about his girlfriend, not his sister's best friend.

“Are you sure you're not a child?” He asks, sarcastically. “You sure act like one sometimes”

“Fuck you, Christopher”, you yell, feeling the blood boiling in your body. You're so mad at him, why is he acting like this all of a sudden? He has no right to treat you like this, even if he's Yeri's brother. You turn around, leaving him behind and walking to the opposite side of the party, a walk may calm you down, you need to go home anyways.

Except that you feel his presence right behind you, throwing glances at him for five minutes until you stop completely.

“Stop following me”, you say, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

“I won't let you go home by yourself, look at the hour”, he scoffs.

“I would if someone hadn't dragged me out of the party”, you huff, “my phone is inside my purse and Yeri has it”, you tell him, making him feel guilty.

Chan didn't think it through, the moment he saw you in another guy's arms he saw red, he didn't want to cause a scene but also couldn't control himself.

“I'll go back there and pick it up for you”, he grumbles embarrassedly.

“You should have thought about it before you pulled me out of there like that”, you say angrily, “you're Yeri's brother, not mine. I don't need you to look out for me like you do to her”, you sigh. This whole situation makes you sober up so fast that your head hurts.

“It's not the same”, he murmurs, frowning, “y/n, I don't see you like a little sister”, he says like it's obvious. “The reason I take care of you is not the same reason why I take care of Yeri”

“Well, mister Bang, please enlighten me with the difference, then. Because I have no clue and it fucking sucks”, you tell him, sarcastically.

He opens his mouth to say something but his phone starts buzzing in his pocket, saving him from whatever stupid thing he was gonna confess to you.

“She’s with me”, he says, when he hears Yeri's panicked voice because you disappeared, “I'll take her home, take care of her things”, he says before hanging up.

“I don't need you to take me home”, you tell him as soon as he puts his phone back in his pocket.

“Let's not discuss this right now”, he sighs, “my car is nearby, listen to me just this once”, he pleads, making you huff.

“Fine”, you roll your eyes and say “lead the way”

The car ride back home is silent, you don't want to talk to Chan. He has been acting weird since you met each other again after so long and that makes you mad because you thought that now you both would be adults enough to stop annoying each other, but maybe you were wrong.

“You should stop meddling in my business”, you tell him as soon as he parks in front of your house. “Let's be mature from now on, I won't mess with you and you do the same for me”, you tell him but Chan doesn't answer, he just stares at you like he's analyzing something and you definitely don't like that. He smirks next, throwing you off.

“Don't wanna”, he shrugs, “I'm going to do whatever I want from now on”

You sigh, shaking your head, it's already time for you to stop trying to understand this guy.

“You should keep calling me Christopher though, I liked it”, he points out, amused, making you frown.

“Good night, Chan”, you huff, opening the door of the car and getting off. You don't look back while walking to your house, that man makes you so mad it's driving you insane.

The whole point of calling him Chan is because he doesn't like being called that, you're the only person who does and it's just to annoy him and you won't entertain his antics since he doesn't want to leave you alone.

You wake up with the sound of the door of your room being closed with too much strength, making you groan in annoyance, your head hurting like crazy. You open your eyes slowly, trying to get used to the light coming through the windows, just to find Yeri standing at the end of the bed, arms crossed and eyes narrowed while watching you.

“How could you disappear last night?” She says, “I was so scared when I couldn't find you and then I freaked out when that guy you were with told me someone dragged you out”

You rub your eyes, watching your friend scold you. You can't believe you're being lectured about something that's not even your fault. 'Go fight your brother', you want to tell her, but for some reason you feel like you shouldn't.

“I'm sorry, I was drunk”, it's not entirely a lie, you were indeed drunk but you don't need to tell her that that was not the reason for your disappearance.

“Well who was the person who dragged you out?” She asks, brushing off your apology.

“I don't remember”, you lie again, feeling mad at yourself. Why are you lying to your best friend? Why are you scared to tell her it was her brother the one that made a scene because you were dancing with Jihoon?

“Stay close to me next time, okay? I'll make sure no one's gonna hurt you”, she huffs, pouting.

“Okay, thank you”, you smile. “Is everything alright for our sleepover today?” You ask, trying to change the subject.

“Yes, Minhwa gave the idea of having a bonfire, tonight is supposed to be cold”, she says, talking about the things you should go buy, the snacks and the drinks.

“Oh, okay”, you nod, you didn't stop to think that her boyfriend would be with you two on your sleepover.

“I'll wait for you downstairs, hurry up and get ready”, she hushes you, clapping her hands.

You get up begrudgingly, dragging yourself out of the bed straight to the bathroom. Only a shower can help you feel better right now.

Your head is pounding and your stomach is hurting, you want to throw up and go back to sleep but you know Yeri won't leave you alone.

You don't know why Chan shows up on your mind when the hot water hits your skin, you feel your head more clear but your best friend's brother is intoxicating your brain.

You shake your head, like that's going to make you forget about his existence. You better distract yourself with other things so these thoughts won't show up when you're with Yeri.

After putting on some comfortable clothes, you go down, meeting your best friend there. She's talking to your parents about the things you're going to be doing for the day.

“I'll be back tomorrow”, you tell your mom, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “Take care of her, old man”, you tell your dad, hugging him.

Both of them chuckle, knowing you do that just to annoy them.

“How did you end up with Chris yesterday, by the way?” Yeri asks, when you get out of the house.

“We just met by chance”, you say, still not feeling like it's right to tell her he was the one who made that scene the day before.

“Well”, she sighs, “don't you think he's acting weird lately? Did anything happen?” She presses, making your heart beat faster, as if you did something wrong.

“I don't know, maybe he broke up with his girlfriend or something”, you shrug.

“I don't think he has one, though”, she points out, making you snap your head to look at her.

“He doesn't?” You ask, shocked.

“At least he never told me about a girlfriend”, she says, making your heart skip a bit. What about that bra in his car? Is he just a player then? Maybe he fucks girls left and right and doesn't settle with just one person. Why does that thought make you feel worse than thinking he has a girlfriend?

It bothers you for the rest of the day, while you're grocery shopping, when you're on your trip to Yeri's house, when you start preparing things for the sleepover: why is Chan acting so weird lately? You thought he had a girlfriend so his behavior didn't mean anything to you until now. Now, there's a possibility that you have a chance with him and that scares you, not just because you think he may be a player who's going to seduce you and then pretend it never happened, but the fact that your promise to Yeri is not stopping you from lusting over her brother.

It's so weird having Minhwa with you two, you feel like you can't really let it all out because he's a stranger but you won't say that out loud since Yeri looks genuinely happy with his presence there. You all set the bonfire and are enjoying the night view while drinking some beers and talking. You two recall stories about your teenage years laughing about situations that made you two cry at that time. When you see your best friend rubbing her eyes and yawning, you know she's gonna call it a night. Yeri holds on for about one hour more until she tells you she's tired and wants to go to sleep. You're still full of energy so you tell her to go on first.

The temperature did drop, making you cover yourself with a blanket while you stare at the flames in the bonfire. The sound of the crickets in the distance makes you feel calm and the quiet of the night makes your mind go somewhere it shouldn't.

You have your thoughts interrupted by the one and only person guilty of those thoughts. You hear footsteps in the grass just to turn around and find Chan, walking towards you. He sits on the bench, right by your side, even though there are plenty of places he could sit on.

“Yeri already went to bed?” He asks, opening a can of beer and taking a sip.

“Yeah, she was tired”, you tell him. “Turns out she can't hold her liquor”, you joke.

“And you can?” He teases, making you roll your eyes.

“Yes, I do. I can go up to three or four bottles”, you brag, making him chuckle.

“I guess I won't find you sleeping in the bathroom again, then”, he says, making you turn around ready to argue, just to find him closer than you expected, more than you're used to.

“You should forget about that”, you whisper, trying to recompose yourself, forgetting your anger and just staring at his lips, looking down immediately.

“Should I?” He asks and you nod, feeling your cheeks grow hotter.

“Yeah, that was a long time ago”

“I guess you’re right”, he nods, tilting his head. “Maybe you should give me something else to think about”, Chan bites on his bottom lip, raising a brow in questioning.

“You have a suggestion?” You ask, chuckling, the atmosphere heavier at each second.

Chan stares at you for a moment, glancing from your eyes to your lips and then back to your eyes.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, making you smile amusedly, realizing he’s trying to prank you.

“Why would you want to kiss me?” You roll your eyes, making him frown.

“I wonder if you really don't know or are just pretending”, Chan says.

You feel your breath stuck in your throat, feeling your heart start beating faster and faster.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about-”, you start saying but he interrupts you.

“I like you, I have liked you for a long time”, he declares.

“You shouldn't joke about that”, you feel your whole face turn red, a burn in your chest.

“I'm not joking, y/n”, he says, making you stare at him.

There’s no way he likes you, it’s impossible, right?

Right?

Before you can even think properly, your lips crash into his. You put your hands on the back of his neck to pull him closer and deepen the kiss. Chan is confused for a moment but it doesn't take long for him to reciprocate your eagerness, brushing his tongue on yours. His hand slips to your hip, squeezing so hard you could feel his nails digging on the skin. His lips are so soft and welcoming, it feels like you never tried anything like it

“Can I ask you something?” Yeri's voice sounds so clear in your head it seems like she's right by your side, “can you please not fall for my brother?”

You put your hands on Chan's chest, pushing him away from you and standing up.

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry” you plead, not sure if you're saying that to him or his sister. “I- this was a mistake”, you stumble back almost falling, making Chan stand up to help you but you shake your head, turning around and running out of the gate.

You run without stopping until you get home, you’re breathless and you want to throw up, the butterflies in your stomach are not strong enough to ease the guilt you’re feeling, you can't believe you kissed Chan, you broke your promise.

How can you look in Yeri’s eyes now? You’re so scared now, what if she never wants to see you again? The worst of all is that thinking about the kiss makes your heart flutter and the ghost of a smile grow instantly on your lips before you can get a hold of yourself. You can’t be like this, you can’t be attracted to Chan and you really can’t fall for him, even though you already suspect that this feeling goes beyond just attraction.

