#& just needed him to know she's there so. take this or leave it as you please ~ )

[tojicide]

SANTA TELL ME! 𝓍 JJK MEN.

summary. they reluctantly join you in your holiday festivities by dressing up for christmas. their present? cumming down a different type of chimney. with gojo, toji, geto, nanami.

warnings. fem! reader, wife/girlfriend! reader, unprotected, semi-public, oral ( both receiving ), mating press, prone bone, missionary, pet names, breeding / breeding kink, bound wrists, hair pulling, creampie, brief mentions of pregnancy.

★ satoru gojo — santa claus.

“don’t make me go,” he whines, plopping down onto your bed face-first. you didn’t even have to see his face to know that he was pouting, that pink bottom lip of his jutted beyond comprehension.

you huff, spinning around from the mirror to look at his miserable figure. to no one’s surprise, there he was, the strongest sorcerer of all behaving like a petulant child over having to dress up for a whopping two hours.

begrudgingly, you place a hand on his leg, rubbing up and down to gather his attention. “it won’t be so bad. stop your whining and get dressed, gojo.”

satoru picks his head up almost immediately, his brows knit in confusion. “gojo? oh, so now these children are turning my own wife against me!“

and by children, he means the students at jujutsu high school who were promised the satoru gojo’s presence at their holiday event. all he had to do was go rub elbows with the staff and students, wish a few people a ‘meeeerry christmas!’ and be on his way. but of course he can’t be reasonable and do what he’s asked. who would satoru gojo be if not consistently difficult?

“what are you even— satoru, just get up!” you exclaim, tugging on his leg to pull him halfway down the bed.

he groans out. “i mean— they don’t even believe in santa claus anymore! what is the point?”

you scoff, tugging his leg once more. “don’t make me repeat myself or i’ll take away my promise of giving you a ‘special present’ once this is over.”

and it was incredible how fast he’d gotten dressed, his lanky frame now dressed in rich red fabric from head to toe. a santa claus costume. as he exits the closet, he is already wearing a frown. it’s borderline infuriatingly how handsome he is even when he wears such a downcast expression.

“aww!” you beam, cupping his face in admiration. you pinch his cheeks, watching as they become cherry red from both the contact and your reaction. “you look so cute!”

satoru’s face flushes, a scoff leaving him. “only cute? i must look horrific in that case.”

he plops down onto the stool in front of your vanity dresser, not daring to look at his reflection. just as he was about to complain for what felt like the hundredth time—he pauses. brow raised, he glances up at you with eyes swirling with mischief.

“oh, mrs. clauuuuus,” he sings, leaning back against the dresser. “i think i need a bit of practice before the big event. y’know… as first-time santa and all.”

you tilt your head, your expression portraying your obvious confusion. “practice? practice what?”

he stretches out his arms, beckoning you closer with his hands. “practice being ol’ saint nick, of course. need a pretty woman like you to come sit on my lap ‘n tell me what she wants for christmas. it’ll really get me in the right state of mind, i promise.”

you both know better. if the already growing erection beneath the fabric of his pants wasn’t telling enough, the haze of neediness in his gaze would have communicated his true intentions just as sufficiently.

with a rough sigh, you oblige, taking a sideways seat in his lap. your deep red dress rides up just a bit, revealing the smooth expanse of your thighs to the wandering eyes of your husband. he hardly bats an eye when you chuck a quiet insult of: “for christmas, i want you to stop complaining and let me finish my makeup.”

satoru’s hands map out your creamy skin—from your ankles to your knees to your thighs—all while you pay him no mind and continue to apply your lip liner. he raises his brows, bright eyes fitting to your lip balm as you apply it to your plush lips.

“ooh, what flavor you got?” he coos, leaning forward to try and capture your lips in a kiss.

you place a hand on his face, squishing his cheeks to make him form an adorable kissy face as you just hardly peck his lips. “peppermint.”

he licks his lips, taking as much as he can get from you for the time being. “yummy. can i have some more?”

satoru almost startles when you bring the festive lip balm to his lips, swiping it over his mouth in precise strokes. “sweeeets,” he whines, snatching the small tube from your hand to set it down on the dresser. “can’t i just have a little kiss? just one, honey, promise.”

you huff, shaking your head. “you’re telling me i just wasted two precious swipes of my lip balm on your lips when you didn’t even want any?”

"nuh-uh. wasted nothing, baby," he murmurs, his voice low and teasing. he then leans into you, his strong hands settling on your hips as he pulls you in just the same. "buuuut if you're so concerned about your precious chapstick..." he speaks, his nose brushing against your cheek. "why don't you come ‘n get it back?"

you hum in contemplation, bringing your thumb up to wipe away the moisture from his bottom lip. kissing with lip products on was messy enough as is, and truth be told, nothing about kissing satoru was clean. he kissed you like he wanted to devour you whole, like he was proposing to your lips with each nibble and lick.

“gimme a sec,” you murmur, accurately and thoroughly wiping away the gloss from his lips. he let you, too.

satoru’s lips part as you smudge away the gloss, his tongue darting out to catch a stray bit of the sweet and minty flavor. he wraps his lips around the pad of your thumb, suckling like the insatiable minx he is before you pull it away from his tongue.

"theeeere we go," he purrs. "all clean ‘n ready for my gorgeous wife.” he leans back against the edge of the dresser, spreading his legs slightly to expertly maneuver you to straddle his thighs.

his hands just barely slip beneath the fabric of your dress, thumbs rubbing circles onto your hip bones. "c’mere, baby," he whispers, his desperation on full display without a care in the world. "lemme show you what else these lips can do besides waste your lip balm."

and your self restraint slips away the moment your lips slot into his, his breath catching in his throat as if he hadn’t truly expected you to let him taste you. with the gift that you’ve just bestowed upon him, he slips his tongue into your mouth, a throaty groan omitting his throat.

shamelessly, his hands slide around the curve of your hips, firmly grasping onto your ass. he bucks his hips upward, pressing his hard bulge to your clothed cunt, a choked whimper leaving him as he begins to kiss his way down your throat.

“want my present a little early,” he murmurs, nipping at your collarbone before his wet tongue swipes out to soothe the sting. “please?”

you hum, lips parting as you begin to instinctively roll your hips back and forth along the imprint of his length. it was a heady feeling, knowing just how much you affected him, how much he yearns for every inch of you no matter the time nor the place. “but—”

all the while, he pulls at the neckline of your dress, tugging it down just enough to reveal one of your breasts. “mm,” he rumbles in reply, lips latching onto your nipple the moment he saw it. his tongue works around your areola, lathering your sensitive skin up with his saliva before pulling away with a wet pop. “pleeease? just the tip, baby. i won’t be greedy.”

his fingers are already blindly pulling down the zipper of your dress, watching with blown pupils as more and more of your smooth skin becomes his to see. to touch. to taste. to love. he isn’t sure if this is such a good idea, his dick already twitching in his pants just from the sight of his beautiful wife, but he can’t resist you. not now, not ever.

“o-okay,” you agree, a hand slipping into his soft locks of white hair as his talented mouth sucks on your neglected breast as if was revealed to him. “counts as half your gift then.”

satoru nods his head in understanding, rising from the stool with you in his arms. your dress falls from your body, pooling on the hardwood floor as he sets you down on the bed. he was out of his festive outfit just as fast as he’d gotten into it, the holly jolly clothing discarded messily on the floor.

his mouth presses open-mouthed kisses along the expanse of your torso. your breasts, your stomach, the curve of your waist, your hips, the mound of your pussy. your back arches into the sensation, hands grasping firmly onto his strong shoulders as he crawls over you.

fingers hooking beneath your underwear, he tugs the damp fabric down your legs, tossing them carelessly across the room. it’s then that his lovesick eyes rove over your skin, all bare and glistening from both your natural beauty and the slick of his saliva from kissing his way around your body.

“well, aren’t you just the most beautiful present a man could ask for,” he smiles, hands finding the back of your thighs as he pushes them up into your chest. propping himself up on one arm, he still nearly folds you in half by his weight pressing into you. his free hand guides his blushed tip to your drooling heat.

he drags the head of his cock along your folds, groaning at the feeling of his pre coating your already wet skin. “’m so lucky,” he whisers, another throaty moan escaping him the moment he pushes his tip inside of you.

your hands claw at his biceps, head falling back on the plush mattress. “no, i-i’m the lucky one,” you tell him, earning a choked chuckle in response.

satoru fucks you shallowly, keeping his promise of just the tip as he gazes down at you with such adoration that you’re surprised you haven’t exploded into pretty little hearts. “mmh— we can both be lucky,” he rasps, his free hand slipping between the two of you for his thumb to circle your clit.

your body responds so well to his touch, inner walls clenching down on the head of his dick. a soft mewl escapes your kiss bitten lips, clutching particular hard onto his arm once he applies a heavy finger to your swollen nub. “j-just another inch,” you suggest, flashing him a wry smile.

he was quick to nod, returning your grin. “mhmm, was thinking the same thing. such a smart girl you are, readin’ my mind like that.”

it was a shock to no one as one more inch turned to two, then three, four, five, six… all up until he was balls deep inside of your dripping cunt, thrusting into you like a madman who’s head was entirely occupied by thoughts of his beloved wife and her perfect pussy.

satoru promised not to be greedy, but you both knew he was anything but when it came to you. like a moth to a flame, he was forever longing for you, his wife, in any way he could have you.

folded into a mating press, your velvety walls shift to accommodate him. the wet sounds of your cunt sounding in the air with each heavy rock of his hips that nudges his cock impossibly deeper inside of you, making you feel like you’re floating and seeing stars just the same.

“fuuuuck,” he drawls, hands planted firmly on the back of your thighs as he keeps you nice and open for him. his hips drive into you with passion, his skin slapping against yours with each movement he makes, filling the room with sounds of your shared pleasure. “takin’ me so well, doin’ so damn good. made just for me, baby.”

your eyes slip shut as you cry out, pussy clenching down on him like a vice, proving to the both of you that you truly were made for each other. “kiss me,” you pant, hands reaching for his face to tug him down to you.

and satoru has never been one to deny his pretty little wife anything she desires, his lips crashing into yours as you swallow up his sounds of overwhelming pleasure. it’s all teeth and tongue, saliva coating your lips as your nails dig into his face, holding him in place as his cock drags in and out of you.

you taste him on your tongue, just as he does with you, the tingling sensation lingering on your tastebuds leaving you absolutely dumb and needy for your husband. he reaches for your left hand, lacing your fingers together while his other cups your cheek, breaking the kiss to rest his forehead on yours.

“tell me what your—hah—real christmas wish is, baby,” he teases, nipping at your bottom lip with his pearly white teeth.

you whine, back arching off the bed as his cock hits your sweet spot just right. vision blurry and clouded by your adoration for your husband, you kiss him as you whisper your answer. “you.”

eyes widening in surprise, a goofy grin stretches across his handsome face. “you really are in luck, sweets. i can give ya juuust that.”

and then, his strokes slow, opting for a more languid approach to making love to you as you both begin to approach your climaxes. moans, whines, kisses, teary eyes—between each and every exchange between the two of you, one thing remains constant.

your love.

it doesn’t take long for you to find your release, an airy cry fleeting into the room as a thick ring of cream coats his cock. spurred on by bringing you so much pleasure, satoru kisses your cheek. your forehead. your nose. your eyebrow. your lips.

and with a few more thrusts, he bottoms out inside of you, stuffing you full to the brim with both his cock and his seed. sticky and warm, the substance leaking out of you serving as a physical embodiment of how much he loves you. how much he loves making love to you.

pulling back with a breathless smile, satoru kisses you once more. “y’know… maybe i should’ve kept the suit on. didn’t know my pretty little wife had a thing for mr. claus.”

rolling your eyes, you wrap your arms around his neck, holding him close as you whisper in his ear. “…mhm. go clean up and get dressed, satoru. i made you get ready an hour early just to make sure we had enough time.”

“…psh. c’moooon, baby, are you serious?”

★ toji fushiguro — the grinch.

“ow. ya got that shit in my eye,” he grumbles, glaring up you like you had just punched him in the face.

you giggle, shaking your head as you pick up a tinier makeup brush, swiping it around his mouth to create the illusion of the makeup look that you’re currently working on—using none other than your husband as the canvas. the color green covers his entire face, an even darker shade contouring the minuscule details of the grinch’s face.

“isn’t funny,” he grumbles once more, slumping his shoulders. though, he doesn’t stand up from the edge of the bed, nor does he attempt to jerk his head away at any point.

it’s in that moment that toji realizes just how soft he’s become for you. never in his life would he ever imagine that he’d be here, sitting at the edge of his shared bed with his wife standing between his parted legs, doing his makeup to make him look like her favorite holiday character.

not to mention, you have him wearing a fuzzy headband to push his dark locks of hair out of his face. a fuzzy. headband. there’s cute little reindeer antlers on it too, making him look even more adorable than he’d like to. he was such a goner, far too in love with you to put up any kind of real protest.

you work with your tongue poking out between your lips, brow furrowed in concentration as you apply a bit of green eyeliner to his lips—using it as lip liner instead. “hold still, babe! hold still!”

“this shit tastes like sewer water. are ya almost done?”

“well, you aren’t exactly supposed to lick it. wait— how do you know what sewer water tastes like?”

and to that, you don’t get an actual explanation. instead, you receive a smack on your ass and a firm squeeze from the man sitting in front of you. “mind y’er business, woman.”

minding your business is exactly what you do, returning to your task of finishing up the makeup look to the best of your ability with a wide, beaming smile on your pretty face. toji will never live this down, he’s sure of it, but getting to see that smile of yours was more than enough justification for this entire experience.

“aaaaand…” you sing, reaching for a nearby hand mirror. you spin it around, showing him the finish product. “finished! do you like it?”

toji can’t help his facial expression as it contorts in horror, his jaw slacking while his eyes nearly bulge out of his head. his gaze flits up to you, his hands on your hips giving them a firm squeeze. “tell me this comes off, doll.”

you pout, visibly deflating as you hear his reaction. it wasn’t that you weren’t expecting it, because you absolutely were, but you had a habit of guilt tripping him. how else could you have convinced him to let you do his makeup in the first place? think smarter, not harder.

“it comes off,” you confirm, putting down the mirror on your vanity desk. you place your hands on his shoulders, sighing heavily as you shake your head. “soooo… can i get a pic before we go?”

“no.” toji was already in a piss poor mood after agreeing to go to your company’s annual christmas party, especially now that you made him dress up and actually follow the theme for the event.

you sigh, dropping your head onto his shoulder. “fiiine. you’re such a party pooper.”

he has no problem with that. at least there won’t be any physical evidence of this ordeal that you’ve dragged him into. he watches with narrowed eyes as you maneuver around the room, dressed up as ‘martha may’ or whoever the fuck from the movie ‘how the grinch stole christmas’. you looked sexy, per usual, but he was more so concerned with making sure that you stuffed makeup wipes into your purse.

that was your one agreement—you’d have to let him take it off whenever he wanted to. boring, you think, but understandable.

as much as you wanted to think that toji would indulge you just for a little while, the second the two of you pulled into the parking lot of your workplace, he was already digging into your purse to find the makeup wipes.

“toji!” you scold, attempting to reason with him. “c’moooon, babe. everybody’s dressing up, it’s not just us!”

“doooon’t care,” he mumbles, fishing out the package. he then turns to you, catching a glimpse of your pouty expression. bottom lip tugged downward, eyes soft and full of hope. fuck, it tugged on his heartstrings and you knew it. “damn it, woman. don’t look at me like that.”

you lean over the center console of the car, placing a hand on his bicep. toji relents, tipping his head back as he groans aloud. “fine, fine. you can take a picture before i wipe this mess off.”

one picture turned into many, all of which were different poses and expressions that you forced toji to do just for you. kissy faces, his tongue sticking out, holding up a peace sign… yeah, you’re definitely using those against him. but hey, he probably won’t mind. he loves you too much.

by the time the two of you finally make it into the party, you notice the immediate scowl that sets into his handsome features. his jaw was tense, his eyes narrowed, and he made sure to have a hand hooked around your waist at all times. a bit possessive, you think, but maybe he’s just trying to make sure that you don’t manage to find another grinch on this christmas eve.

“fix your face, toji,” you quip, patting his cheek with your palm. you pucker your lips, silently asking for a kiss, to which he indulges you with yet another grumble.

he leans dips his head, nuzzling into your neck with a soft growl. “for you, baby, i’ll suffer through it. just don’t expect me to enjoy myself.”

his hand slides up your side, fingertips grazing the underside of your breast through the fabric of your little festive dress. he lingers there, thumb brushing over your nipple in tease. “but i’d much rather be somewhere private with ya, y’know... tearin’ that pretty dress off and buryin’ my face between your legs ‘til—“

you gasp, lightly swatting his hand. if that weren’t enough, the vulgarity of his words are enough to make your face heat up, your gaze flickering away from your husband to see if anyone else in the event had been watching you closely enough.

“toji!” you scold in a whisper yell, snapping your gaze back in his direction. “you know you can’t talk to me like that in public, especially not here.”

toji chuckles lowly, clearly unrepentant. "what’d i do? ‘m just makin’ conversation.” he leans in even closer, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he speaks. "bet you're nice ‘n wet just thinkin’ about me eating that sweet pussy of yours. want me to bend you over the table right here ‘n show everyone what a needy girl you are f’r me?"

you swat his hand away once again, smoothing the fabric of your dress over as if his touch hadn’t been there at all. you catch the eye of a group of your colleagues, giving them a wave and a polite smile before you turn back to your husband, your expression faltering.

“i’m the needy girl, but you are the one who can’t keep his hands to himself,” you retort, raising a brow at him. “hm. good try, honey. i’m going to go speak with my colleagues over there. you’re more than welcome to join me.”

toji scoffs, rolling his eyes. "yeah, yeah, i'll be a good boy ‘n play nice." he scoffs under his breath, but follows you over to your coworkers nonetheless.

as you chat with them, he stands slightly behind you, one hand resting possessively on your lower back. every so often, his fingers dip under the hem of your dress, brushing against the bare skin there. shameless, he is.

"so," one of your male coworkers says to you, leaning in a bit too close for toji’s liking. "looking gorgeous tonight. where’s the lucky husband?"

toji supposed this is his fault, having never attended one of these events alongside you before, but was this guy fucking dumb? who else would be all over you like he is right now unless he was your husband?

his hand tightens on your hip, pulling you slightly against his chest. "you blind? where else would i be?" he asks, voice deceptively calm.

the coworker holds up his hands in a placating gesture. "hey, hey, no problem, man. just admiring the view, you know how it is. can't blame a guy for looking, right?"

"nah, i don’t get it. fuck is y’er problem?" he growls, attempting to step around you and get to the man.

“toji!” you murmur, pressing back against him to keep him at a safe distance. you nearly forgot how quick his temper could rise considering that you rarely saw it yourself.

your coworker's face pales, stammering out an apology before scurrying away. toji watches him go, then he turns to you, eyes softening. "let's get outta here, yeah?" he says, offering his arm. "i've had enough of this. gonna take you somewhere i can put my hands on ya without getting you fired."

he guides you towards the exit, hand resting on your hip while you lean into his side. once outside, he opens the car door, not so gently helping you into the driver’s seat. "i’d be mad too," he murmurs, laying a smack on your ass as he makes his way over to the passenger side. "if i saw ya goin’ home with another man, i’d be tryin’ to enter a dick measurin’ competition too.”

a strong hand cups your sex through your panties, fingers rubbing slow, tight circles. "mm. can’t wait to taste her." he captures your lips in a searing kiss, tongue delving deep to claim every inch of your mouth. "c’mon… let's go home so i can get ya out of this dress and show you just how much i appreciate you. ‘n hey… maybe if you're really good, i'll let ya ride my face 'til y’er screaming."

you roll your eyes with a chuckle as you tug her dress back down to its proper length. “you beg me to ride your face as is,” you joke, even though it’s most certainly true.

toji was insatiable, and he would (and has) eat your pussy for hours if given the chance. you haven’t ever had to ask him for it, and you probably never will.

just as you reach to stick the key in the ignition, toji grabs your keys from your hand, holding them up with a smirk. "ah ah ah, not so fast." he crowds you, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your neck while his other hand slides beneath the fabric of your dress, fingers grazing your panties

"y’know the rules, doll. no ridin’ my face 'til you prove how much you want it." he leans in close, teeth grazing your earlobe. "so. why don't you lean on over ‘n show me that pretty mouth of yours?”

you raise your brows, glancing around the parking lot in a frenzy. “but— toji, we can’t.” you blink a few times before you pull back just enough to find his eyes once more. “what if someone sees?”

toji snickers, eyes glinting with mischief and lust. love, too, of course— but he’s too busy being a hard ass to act on it. "let 'em see. let the whole damn world watch as my sexy little wife sucks my cock." he tugs your wrist, pressing your palm against the large bulge in his pants. "feel that? feel how hard you make me? i need y’er mouth on me, baby. now." his other hand gently slides into your hair, though he grips tightly as he guides your head down. "open wide, doll. show me what a good girl you can be."

you don’t protest as he guides you down, mouthing at the bulge in his pants while you both work to pull them down. your heart is beating out of your chest, nerves aching from the stress of potentially being caught by sucking your husband’s dick in the parking lot one of your work colleagues. “no need to be so rough with me,” you playfully scold, shaking your head as you work to undo his belt. “insatiable, you are.”

toji grunts as you fumble with his belt, hips rocking forward impatiently. "quit stallin’ ‘n suck my dick already."

when you finally free his cock, it springs out, already hard and leaking. he fists a hand in your hair, guiding your mouth to his tip. "fuck, your lips feel s’good wrapped around me. so perfect." he thrusts upward shallowly, letting you adjust to his size before pushing deeper. his other hand grips the side of the car, the material creaking under his strength. "thaaat’s it, take it all. gonna fuck this pretty mouth 'til ya choke on it."

toji throws his head back with a groan as your throat constricts around him. his abdomen tenses up, both of his hands working to tug your hair up into a makeshift ponytail. "yeah, jus’ like that. take it deep, baby, there ya go." he sets a brutal pace, hips snapping forward as he fucks your face. spit drips down your chin, your nose pressed against his pelvis with every thrust. "shit, ’m gonna cum already," he pants, fingers tightening in your hair. you made him feel like a virgin each and every time you went down on him. “swallow it."

with a final, hard thrust, he buries himself in your mouth and lets go. "shit," he grunts, cock pulsing as he shoots his load directly down your throat. he holds you in place, forcing you to swallow around him. not that you would pull away. breathing hard, he lets up on you. he tucks himself back into his pants with a sated smile. "now thaaat's what i call a earnin’ it, baby. c’mon, let's get home so i can return the favor."

you roll your eyes, snatching your keys back from his grasp. you wipe your face with the back of your hand, intentionally slapping dangerously close to his crotch as you sit up, earning a yelp of warning. “you’re a real jerk, toji,” you scoff, sticking the key into the ignition.

toji chuckles as he properly settles into the passenger seat, sprawling out lazily as if he owned the vehicle. "yeeeah, yeah, i know. but you love me anyway." he reaches over, hand sliding up your thigh as you begin to drive. "besides. i'm the one who has to deal with all these assholes pervin’ on what's mine, some road head is just… a little reassurance." his fingers creep higher, teasing along the edge of your panties. "get us home quick, doll. my dick’s gettin’ hard again."

the car swerves slightly as your breath hitches, his touch igniting the ever-present spark of desire between you. toji simply grins, clearly pleased with the effect he has on you. you just roll your eyes at his words, resting your elbow on the windowsill of the car, your temple resting on your closed fist.

you swat his hand as his fingers brush against the damp spot of your panties, sliding his hand back down to a more appropriate position on your thigh. “as if. you can wait.”

toji scowls, clearly displeased with being denied. "tch, fine. be that way." he withdraws his hand entirely, folding his arms across his chest with a huff. his eyes drift shut, long lashes fanning out against his cheeks. he tries to act upset, but within moments, his hand is already settling back onto your thigh.

you glance over at him as you drive, taking in the peaceful lines of his face. even in sleep, he looks intimidating, his features sharp and angular. but there's a softness to him too, a vulnerability that only you get to see. a simplicity that’s reserved only for you.

when you pull into the driveway of your shared home, you reach over and shakes his shoulder gently. "hey, honey. we're home."

toji stirs, blinking blearily as he takes in the familiar surroundings of their driveway. he stretches languidly, the movement causing his shirt to ride up and expose a peek of toned abs. "mmm, already? thought you'd make me wait longer as punishment for the whole 'road head' thing." he hums, pecking your cheek before he exits the car.

he rounds the vehicle to open your door for you, ever the gentleman despite his earlier crudeness. as you slide out, he pulls you against his chest, one hand sliding possessively down to grip your ass. "let's get inside. 'm still hard as a rock and need to be buried in that sweet pussy of yours soon enough.”

without waiting for a response, he scoops you up into his arms, carrying you bridal style towards the house. his lips find your neck, peppering ticklish kisses along the soft planes of your skin. you drape an arm around his shoulders as he carries you, squirming with a soft giggle as he sinks his teeth into your neck. it hardly hurts, more so tickles, and the crinkled lines around your eyes and the wide smile you wear communicates that.

“put me down! ‘m still mad at you,” you very weakly protest.

toji chuckles, the sound vibrating against your skin as he continues to carry you. "nah. i like havin’ you in my arms like this. makes me feel all caveman-y and shit." he kicks the front door shut behind him, still not putting you down. instead, he starts walking towards the bedroom, his steps intentful. "beeeesides, i wanna lay you out on the bed ‘n taste every inch of you. can’t do that if y’er standin’ up."

he lays you down gently on the mattress, crawling over you with a mischievous gleam in his eye. "now, where were we? oh right, i believe i promised to eat this pretty pussy 'til ya scream."