You avoid Yeri for a whole week, not trusting yourself to not blurt out everything that happened the moment you see her face. You cried for a while, heartbroken for breaking your promise but also for the feelings that now you have to bury, so you can keep your friendship.

You told her you were sick that's why you went back home that night rather than staying over. It’s not a lie, in your defense you feel sick to your stomach every time you think about seeing her and it’s even worse when you think about Chan. The thought of seeing him again makes you nervous and not the type of guilty nervousness that you should be feeling but the type where you feel your heart flutter. Why did he have to make a move? He could have just kept his feelings to himself, the same way you were trying to do before you two kissed. Chan can have any girl in the world, so why you? You’re pretty, there’s no denying it but there are a hundred more pretty girls he must have met that are not his sister’s best friend.

When Yeri shows up at your door, bringing snacks you want to scream, literally. She looks worried, asking how you’re feeling and inviting you to stay at her house so she can take care of you but you don’t want to step foot in her house ever again — or any place that her brother might be present, for that matter.

“Are you mad at me or something?” She asks, sulking. “Is it because of Minhwa? He’s kinda boring right?” She completes, nervously trying to find out what she did wrong to make you mad.

“I’m not mad”, you sigh, you didn’t want her to think she’s the one at fault when you’re the one who broke the promise you made to her. “I’m just not feeling well lately”, you tell her.

“But did something happen?” She enquiries.

“No, nothing much”, you lie once more, feeling tired from lying so much to your best friend in such a short period of time. “But what about Minhwa being boring?” You ask her, trying to change the subject, her eyes widen immediately. She wasn’t supposed to let that out but she was so nervous that she just blurted it out.

“Well, I may be tired of him already”, she bites on her bottom lip and fidgeting with her hands.

“Girl, I knew this was going to happen”, you shake your head, completely forgetting about all your problems, too involved in the juice. “You aren’t over Hyunjin and it shows!”

“Fuck off”, she sulks, crossing her arms. “You’re so mean to me, I’m going through a hard time”

“Babes, please, you put yourself in this situation when you started dating the guy who ghosted you for an entire week”, you throw it in her face.

“Woah, never thought my best friend would judge me like that”, she sighs dramatically.

“Play stupid games, win stupid prizes”, you pat her back, “If not me calling you out, then who?”

“You’re right but I won’t admit it”, she nods, tsking. “Wanna go buy ice cream?” She asks out of nowhere.

“Sure, let’s go”, you smile. Just a few minutes with her and you’re already feeling so much better, you don’t think you would ever trade your friendship for the world.

You walk back home with a bag of popsicles, the sun is so strong that you don't think the ice pops are going to arrive intact in your house.

You're listening to Yeri's rant about her soon to be ex boyfriend when you hear the sound of a horn. You close your eyes painfully, you know that sound too well. Your best friend turns around with a big smile on her lips but you don't want to do the same, although you see her smile disappearing in a moment.

“Hey, wanna a ride?” You hear Hyunjin’s voice behind you, forcing you to turn around. He's seated in the passenger's seat while Chan is in the driver's seat, staring at you like he could burn a hole in your body. You can't avoid feeling your cheeks growing hot, you just want to get out of there.

“Yeah, why not?” Yeri says, grabbing the bag from your hands and walking to the car.

“Actually I'm going to walk some more”, you say, making her turn to look at you.

“What? It's hot as hell, why do you want to walk?”

“I don't know, I just feel like it”, you shrug, seeing Chan chuckle inside the car.

“I can accompany you if you want to walk”, he raises a brow, “I wanted to stretch my legs anyway”

You huff, closing your eyes. There's no way out, right?

“I guess it wouldn't be good for me to overdo it since I'm not feeling well”, you say, stepping closer to the car while Yeri goes in.

The ride is silent on your part, you don't want to look at Chan but every time you give in to your curiosity and peek at him, he's staring at you through the rear-view mirror. Yeri talks about everything nervously avoiding looking at Hyunjin but you swear you can see him awkwardly fidgeting in his seat.

When the car stops in front of Yeri's house, you feel your whole body freeze.

“I'm going to take y/n home, I forgot I had to run an errand for dad”, Chan says, making instant panic grow in your body.

“There's no need, I can walk”, you tell him, opening the door of the car.

“Girl? You told me you were not feeling well, he's going that way anyways”, Yeri says, frowning. She's probably confused as to why you don't want to accept the ride. What if she starts suspecting you? What if she starts making questions you don't know how to answer? Chan stares at you with a raised brown, waiting for you to come up with another excuse but you are afraid your best friend is going to realize you're trying to avoid her brother. So you just nod, going into the car again, this time in the passenger seat in the front.

The car goes on quietly throughout the ride, you are fidgeting with your fingers, looking anxiously outside the window, praying that you get home soon. When Chan parks in front of your house, your first instinct is to open the door so you can run out of that situation, but that's when you realize the car is locked.

“Hm, can you let me go?” You murmur, not taking your eyes out of the window.

“Not until you look at me”, he tells you, voice more hoarse than you remember but you do it, you look at him just so he can let you go.

“Happy?” You ask, cheeks burning while you stare at him but the look in his face is the opposite of happiness, he seems hurt.

“Do you hate my feelings for you so much?” He asks, scowling. “If you can't stand the thought of me just say it, don't run away”

You sigh, he looks desperate, like he's going to break apart if you don't hold him right now.

“Chan- I-”, you have no words to tell him. “I made a promise to your sister, that I'd never fall for you”, you tell him, hoping he can understand you.

“What about me? You don't care a bit about me?”

“I do”, you sigh, “but what should I do? You want me to choose between you or Yeri? You know she's my best friend”

“I guess I'm nothing to you, then”, he unlocks the car, bending over you to open the door. “I'm sorry I made you stay”, he murmurs.

“You know that's not what I meant”, you try but he shakes his head.

“It's fine, I came on too strong. I guess I'm just tired of this unrequited love”, he sighs, smiling gently at you but you can see the sadness in his eyes.

Chan has been in love with you since he was 17, when he found you unconscious in the bathroom his heart stopped for a few seconds before he could move and try to wake you. He shook you awake, worriedly, smelling the scent of whisky coming from you, he couldn't believe you had drunk and was blacked out in his bathroom.

When you groaned, fluttering your eyes open he couldn't let you see his face so he just pulled his phone out of his pocket, taking pictures of your face while he chuckled to your rumbles, arguing with him.

Chan didn't accept that he liked you at first. He made you do his tasks for him, go to the store with him and have you cheer for him on his school games, he thought he could prove to himself that he didn't like you like that, but spending so much time with you only made him realize that it was not something small, he liked you for real.

You never looked at him twice but he was okay with that because you were never interested in anyone romantically, so Chan was able to keep his feelings to himself, hoping that one day you would look at him. When he went to college, he thought he would get over you but no one got him slightly interested, all he could think about was the day he would get to see you again when he went back home.

He didn't expect to find you in a relationship when he got back for his first break out of college, well, you never made it official but you were glued to that guy like you’d die if you stayed away from him for a second and it hurt Chan so much to watch you being in love with someone else.

It didn't last long, the guy turned out to be a huge asshole who was two-timing, that's why he never asked you to be his girlfriend. Chan spent so many nights awake in his bed, listening to your cries in Yeri's room, devastated because your first love didn't work out.

Well, Chan was also sad that his first love didn't feel the same about him either so he could understand your pain. When it was time for you to go to college on the other side of the country he hoped once more that he could forget you. Chan wished you'd find someone worth it in college and that the same happened to him so he could let go of his feelings for you.

However, he should have known that his feelings are much deeper than that. When you showed up in the pool that afternoon he honestly thought he was going to throw up. He hadn't seen you in a year and of course he didn't forget how beautiful you are, but there was something different about you and he couldn't quite understand what.

Chan caught you eyeing him up and even though that could mean nothing, he wished that for the first time you were seeing him like he wanted you to. So he started to make moves, nothing obvious, but most certainly provocative. He wanted you to feel charmed by him, he wanted you to pay attention to him.

All his hopes were shattered after you avoided him for an entire week. He really thought that you'd come around soon, that you'd give him a chance. He should have known that you'd never choose him over Yeri and he should be happy about that, right? You're loyal to his sister. But he really wanted you to be his, this time he really hoped you'd be his.

He tries not to bump into you when you're in his house and avoids doing anything with Yeri when she mentions you're coming too. Just like that two weeks go by without him seeing your face, it hurts like hell but he knows it's for the best. You made your decision and he should respect that, he should move on.

So when Hyunjin — who's aware of Chan's struggles with his feelings for you — suggests to set Chan up with a friend of his, the older man is hesitant but accepts in the end, it's not going to be good for him to just stay at home, moping sadly about you not returning his feelings.

She's pretty, he's not going to pretend she's not, but he can't help but to think she's not as pretty as you. She's nice and kind, he thinks that he could easily fall in love with her if you didn't already owe his heart.

He tries with all his might to not think about you, he tries to focus on her. How her hair falls down on her shoulder and how she laughs softly. But you stay there, in the back of his mind, reminding him that he's not going to forget you that easily.

“Why are you here alone?” You hear Yeri's voice in the corridor, making you walk out of her room to see with who she's talking to. Hyunjin is laying down on Chan's bed, scrolling on his phone.

“Waiting for your brother to get back”, he shrugs, not even looking at Yeri.

“Where did he go?” She asks, crossing her arms in front of her chest, trying to look confident, even though her cheeks are pink. She hates when Hyunjin acts so indifferent, it makes her nervous.

“He went on a date”, Hyunjin says and your eyes immediately go out of your best friend's face to him. Your heart starts beating so fast in your chest that you can hear it in your ears.

What does he mean “a date”? Chan told you he liked you so why would he go on a date?

“I didn't know he was seeing someone”, you thank Yeri for asking something and Hyunjin looks at you, not her.

“Well, the girl he likes is being an idiot so he just decided to move on”, he smirks, making your cheeks burn. So he knows about you and Chan? Not that there ever existed something between the two of you but he definitely knows that Chan likes you.