★ suguru geto — ribbons in his hair.

“ta-da!” you sing, spinning your boyfriend around in the mirror to view the product of your christmas makeover.

suguru stood dumbfounded. his dark locks of hair were tied up in a disorganized fashion, silky red ribbons separating the sections ever so messily. “i don’t mean to offend you, sweetheart, but… this took you thirty minutes to do?”

you peek out from behind him, staring into the mirror as a pout tugs on your bottom lip. “you don’t like it?” you ask, purposefully putting on a softer tone of voice, staring at him with those wide puppy dog eyes of yours that he still can’t resist to this day.

“no! no, baby, that’s… not…” he trails, eyes flitting back up to his reflection in the mirror. did it truly look that bad? no… yes… shit. he flashes you a wide smile, reaching behind him to tug your frame forward. he presses a kiss on your forehead. “i love it so much. thank you, sweetheart.”

was lying to his girlfriend a good idea? no, never. but sometimes, suguru reasons, lying is necessary to keep his beautiful girl happy. you were so excited to do this with him, purchasing you both matching christmas pajamas with little christmas trees and reindeers on the fabric.

not to mention, you had planned such a cozy night for the two of you. building gingerbread houses, baking cookies, cozying up on the couch as the two of you watch your favorite holiday movies…

and so, he kisses your cheek, smiling to himself as he watches your pupils dilate. when you wrap your arms around his neck, luring him in for a proper kiss, he’s silently thankful that you won’t be questioning him any further about your not-so-great handiwork in his hair.

“i know it looks horrible, suguru,” you say into his mouth, a warm chuckle following your words. you pull back, rising up onto your toes to plant a kiss on his nose. silently, you make a note to redo this next year and make him dress up as rudolph the red-nose reindeer. externally, however, you grin. “but you passed my test, baby. just like i knew you would.”

he exhales in relief, his forehead falling until it pressed against yours. “phew. i was worried you’d make me wear these things in my hair for the rest of the night.”

you laugh once more, a hand slipping into his messily styled hair. “oh, no, i have other plans for you tonight,” you whisper, giving one of the ribbons a cute twirl around your finger.

unabashedly, he moans at the mere feeling of your fingers in his hair, just as he had been before as you tugged and tied the satin fabric around his dark locks. it relaxed him, but more than anything, it turned him on. immensely.

and for the first time during this entire process, the moment your stomach brushes against him, suguru realizes that he’s hard. rock hard. so hard that it almost hurts, his cock stiff beneath the soft fabric of his pajama pants and silently begging for relief.

“was this your plan all along?” he asks, his voice taking on a low and husky tone that leaves your skin babbling with goosebumps. “to rile me up with your games? tch. how cruel, sweetheart, even for you.”

and you’re smiling at his words, brushing both of your hands through his hair once more until you earn another needy groan in response. satisfied, you tug a single ribbon loose, watching as a section of his hair sways over his shoulder.

dangling the red ribbon in front of his face, you beam. “well, you can always get your payback… using these.” you can practically see the light bulb going off in his pretty head, his lips twitching into a smirk as he places a hand on the small of your back.

always so gentle. that was how you would usually describe your boyfriend to the outside world, and judging by what they’d know of him, they would likely agree. but when it was just the two of you, alone and in the privacy of your home, those words couldn’t have been less true.

you’re undressed before you can even process the cool air brushing along your soft skin, and you’re thrown onto your bed just as quickly. bouncing on the mattress, you look up at him, pupils stretched wide with passion.

“lean back for me,” he instructs, and you listen, flattening onto the plush mattress with your eyes still glued to his face. “thaaat’s it, beautiful. get nice ‘n comfy.”

his words were sugary and sweet, saccharine with the overwhelming taste of lust intruding on his words. he rolls you over, taking your wrists into one of his large hands as he works to tie one of the ribbons around them. although you’re immobilized, you can’t remember the last time you felt so antsy, so excited.

“you look so pretty,” he coos, running his calloused hands down the smooth expanse of your sides. he reaches down, pulling your soft strands of hair away from your face as you glance at him. with a smile, he kisses your lips, the touch soft and sweet… all up until he pushes your head back into the mattress.

suguru straightens up, pulling another one of the ribbons loose from his hair. he decides to tie this one around your ankles, keeping you nice and tied up. with his hair now pulled half-up by a single ribbon, he decides that he’ll keep that one in, let you see your handiwork while he fucks you stupid. he’ll let it remind you of how you found yourself in this situation in the first place.

hooking his hands beneath your hips, he pulls your ass into the air, leaving you arched and vulnerable—all for his eyes to see. he groans, lowering himself just enough to press a kiss on your damp clit. “mm,” he mumbles into your heat, long tongue lolling out of his mouth to properly taste your slick. “you taste so good, baby. do me a favor, yeah?”

you nod, turning your head to the side as if you were looking at him. you can’t see him, but you can feel him, and that’s almost better in your book. “mhm… anything.”

and then you feel a sharp slap on your ass, soothed by none other than his warm hand rubbing over your reddening skin. “move.” confusion riddled your mind for a brief moment until you felt his tongue press against your pussy once more, curling it ever so slightly to encourage you to move.

a whimper falls from your lips as you begin to rock your hips in messy motions—circles, grinds, thrusts—your movements had no logic to them. not that either of you minded, his tongue flattening against your cunt as you buck yourself against his face.

“mmhm,” he hums in affirmation, laying another smack on your ass cheek. “use my tongue, princess. don’t try ‘n stop until you come on it, got it?”

panting heavily and moving with no other means aside from chasing your own orgasm, you nod your head feverishly once more. “g-got it.” though, with the way your hips begin to stutter, your movements growing more sloppier than before, suguru is lead to believe that you truly don’t get it.

no matter, he has plenty of time to make sure that you understand. his first step is to make you fall apart with his tongue alone.

“i know you can do better than that, sweetheart,” he mocks, pressing his face even further into your heat, his wet tongue lapping at you from behind while your weak motions begin to grow much more purposeful. “mm… there ya go, baby. keep goin’, get yourself niiiice ‘n ready for me.”

you swivel your hips in the best way you can, drawing out moans from both yourself and suguru. he marvels at how talented your fucking hips are, throwing yourself back onto his face just like he’d asked you to. “mhm, good girl,” he praises, running his hands along your thighs. “such a good girl for me.”

as your entire body begins to tremble, you cry out, eyes pricking with tears as you continue to chase your impending release. “s-suguru!” you whine, drool leaking down your lip. “i-i’m—”

you don’t have the time to get your warning out before your orgasm crashes over you in such intense waves, your candied release coating his tongue as he eagerly laps at your heat, cleaning you up willingly. and then you slump forward, boneless and exhausted, sweat making your hair stick to your forehead as you glance at him over your shoulder.

“very good, baby, gimme a kiss,” he whispers, leaning down to press a kiss onto your lips. you whine into his mouth, wrists squirming within the tightly wrapped ribbon. suguru firmly grasps onto the place where your hands are joined. “no. you were bein’ so good, baby. don’t wanna be a brat now, do ya?”

to that, you shake your head, stilling the movement of your wrists. you can hear the sound of shuffling behind you, though your suspicions are confirmed once you feel the angry red tip of his cock brush against your ass.

“ooh, my girl is jumpy tonight,” he teases, placing a firm hand on your hip to prevent your squirming. “don’t move a muscle, sweetheart. i got ya.”

when you feel his weight settle on top of you, your back arches into him, earning you a strong arm wrapped around your neck. suguru messily kisses your cheek, open-mouthed and full of passion. all the while, he presses the head is his cock to your entrance.

“tell me what you want,” he says. you can practically hear the grin on his face as he speaks to you, but you can hardly find it within yourself to care once you feel his fat tip brush against you. “‘n say please.”

you move your hips, attempting to get his tip to catch your slippery hole just right. “fuck me,” you say, turning your head to make eye contact with him. pupils as wide as saucers, lips bit by his kisses, face lazily putting on a smile. “please.”

suguru already has a hard time saying no to you as is, but when you look like this? so beautiful and pliant, giving yourself to him and only him? he’s a goner and he knows it.

“so polite,” he rasps, kissing your cheek once more before he bullies his way inside of you. his cock pistons into your entrance, and his bicep’s lock on your neck gives him the opportunity to plow into you just how he wants to.

and you’re in no place to protest, not that you ever would. you can feel him stretching you out, the way his tip kisses your cervix with each brutal thrust of his hips, the way your entire body jolts in correspondence with his movements.

suguru was so strong. so brutal with the way he fucks you, so mean and rough. but with the way he kisses your cheek, your lips, your jaw, whispering soft ‘doin’ so good, baby’s and ‘so pretty’s in your ear—you remember why you fell for his gentleness before you knew anything else about him.

you’re inclined to believe that fucking and making love are two different things, far and wide apart in the eyes of an average person. but with suguru, with your love, you heartily disagree with them. with him, you get both. you get everything.

skin against skin, moans filtering through the room, sloppy kisses exchanged. you two were a mess, but you were each other’s mess, so entwined in a way that only you could be.

“gonna cum, baby,” he says into your mouth, kissing the corner of your lips. “fuck, need you to cum with me. can you do that for me, sweetheart?”

you nod, biting down on your bottom lip as you feel a boiling heat coiling in your lower stomach. “yes!” you cry out, dropping your head to sink your teeth into his bicep, muffling your moans.

the pain hardly phases him, his pace as unrelenting as it was before, if not even more so. “now,” he rasps, burying himself balls deep as he fills you up with his thick seed. left unsure of where your orgasm ended and his began, or if you got the order wrong entirely, you can’t find it in you to care about it.

resting your head on his bicep, suguru presses a kiss on your cheek once more. he runs a hand down your side, slowly rolling you over so that he can look at you.

smiling ever so softly, he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “let’s clean up, princess. i’ll wash you up real nice before we watch another movie. i bought a gingerbread scented candle just for my girl. some hot chocolate, too.”

…what? you weren’t the only one who could plan holiday festivities…

★ kento nanami — ugly sweater.

kento tried his hardest to be a good sport. he truly, truly did. but even he can only take so much, and his gorgeous wife asking him to wear a god awful holiday sweater was very quickly pushing him to his limits.

he wasn’t even sure why you’d chosen this one specifically. the wording was fine, feliz navidad it read, but the material was littered with christmas trees and tiny ornaments for the occasion. reindeers flying across his chest, snowflakes sewn into the garment. he stood in the mirror, face contorted in unease as he stares at the design. despite his silent disdain for the item, he hadn’t outwardly complained. how could he? you were so excited to wear these ugly things for your first christmas as a married couple!

and so, kento decided he’d stick it out. such the trooper he was, wearing this hideous garment to please you.

“honey?” he calls out to you, glancing around once he realizes he hasn’t seen you in a while. he can hear you distantly, the sound of rattling coming from the en suite. you were likely doing your makeup, very angrily in fashion. “hon—”

“we can’t go, kento!” you exclaim, storming out of the bathroom with your hair half-styled and only the base of your makeup completed. “i’m having a horrible… everything day. i can’t have your coworkers seeing me like this, they’ll think your wife is chopped.”

kento raises an eyebrow, his confusion evident. “chopped? i don’t particularly know what that means, but judging by your comment, i’ll go ahead and assume it isn’t a good thing.” he takes a few steps closer to you, large hands planting firmly on your hips. “and if that is the case, you don’t fit that description. not at all.”

he raises a hand, brushing it over the back of your head. careful not to mess up your hair, he cups the back of your head, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “i’m not exactly thrilled about attending my company’s christmas party either. we don’t have to go, but if you don’t want to attend on the basis of not feeling good about yourself, i won’t have that. you’re far too beautiful.”

you hum, shoulders slumping forward as you stare into his soft eyes. “i know, i know. i just…” and before you can finish your sentence, kento presses a kiss on the corner of your mouth, gently guiding you back onto the edge of the bed.

“i hear you, sweetheart. we all have our days,” he whispers, smoothing his hands over the material of your christmas sweater, reading it silently to himself. christmas cookies in the oven. hm. interesting choice, but you’re an interesting woman after all. his interesting woman. “let me love on you. make you feel a little better.”

and who are you to deny him? your husband is simply too sweet, too attentive and caring. if he wants to have you, you’d never deny him.

kento’s hands slide up your thighs, hooking your legs around his hips as he works to settle on top of you. his lips find your neck, kissing and nibbling on your sweet skin, a trail of heat slipping down your throat and across your collarbones. “lift your arms,” he gently commands, pushing your sweater up and over your head. you hadn’t finished getting dressed yet, only left wearing your panties now, which made his job easier.

he kisses his way down your body, his intention set on soothing any worries that you may be feeling. your neck, your breasts, your stomach, your inner thighs—his lips touch anywhere and everywhere. “spread your legs, baby, there you go,” he whispers, helping you open wide for him. discarding the fabric of your underwear, he delves into your pussy with a sense of reverence.

alternating between long, languid strokes and quick flicks of his tongue, he does his absolute best to ease your mind and make your thoughts consistent of him and his love for you. “eyes on me, honey,” he says into your heat, softened gaze meeting yours. “hey, beautiful.”

drawing out long moans of pleasure, whimpers and whines, all from that beautiful mouth of yours. it makes kento feel accomplished in his goal, his hands grasping onto your thighs to keep your cunt nice and close to his mouth.

“mmh, ken,” you whisper, voice low and breathy. back arching from the mattress, your hands slip into his hair, roughing up his neatly styled locks. not that he minds, as long as you believe he looks good then that’s all he truly cares about. “please, more. i want more.”

and he’s quick to give into your request, pulling his sweater up and over his head before tossing it to the side. slipping out of his pants and boxers, he kicks them away, crawling back on top of you with a strong arm bracing him beside your head.

“hold onto me, baby,” he suggests, and you do, wrapping your arms around his neck as he buries his face into the crook of your neck. “mm, good girl. gonna make all of those thoughts fade away, promise.”

your breath catches in your throat the moment you feel his cock slowly nudging inside of you, splitting you open with a big stretch. “ken—” you whine, nails digging into the strong muscles of his back.

“i know, honey, i know,” he whispers in your ear, stilling his movements to give you a long moment to adjust to the stretch of him inside of you. once your nails ease up, opting to merely hold him instead, kento takes that as a sign of you being ready.

his movements are still slow at first, easy rolls of his hips to fuck you long and deep, letting you feel every inch of him. one of his hands cups your cheek while the other keeps him propped up over you, reminding himself to not crush you with his weight.

“good job, sweetheart,” he pants, picking up the pace of his hips according to the sounds that he manages to lure out of you. “there she is. feeling alright, baby?”

you nod, one of your hands slipping into his blonde locks of hair while the other digs into the hard muscles of his shoulders. “y-yes,” you breathe, clenching around him like a vice. “feels so good, don’t stop. don’t stop.”

kento has no plans of stopping, not until you’re satisfied and fully content with his performance. truth be told, you’re more than satisfied, velvety walls grabbing onto him with each and every stroke of his cock.

“you’re so pretty,” he whispers, kissing your skin. your cheek to your jaw to your neck, his plush lips brushing against you in time with each snap of his hips. “so beautiful, baby. i-i love you so much.”

with you clinging onto him like a baby koala, arms and legs wrapped around him so tightly, holding him close to you as he drives his length in and out of your wet heat, kento is quickly realizing that he won’t be lasting as long as he hoped.

more than determined to make you satisfied, his hand on your cheek slips between the two of your bodies, his fat thumb circling your puffy clit in tight circles. in turn, he feels you tense up, breathy moans of pleasure slipping from your swollen lips. he swallows them up with his own, kissing you messily as his ministrations drive you further and further to the brink of release.

and when your back arches from the bed, he slips an arm beneath the small of your back, leaning down to latch onto one of your breasts to treat you with as much stimulation as possible. “it’s too much,” you whine, clawing into his back, leaving angry red welts in your wake.

“you can take it,” he assures you, pressing a final kiss to your nipple before he leans over, lavishing your neglected breast with the same treatment. “mhm, doing so well. always do.”

you’re not sure if kento realizes just how good he is to you. how big he is, how strong, how talented. and he was all yours—giving himself to you entirely. you were his first and he’s more than determined to have you as his last, his everything for the rest of his life. to him, that starts with keeping you satisfied, in more ways than one.

“i’m close,” you warn, tilting your head back on the bed as a soft whimper escapes you. body trembling from the stimulation, legs constricting around him like a snake ready to attack, you feel the very moment your body teeters over the edge. “ken!” you cry.

he nods his head, pressing a soft kiss on your cheek as he feels you find your release on his cock, coating him with your candied essence that serves as his reward for treating you so well.

“i’ve got you, honey,” he whispers, a low throaty groan following his words. “i’ve got you.”

it doesn’t take long for him to catch up to you, his pace staggering as he chases his own orgasm. tensing up inside of you, you feel the way his seed floods inside of your inner channels, filling you up with the warm proof of his love and attraction for you.

for a few long movements, you hold each other close, breathing heavily into each other’s skin. stolen kisses, small smiles, and watery eyes. your hand raises, cupping his cheek while you press a kiss on the tip of his nose.

“can i ask you something?” you ask, smiling up at him.

“sure you can,” he replies, laying a soft peck to your lips.

“did you read the christmas sweater i got for you?”

kento nods, brows knitting in confusion. “yes, i did. why do you ask?”

“i just think the hidden meaning flew right over that handsome head of yours. it says feliz navi-dad.”

“…oh my.”

oh, it’s a christmas miracle!

note. don’t look at me… this came out way too late bc i spend too much time sleeping and scrolling jjk memes on pinterest. can i get a life? obviously NOT bc i just wrote 9k words of pure smut about 4 (four.) FICTIONAL MEN!!!! if you read this and enjoyed thank you <3 love ya for life. merry christmas 🎄

[rafecameronssl4t]

Saving Grace || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: When Rafe Cameron’s infamous temper threatens to derail the entire office, his wife is called in as the only person who can bring him back to earth.

Warnings: none!

Word count: 2,051

MASTERLIST

Rafe Cameron could be described in many ways: arrogant, sharp-tongued, perpetually stone-faced, and infamously hot-headed. His temper was a ticking time bomb, always moments away from detonation. It didn’t take much to set him off—a missed detail, an oversight, or even the wrong tone of voice—and once his mood soured, it had a ripple effect on everyone within his orbit.

If Rafe was in a foul mood, the entire office braced itself for the storm, knowing they’d bear the brunt of his frustration. Productivity stalled, morale plummeted, and an oppressive tension hung heavy in the air. No one dared to ask if he was okay or offer to fix the issue—it was simply understood that his temper had to run its course.

But there was one person who had mastered the art of disarming the bomb: his assistant, Rachael. If anyone in the office had something to say about Rachael, it was that she knew Rafe Cameron far too well. She had an uncanny ability to read his moods and an arsenal of strategies for defusing them. Most importantly, she understood the one surefire way to calm Rafe down: his wife.

The woman who he worshipped the ground she walked on, mother to his children, and the only person Rafe Cameron seemed to hold above all else. No matter how irritable or unapproachable he became, the mere mention of her name was enough to shift the atmosphere. So when Rachael watched one of her coworkers stumble out of Rafe’s office, barely holding back tears, she knew it was time to intervene.

Her sharp eyes scanned the room, noting the nervous glances exchanged between staff members who were all too aware of the storm brewing behind Rafe’s closed door. Without missing a beat, Rachael grabbed her phone, dialling a number she had memorised long ago. As the call connected, her tone softened—a stark contrast to the sharp efficiency she displayed in the office.

“Hi, Mrs. Cameron,” she began, her voice carrying a mixture of urgency and familiarity. “I hate to bother you, but it’s one of those days. If you’re free, I think a quick word with Rafe might do the trick.” She paused, listening intently before smiling to herself. Rachael didn’t need to explain much; Mrs. Cameron always seemed to know exactly how to handle her husband.

And while the office might dread Rafe’s infamous outbursts, Rachael found comfort in knowing there was someone who could bring the man back down to earth. She let out a small sigh of relief when she heard your calm, reassuring voice on the other end of the line. “I’ll be right there,” you said, your tone steady but with a hint of warmth that was reserved for conversations about your husband.

Without hesitation, you grabbed your car keys, slipping on a pair of heels as you prepared to leave. It wasn’t the first time you’d been called in to play peacemaker, and it likely wouldn’t be the last. Rafe’s temper was legendary, but you knew how to navigate it better than anyone else. You’d seen him at his worst, the raw edges of his frustration and anger, but you also knew the softer side of him—the part that melted when you walked into a room, the man who looked at you like you hung the stars in the sky.

As you slid into the driver’s seat, your thoughts briefly flickered to your children, safely at home with the nanny. You didn’t want to leave them, but you also understood that Rafe needed you. He might not admit it outright, especially not in front of his staff, but the subtle ways he sought you out after a rough day spoke volumes.

~

As you walked toward your husband’s office, the energy in the space shifted noticeably. Heads turned, relief washing over faces that had been tense just moments before. Hushed whispers followed in your wake, employees murmuring their gratitude for the one person who could tame the storm that was Rafe Cameron. Even without uttering a word, your presence commanded respect—graceful yet undeniably authoritative.

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you, Mrs. Cameron,” Rachael said as she stood from her desk, her tone filled with a mixture of hope and exhaustion. “He’s in his office, and he’s miserable in there.” You glanced through the glass wall into Rafe’s office. Rachael hadn’t exaggerated—his frustration was palpable. The furrow of his brow, the tight set of his jaw, and the restless movements of his hands screamed of a man on the verge of losing his patience entirely.

You offered Rachael a small, reassuring smile before making your way to the door, your heels clicking softly against the polished floor. You didn’t bother knocking—Rafe hated formalities when it came to you. The heavy sigh he let out at the sound of the door opening was immediate. His eyes remained locked on the papers scattered across his desk, his tone sharp and cold.

“I thought I said I didn’t want to be disturbed.” A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you stepped inside. “Does that include me?” you asked, your voice sweet and smooth, cutting through the tension. Rafe’s head snapped up at the sound of your voice, his piercing blue eyes meeting yours. Instantly, his rigid posture softened, and the weight on his shoulders seemed to lift.

The frustration etched into his features melted away, replaced by a look that could only be described as unguarded affection. Just your presence had the power to undo him. Without a word, Rafe reached behind his desk and flicked a switch, causing the glass walls of his office to turn frosted, granting the two of you privacy. His voice softened, tinged with genuine curiosity and concern.

“What are you doing here, baby?" You walked around his desk, your movements fluid and deliberate, and Rafe turned in his chair to face you fully. Standing in front of him, you saw the shift in his expression—the hard edges of his day crumbling as he looked up at you. And there it was, the look that never failed to steal your breath.

No matter how difficult or frustrating his day had been, Rafe always looked at you like you were his entire world, as though you hung the moon and stars just for him. In his eyes, there was nothing but pure, unfiltered love—a stark contrast to the icy exterior he showed everyone else. You leaned down, your fingers brushing lightly against his jaw as you pressed a gentle kiss to his lips.

His shoulders visibly relaxed at the familiar touch, the tension from his day dissolving. “You’re scaring your employees,” you teased softly, your words accompanied by a light chuckle as you straightened up. Rafe let out a dramatic sigh, leaning back in his chair and rolling his eyes. “They’re ridiculous,” he muttered, his tone laced with both irritation and amusement.

“They’re terrified,” you corrected, folding your arms and raising a brow at him. “I saw one of them practically in tears.” Rafe groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “It’s not my fault they can’t handle a little pressure.” You gave him a knowing look, stepping closer and resting your hands on the armrests of his chair, effectively boxing him in. “Rafe, you can be a little… intense,” you said gently, your eyes locking with his. “And by ‘a little,’ I mean a lot.”

His lips quirked into a smirk, his hands instinctively finding your waist. “You don’t seem scared of me,” he said, his voice dropping into a softer, almost teasing tone. “That’s because I know the real you,” you replied, brushing a strand of hair out of his face. “The one who spoils me, reads bedtime stories to the kids, and eats all the burnt pancakes I make without complaining.”

He let out a low chuckle, the sound rumbling from his chest. “You know I love those burnt pancakes,” he murmured, tugging you closer until you were practically sitting on his lap. “Hmm,” you hummed playfully, trailing your fingers along the lapel of his blazer. “Maybe I should remind your staff that under all that brooding, you’re just a big softie.”

“Don’t you dare,” he warned, though his smirk betrayed the emptiness of his threat. You laughed softly, pressing another kiss to his lips before pulling back just enough to meet his gaze. “Then maybe try to be a little nicer? For me?” He sighed, feigning reluctance, but the way his hands tightened on your waist betrayed his surrender. “Fine,” he said, his tone mockingly begrudging. “But only because you asked so nicely.”

“That’s all I needed to hear,” you said with a satisfied smile, brushing your thumb against his cheek. “Now, why don’t you take a break? Let me help you relax before you scare anyone else.” Rafe’s smirk softened into a genuine smile, the love in his eyes shining brighter than ever. “You really are my saving grace,” he murmured, his voice low and sincere.

[killiaia]

SEXTAPE

Last fic of 2024.

Merry Christmas everyone.

Rosé x male reader.

"Thanks, man."

You thank the cashier and exit the store. You take out your phone and notice again that you have zero messages. You've been back from your mission for several weeks but you still have zero replies from Rosé.