“I didn't even know he had his eyes on someone”, Yeri says, confused.

“Your brother is full of secrets, it seems”, Hyunjin sits on the bed, stretching out. “I'll go now, he just texted me saying he was not coming home for another two or three hours”, the man says, standing up and walking past you and Yeri, seizing the opportunity to bump into you.

You're confused too, just like Yeri. How could her brother say those things to you, tell you he likes you just for him to move on so easily? Of course you didn't want him to keep trying anything with you so why does your chest hurt so much right now? Why do you feel like your heart is being ripped out of your chest?

“Y/n!” You hear Yeri's voice, a pitch higher than usual, which means it's not the first time she's trying to get your attention. “Are you listening?”

“Yes, of course”, you nod, paying attention to what she says next.

“I can't believe Chan liked someone this whole time, why did he not tell me?” She wonders and you nod, “maybe it was you, that's why he didn't tell me”, she laughs out loud, making you stare at her for a second. “I'm kidding babes, why does it look like you have seen a ghost?” She jokes, spinning on her heels and walking back to her room, whining about how much she's gonna pester her brother for not telling her about his crush.

You couldn't sleep, every time you closed your eyes Chan showed up with that damn smirk of his. You hate him, you really do, how could he do this to you? Cause all this turmoil of emotions inside you and then just replace you with the first pretty girl that showed up?

It's well past midnight and the man is not home yet, you know that just because you have been walking left and right — for the last hour and a half, in his living room. You were already going to stay over but you didn't plan to meet Chan and much less planned on confronting him about this little game he's playing.

So when the front door is opened and a visibly tired Chan enters the house, you cross your arms in front of your chest, trying to look intimidating but you're sure you look anything but that. He stops on his tracks when he sees you, blinking a few times before closing the door behind him.

“You're here”, he says, avoiding your eyes.

“How was your date?” You ask, raising your brows in annoyance.

“Hmm... how do you know about that?” He looks at you, frowning.

“Does it matter?” You scoff, feeling your cheeks burning. You know you have no right to be doing this but at the same time you can't help it, your chest is aching too much. “I just think it's funny how you confessed to me a few weeks ago and now you're going around dating whomever”

“I don't understand”, he scowls, walking to where you are. “You rejected me, so why does it bother you that I may be going on dates?”

“It doesn't”, you shrug, feeling caught in your own trap. “I just find it crazy ‘cause the way you confessed made it look like you were in love with me or shit but I guess I got it wrong”

“Well, I am in love with you”, he informs, “I have been for years, y/n. But you don't want me and I'm tired of waiting for you to look at me, okay? I'm trying to move on so I can be happy with someone who likes me”

You gulp, holding back on the strange urge to tell him that you like him in that way, that you want to be happy with him.

“I guess you're right”, you step back. You know you're wrong and you don't want to lose Yeri's friendship but at the same time it hurts so much to let go of him, of this feeling that you don't even know when it started.

“I'm glad we are on the same page”, he murmurs, moving past you to go up the stairs but you can't let him, you can't give up on this. It's the first time that you ever felt this way about someone, that you really are about to risk ruining your friendship, but you can't let him go, not this time and possibly not in the future.

So you grab his wrist, making him stop on his tracks. Chan turns around slowly, brows knit together in confusion.

“What if I asked you to not move on?” You feel your cheeks burn, not looking into his eyes at first but when he says nothing you're forced to lock eyes with him. “What if I asked you to keep liking me?”

You don't think you have ever seen someone's face glow up so fast, Chan went from confused and sad to surprised and shining in the split of a second. He steps closer to you, bringing his hands to cup your face.

“I'd tell you that you're the only one I want”, he leans in so close, you can feel his breath hitting in your skin. “I'd ask you to please give me a chance to show you how much you mean to me”

He waits a few seconds, giving you time to regret and run away but you don't, you close your eyes, waiting for him to kiss you and that's exactly what he does, soft lips touching yours gently, like you're going to break if he does anything hasty. Your hands go to the hem of his shirt, grabbing on the fabric to try and have some balance because your legs are about to give out.

You want to moan, honestly. He's so hot it's crazy, the way he's leaning over you, his body is not even touching yours but you can feel the warmth coming from his body, you can only imagine how good it must feel to be pressed against him.

You part the kiss to try and breath, but your face is so red with the impure thoughts you're having that you immediately take a few steps away from him, like you're going to jump his bones if you stay too close.

Chan groans, making you peek at him, even though you're still embarrassed about your crazy reaction to a simple kiss.

“Can you stop running away every time I kiss you?” He asks.

“I can assure you this time I'm not running away, I'm only trying to protect you from the pervert in me you just woke up”, you hiccup, why do you always say too much when you're nervous?

As expected of the tease Chan is, he raises a brow, stepping close to you.

“I'd like to get to know the pervert version of you, if you let me”, he grabs your hips, pulling you closer to him and pressing you against his body. You could die right now, you'd die happy. You can feel his muscular chest pressed on yours and he sneaks his hands lower until he reaches your ass, making you stay so close to him that you are sure you can feel something hard pressing against your stomach.

“Should I let you?” You try teasing him, feeling like an idiot for even trying but to your surprise it works, Chan grunts, kissing you again, this time more desperately like he would die if didn't feel your lips on his now.

Your kiss is interrupted by the sounds of a door closing upstairs, making you two pull away from each other, breathless. His face is red and his lips are puffy and you're no better than that.

You start fixing your hair and trying to look the most normal possible as you run to the kitchen to get a glass of water. When you come back, Yeri is coming down the stairs, grinning at Chan.

“I guess your date went well”, she teases, making him blush.

“I liked better what came after the date, actually”, he grins, eye siding you, making you choke on the water you're drinking to try and hide the mess on your face.

“Gross", Yeri says, disgusted. When she looks around, her eyes find you. "Oh, y/n, I came looking for you. You were not on the bedroom when I woke up”

“Yeah, I came down to get some water”, you lie.

“Are you okay? Your face is all red, do you have a fever?” She asks, worriedly, walking closer to you to put her hand on your forehead to compare your temperature with hers. “Hm, I don't think you have a fever”

“I'm sure it's just the hot weather”, you explain, “let's go back to sleep”

You push Yeri back to the stairs, going up with her and when you look behind to get one last look from Chan, he's smiling like an idiot, mouthing something like “I'll text you”, making you blush and shake your head, going up back to Yeri's room.

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spencerswh0re · 7 months

Text

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 - 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

A/N - HI!! i love love love spencer reid and i spend most of my time reading fanfics of him, so i thought i would give writing some of my own a shot! this is my first fic (recently, i used to write wattpad fics when i was like 12) so bear with me :))

word count - 1,482

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐮𝐦𝐚 𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞, 𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩, 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬, 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐣𝐨𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐀𝐔, 𝐚 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟.

spencers life had been hard. there was no point in sugar coating it, he’d been through a lot. being kidnapped, developing a drug addiction, his girlfriend being killed directly in front of him and being to prison were only a handful of the things that had gone wrong in his life. and even after all of this trauma, he still managed to stay the same person. or atleast, mostly the same person.

one big thing had changed after prison and his encounters with cat adams. spencer had always been a hopeless romantic, he dreamed of the day he would meet a nice woman, settle down with her, and live out the life he had always wanted. but after dealing with some confusing feelings for a hitman, he had started to lose hope in ever finding love.

spencer was a 39 year old man, and he had still not found his perfect woman, he was starting to think she didn’t exist.

this was why he gave up. he stopped dating, stopped blushing and stammering whenever he met an attractive woman, and instead, he became charming. it became a common occurrence for spencer reid to spend his evenings in the bar, wooing a woman back to bed with him. he would bid them farewell the next morning, and that would be that. and it worked, it kept him satisfied, for a while.

until it didn’t.

the day you walked into the bullpen of the BAU, things changed for spencer reid.

you were beautiful, easily the prettiest girl he had ever seen, you were young, and had this innocence about you, he knew, from the very beginning, that he wanted you.

it was barely a week after you started on the team when spencer realised why he was so attracted to you.

the team was on the jet home from your first case, it had been a relatively easy one, they had caught the unsub in 2 days, and saved his final victim.

“we shouldn’t even be flying in these conditions” rossi had complained, referring to the heavy rain and strong winds “what if we get struck by lightning?”

just as spencer was about to spit out a random fact about flying during lightning, you beat him to it.

“actually, aircraft’s are designed to deal with lightning strikes, modern planes are designed to spread electric currents through the fuselage and funnel them out through the tail, bypassing the plane interior entirely. the last major accident occurred in 1967, when a stray strike caused a poorly-designed plane’s fuel tank to explode, so even if we were to be struck, which is highly unlikely, we’d be perfectly fine” you had rushed it out quickly, and spencer could tell from your blushing cheeks and shy smile that you were embarrassed over your rambling.

“sorry” you said, quietly, looking down at your hands in your lap.

“hey, reid, it seems y/l/n is a mini version of you, maybe we’ll have to replace you” emily had said, laughing lightheartedly. spencer, however, was stuck in place, eyes locked on you. he couldn’t believe it, he had found out earlier in the week that you were 24, just out of the academy, but you had been put straight into a specialised unit based off of your impressive qualifications. he realised, in that moment, that he didn’t just want you in the way he wants other women, he wanted you for real, he was falling for you.

the plane ride went painfully slowly after that.

a few months later, nothing had changed, except for the fact you had made it more and more difficult for him to keep away from you. ever morning, you would walk straight over to his desk, wishing him a cheery "good morning!" before perching yourself down next to his files and asking him about his night.

he had never been one to talk to his co workers about his sex life, but sometimes he would make an exception, because at least he had stories to be telling, but recently, there hadn't been anything to tell.

the night that they got back from your very first case, the team had gone to the bar to celebrate, after everybody had left, he made his was to the bar for one final drink, and to choose his target for the night, however, his plans had been ruined, when he'd seen you, across the bar, talking to some guy. spencer held back a scoff, he was obviously an asshole, he was tall (yet, not quite as tall as him) and buff. you were clearly feeling uncomfortable, and he knew that you had had one too many, and you weren't in the right state of mind. he walked over, told you it was time to go home, and got you in his car.

you were asleep before he could ask for your address.

after fighting with himself a little, he eventually decided to take you back to his place, you took the bed, he took the couch.

after that night, he hadn't been able to be with anybody else, he hadn't wanted to be with anybody else.