But when you open your social networks, you see her everywhere. You see her and Bruno Mars. Literally, they're everywhere. Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, Tiktok. Any application, they're there.

And it hurts. It hurts to see your girlfriend with someone else. It hurts to have no messages. It hurts not to hear from her, you don't even know if you're in the same country.

And tonight, you decided to clear your head. You got on your motorcycle and set off. Where? You don't know, you don't care. You just needed to get away.

Here you are, in a gas station deep in the Korean countryside. It's now 3:43 a.m. and you're drinking a can of Coke.

You're about to leave when you feel your phone vibrate.

Jennie is calling. You pick up and find yourself face to face with her.

"Hey.." says a sleepy Jennie.

"Hi, gorgeous. You're not asleep? "

"No, I'm not. You weren't answering messages, we were worried with the girls. "

"Oh. I'm sure Lisa, Jisoo and you did. Rosé, not sure. "

"Sweetie.." goes Jennie.

"I don't even know if we're on the same continent. I know I'm in no position to say this with my profession but... it hurts. "

"I know it does. But sweetie, where are you right now? "

"I don't know." You answer honestly.

You look around for a sign. After a few seconds of searching, you find one.

"I'm not far from Gimhae."

"Sweetie! "Jennie says in shock. "You're not far from Busan! "

"Oh." You reply in turn. "I guess I needed to clear my head. "

"I'll call Rosé. You need her. "

"I need all of you. I need her, you, Lisa and Jisoo. "You answer sincerely. "I don't know, I'm lost, I guess. "

"I'm calling Rosé. Don't move, sweetie

"

You want to tell her no but you don't have time Jennie has already left.

You sigh and finish your can, which you throw away. You wait several minutes and decide to get back on your bike.

You're about to turn on the ignition but once again your phone vibrates. You click on accept and Rosé's face appears.

It's daylight where she is. She looks beautiful and happy. You want to say something, but Bruno Mars' voice cuts you off.

"Come on, Rosé! We're having so much fun, you'll see your boyfriend later! "

It's the final straw for you. You notice Rosé's panicked look on the camera just before you cut the call.

You put your phone away and get back on your bike. You turn on the ignition and take off. You have no direction in mind. You just know you have to go.

With each vibration of your phone, you accelerate. You zigzag between cars, you run a red light, you overtake another car, you run a stop sign and you haven't seen the car.

----

"Everything's going to be okay. "Rosé's mother says softly.

Rosé cries in her mother's arms. His father strokes his hair, but Rosé is devastated.

Ever since your accident, Rosé has been a shadow of her former self.

Following your accident, Rose cancelled all promotions with Bruno Mars.

When you hung up, Rosé tried to call you several times, but when you didn't answer, she called Jennie. Jennie tried to call you but you didn't answer - it was only several hours later that Jennie received a call telling you of your accident.

Jennie called Rosé in tears and booked a private jet to Busan. You were taken to a Busan hospital, the best one because Jennie paid for it.

"If he dies, I'll never forgive you. "Jennie told Rosé.

Rosé enters your hospital room and collapses. Seeing you so vulnerable makes her legs buckle. Your right leg is in plaster and so is your right arm. Your head is covered in bandages, as is your torso.

"He's asleep. "says a voice from behind Rosé and her parents.

They all turn around and come face to face with your father. Rosé runs to him and takes him in her arms.

"I'm so sorry.

"It's not your fault, Chaeyoung. He made his own choices and these are his consequences... "Your father replies softly.

Rosé's parents come forward.

"Hello. I'm sorry we have to meet like this..."

"Nice to meet you, I'm Y/N's father. "

Your father and Rosé's parents leave the room. Rosé walks over to your bed and gently grabs your hand. Your hand is cold and Rosé tries to warm it.

Gently, Rosé places a kiss on your forehead. You let out a groan of pain and Rose apologizes.

"I'm sorry, my love." Rose panics.

She grabs a chair and sits down beside you.

"Ah. There you are. "says a voice from behind Rosé.

Rosé turns and looks at Jennie. She didn't hear her come in. Rosé watches Jennie settle in across from her. Jennie takes her hand and Rosé gives her a questioning look.

"What?" asks Jennie. "You've got nothing to say. "

"Really? Are we really going to have this discussion now? "

"You don't deserve him. He loves you." Jennie lets go.

"I love him more than anything! " says Rosé.

"You respond to the one you love. You don't leave him unanswered for weeks." says Jennie.

"Come to the point, Jennie. "

"I don't think this relationship is right for either of you. You two should break up. "

"Are you serious? We break up and just like that, you get him back, right? "

"He'd be better off with me. "

"Go fuck yourself. Don't even go near him. " threatens Rosé.

"What are you going to do about it? You're never around. You shoot clips with other guys talking about your exes."

"What's going on here?" says a voice behind them.

Lisa enters the room. Rosé and Jennie look at each other, ignoring the Thai woman.

"Get out, both of you. "Lisa says.

Jennie's words stick in Rosé's head. Rosé waits for Jennie to leave and leaves the room. The Australian joins your father.

"Is something going on with Jennie? "

"She's in love with Y/N. "

"Oh." says your father.

"I love your son. I love him more than anything. Believe me, if I weren't an idol, I'd already have your last name. "

"I'd love to have you in the family. ", replies your father.

"I know with everything going on, my music, Bruno Mars.... But I swear I love your son. It's business, nothing ever happened. "

"Chaeyoung. I trust you 100%. My son didn't give you time to explain and he's going to have to face the consequences, but I know you'll support him. "

"I'll take care of Jennie. ", Rosé replies. "Lisa's talking to her. "

"If someone had told me my son would have two idols fighting over him. "Laughs your father.

Rosé laughs.

"I've contacted his team. He won't be able to accept assignments for a while. "

"Good. I don't know if he told you, but a few months ago he came back injured. "Rosé confesses it to your father.

Your father sighs. 'You've never talked much about your work with your father. You know he supports you, but you don't want to worry him.

"I guess he doesn't want me to worry. But not hearing from him worries me. "

Rosé rests her head against your father's shoulder.

"We're going to help him. "

Your father places a kiss on the top of Rosé's head.

"I'm so happy to have you in the family. "

----

* A few months later. *

"You're fit to go on another mission. "

You thank the medical officer and feel Rosé's grip tighten. With your thumb, you caress her hand in a gesture of comfort. You leave the military hospital. Rosé hasn't said a word.

"I'm not leaving just yet baby. "You say to Rosé.

"Not now, but who knows. In a few days, you could be called up. "

"Rosé..." you sigh. "I'm still you and Blackpink's bodyguard. "

"Stay away from Jennie. " Rosé says seriously.

"You're going to have to fix the problem you have with Jennie. I'm serious, baby. I'm not going to leave you for her. "

You get into Rosé's car and notice that Rosé is upset.

"I'm not going to be able to avoid her. You're in the same group, I'm going to do my job and that's it. "

"I swear, if she tries anything. " warns Rosé.

"She already has. "You say nonchalantly.

Rosé slams on the brake and thank goodness you're strapped in. You'd have ended up in the windshield.

"WHAT?"

"She was drunk. It was at one of your galas. You were already asleep. I went downstairs to get Jennie and Lisa. Jennie was completely drunk, Lisa could hardly contain her and you know Jennie. When she's drunk she's extremely horny. "

"What did she do? "asks Rosé.

You notice Rosé's red skin, a sign that she's upset.

"Fact, nothing. It was more in her words. She was in "Oh, I'm sure I suck better than Rosé" mode.

"That bitch. "Said Rosé, slapping her steering wheel.

"I defended you. " You reply.

"What did you say? "

"I told her that the way you sucked my cock was the best thing in the world and that I couldn't stop cumming in your mouth. "

Rosé is shocked by your answer. You notice her clenching her thighs.

"But she went on. She said her pussy was tighter than yours. Of course I defended you, said your pussy was made for my cock. "

Rosé lets out a little "Oh".

"Continue. "says Rosé in a small voice.

"And of course Jennie talked about anal. But my answer shut her up. "

"And what was your answer. "

"I told her that while she was doing her solo during your concert in Australia, you were bent over with my cock in your ass and Lisa was watching you get your ass taken."

"Fuck.." mutters Rosé.

"I had to defend my girlfriend. " You reply nonchalantly. "So you don't have to worry my love. I much prefer your pussy and your ass."

"Baby.." whines Rosé.

"And speaking of which, drive us to your place. I want to fuck you. "

Rosé nods slowly and turns on the ignition. You laugh softly.

----

"Fuuuck Rosé. "

You're just a toy to her. You're completely at Rosé's mercy. The Australian engulfs your cock in her mouth and you're forced to moan.

"I love your fucking mouth so much. "

As Rosé responds, she sucks you faster. You help her with your hand. You grab her ponytail and force her to take your whole cock in your mouth.

Ever since you told her the story about Jennie, Rosé hasn't missed a chance to suck or fuck you.

And here you are, sitting on your sofa with this goddess kneeling between your legs.

"You look so beautiful with my cock in your mouth. I should take a picture of you. "

"Do it." replies Rosé seriously. "That way when Jennie asks you you can show her the picture. "

You don't waste any time. You pick up your phone and plant it in front of Rosé.

Rosé takes your cock out of her mouth and starts licking it. She stops and poses, sticking her tongue to your cock. You press the button and there you are with a beautiful photo of Rosé with your cock.

"Film. We're going to film. "Rosé replies seriously.

Although surprised, you accept her request. You switch to video mode and concentrate on Rose like a porn director.

"Look at that pretty girl with my dick in her mouth. You suck me so well. "

"That's because I'm your good girl. "

"You are. " You reply, shoving your cock into her mouth.

"Take a look. She sucks me so good. Are you addicted to my cock? "

Rosé nods. She's far too busy sucking your dick to answer.

"I'm still thinking about where I'm going to cum. In your mouth or on your face? "

"My mouth. "Rosé replies seriously. "Good girls don't waste. "

"You're right. You're going to drink all my cum. "

Rosé nods and continues her oral assault on your cock. With her hands, she jerks you off and accentuates with tongue strokes on your tip.

You continue filming.

"Would you like us to show Jennie how well you take care of my cock? "

"Hey Jennie. "Makes Rosé look at the phone lens. "Watch how well I take care of my boyfriend's dick. I suck it so well, look. "

To accentuate her words, Rosé engulfs your cock again and bops her head, causing you to moan.

"Fuck, you're so good with your mouth Rose. Jennie look how good she is. Look how good my good girl is at sucking my cock."

Excited by your words. Rosé starts to slide her hand under her skirt and thong.

"Oh but actually she's a bad girl. Look, she's starting to touch herself, this naughty girl. “

Rosé takes off her thong and starts touching her pussy. By the sound alone, you can hear how wet she is. Rosé continues to suck you.

"I'm going to cum soon, Rosé. "You tell her.

"Into my mouth. "

Rosé steps back and you stand up. You start stroking your cock.

"Paint me. Cum in my mouth, I'll show her how much I love your cum. "

You speed up the movement around your cock and feel yourself coming quickly. You position your cock over Rosé's wide-open mouth.

After several quick strokes back and forth, you cum. You empty yourself into Rosé's mouth. Several jets of cum land in the singer's mouth. Mouth wide open and full of cum, you approach the camera.

"Swallow. "You order Rosé.

Rosé listens and swallows in one gulp. She opens her mouth again and shows you that she's swallowed it all.

"What a good girl to listen to Daddy. "You say to Rosé and the camera. "Lie down on the sofa and spread your legs, I'm going to eat your pussy."

Rosé listens and complies. The singer removes her skirt and spreads her legs, presenting you with her pussy.

You get down on your knees and put the phone in front of her pussy. With your free hand, you spread the folds of her pussy.

"Look at that beautiful pussy. Just for me. "

You pass the camera to Rosé as you begin to lick her.

"Oh my God. "says Rosé, pointing her head at the camera. "Daddy licks me so good. "

Rosé presses the screen and films you eating her pussy.

"Fuuuck. Look at him eating my pussy. Do you like eating my pussy?" Rosé asks you

"I love it so much. Your pussy tastes divine. It's almost intoxicating. "

To accentuate your words, you catch her clit between your lips and suck it, drawing her into your mouth.

"Daddy, finger me. "

You listen to Rose, still concentrating on her clit, you tuck a finger into her pussy. The double pressure drives Rosé crazy.

"You show Jennie how I eat your pussy?"

"Fuuuck yes. I might even show Lisa and Jisoo. "

"In that case, I need to concentrate. "

With your gaze fixed on the lens, you suck Rosé's clit again and insert a second finger into her pussy, causing Rosé to howl with pleasure.

Rosé tries to film anyway, despite the pleasure she's feeling.

"You...will...have...to...send...me...the...video..." articulates Rosé between each moan.

You nod, still concentrating on giving her pleasure. You lick her pussy, start by licking her hole and work your way up to her clit.