"oh, you know, same old, what about you?" he responded.

"nothing much really, um.. I actually wanted to talk to you about something.." you told him

shit. now he was scared, had he done something to make you upset? had he made his feelings for you too clear and made you uncomfortable? had he-

"I uh- I noticed your spock pop figure on your desk, i've got the entire Star Trek box set at home... I was wondering if you might wanna come over? we can get something to eat, maybe get to know each other better?"

he didn't know what to say, this was y/n y/l/n, the girl he had been pining over for months, and she was asking him out? of course he wanted to say yes, that much was obvious, but he hadn't been in a real relationship since maeve, and even that didn't really count.

you were young, and so innocent, he was tainted, his hands were dirty, his mind haunted by the things he had done in prison, he didn't want to corrupt you.

you obviously took his silence as a no, and quickly jumped back in.

"if not that's totally fine too! I just thought it might be fun"

and just as he was about to politely reject you, he looked into your eyes.

innocent, yes. but there was something else, something that reminded him an awful lot of a feeling he had never truly felt. love. he knew then what he had to do.

"that sounds like fun, y/n, ill come over tonight at 6:00?" he responded with a smile.

"yes! yes! my address is 16 cornelia street, apartment 17."

"excellent, ill be there" he said

and he was.

at 5:57, he was waiting outside of your door, holding a bunch of flowers, and wearing an outfit he had spent far to long picking out. he knew it was a casual thing, and he knew you would just be staying home, so he decided to wear something he had never worn before. sweatpants. he had gone to the store to buy them immediately after work. along with a baggy Star Trek t shirt.

when he finally gathered up the courage to knock, you answered almost immediately, and he was speechless.

you looked beautiful, you were wearing a pair of white sweatpants along with a tight grey vest top, your hair was down, and you were wearing an adorable pair of bunny slippers.

when he finally snapped out of his trance, he stuck the flowers out in your direction with a quiet "these are for you"

your response came quickly, and with a smile "they're beautiful, spencer, thank you. I ordered chinese food, i hope that's alright" you said as you walked into the kitchen to find a vase.

not as beautiful as you. he wanted to say, but he settled for a shy nod and a smile instead.

after dinner, the two of you took a seat of your couch and began watching the first movie.

he wasn't satisfied.

he moved a little bit closer.

still wasnt enough.

he considered pulling out the cringey yawning trick, but decided against it, instead, deciding to touch your pinky with his own.

still, not quite enough.

towards the end of the first movie, you mored close enough so that you could put your had on his chest.

"is this okay?" you whispered, so quiet he could hardly hear you over the TV.

"more than okay" he whispered back, putting his arm around your shoulders to keep to close.

he realised, right there in that moment, that he was done with the girls, and the bars, this, right here, with you in his arms, was exactly where he was supposed to be.

A/N - OKAY!! the ending was slightly rushed, I'm sorry, but I'm very very tired and I have class tomorrow, but I wanted to get this done. if you liked it, let me know, send me requests if you want <3

#spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #first post #please dont bully me im trying

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blitzgamev · 2 years

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Happy four hundred and ninety-two months in limbo ghostbur :D

#big old forty-one years now for the ghost #its gonna be the final one i count wether merge is real or not #fun fact: thisll be going out at the time he died :d #i queued this 3 hours before the time #and with fun fact i mean im so fucking sad #i am shaking to my core about it ending todat #this is it. the final ghstbur count.#he (and i) made it to 41 years or 492 days or 16 ish months or a year and a quarter #its actually a third i just cant math in the sheer AAAAA im feeling rn #also a happy two yeard to pog2020 winner of my heart o7 #you will not believe how emotional i am about finally seeing the (good Prayge) ending of the blockman ive thought about nonstop for 2 years #i teared up at the second tag thats how bad it is #i will be sobbing whatever happens but i hope for future me and everyone else its Good (and Long)#i am so anxious right now feels like its nov 16th again in a good way but also i wanna Pace and not have it be today #it has been wonderful and a pleasure and all that good sappy stuff #goodbye to the live version of my lil lad the beloved cwilb #blitz the counter is out o7 #<- it feels so cringy to say all of this but i am in my feels and free #dsmp #shut up blitz

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covetyou · 8 months

Text

the best of the world in the palm of our hands

part 1 ⋆ part 2 ⋆ part 3 ⋆ part 4 ⋆ part 5

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) chapter warnings: dub con (reader is paying a debt), pussy spanking, unprotected PIV, fingering, oral (f receiving), cumplay, anal play (blink and you'll miss it), derogatory names (slut), drug reference, unspecified age gap, joel miller is a massive slut word count: 4.9k chapter summary: You find a way to pay your fathers debts

A/N: pussy spanking! lets go! you know the old saying, open mind open legs.

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song: damage gets done by Hozier

Your dad had been rationing his pain meds for months, barely taking one every two days now that the world had gone to shit and they were so much harder to come by - and so much more expensive as a result. Lean times were made leaner still by missed shifts and slow work, which meant for even fewer pills to ration out.

Eventually, you would listen, night after night, as he groaned and writhed in pain, meds long gone. Nights like that meant another missed shift, fewer ration cards, and the ever looming threat of debtors coming to collect on what was theirs.

That was the situation that had brought you here, to his door. Desperation, and a debt needing to be paid.

Your knock on the door sounds sharp in the silence of the hallway. You're in a "nicer" part of the QZ - the apartment block cleaner and less crammed full of bodies than others. Here there are fewer people to care, fewer people to see. Fewer people to hear you scream.

The door in front of you suddenly flies open and you wretch you head around, straightening your back. You'd told yourself you'd play it cool, but already you were failing.

Joel Miller, self appointed pharmacist, medication supplier, drug dealer, stands before you. He's tall and broad, taking up almost the entire doorway as he rests one hand on top of the frame. He ticks one hip to the side and tucks his fingers through his belt loops.

You'd seen him from a distance, people pointing with whispers of "that's him", but never up close. Flecks of gray dance around the scruff on his jaw, his dark brown eyes wrinkling as he assesses you. The firm expanse of him so much more intimidating from this distance, you square yourself before you speak.

"I -" you begin, but he immediately cuts you off.

"I don't do business in the hallway," he drawls. "This is business, right?" he quirks a dark eyebrow at you.

You nod, all words snatched from your brain. You'd never heard him before - his southern drawl sounding cocky as he sizes you up, standing meek and mild in the corridor.

"S'always business. Come in then, sweetheart," he says, barely moving his body from blocking the doorway for you to squeeze past him. You push yourself against the door frame as much as possible so you don't drag your body along his.

The living room of his apartment is bigger than the entire place you share with your father. As far as you can tell, Joel lives here alone.

The door slams shut behind you, and heavy footsteps walk past you. Joel picks up a bottle and a single glass, pouring himself two fingers of whisky before setting the bottle back down and taking a sip. You knew you would be vulnerable, coming here alone, but you hadn't taken into account feeling trapped.

"So, what y'here for?"

"M-my dad, he's -"

"I know who your dad is, sweetheart. Seen you together. He owes me. Ain't heard from him in a few weeks. I asked what you're here for, not about your dad."

"Yeah," you nod, trying to feign confidence, "Yeah well, that's why I'm here. He needs more medicine."

"What I gave him weren't medicine, it ain't fixin' shit. I gave him pain relief. That's it."

"Well, he needs more. He's out, and he's hurting, and he can't work - " you ramble, but he cuts you off again.

"Now, sweetheart," he raises a finger to stop you. "I don't see why I should be giving you, or him, anythin'. I owe you nothin', and from where I'm standing, you're the one who owes me. Two weeks worth, right?"

Your eyes go wide. You were hoping he'd make it easier than this - go easy on you because you were a girl and you were here alone. You were hoping to play on his heartstrings, but you were starting to realise that maybe he didn't have one.

His glass thunks down on the table.

He circles you like a predator circles its prey, looking you up and down, assessing for weakness. You stare straight ahead, unwavering as possible.

He stops in front of you, tall and foreboding, before tilting your chin up with a single finger.

"You got the cards for that?"

You shake your head no.

He clicks his tongue, smiles, and says, "That's a damn shame". You have a feeling he doesn't think that at all.

"Dad's been hurting too much, he can't work, we haven't been able to get the cards, I've been trying I - "

"Looks like you'll have to do then," he shrugs, crossing his arms across his broad chest as he leans back against his dining table. "Show me what you can pay me with."

You'd never done this before - well, that was a bit of a lie. You'd done something like this, once, before, with someone else, someone different, someone who probably couldn't hurt you in the ways the massive figure of Joel Miller could hurt you.

You take two small steps toward him, and move to lower to your knees - you'd heard men like him accepted this mode of "payment" all the time - but he grabs your arm in one giant hand before you can make your descent.

You balk at him, "Wha - "

"I don't want a half-hearted blow job, sweetheart," he licks his lips and his thick fingers tug at the hem of your too big t-shirt. "Why don't you take this off. Show me what you can pay me with."

The implication was clear - he didn't want anything you could give him, but you had plenty he could take. Your breath hitches, but you don't let yourself hesitate for long.

Swallowing thickly, you yank your t-shirt over your head and dump it on the floor beside you in one swift action. You're painfully aware that your bra is the least flattering thing you could possibly be wearing - it's soft and old and entirely shapeless, but you weren't expecting to be stripping off for him. You shouldn't even care what he thinks of you but it'd been so long since anyone had seen your bare skin that even this twisted exchange felt like you should've made more of an effort.

You stare directly ahead, not daring to meet his eyes as heat flares in your cheeks. He stalks back to the table and picks up his whisky. You watch him raise it to his lips before he notices you looking. You haven't moved.

He's on you in an instant, grabbing your face, squeezing your cheeks with force as he directs your eyes to his. The heat still burns through your face, but you feel it start to snake traitorously down your spine.

"I said, show me or do you want me to fuckin' rip the rest off you."

Nodding, you scramble to remove the rest of your clothing. It's not sexy, why fucking would it be, and you fumble with the buttons on your pants longer than you'd like, but eventually you're stood entirely nude for him in his apartment.

A puff of air huffs out if his nose and his face twitches as he appraises you like some kind of show cattle. You don't know if he likes what he sees, but that traitorous drip of warmth down your spine hopes that he does. You can trick yourself into thinking it's because he might go easier on you if he likes you, but the longer you stand there under his gaze the more you don't want him to go easy on you.

"You are a pretty thing," he says, rubbing the scruff of his beard. "I think you got just the thing I need to let your dad off the hook, don't you? Might even throw something else in to sweeten the deal if you're extra good." He strokes your hair, and you try to hold back a shudder of arousal. Maybe he'll think it's fear, and maybe it is. Maybe it's both.

"How's that sound?" he prompts as he laces his fingers through your hair and tugs.

You look at his face, his eyes are dark, darker than before, the way he's looking at you makes that traitorous drip into a flood. "Okay."

He wordlessly grunts as he tugs your hair some more and pushes you toward a door on the otherside of the room, making you walk ahead of him.

Even with his hand in your hair, guiding you, your feet move of their own accord. You want to object, refuse, but you can't. You want this. You want a man like Joel - big, protective, in control - to pay you any attention. Whatever the cost.

One final nudge of your head and you stumble into the room as he releases you.

His bedroom is sparse, as expected. Interior decor went to shit with the end of the world, and Joel didn't seem like the kind of man who would've cared about that before anyway.

You stand at the foot of his bed looking down at your toes as they bunch and un-bunch in the carpet. You hear him come in and close the door. If you weren't trapped before you definitely are now. You don't look up at him, you can't, so your eyes remain fixed at your feet when his step into view.

"You ready to get on the bed for me, sweetheart?" His hand strokes gently across the swell of your breast as he talks to you. It's the first time he's really touched you and the flood down your spine has now gathered into a slick pool between your legs.

You do as you're asked sitting on the edge of his bed, feeling even smaller now as he towers over you. You could have been 8 feet tall and still felt small and vulnerable in this moment, Joel Miller cascading above you fully clothed.

A large hand rests on your shoulder, a gentle pressure pushing you to fall back to the mattress below.

"You lay back now. Relax."

You try not to scoff but you can't help it.

"Ain't goin' to hurt you. What good would that do me. I like my customers alive."

You take a deep breath and try to steady yourself with your back flush to the mattress, looking at him as he still hulks above you. You can do this. He'll just... take what he wants. And you'll let him. Then you'll be on your way.

He's still standing above you as he directs you. "Good girl. Now open your legs for me. Lemme see."

You take another deep breathe, hold, and exhale, opening your legs for him just a fraction.

"I'm a patient man, sweetheart, but when I tell you to do something, you fuckin' do it," he growls as he kicks your legs open further. You spread them even wider, wanting to keep on his good side. You're completely exposed and bare for him now. Everything is on display and he still towers over you, looking down at your naked form on his bed.

"Fuckin' beautiful," you think you hear him mutter as he moves to a crouch between your spread thighs. You hold your breath, tensing and try not to clamp your legs shut at his inspection.

"I'm just lookin', sweetheart," Fingers rub calming circles over the softness of your thighs and your legs twitch.

"Keep your fuckin' legs spread," he says with a sharp slap to your thigh. Gasping at the shock, you push your legs to spread as wide as they can. You feel obscene, so open for him and his hand strokes the spot he'd just struck, soothing it.

You were beginning to see how this would go - do exactly as he said and he'd be gentle. Disobey, or be slow on the uptake (patient man my ass) and you'd soon feel the sting of punishment. The thought of that makes you clench around nothing, and you curse under your breath as it's surely now drawn attention to just how wet you are.

You stare up at his yellowed ceiling and hear a chuckle from between your legs - he definitely fucking knows. You don't dare to look down, you just want him to get on with it, until suddenly fingers come dangerously close to your sex and pull you apart, spreading your bare cunt even more for him.

"Well, you're a pretty little thing," he says to your pussy.

The fingers, his thumbs you realise, massage up and down the sides of you, avoiding any direct touch to your folds, but massaging the flesh in such a delicious way that you can't help but feel it right where you need it most.

Joel hums as he moves to his knees, getting closer to your spread cunt, still rubbing his thumbs up and down the sides of you, gradually moving closer and closer to the center of your sex until he's dragging the tips of both thumbs through your wetness and up to the sides of your clit.

You take another deep breath and try to muffle your whimpers with pursed lips, trying to hold back a moan.

"She's likin' that," you hear the amusement in his voice, "I wonder if she'll like this." He moves one of his slicked thumbs directly above your clit and begins to gently stroke. Your hips jerk, unsure if it's toward or away from the pressure of his thumb.

"Oh, she does," and he applies more pressure, circling torturously around your nub as his other hand continues to explore your folds in gentle strokes, parting your opening with two fingers occasionally to see the wetness gathering there, to see how ready for him you are.

"You ever touch yourself like this?" he's talking to you again now, not your cunt.

"N-no," you stutter, as his thumb keeps its languid pace on your clit.

"You don't touch yourself? Y'look well old enough to have done this before."

"No, I-I do, just... not. Not like this."

Joel hesitates for just a moment, fingers stilling, before continuing on. "You like it though." It's not a question. "Tell me how you touch yourself." That wasn't either.

"I don't - I. Fuck," you hiss. You try to relax your grip on the sheets, but his rough thumb on your clit is distractingly good. "I - rub," you pant out.

"With fingers?"

"No," you squeeze your eyes shut. You can't say you expected much from this visit, but telling a stranger how you get yourself off in the dark of the night definitely was not on your list.

"Againstapillow," you mumble, a soft moan being pulled from shortly after as he increases the frequency of his circles on your clit.

"So you're a sweet girl whose sweet pussy only knows soft things?" he hums in thought. "Anything ever been in here?" his index finger circles around your opening, slick now dribbling out of you and being spread around by his thick finger. You must glisten.

You gulp down a sigh. "I'm not a virgin, if that's what you're getting at."

"That's good," he chuckles. "Can't imagine you'd want your first to be like this. Of course a pretty little slut like you has had somethin' in here before." His finger circles more around your hole, barley dipping inside as his well practiced thumb swipes firmly over your swollen clit.

Two thick fingers suddenly plunge into your dripping cunt with ease, stretching you. You pull back with the shock, trying to shuffle up the bed and away at the sudden intrusion, pulling his fingers from you. His hands grip your thighs, anchoring you down and pulling you back toward him.

"Did I say you could fuckin' move?" You shake your head. You didn't even mean to move. It felt good, it shouldn't feel fucking good, you were just surprised.

slap

You hear it before you feel it - a wide hand colliding bluntly with your exposed cunt, sending a sharp stinging, buzzing sensation straight back up your spine. You think your brain shuts off entirely for a second before you gasp for air.

"I know you wanna be good for me. You wanna do right by your sick old dad, right? Help him out of a tough spot?"

His entire palm engulfs your mound with ease, covering you completely as he massages his fingers side to side, easing the sting and jerking your clit in a way that has you rolling your hips and biting back a moan.

"Try getting away again and I'll give your worse than that," you push your pelvis toward him at his words. You really try not to be obvious in your disappointment, you want to be good, but you want it. You want worse. And you know he knows. "But be a good girl and I'll give you exactly what you want. That's why you're here, ain't it?"

Before you can answer he delivers several quick light smacks to your bare pussy. Not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough send the vibrations through you and straight to your struck clit. He removes his hand to look at your quickly reddening pussy before returning to smack you some more. You gasp, trying desperately to keep still and not moan at the building sensation he's pulling from you - you shouldn't be enjoying any of it at all, let alone this, but fuck you are. There's nothing violent about the way his hand is striking your naked cunt, the light slaps against you turning you on, zinging through you like a tuning fork being tapped on a hard edge.

You hear another laugh from between your legs.

"You've only been givin' it to her soft, sweetheart, when she's just crying out to have it rough."

He spanks your pussy again, this time you can't help the moan that escapes you, your back arching into his quick slap slap slap against your cunt. The speed of his palm slows, but the force increases, drawing obscene noises from you with each blow.

"Uh," the breath huffs out of you with each firm smack to your swollen cunt.

His hand pulls off of you and he spreads you wide again before a warm wet sensation draws up from your fluttering hole to your tender clit in a broad stroke. He's soothing your pussy with soft licks when he latches onto your clit and suckles gently before pulling back to look up at you.

"I like 'em pink like this," he mumbles around your clit, "You're bein' so good takin' it for me."

He's holding your thighs obscenely wide as his tongue lathes your clit, wrenching you open as you wiggle beneath him. You are so close, on the absolute precipice and moments from tipping over the edge, when he pulls from you completely, spreading your cunt open with an his thumbs for inspection once more. The man fucking loves looking at you.

"Look at her twitchin'. I think she likes being spread wide for me, look how wet she is." He dives in for another broad lick, slurping as he goes.

"It's just dripping outa you," he breathes. You feel the warm trickle of wetness drip its well worn path from your pussy and down between the cleft of your cheeks. His finger trails it, and you take in a sharp pull of air when the pad of his finger strokes your tight asshole, spreading your slick across it and causing your legs to twitch closed a fraction once again.

slap. You feel the sting and its aftershocks buzz through you before you hear it. "Keep 'em," slap, "fuckin'," slap, "open!" He soothes your pussy with his full hand again and you moan into him, fisting the sheets at your sides.

"Won't go there today. But don't think I'll be feelin' so generous next time." Next time. He rubs and squeezes your pussy, and you rock your hips into his palm, desperate for more anything.

"You likin' this?" he murmurs, his words almost sounds tender -

- Until another slap rings against your bare sodden skin.

"Answer me."

"Y-Yes!" you gasp out with the next spank to your oversensitive cunt. "Yes, please - I - fuck - please I need to -" slap slap slap slap

Your mind goes blank as a series of slaps are delivered straight to your pussy. A groan is pulled deep from your chest and you spread your legs more for him, pushing into his palm as it rains its gentle smacks down onto you.