"The girls are going to be jealous to see how you're eating my pussy."

You put a finger back in her pussy and suck on her clit again and Rose starts undulating her pelvis against your mouth.

"That's it. You're going to sit on my face. "

You stand up and Rose looks at you. You help her up. You take the opportunity to kiss her and Rosé continues filming.

"A little kiss for the camera? "asks Rosé.

You grab her and kiss her full on the lips. You take the opportunity to finger her pussy and Rosé moans into your mouth.

"Her pussy is so wet. Listen to her. "

You insert a second finger and finger Rosé. The sound her pussy makes is so beautiful. It's so wet. You continue your assault on her little pussy and Rosé almost falls over as she moans so loudly.

You cut short the pleasure and bring your juicy fingers from Rosé's pussy to the singer's mouth. Rosé hastens to lick your soaked fingers.

"What a good girl. She sucks my juicy fingers. Does your pussy taste good? " You ask Rosé and the camera.

Rosé nods, continuing to lick your fingers. Her gaze is so sexy, so provocative.

You tap her on the ass and Rosé flinches with excitement. You give Rosé your phone back and lie down on the sofa. Rosé climbs on. Her pussy over your face, you grab her ass and let Rosé fall on your face. The shock is almost violent, but it's not serious.

For your part, you lick the young woman greedily. Her pussy is an aphrodisiac today, you can't do without it. Rosé grabs your hair and starts straddling your face. Phone still in hand, Rosé films herself straddling you.

"Watch how he eats my pussy."

Rosé lovingly strokes your hair.

"You see, Jennie, Oppa's too busy licking my pussy."

You could almost laugh at Rosé's jealousy. Playfully, you grab her ass and press her pussy against your mouth.

"Fucking look, I love it so much. "

With your tongue, you lick everything possible. Her lips, her hole, her clit.

"I love it so much when you eat my pussy. I'm going to cum so hard in your mouth. "

With your hands you spread her buttocks and titillate her asshole.

"Oh fuck. Take care of my holes. "

You put pressure on her holes and Rose is nothing but a mess. Still filming you, the young woman straddles your face. She picks up the pace and you can feel that Rosé is not far from cumming. You decide to go faster with your tongue and without warning, you feel Rosé's pussy contract against your tongue. You receive her full juices in your mouth.

Rosé lets out an almost bestial sound and the young woman nearly smothers you with her thighs.

Realizing this, Rosé pushes herself off your face and lies on your chest. And of course, as a global star, Rosé doesn't forget the camera.

"I came so hard with Oppa's mouth. "

You laugh and stroke her hair. Rosé turns her face to you and smiles.

"Ready? " you ask.

"Always ready. " Rosé replies.

"In that case, give me the phone and get down on all fours. "

Rosé listens, hands you the phone and moves into position. You get up and stand behind the singer. Like a porn director, you zoom in on her buttocks and pussy.

You slap her ass and Rose moans. She glances over her shoulder at you and you fuck her pussy. With your hand, you spread her ass.

"Look at that beautiful pussy."

You zoom in with the camera and Rosé waddles her ass. You stand up and position your cock in front of her entrance. Rosé's pussy is so wet that you enter easily. The movement elicits a groan from both of you.

"I'm sliding so fucking good in your pussy. You're so wet I didn't even have to strain. "

With the phone you film the movements of your cock in her vagina.

It's worthy of the greatest porn movies. You never thought you'd do it, but here you are. Filming yourself taking one of kpop's biggest stars doggy-style at her request.

"Fuck. I could never do without your pussy. It was made for me. "

Rosé moans. The young woman literally fucks herself on your cock, head against the couch, mouth open, Rosé just a toy at this point.

"Look, she loves it when I do this. "

With your free hand you slap her ass. Rosé screams with pleasure.

"I told you. She loves it when I slap her ass."

You slap her ass again.

"It helps her come. " You say to the camera.

Rosé says nothing, the young woman continues to move her pelvis. You can hear the sound of flesh against flesh. You're lucky you don't have neighbors.

"She's about to come. I feel the walls of her pussy tighten around my cock. "

Rosé nods and increases the pace. You decide to do the same. You pick up the pace and with your free hand you grab one of her buttocks. Your balls hit her ass and your loins propel Rosé limitlessly against the wall behind the sofa.

"Harder! Make me come and come inside me. "

Who are you not to listen to this goddess. You grab her hip with your good hand and place the camera next to her on the table. The angle is perfect. With both hands, you grab her hips and start plundering Rosé's pussy.

"Yes...YES!"

Almost animalistically, you climb onto the sofa, giving yourself a new angle of penetration. With this new angle, you accentuate the pleasure of both of you.

In this position, you totally dominate Rosé. Rosé can do nothing but receive your cock strokes.

But that's what the singer wants, so you speed up your movements.

It's beastly. You're just trying to make her come. And after several strokes, you come together.

The combination of your orgasms is powerful. You feel your legs buckle and you quickly catch yourself before you fall. You've come so much that you feel your cock being expelled from her pussy.

You catch your breath and see Rosé breathless, lying back on the sofa. You also see your cum coming out of her pussy. 

You stand up, grab the phone and point to Rosé's cunt filled with your cum.

"And that's the end. "You say to the camera. "

Rosé is so full that it's spilling out of her pussy. 

With your hand you spread the folds of her pussy and watch your cum fall onto the sofa. 

You put the camera up to Rosé's face and ask. 

"Any last words Rosie? "

Rosé looks at the camera and says to Jennie.

"You'll never have him and his cock belongs to me. "

You laugh and pat her on the ass.

[amirasainz]

hooola!! absolutely love the baby alonso series and i’d love to see her playing with penelope maybe?? or one of lando’s nieces!!

hope u have a great day 🫶🫶

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo babygirl 💕

@piastappies

Best friends forever

The bustling paddock was alive with the hum of race car engines, chatter from teams, and fans eagerly seeking autographs. Amidst the energy of the Formula 1 weekend, two tiny figures stood out—Yn and Penelope.

Yn, with her sparkling pink bike that had streamers hanging off the handlebars, was busy adjusting her helmet. Penelope, on her equally dazzling sparkling purple bike, was already riding in circles, her giggles carrying through the air.

"Come on, Yn!" Penelope called, a teasing grin on her face. "You're so slow!"

Yn puffed up her cheeks in mock frustration, tightening the strap on her helmet. "I'm not slow! I just wanna make sure my helmet is perfect! Safety first, P!"

Penelope stopped her bike and crossed her arms dramatically. "We’re in the paddock, silly. No cars are gonna hit us!"

Yn finally climbed onto her bike, wobbling for a moment before finding her balance. "Fine! But you're not gonna win the race!" she said with determination, pedaling furiously to catch up.

The two girls zipped past team garages, their bikes glittering under the sun, leaving a trail of laughter behind them. Engineers paused to watch, some waving and smiling, others snapping quick photos of the adorable sight.

"Careful, girls!" Charles called out, leaning against a garage wall with a cup of coffee.

"We’re being careful!" Penelope yelled back, her voice high-pitched and confident.

"Yeah!" Yn chimed in. "We’re super fast, like Max and Fernando!"

Charles chuckled, shaking his head. "Well, just don’t beat them in qualifying, okay?"

The girls burst into laughter, though neither truly understood what qualifying was.

---

Later, Yn and Penelope decided to ditch their bikes and explore on foot. Hand-in-hand, they skipped down the paddock, their little sneakers slapping against the ground in perfect rhythm.

"We should go see the snacks table!" Penelope suggested, her eyes sparkling.

"Snacks!" Yn cheered. "I hope they have gummy bears. And cookies!"

As they approached the Red Bull hospitality, Max was leaning on a railing, chatting with Sergio. He spotted the duo and immediately straightened up, his tough demeanor softening into a wide grin.

"Hey, what are you two up to now?" Max asked, crouching down to their level.

"Snacks!" Penelope declared with a triumphant fist in the air.

Yn nodded eagerly. "Gummy bears!"

Max laughed. "Ah, I see. Well, the snacks are this way, but no eating too much, okay? I need Penelope to cheer for me later, not fall asleep!"

"I’m gonna cheer for Yn’s dad too!" Penelope said proudly, looking at Yn.

"Me too!" Yn added, squeezing Penelope’s hand.

Max ruffled Penelope's hair, a rare, tender smile on his face. "Good girls. Now go on, and don’t cause too much trouble."

---

The next stop on their grand paddock adventure was Fernando’s garage. The two girls peeked in cautiously before scampering inside. Fernando was sitting on a stool, studying data on a screen, but the moment he saw the two tiny intruders, his face lit up.

"Ah, mis pequeñas amigas!" Fernando exclaimed, opening his arms wide.

Yn ran straight to him, throwing her arms around his leg. "Papa! We’re having the best day ever!"

Fernando chuckled, scooping Yn up onto his lap. "I can see that. And Penelope, are you taking good care of my little one?"

Penelope nodded solemnly. "Of course. We’re best friends!"

"Bestest friends!" Yn echoed, reaching out to hold Penelope’s hand again.

Fernando looked at them with soft eyes. "You know, seeing you two like this reminds me of why we do all this. It’s not just about winning—it’s about family and having fun."

"Does that mean you’ll let us ride your car next time?" Penelope asked, her face completely serious.

Fernando laughed heartily. "Not quite, pequeña, but maybe one day."

---

As the day wore on, Yn and Penelope found new ways to entertain themselves. They drew with chalk on the pavement, leaving colorful hearts and stars for everyone to see. They played hide-and-seek around the motorhomes, with Lando and George willingly pretending not to see their bright clothes sticking out from behind crates.

At one point, the two girls sat on a patch of grass, sharing a juice box they had "borrowed" from the hospitality.

"Do you think we’ll ever drive like our dads?" Yn asked, her face thoughtful.

Penelope tilted her head. "I think so. But only if the cars are purple and pink."

Yn nodded solemnly. "Definitely."

---

By the time the sun began to set, the paddock had grown quieter, but the two girls were still full of energy. They convinced Max and Fernando to sit down with them for one last activity: a tea party.

Fernando looked hilariously out of place, holding a tiny plastic teacup between his large fingers, while Max did his best to balance a tiara Penelope had insisted he wear.

"More tea, sir?" Yn asked in an exaggerated posh accent, holding out an empty teapot.

"Why, thank you, madam," Fernando replied, playing along with a dramatic bow of his head.

Max sighed, though he couldn’t hide his grin. "This tea is excellent, Penelope. Did you make it yourself?"

Penelope giggled. "It’s pretend, Papa!"

"Ah, of course," Max said, nodding seriously.

---

As the day came to an end, Yn and Penelope finally started to tire, their eyes drooping as they sat on a bench together, wrapped in a shared blanket.

Fernando and Max watched from a distance, their competitive natures completely set aside as they admired their daughters.

"They really are something, aren’t they?" Fernando said quietly.

Max nodded, a rare softness in his gaze. "Yeah. Makes you realize what really matters."

The two girls held hands even in their sleep, their innocent friendship a bright light in the often chaotic world of Formula 1.

[bisuhq]

under the mistletoe!

includes : (mouthwashing) anya, curly, daisuke, swansea.

summary : you get caught under the mistletoe!

warnings : gn! reader. mutual pining/early relationship.

ANYA

Has been waiting for you to notice the mistletoe above you both, she doesn't want to initiate the good old tradition but she definitely wants to participate in it.

When Anya glances upwards for the umpteenth time, you finally decide to follow her line of vision, noticing the mistletoe that hung above you both. Glancing down at Anya, you notice the slight flush to her cheeks, and realize she's noticed it the whole time.

"You know," Your voice drops to a whisper as you take a step closer to her, "If you wanted a kiss, all you had to do was ask." Cupping her cheek gently, you lock eyes with hers.

She mumbles something under her breath- something about being oblivious, causing you to chuckle in agreement. You definitely wish you had noticed it early, so that you could've spent more time kissing her. With that in thought, you don't waste another second.

Your lips press against hers, savoring the sweet flavor of cake on her lips. Anya wraps her arms around your neck, deepening the kiss with rare resolve. Pulling away is a struggle, not wanting the kiss to end, but when it does you at least get to revel in the beauty of her dazed expression.

CURLY (pre-crash)

Tries to play it off as a joke in case you don't like the whole tradition, subsequently forcing you to make the first move and leaving him a little embarrassed.

When you both noticed the mistletoe hung above your heads, you had hoped it meant that Curly would finally kiss you. Instead, he awkwardly tries to crack a joke. "So... You come here often?" He winced at how bad that one liner sounded, wishing the ground would swallow him hole- but when you stifle a laugh (because it's cute how hard he's trying), he seems to relax a bit.

"Only when I see a handsome, lone Captain standing here." You reply, enjoying the way he seems to brighten at the answer, him responding in a husky 'is that so?'. Taking a step closer, your hand finds his chest. "You know, if memory serves right, tradition is that those standing under the mistletoe are to kiss, right?"