"You're goin' to come, ain't you?" he growls out, his smacks getting quicker.

You nod frantically, so fucking close, you shouldn't be so close from this but you are. You're just about to beg for something more, anything more, when the smacks against your pussy get even quicker, and quicker, until he's rubbing frantically at your clit, so swollen from his attention that you practically scream at the sensitivity.

Your orgasm tears through you, drawing a deep guttural sound right from your belly. Your back arches, your dripping hole so neglected as it grips around nothing.

"Fuck," he grinds out from below you, stuffing two fingers quickly into your pussy to feel you grip around them as you rock through your orgasm. You can't see him do it, white blaring across your vision, but you hear the hiss of his breath as he pulls his cock out from his pants.

You whine when he pulls his fingers from your cunt, stroking himself with the slickness of you. He stands and presses himself between your legs, hot and heavy.

"You want it here?" he says, grinding the heft of his cock against your spent cunt. "'Cause you're making a mess, drippin' all over my sheets without me to plug you up." You're in a daze as you nod, still floating from the intensity of your orgasm as you stare dumbstruck at his rock hard length for the first time. It's so big.

It's too big.

"W-wait, it's too bi- "

"Fuckin' look. Watch as I fuck this into you sweetheart," he growls as he feeds the tip of his cock into you anyway, the solid width of him stretching more than you have ever been before, but your wetness letting him slide right in. He fucks the tip in and out, and you watch him do it.

In previous years you'd had nothing more than clumsy fumbles with men, some drunken, but most just uncaring one night stands with promises of more. There was never more. One way or another you were being used, but this time, and for the first time, you could call it what it was. There was no illusion of care here as Joel took what he wanted and made you watch.

And you liked that. You liked being used by him. You liked letting him do anything he wanted to you.

"I want you to watch her swallow me darlin'. Keep your eyes right there," he pushes his hips forward, the pressure of him filling you immense, and he groans as your cunt gives way to him and swallows him whole. "There she goes. Such a good little pussy for me."

"Keep lookin'," he groans again as he retreats from you only to fuck his full length back inside of you in one swift movement, "You look or I send you out of here jus' like this. See how the locals treat a naked slut in broad daylight."

Your cunt pulses with the threat, and Joel notices. He cocks his brows at you, still relentlessly fucking into you. "Oh, she likes that. You like bein' a slut, huh?"

Fuck yes, you want to scream, but instead you nod meekly, still watching him fuck you, obsessed with the sight of his cock disappearing into you over and over again.

"Good fuckin' girl."

Never once does he lean down to steal a kiss, or swipe his tongue across your bare nipple. You're naked for him but he does nothing with it except pound into your flesh, using your cunt to get himself off. His eyes flit between where he's disappearing into you and your eyes, watching with a sneer as they roll back into your head with each knock to your cervix.

"Fuu-uuck." He's hammering into you now, hips smoothly pounding your pelvis, when he grabs one of your arms and flips you onto your side, pushing your knee up so high it's practically by your ear. He slams back into the hilt again, rocking you back as you moan out wantonly around his cock.

From this angle his cock drags across you in ways you've never felt. You'd seen trees being felled as a kid, a wedge being hammered into a cut far too small to fit. You felt like you were being split, just like those trees.

"Ah - uh, I, Joel, please, I -" tears are in your eyes from how good it feels, the dull throb of the impact into your cervix melting your insides.

Joel brings one of his legs up beside you on the bed, the other planted firmly on the floor, giving himself leverage to fuck so deep and hard into you that the air is knocked out of you for a moment. When you can finally take another breath, you're screaming for him, your pussy creaming around him from the endless pounding.

The sloppy wet sounds of your cunt accepting his battering over and over are eventually taken overby moans being ripped from your throat. His belt rattles about his waist with each smack of his hips into yours, you can feel the metal of his buckle, bitingly cold against your skin.

"That's it - fuck - you just fuckin' take - it. You take this cock." You can feel his balls draw up and his cock twitch inside you as he gets close to bursting. He fucks you relentlessly anyway, desperately holding back as long as he can, until he can hold no more.

He drags his cock sharply from your used cunt, throwing you back onto your back on his mattress. His large hand grips his cock and he jerks it over you.

"Oh fuck yeah, fuck yeah," he's practically chanting as he jerks himself, letting out a deep stuttery groan when he finally comes, spurting hot cum all over your soft thighs, belly, chest.

He doesn't aim, he doesn't care where he gets it, the action more akin to a dog pissing on a tree to mark its territory than anything else.

The only noise in the room when Joel's shoulders finally relax are your twin heavy breaths, punctuated by light whines that you just can't help. You're so overstimulated that when his hand comes down to your thigh, you don't realize that he's smearing his cum into you until he's rubbing it into your belly, spreading it across the peaks of your tits, up your neck and across your cheek.

He gives you a light tap on the face. "Look at me," he says, swiping a come coated finger across your lips. You're entirely fucked out, all you can do is look dumbly at him, totally cockdrunk.

"What do you say?"

"I... wha-..." you know what he means when he raises his eyebrows threateningly once again. "Th-thank you."

"That's right."

Suddenly he's yanking you up into a seated position and the blood rushes to your head. Another tug, the world spins, and you're on your feet, but you can barely trust your legs. He drags you from the room and before you know it your own clothes are in your arms, the remains of his come dribbling down your body.

"Get dressed," he stands with his arms crossed, looking at you, expectant.

You stare for a moment, totally lost in his dark eyes, before moving to get your clothes back on. You are still covered in his come, your pussy still buzzing from his spanking. At some point, he tucked his cock back into his pants. You didn't even notice, and you try to push down the disappointment of not getting to see it one last time.

Pulling your clothes back on with skin sticky from sweat and come isn't easy, but you eventually manage. When you stuff your feet into your shoes, he grabs you by the arm and drags you toward the door, unlatching it and pushing you toward the exit.

"I'll consider your debt paid," he murmurs into your hair from behind, pushing you out of his apartment a second later.

"Oh and, catch," he throws something to you but you miss, barely even turning in time at his words. It rattles as it hits the ground. Pills.

"Told you I'd give you something if you were good." Confirmation that you were good for him is all you need to feel another gush of wetness between your thighs. You feel like you could come again from his words and the rough feeling of your panties against your abused cunt.

"What do you say?" he asks again.

"Thank you."

He smirks before closing the door in your face.

You lick your lips as you walk away down the empty corridor tasting Joel Miller for the first time, pills in hand and debt paid.

He never even kissed you.

next part

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#joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #pedro pascal characters #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller/reader #fic: SWAT #coveted fics

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latenightdaydreams · 27 days

Note

I have an idea that Konig was kicked out of his old apartment because his last deployment was last for years and he decided to find another place to rent a share apartment. When he opened his new apartment's door to move in, reader accidently greeted him with the biggest squirt in his life that he's ever seen =)))) (like reader didn't know he'd move in that day)

I love it, a great way to start off a new lease😈

Roommates (fem)

MDNI🔞

Master List

Part 2

>cw: fem/afab, masturbation

1.5k word count

Coming back after four years of being deployed, he was greeted with a huge pile of mail. Plopping his body in his desk chair, he began to look for a new place to live. That when he finds you listing. Pets are okay, no smoking, and only one other roommate. The apartment was in a nice area too. Without going to look at the place, König messaged the tenant to apply for the available room.

When you posted the ad, you didn’t add that you’re a woman. You didn’t want people applying just to be creeps or to get harassed. When König’s application comes in, you think it sounds too good to be true. Older man, no pets, doesn’t smoke, is military so he would be deployed for months at a time, maybe years, and willing to divide the rent 40/60, him covering the larger half, since he said he is paid well. It was an incentive König was hoping would help inspire you and make you pick him since the spot was perfect for what he needs.

Flipping back and forth between König’s application and this woman your age, you feel torn. The woman would make a fun roommate, but she is a struggling artist and you don’t want to be put in a situation where you’re paying full rent WITH a roommate.

König on the other hand, while he is a man, will be gone most of the time and is willing to pay more meaning you’d be able to set aside money and finally save some. It’s a selfish reason, but times are hard right now.

You send back a response message to König to tell him that he’s got the room. You send him the move-in date and where to pick up the key. Instantly you get a message back saying he will be about a week late to move in but will send you the money now. You phone chimes and you see your Venmo with his portion of the rent. Feeling like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders, you go back to cleaning up the apartment.

Two weeks pass and König gets back from his mission a week earlier than expected. He walks past the boxes of his belongings stacked along the wall of his office. His shoulders slumped over, exhausted from all of his recent travels. He sits at his desk, pulling off his sniper hood and opens up the email with all of the information about his new living situation. Leaning back, he lets out a deep sigh and looks at the time. Figuring it was too late he decided to wait until tomorrow to move in.

The next morning you wake up a little after 9am and make yourself breakfast. You check your emails to see if there has been any word from König. Nothing. After you eat breakfast you sit on the living room couch, wasting time. Since today is your day off you planned on getting some chores done, but you have other things on your mind.

Quickly, you stand from the couch and go to your room. Opening up your underwear drawer you grab a black bag of goodies. You open it up and pull out your favorite silicon toy before going to the kitchen sink to wash. The hot guy from your commute to work everyday comes to mind as you begin to daydream about him naked, kissing you, touching you, fucking you...

Drying off your dildo and walking back to the living room couch, you pull the throw blanket from the back of your couch and lay it down as a makeshift towel. You pull down your pants and underwear before laying back on the couch. Your fingers go to gently rub your clit while you close your eyes and begin to day dream.

Him kissing your neck lightly as his fingers circle your clit, leg twitching as you moan to him. His fingers slowly inching lower and pushing into your tight little cunt. His fingers pumping in and out quickly as he moves his lips to yours; his mouth devouring your moans. His other hand moves to your breast and begins to lightly tug at your nipple.

You open your eyes for a second and remove your fingers from your cunt and rub your arousal on the blanket underneath you. Moving your hand from your breast, you reach over and grab your dildo from the coffee table. You move yourself so you can get more comfortable, rubbing your dildo over your wet folds. Letting out a sigh, you lean back and close your eyes again.

His naked body looms over you as he rubs his erection over your wet little pussy. His hand reaches back out and begins to rub your nipple.

“You ready y/n?”

You let out a soft yes before he shoves his cock inside of you slowly, inch by inch. He begins to thrust into you quickly, the sound of your loud moans filling the room. His hand moving off of your breast so he can fuck you quicker. You reach out gripping the bedsheets and pulling them as your legs begin to tremble from his cock hitting your g-spot over and over…

König decided to only grab his duffle bag full of clothes and a few boxes for his first trip. He will be off the next few days so he has time to go back and grab his stuff, take his time moving in. He walks out to his SUV and loads up the trunk with five boxes. Sitting down, he puts the address into his GPS and begins to take off.

The building was nice, there was a park nearby and it was 40 minutes from base. That gave him a sense of privacy. He parks his SUV at the front, pulls his sniper hood off, and walks inside to go to the building manager. He welcomes König and hands him the key to the apartment that you left for him two weeks ago.

“Danke.” König takes the key and begins to walk back to his SUV to grab two boxes.

Apartment 304. König walks up the stairs and gets to his floor. He looks around the hall, doors with cute welcoming mats and small seasonal decorations giving the complex a nice homely vibe.

Your eyes still closed and hand behind your head holding on to the couch cushion as your legs are spread wide open. Your 7-inch dildo moving quickly in and out of you as you moan out, but quietly enough that the neighbors can’t hear. One of your feet moves to the coffee table to spread your legs open even more, back arching as you get close to release.

König gets to the front door, holding his boxes in one arm as he opens the front door. He hears your moans and the sound of the dildo in your pussy before you begin to squirt. His eyes glued to your pussy as he watches the impressive stream leaving you. His jaw drops and he accidently drops one of the boxes. He looks down at the box and then back up at you to see you open your eyes and look at him.

You freeze as you realize your door is open and a giant man is just standing there. You assume it’s König, but he wasn’t supposed to be here for another week. You feel as if your heart is going to explode. Your face is hot with embarrassment. Before anyone can say anything, you pull your dildo out, get up and run to the bedroom.

König stands there looking at the wet spot on the blanket and the wet mess on the floor. Your pants and underwear tossed onto the other end of the couch. He takes a deep breath and picks up the box on the ground before walking further into the apartment. He closes the door behind him and just stands there awkwardly with a boner.

You’re in your room dying of embarrassment. You don’t know what to do, you can’t face him now. Not after that. You put on underwear and pants to open your door and yell out.

“Your bedroom is the last room down the hall to the left!” Thankfully on the other side of the apartment from yours.

“Okay, thank you!” He yells back.

He walks towards his room, his eyes lingering on the mess you left behind for a moment. Finally, he makes it to his bedroom door. He opens it to see a queen size bed and two dressers. The window is letting in the bright sun. He drops his boxes on the floor and sits on the bed, looking around the room for a while.

He can’t stop replaying the scene of you squirting over and over in his mind. His hand wandered to his boner instinctively. You’re his new roommate, he doesn’t want to start the relationship off by jerking off to you. Yet, he can’t seem to stop himself as he unzips his pants and pulls them down enough to release his cock. He closes his eyes and replays your sounds and the moment over and over as he strokes his cock.

Part 2

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surftrips · 5 months

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Maybe you could do single dad jj maybank he’s in college and has to do a project with the reader and has to bring the baby with them and they bond and start to hang out a lot then they start to date also maybe she’s a single mom I feel like that would be like a unique thing

thank you so much for this request! i hope you don't mind that i switched it up a bit (and got carried away lol) but reader is the single mom here and her and jj have known each other their whole lives :)

when you know, you know

pairing: jj maybank x reader

summary: y/n needs a babysitter and jj is the only person available.

word count: 3.5k

"Okay, I understand. Thanks, anyway," you sighed, running your hands through your hair and hanging up the phone. Your babysitter had just canceled on you, and the timing could not have been worse.

You had been planning this night for months. Between your classes, a part-time job, and taking care of your 2-year-old Margo, it was nearly impossible to schedule anything. But you desperately needed a night out and your friend Emma had so kindly offered to set you up on a blind date.

You scrolled through your contacts list, looking for anyone that was sober on a Friday night, a seemingly impossible task. Glancing at the time, you realized that you only had an hour left to find a babysitter and get ready.

As panic set in, you received a text from the P4L groupchat.

JJ: Wtw tonight?

Not now JJ, you thought.

Y/N: Trying to find a babysitter, mine just canceled :/

Kie: Oh no, Y/N!! I'm so sorry :(

Cleo: Sorry babes, I totally wouldd but I already lost count of how many drnks I've had 2nite xxx

JJ: Wait, you guys went out already?

Sarah: JJ, we told you it's a girls night.

JJ: In that case, Y/N, I'll watch Margo!

Absolutely not, was your first thought. JJ Maybank was probably the last person you wanted to take care of your child, he was practically one himself.

Besides, since you had Margo, he was always acting weird around you. Before, you two would hang out all the time, but now he only saw you if there was another person there as a buffer. He hardly visited or called, but you were so preoccupied with raising a baby on your own that you hadn't had a chance to talk to him about it.

In the beginning, people assumed it was his baby you were pregnant with, but you never crossed that line because your friendship meant the world to each other. He was the first person you told when you found out you were going to be a mother, and you remember how excited he was for you. It was hard to believe how distant he had become, and you wondered why he had volunteered himself tonight.

You assessed the situation: you hadn't gone out in nearly two years, and who knew when the next opportunity would be? You sighed, hardly believing the words you were about to type on your phone.

Y/N: Ok. How soon can you be here?

Y/N: You better be sober, JJ.

You turned your phone off before the others could protest, knowing that half of them were drunk anyway.

"Uncle JJ is going to come over and watch you tonight, okay? Mommy is going to be gone for just a few hours," you said to your daughter, picking her up and placing her in your eye line so you could do your makeup.

"Jay Jay?" she repeated.

"Yes, honey," you smiled, trying to reassure her, or yourself. Out of all the pogues, Kiara and Sarah babysat Margo the most. She had probably only met JJ a handful of times and you worried about how well she would do with him alone.

As if he could read your mind, your phone began ringing and you looked over to see his face on your screen.

"JJ, please don't tell me you're canceling too."

"What? Oh, no, it's not that. I was just wondering if you needed me to bring anything for Margo?"

"Oh," you relaxed. "Hmmm, I think we have everything we need here. But thank you for asking, JJ."

"Of course," you could hear him smiling on the other line. "You know, thanks for letting me watch Margo. I've been meaning to visit her more."

"JJ, you know you're weren't my first choice," you teased. "But yeah, of course. Thanks, I owe you."

You hung up the phone, thoughts from earlier creeping back into your mind. You always assumed that the baby scared JJ away, but sometimes you couldn't help but wonder if there was something more going on.

However, now was not the time for you to be thinking about this, considering that you now had 30 minutes left until your date showed up and you had yet to pick out a dress.

"Hmmmm, let's see. Any suggestions, Margo?" you asked your daughter, combing through your closet for something appropriate. You settled on a short black dress with a boat neck, and black knee high boots to go along with it.

"What do we think, sweetie?" you smiled at Margo.

"Pretty!" she clapped her small hands together.

"Why, thank you, baby. Come on, let's go see if Uncle JJ is here yet," you picked her up and checked your phone for any notifications.

Blind Date: Be there in 5! :)

Crap, you thought. Where is JJ?

You shot back a confirmation for your date and looked out the window for any sign of JJ. You weren't sure if he was biking over or he had borrowed the Twinkie, but there was no sign of anyone outside.

Growing anxious, you gathered Margo's favorite toys and books into the living room and tidied up your apartment to pass the time.

Exactly 5 minutes later, the doorbell rang. You smoothed down your dress and checked your hair in the mirror one last time. Putting on your best smile, you went to open the door.

"Hi–" you started. "Oh, it's you."

"Come on, that's what I get for dropping everything and saving your ass?" JJ responded.

"Sorry, weren't you the one with no plans on a Friday?"

"You know, I can just turn around right now-"

"Stop!" you pleaded. "Okay, sorry, I've been anxious about this all day and I just want to get back to Margo as fast as I can."

"Relax, Y/N. I'm here now," he took in your appearance. "You look great, by the way."

The last time he saw you remotely dressed up like this was prom night.

You couldn't help but blush, looking around for Margo to hide your face. "Margo, look who it is!"

"Jay Jay!" she babbled.

"Oh my god, she knows my name!" JJ replied, looking a little perplexed.

"You know what, I'm surprised too considering she's only met you, like, four times," you said.

"Alright, you're no fun," he looked at you as you traded your daughter over to his arms. "Miss Margo and I here are going to have the time of our lives. Aren't we?"

He tickled her, causing her to giggle. She seemed so comfortable in his arms, you wondered why you were ever worried in the first place.

"Thanks again for doing this, I know we haven't talked in a while-" you started.

"So, where's the lucky guy?" he interrupted you.

"Uhh," you looked over at the clock. "He said he would be here by now."

"Late to the first date? That's a red flag, Y/N."

"As if you're not a walking red flag, JJ. What did you get here on? Your bike?"

"Hey! I refurbished that bike all on my own! It takes a lot of skill to do that."

Just then, the doorbell rang. You rushed to open the door, a smile plastered on your face again.

"Hey! You must be Emma's friend! I'm Tom." he greeted you with a hug and a bouquet of flowers. "I'm sorry for being late, I went to get these flowers for you and was distracted by the girl scouts selling cookies outside. I had to support them, you know?"

"Oh, no worries! Yes, how can you say no to them?" you laughed softly. You took the flowers from him and went to place them on the table closest to you, beckoning him to come in.

"Tom, this is one of my friends, JJ. He's babysitting my daughter, Margo, while we're gone," you said.

"Ah! What a pleasure," Tom went over to shake JJ's hand and politely wave at your daughter. "I promise not to keep your mom out too late tonight."