"Mmhm, big fan of tradition." Curly hums, nodding in agreement. Taking that as your cue, you lean in to kiss the handsome man before you. He sighs blissfully into the kiss, but pulls away all too quickly for both of your sakes.

"Yeah, definitely a big fan of tradition." Curly says, a bit in awe of the kiss, before deciding he's definitely not done kissing you yet.

DAISUKE

Thinks he's being smooth when he suddenly stops in front of the mistletoe with you by his side. He's not, but he gets points for being cute.

"Right this wa-" Daisuke was going to show you something in the other room, but stopped so abruptly you ran straight into his back. Stumbling backwards, you furrow your brows in confusion. Daisuke is now leaning against the doorframe, raising his brows.

"What are you doing?" You just so happen to glance upwards to see mistletoe above the doorway. You look back at Daisuke, "Are you serious?"

"Am I rizzing you up yet?" Its a good, solid debate in your head if you should leave him hanging or actually consider kissing him. Shaking your head at his silly antics, you give him a (teasing) pitiful look. "Is that a no-"

"Daisuke, just kiss me." You sigh, and he definitely doesn't need to be told twice. Excitedly, Daisuke swoops in and kisses you under the mistletoe. His hands a little shaky as they settle on your waist and pull you in closer, deepening the kiss.

SWANSEA

Who put this shit up? Swansea is not having any of it- hm? Oh, you like mistletoe? Well he supposes it isn't soooo bad.

Stood on a step stool, Swansea is taking the mistletoe down when you approach in curiosity. "Awe, don't rip it off Swansea!" You say, he sends you a small glare.

"You the one who put this shit up?" You giving a shrug, acting coy. Perhaps you were the one who put mistletoe up right under the Utility room, maybe you weren't. You definitely were. Either way it has Swansea faltering. "Ugh, as long as you take it down later, I guess..." He grumbles, leaving the mistletoe as he gets off the stool.

You gasp as he steps off the stool, capturing his attention once again. "Swansea! Looks like we're under the mistletoe, you know what that means~" You coo, mostly teasing, but when you see the light blush on his face you decide to double down on it. "Rules are rules, as they say."

"You're somethin' else, ya know that?" He sighs, looking at your excited face- you hide your intentions terribly. With a grunt, Swansea gives you a quick kiss, and when you whine, he snickers. "Hey, rules never specified how long." Damn, he got you this time, but you'll outsmart him next time!

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed!

[woso-dreamzzz]

Surgery: Christmas

Mapi Leon x Ingrid Engen x Child!Reader

Summary: Christmas with Cub

"We could get her another cat?"

"We're not getting her another cat!"

It's strangely difficult to find ideas for Christmas presents to give a little girl that's only obsessed with cats, the washing machine and baking.

Your mothers can't exactly buy you your own washing machine or an electric mixer or, god forbid, another massive cat for you to carry around and insist isn't fat, isn't a complete monster or isn't the absolutely worst enemy of your mothers.

One of those worst enemies, your incredibly fat tabby Garfield, sits on the kitchen counter attempting to bat open a box of cereal to feed his never ending hunger.

Mapi and Ingrid ignore him, knowing that sooner or later this burst of energy will leave and he will amble off to a sunspot so he can nap away the rest of the day.

"Mami!" A call comes from your bedroom. "I'm stuck again!"

Mapi scrubs a hand over her face. "Just a minute, cub! I'm coming!" She turns back to Ingrid. "Definitely a no to the cat?"

Ingrid sighs. "No more cats."

"Just trying to make it easier on us!"

"Go and help our kid put on her t-shirt. I've got this."

But Ingrid very much doesn't have this. It shouldn't be this difficult to find a Christmas present for you but you're such a content kid. You've already got toys and the tv and the washing machine and the cats.

There's not really much else you want or need.

You're no help either, of course, because when Ingrid asks, you just reply with a simple:

"Er...I can get more time in yours and Mami's bed?"

So, it was very clear that you didn't quite know what you wanted for Christmas either apart from, clearly, curling up in Mapi and Ingrid's bed with them and probably kicking Mapi in her sleep.

Ingrid spends weeks stewing over what she and Mapi could get you. They'd gotten you a few throw away things like a new yellow digger after your last one fall off the balcony and smashed into the pavement below and a cute little necklace that doubled as identification with things like your name and had Mapi and Ingrid's numbers on them in case you ever went missing in a crowded area.

In the end, it's Frido that comes to her and Mapi's rescue, throwing out an idea at random during lunch when Aitana takes you up to the buffet to find some chicken.

It's a throwaway comment but with Mapi and Ingrid struggling to work out what else they could get you, they cling to it like a lifeline. They're fairly easy presents to source, something that Ingrid is glad for because she's cutting it abnormally close to Christmas day to get everything sorted.

"Mami..."

There's a crackle on the monitor that has Mapi stirring awake.

"Maaaami."

Mapi counts to ten in her mind before rolling out of bed, kissing a still sleeping Ingrid on the cheek and making her way out to your room.

"Merry Christmas, cub," She says as she pushes open your bedroom door," I see you've got company."

All of the cats seem to have migrated to your bed overnight.

Garfield, as usual, is laying on his back after (presumably) being used as a stuff animal for most of the night. Bagheera sits by your feet, grooming herself primly while the monstrous León-León stands nearby, tail flicking from side to side as he stares.

"We had Christmas cuddles," You say happily," And now we have the gingerbread?"

"We'll have to wait. Mama is still asleep."

"Why?"

"Huh? Why is Mama still asleep? She's tired."

"But why?"

"Because she was busy making sure everything was good for today."

"But why?"

Mapi scrubs a hand over her face. "You know what, let's go eat that gingerbread. Then we'll go and get your Mama."

You wiggle happily all the way to the kitchen, where Mapi lifts you up onto the counter so you can have a breakfast of the gingerbread you and Ingrid made last night and so Mapi can stop you from running into their room before Ingrid is awake enough to function.

The cats come running in as soon as they hear the rattling of their dishes - though Garfield kind of lumbers in, far behind León-León and Bagheera but still manages to steal most of the food.

Mapi does a pretty good job of stopping you going for the presents until Ingrid finally gets up, a nice warm mug of coffee waiting for her and an overly excited child trying to shove some gingerbread into her mouth.

"Tha-Thanks, Cub," Ingrid laughs as she pushes away one of your sticky little hands from where it's trying to shove biscuit into her mouth," But I'm fine with my coffee."

"It's good," You say through your own full mouth and Ingrid laughs.

"I know because it was made by us, with lots of love." Ingrid kisses the tip of your nose. "But really you should eat it all yourself."

"Really?"

"Really-really," Ingrid insists and you giggle, kicking your feet happily as you finally settle on her lap, sprinkling gingerbread crumbs everywhere as you move.

Garfield, as he always does whenever there's food to spare, comes ambling over to eat them all up.

Usually, Ingrid would scold him but Mapi's coming over with presents and she decides that even the cats can get away with things they usually wouldn't today.

"Are you ready for presents?" Ingrid asks, bouncing her knee so you burst into a round of giggles.

"Presents!"

Mapi and Ingrid exchange triumphant looks as you tear open your presents.

Your new ID necklace is placed snugly around your neck immediately, ready for in case you get lost during the walk your mothers have planned later that day.

You take great delight in placing your new yellow digger with all of your other construction toys in the corner of the room next to your little wooden set of tools.

"Mama! Mami! It's CAT!"

It's truly a surprise how many CAT themed things the club has managed to make in such a short amount of time. It's even more surprising just how much stuff they can buy for so cheap a price with their team member discounts.

But, perhaps the most surprising of all is how much the club was willing to just straight up give to them in return for just a few pictures of you with CAT the mascot.

It's not shocking to the staff and fans alike who the biggest CAT fan is and, while you do regularly appear on Mapi and Ingrid's Instagrams, it's a rarer feat to see you featured on the team's.

But, with just three pictures of you with CAT and a very cute video of you nearly taking the mascot of their feet in an attempt to hug them, Mapi and Ingrid received a bundle of CAT merch in return.

"It is CAT," Mapi laughs," It's a t-shirt with CAT on it!"

"And a keyring! And a new mug!" Ingrid continues as you rip open your presents, getting more and more excited the more CAT things you see.

"CAT's my second best friend," You tell Mapi and Ingrid earnestly in the next hour as you all take a nice walk together through the park.

"Oh, yeah?" Mapi says," And who's your best friend?"

"You and Mama," You reply.

"Oh, cub," Ingrid coos," That's so swe-"

"And Bagheera and Garfield and León-León."

Mapi laughs. "There it is."

[distant-screaming]

imagine you are a maid who works for ithaca's royalty. you're not, like, always the most up to date on gossip, because you have things to do and knowing what date the king and queen went on this week is not going to make the floors any less dirty. so, whatever. one thing even you know, though, is that the king is leaving for war. which sucks, probably, you've heard things about war, and also your cousin's part of the crew headed to troy and the queen looks like she's about to stab whoever tries to touch her so you really hope they stay safe and come back in one piece, for everyone else in the palace's sake at least. still, it doesn't change the fact that the floors need cleaning. so you get cleaning. and then you wake up one day with men in the palace. suitors, they call themselves. and you're like, okay, whatever, guests. except they never leave. they just. stay. day after day after week after month and then suddenly it's years, just hanging around. and, really, do none of them have jobs? goodness. and they have absolutely no respect for the workers of the palace, which is a bit frustrating because your back is hurting from how much extra cleaning you're doing for no discernable reason other than just because the suitors find some nonexistent dirt. still, whatever, it doesn't really matter to you, so you clean the floors and try your best to avoid running into any of them. you have things to do. the prince is cute, and he waddles around everywhere and gets his muddy little prints on everything but you feel nothing negative towards him because he's cute and tries to awkwardly make conversation. so you give him a smile and scrub the floors clean and go back to your room and fall asleep, exhausted. and years pass, and you age, and your hair starts graying and you wonder if maybe it's time to retire but the fearful and tired look in the younger girls' eyes makes you stay. you can't just - leave them. whatever. clean the floors. there's something to do with the queen and a shroud and lying, you're not entirely sure. your job is to clean floors and the queen is polite when you dart into her room occasionally, so. whatever. and then fifteen, eighteen, twenty years later - you're barely out of bed when one of the girls barrels into your room, screaming with excitement - the king is back. the king is back and he brings destruction in his wake. you hurry upstairs and you are greeted with a docked bow and a familiar face, now older and warier and more haggard, and you pause. he looks at you, and his eyes are - sharp, bright, focused, but also a bit unclear. like he's looking at one thing while also avoiding it. he blinks, once, and then looks away. a movement from the other side of the room - a suitor, you recognize, one who takes extra pleasure in watching the girls scrub the floor in front of him - and then there's an arrow lodged into his chest, followed by a scream of agony and then nothing. well. alright. you look around for a couple of moments, then turn back around and head to the kitchen, rooting around the storage cupboard for spare cloths. this whole return is well and good and there's probably political stuff happening here but, like, you don't really care. the king is cleaning house, and you should too. that's your job.

[jayktoralldaylong]

One of my favourite things about Arcane is that all the couples can be read as toxic, which is GREAT.

I'm tired of people bringing morality debates into dark media. Let dark media be fucking dark. You guys wouldn't survive a day in the TMA fandom, needing everyone to be as good as gold. How are they going to make for enjoyable complex characters if they're not morally grey. In fact, I wish there'd been more expansion on just how morally black they can become!

"CaitVi is so toxic" According to lesbian statistics, that sounds just about accurate. 💀 Heck, I wish Caitlyn had done more (Not really, but it would have been nice to further explore the darkness in her heart). Isn't it adorable how she immediately folded as soon as Vi called her cupcake? Caitlyn's like one of those villains that will consistently do the most....until it comes to someone else hurting her girlfriend. The only one allowed to hurt her girlfriend is her. 💀

Then let's talk about Vi. Someone pointed out how Vi never cared about Zaun's independence in the first place and many people yelled that they were wrong. But actually, they were right. Vi never wanted Zaun. Zaun was Silco's dream, and Jinx inherited that dream cause Silco would never shut up about it. Vi wanted Piltover to take responsibility for all the shit they allowed to happen in the Undercity. That's a part of the reason she joined up with Caitlyn in the first place. Let's not forget she wasn't dissuaded when she dragged Jayce down to fight with her and he killed a child. Children been dying, it's been her whole life. Someone needed to do something about it, and Zaun would have just isolated the people from all the privileges that Piltover SHOULD have been providing for them. Some people just can't accept that Independence cannot in fact solve every problem, and sometimes independence is colonisers running away from the responsibility of fixing the mess that they started in the first place.

Besides, we all know Vi joined up with the Enforcers because "I feel like I am worthless if I can't be of service." She'd already run out of family members to serve, Caitlyn was the next best thing. She's just like Jayce.