"That's right, need her back before midnight," JJ remarked.

You playfully pushed him in response, grabbing your keys. "Alright, you have my number so please call me if you need anything. Bye Margo, mommy loves you!"

With that, you and Tom headed outside and into his car.

On the drive over to the restaurant, you learned that Tom was a psychologist, he liked to cook, and reality TV shows were his guilty pleasure. At the restaurant, which was a higher-end place near the water, he pulled out your chair for you.

"I hope this place is okay, I wasn't sure what kind of food you liked so I thought somewhere nicer would be safe," he said.

"Oh, this is perfect. Don't even worry about it," you smiled. "I haven't had a proper night out in so long, I wouldn't have minded if you took me to a burger joint."

He laughed, "Margo is adorable, by the way. How old is she?"

"She's 2," you said. Then, feeling the need to clarify, "I had her when I was 20, at the beginning of my junior year in college."

"I see, how was that? How did you manage classes?" You were surprised at his demeanor, half-expecting him to judge you or run in the opposite direction any second now, but his inquisition was genuine.

"Well, I could still go to classes during the first trimester, but it got more difficult after that so I took a leave of absence. I'm taking night classes now because I work in the mornings."

"Oh nice, what degree are you going for?"

"English, I want to be a teacher," you explained.

"My mom was a teacher," he smiled. "What age do you want to teach?"

"Oh no way! I want to teach elementary school kids. Everyone always tells me how hard it will be, but raising Margo... I don't love anything more than that."

"That's really sweet, are you close with your family?"

You paused, trying to figure out how to answer the question. "Depends on who you consider my family, I guess," you laughed awkwardly. "I'm not close with my parents, but my friends? Those are the most important people in my life."

He smiled, "I understand. I'm glad you have a support system, being a single mother can be hard."

"Yeah, I'm super grateful. Actually, my babysitter for tonight canceled last-minute and JJ came to the rescue. I don't know what I would've done without him."

Tom's smile faltered for an unnoticeable second. "How long have you known him for?"

"JJ? My whole life, probably. I can't imagine a time when he wasn't by my side. He was there for me throughout my entire pregnancy, but after..." you trailed off.

"After...?"

"Afterwards," you hesitated, not wanting to bad-mouth your friend. "I guess he started to distance himself more, I think Margo scared him away honestly."

"You think it was Margo and nothing else?"

"What do you mean?"

"I just mean," he sighed. "Do you think there could be any other reason why he would be so supportive of you before and not after you had Margo?"

"I-I'm not sure. I haven't had much time to think about it, I guess."

"You want my opinion?" Tom asked. You searched his face for any sign of spitefulness, but came up empty.

"I saw the way he looked at you and Margo, earlier. That boy is not scared of either of you. In fact, all I saw was love. Did you ever think he’s grappling with those feelings?”

"His feelings? For me?" It was not the first time you thought about it, but it was the first time you heard it verbalized.

"Yes, I know I sound crazy, but seriously, Y/N, what other reason could there be to explain his behavior?"

You racked your brain for all the possible explanations. Tom had a point, if JJ had feelings for you at some point in your friendship, or still does, he might feel the need to distance himself to protect you.

"Why are you telling me all this?"

"I told you, I'm a psychologist. I notice these things," he smiled.

"Is this how all of your first dates go?" you laughed.

"Not all of them, but I’ll admit, a few are like this. But tell me, am I wrong to assume there was something more going on between you two before you got pregnant?"

You sighed, "No, you're not wrong. Our feelings for each other were a truth that neither of us wanted to confront. We were young, we didn't want to be tied down, it was college. But he was always there, by my side, through everything. Of course, I loved him."

"Well, there you go. There's your answer."

Tom dropped you off around midnight. You assured him that there was no need to walk you to your door, you both knew that you needed to have a conversation with JJ.

"Thank you again for tonight, we seriously need to meet up again," you said, before shutting your door.

"Absolutely, I'll give you the address to my office," he joked.

You turned the key into your door as quietly as possible, in case JJ was also asleep with Margo. Inside, the lights were off and you pulled out your phone flashlight to search for him.

You went into Margo's room first, seeing that she was fast asleep in her crib. "Hi baby," you whispered. "Where's Uncle JJ?"

After making sure she was tucked in properly, you turned to go into your bedroom. Sure enough, there was JJ, fast asleep in your bed.

You couldn't help but smile, recalling memories from high school when you two would have sleepovers. Being sure to keep quiet, you changed into your pajamas and got ready for bed.

Trying your best to not wake up JJ, you pulled open the blanket on your side of the bed and slipped in next to him.

"Goodnight, JJ," you whispered.

—

In the morning, you woke up to the smell of pancakes in the kitchen. For a second, you weren't sure you were even in your apartment, remembering that you live alone with Margo and surely, you weren't asleep long enough for her to know her way around the kitchen.

But then you remembered that JJ was babysitting last night and had fallen asleep in your bed before you got home.

After a long stretch, you got up and went into the kitchen.

"There she is, good morning pretty," JJ smiled at you.

"Morning... When did you learn how to cook?" you questioned.

"What do you mean? I've always known how to make pancakes."

"Okay, that is just a straight up lie. In high school you would have chips for breakfast."

JJ put his hand to his chest, taking mock offense. "If you must know, I started teaching myself how to cook last year when I moved off-campus."

"Wow, I must say, I am impressed, Mr. Maybank."

"Please, that's my father. You can call me JJ," he said, causing you both to laugh.

Were his eyes always this blue? You thought, as you admired his features in the morning light.

After a moment, you broke the silence. "Uh- I better go check on Margo. How was she last night, by the way?"

"Oh, amazing. Best kid ever."

"Really? She didn't give you a hard time at all?"

"Nope, must have remembered me from when she was in the womb."

You smiled, turning around to your daughter's room.

Sure enough, Margo was sleeping like the baby she was. You checked the clock, she wouldn't be up for at least another hour.

"Margo's still in one piece?" JJ asked when you reentered the kitchen.

"Yes, somehow,” you mused.

"Good, want to try these pancakes now?"

"Yes, please, I'm starving," you sat down across from JJ.

"Starving? Your date didn't feed you last night?"

"Very funny, if you want to know about my date, you can just ask."

"Okay, how was your date?" he relented.

"He's a psychologist."

"Cool, anything else?" JJ looked slightly confused.

"He was very normal and nice," you added.

“I would hope so.”

“Yes, and he likes to cook too.”

“That’s great, how was the date itself?”

“Oh the date itself…” you trailed off.

"Y/N, why are you acting weird?"

"Weird? Me? I'm just telling you about my date."

"You're talking about him like he's your therapist."

"Well, in a way, it was like a therapy session."

"So the date went bad?"

"No, it was really nice."

JJ looked around the kitchen, "Did I accidentally put something in the pancake batter to make you act like this or...?"

"These are great, by the way," you said, pointing to the pancakes with your fork.

"Thanks, but can we get back to the date?"

"Oh, yeah, well, basically," you started.

"Y/N." JJ was rarely ever serious, but he was starting to look concerned with you.

"Okay, fine. It started off really well, we got to know each other. Then, he was asking about Margo and my family, and I told him about my parents, you know. Then he asked about you, and I told him I've known you forever, but after Margo, you started distancing yourself and we haven't seen or talked to each other in a while, and then-" you rambled.

"Then what?"

"And then, he told me, or rather he made me realize, that maybe we need to address the feelings we may or may not have had for each other before I got pregnant," you finished in a rush.

JJ was silent, you weren't sure if the expression on his face was scared or bemused.

"JJ, please say something."

"Was that all?"

"More or less."

He sighed, "Y/N, I think one of the reasons why our friendship worked so well was because we both knew that at any moment, we could pursue something more, but we didn't. We both knew that doing that would ruin our friendship, something we've had for nearly twenty years. I thought college was going to be four years of partying and distractions, but instead, I had to face reality”

“Distractions?”

“Everyone that wasn’t you was a distraction, in case that wasn’t clear.”

“Uh, no. It wasn't, actually. JJ, you kept telling me you were trying to meet ‘the one!’”

“Well, I was lying! Okay? You were always the one for me. I just didn’t feel like I was the one for you. So I was stupid and I decided we would be better off as friends, but when you got pregnant…”

“When I got pregnant…?”

“When you told me about Margo, I panicked. I knew you were strong enough to do this on your own, but you shouldn’t have had to. I told myself that I was going to be there for you every step of the way, and I was, until you gave birth. I saw Margo for the first time, and I-I’m sorry. I just couldn’t do it.”

“Do what, JJ? You know I never needed you to be her father.”

“I know, I know. I saw her and I couldn’t imagine hurting her. I didn’t want her to know me, because to know me is to be disappointed by me,” he sighed.

“JJ,” you stood up now to wrap your arms around him. “Are you kidding me? I was never, never disappointed by you. I was just worried, babe, that’s all. You stopped talking to me after that.”

JJ allowed himself to fall into your arms. “I’m sorry, it just felt like too much at the time. I loved- love you and Margo so much, that I didn’t know what to do with all of it. So I thought it was best to give you some space, until I was better.”

You chuckled, “Is that why you taught yourself how to cook?”

“Stop, I was actually starving and had no choice.”

“And are you better now?”

“When I heard you were going on a date, do you want to know what I thought?”

“What?”

“I thought, I let her go again. I let you go a million times in college, and here I am, letting you go again.”

When you didn’t say anything, he continued, “You’re the one for me, Y/N. I came over here tonight to show you that. I’m ready for whatever this is going to be, whatever this friendship evolves into. I spent too much time denying the truth, and I think you have too.”

There were not enough words to describe how you were feeling, so you leaned in to kiss your best friend. JJ held your face with such gentleness, you wondered if this was all in your imagination.

Eventually, you pulled away. “I’m done lying, to myself and to each other. This is real, yes?” you asked.

“Yes, I love you, really.”

“I love you too, Maybank.”

You leaned in for a second time, but not before you heard the familiar cries of Margo in the other room.

“Don’t worry, I got it,” he smiled with that boyish grin of his that you loved so much. That you have always loved.

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