And speaking of Jayce, let's talk about his violent levels of codependency with anyone who'll give him attention. People LOOOOVE to talk about Mel, but it's there with Viktor too. When bro wasn't basing his worth on his inventions, he was centering it around Viktor.

Viktor who decided at some point in his life that he would not LIVE without Jayce. He was fine dying without him, but living without him was unacceptable. Oh how healthy. 🙄😂 Viktor be the kind of toxic ex to threaten divorce 500 times over, then burn the world when you actually leave him. Jayce is no better cause he's the kind of guy to keep going back to his toxic Ex.

Yes, Mel is manipulative. That's what I love about her. How are you guys failing to give this woman the praise of being an outsider in Piltover, but running their entire council. 💀 Girl raises her hand once and the whole government starts spinning. She was the best sugar mummy Jayce and Viktor could ever ask for. She kept the whole city running. Literally the entire of Piltover dancing on her palm. And yes she manipulated Jayce but let's not forget she thought that was a love language. 💀 You wanna be mad at someone, be mad at Ambessa for raising her that way.

I also don't think it's fair to blame her for the Undercity situation, she's not native. Monkey see, monkey do, and not a single one of those Council members actually cared about the situation down there, it was deplorable. 💀 Jayce did way more in his two weeks as Councillor than any of those drug pushing, money laundering, Piltovian heads of government.

And that just covers MelJayVik, we don't even need to get fully into TimeBomb, cause we know what's wrong there. 💀 Surely we have not forgotten the many teammates Jinx has killed, but making sure to never kill Ekko cause that's her man. Ekko has a lot to unpack, like how his consistent and unwavering love for Jinx is an indication of a lot of doors he might not be ready to open. I know they dynamics go crazy and I love to see it.

Ambessa and Sevika are a crack ship but I'm sure we all know bedroom dynamics go crazy with Mrs. Warlord and Miss Liberation. I love it when characters clash in a toxic heap. It's insane and should be explored.

Quit saintifying my toxic ships with your woke morality debates. If you want everyone to be sunshine and rainbows then you should be watching literally anything else. 💀 "It's not healthy." GOOD, I like it that way. 💀 Angst, spice and trauma are the recipe for a plethora of explorative fanfiction. Any of their dynamics can be taken in any toxic direction and I want that EXPLORED.

[thedensworld]

Kiss a Friend | K. Mg

Genre: angst, fluff, smut (18+)

Summary: Mingyu was obsessed with his ex fiancee who had left him on the altar. To get her back, he paid all your debt to help him.

It started with a kiss.

Mingyu had warned you to arrive at 7, sharp. Punctuality, he said, was non-negotiable. He despised people who couldn’t respect time. But tonight, you wanted him to hate you, to see the look of irritation flash across his usually composed face. So, you walked in at 7:50, deliberately late, wearing the plainest dress you could find in your closet. It was all part of your plan to embarrass Kim Mingyu, a small act of rebellion against the man who now held a claim over your life for the next three months.

You sighed, an inexplicable tightness in your chest. Mingyu was more than just the imposing businessman he had become; he was your childhood nemesis. To be fair, your parents had been friends long before you were born, so you and Mingyu were forced into each other’s lives. You spent your childhood squabbling over the smallest things—who was faster on their bikes or who could get highest score in Math. It was always a competition, and Mingyu always found a way to win, leaving you rolling your eyes and muttering curses under your breath. Then, he left for the States to study business and fulfill his destiny of taking over the family empire. The distance was a relief, a clean break from the constant rivalry.

Meanwhile, you had chosen a different path. You found joy in acting, even if it meant playing minor roles or being in small films. You cherished the freedom it gave you, the knowledge that you weren’t bound by family legacies or the weight of expectations. Your life was yours, simple and light—or at least it was until last month.

Mingyu returned from the States a changed man, celebrated and respected in the business world. He no longer resembled the carefree boy from the neighborhood, and communication between you dwindled to polite nods and rare encounters. Then, the invitation came: a wedding announcement for him and his fiancée of two years. You’d laughed to yourself, amused by the thought that Mingyu, the annoying kid who used to trip you on purpose, had grown up enough to commit to someone. The thought of him managing to woo a woman seemed almost comical.

But everything shattered on the day he was left standing at the altar.

The chaos that followed was unforgettable. You ran to his parents, finding his father pale and clutching his chest, too stunned to speak. The paramedics arrived moments later, rushing him to the hospital. You stayed behind, holding his mother’s trembling hand and feeling the weight of Mingyu’s world as it crumbled around him. Hyorin—his fiancée, now ex-fiancée, ex-bride; you struggled to decide what to call her—left only a short letter behind. In it, she confessed that she’d run away with another man, admitting she’d been unfaithful and choosing to leave Mingyu for good.

Days later, Mingyu appeared at your door. Dark circles hung under his eyes, and his usual confident posture was nowhere to be seen.

“Help me,” he said, voice low and raw.

You blinked, unable to piece together what he meant. “Help you with what?”

“Help me get Hyorin back,” he clarified, leaning against the doorframe as if the effort of standing was too much. “I need you to be my girlfriend—just for three months.”

Your mouth dropped open. The idea was absurd. “Are you serious?”

“Hyorin is possessive. She won’t be able to stand seeing someone else with me. I know her. If she thinks I’ve moved on, she’ll come back,” he explained, desperation creeping into his tone. His eyes held yours, unyielding. “And besides, she hates you. That’ll add fuel to the fire.”

He sat comfortably on your couch, surveying your small apartment with an expression that was almost amused. It was a stark contrast to the sleek penthouse or sprawling home he had planned to share with Hyorin. You sat on the floor across from him, disbelief clouding your expression as you struggled to take his proposal seriously. Date Mingyu? It was laughable. He was too entangled in your childhood memories to ever be considered a romantic prospect, even if he had changed into a confident, sought-after businessman. Every time you looked at him, you couldn’t help but picture the mischievous boy with a grin that spelled trouble.

Yet, Mingyu was relentless. The proposal kept coming, woven into daily conversations and backed by small gestures. He pampered you in ways you didn't expect, bringing you coffee, making sure you were eating, all because he couldn’t find anyone better for this crazy plan of his.

“And besides, you’re a great actress,” he said one evening, leaning back into the cushions with a smirk.

You narrowed your eyes, recognizing the manipulative edge in his tone. “I know,” you muttered, barely containing your frustration.

Before the conversation could spiral further, the sharp ring of your doorbell echoed through the apartment, followed by a series of frantic knocks. Alarm bells went off in your mind. No. Not now.

“Hide,” you whispered urgently, pulling Mingyu up by the arm and shoving him into your room before he could protest. If the person at the door saw Mingyu, it would be a disaster you weren’t prepared to deal with.

“Open up, Y/N! I know you’re there!” a familiar voice shouted from the other side, slurring slightly. Your heart sank as you recognized it. The door barely clicked open before it was pushed with force, slamming you back a step as Boemjae stumbled into the room. The stale scent of alcohol and cigarettes clung to him, making you wrinkle your nose.

“Not today, Boemjae,” you said firmly, hoping to sound braver than you felt.

He laughed, a low, menacing sound as he stepped closer and pressed you against the wall. “Who are you to tell me what to do, bitch?” His voice was a venomous whisper, and the sharp pain of your back hitting the wall made you wince. He swaggered toward the kitchen and grabbed a water bottle, taking a swig as if he owned the place.

“Leave,” you tried again, your voice strained but steady.

Boemjae’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “No. I need my money now,” he snarled, his tone shifting from casual menace to a sharp demand.

“I don’t have it now, but I’ll send it later,” you promised, your voice barely above a whisper. Before you could brace yourself, Boemjae shoved you with enough force that you stumbled and crashed into the coffee table, pain searing through your side.

“I need it now,” he repeated, bending down to yank you up by the collar as if you were nothing more than a ragdoll. His laugh was harsh and mocking. “How are you even planning to pay me back, huh? Sleeping with random men? You can’t even land a decent acting role!”

Before you could respond, Mingyu’s voice cut through the chaos like a blade. “Let her go.”

The room fell into a tense silence as Boemjae turned, surprise flickering in his bloodshot eyes before he barked out a laugh. “So, this is the man you’re sleeping with? How much is he giving you? You’d better hand it over right now,” he sneered before shoving you roughly to Mingyu’s side. Relief washed over you as Mingyu caught you, holding you steady with a firm arm around your waist. The old Mingyu would have never stepped in, but this Mingyu—this confident, determined man—was different.

Mingyu’s expression hardened as he stepped forward, towering over Boemjae, his height and presence imposing. “I’m her boyfriend,” he said, voice cold and commanding. “And I want you out of this house. Now.”

Boemjae’s laugh faltered, turning uneasy as he took in Mingyu’s stance. “Boyfriend? Don’t kid yourself. I know her, and she doesn’t have a boyfriend. I’m her important person,” he said with a sneer.

Mingyu’s jaw tightened, and his eyes narrowed dangerously. “If you were truly important, you’d know who I am,” he said, taking another step closer until Boemjae flinched. “Leave now, or I’ll make sure you regret it.”

Boemjae swallowed, the drunken bravado evaporating under Mingyu’s glare. He backed away, muttering curses under his breath before stumbling out the door.

The silence that followed was thick, your shallow breaths the only sound in the room. Mingyu’s eyes bore into you, sharp and intense, the anger still radiating off him in waves.

“Who was that? Why do you even know someone like him? Is he your boyfriend?” he fired off questions, his voice clipped and filled with barely contained rage.

“It’s none of your business,” you mumbled, wincing as you gripped your arm where it throbbed with pain.

Mingyu’s brows knitted together in a fierce scowl. “It is my business if you’re going to be my new girlfriend,” he declared, the conviction in his voice making your head spin. When had you ever agreed to this? Why was he speaking like you’d already signed some invisible contract?

“I never said yes,” you muttered, exhaling shakily as the adrenaline in your system began to ebb.

Mingyu’s eyes softened just a fraction, but his determination remained. “Who is he? Why does he come here?”

“I owe him money,” you admitted, your voice a strained whisper. “He shows up whenever he needs cash.”

A tense silence followed as Mingyu processed your words. “How much?” he asked, his tone commanding.

You bit your lip, irritation bubbling up at his demanding attitude. “It’s none of your business!”

“How much?” he pressed, leaning in, eyes searching yours for an answer.

You hesitated, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Thirty-five billion,” you finally said, the weight of the number hanging heavily in the air.

Mingyu’s expression flickered with surprise before settling into one of resolute determination. The silence stretched between you, almost suffocating, before he spoke again, his voice calm but firm. “I’ll pay it,” he said, the finality in his tone leaving no room for argument. “But only if you agree to be my contract girlfriend for three months. That’s all the time I need to get Hyorin back.”

The room seemed to shrink around you, the enormity of his proposal pressing down on you. This was more than just a game to him; it was a desperate gamble. And now, it was your move.

*

The last day of owning your own life felt strange, surreal even.

You sat uncomfortably in Mingyu’s office, surrounded by the scent of polished wood and subtle cologne, a stark contrast to the chaotic familiarity of your world. The sterile office setting, with its pristine glass walls and neat rows of desks, was foreign to you. You were never an office girl. You were the adventurous one, the free spirit. So when Mingyu called you in to meet his lawyer and sign the contract, you weren’t prepared. Not mentally and definitely not in the way you were dressed—in just a plain shirt and worn blue jeans. If you had known the gravity of this moment, maybe you would have chosen something more formal, something that wouldn’t make you look so out of place among the sleek suits and pencil skirts.

Mingyu, now a commanding presence as the director of his father’s company, sat across the long mahogany table. He was the picture of cool composure, suited up impeccably, his gaze sharp but carrying an odd familiarity. The lawyer spoke up, cutting through the hum of your racing thoughts.

“As you can see, Mr. Kim will give you the agreed-upon sum tomorrow, and the contract will last for three months. If you have any questions, now would be the time to ask,” the lawyer said, his voice professional but devoid of emotion.

You glanced down at the document in front of you, your fingers brushing the paper lightly as you read. Years in the entertainment industry had taught you the importance of dissecting every line in a contract, ensuring that nothing would come back to bite you.

Halfway down, your eyes widened at a clause. “I have to move in with you?” The words slipped out before you could stop them, disbelief clear in your voice.

Mingyu cleared his throat, leaning back in his chair, his expression stoic. “Yes. It’ll create the right image. The media will go wild if they find out a woman moved in with me just a month after being left at the altar. Hyorin will hear about it. She’ll be furious, maybe even desperate enough to come back.”

You frowned, your thoughts racing. “And if I don’t want to?”

A chuckle escaped Mingyu, a sound that brought a flicker of childhood memories—those endless debates, the playful bickering that now seemed like a different lifetime. “Then we’ll negotiate. But I can promise that all your needs will be met. Besides,” he paused, his eyes narrowing just a touch, “Beomjae wouldn’t be able to harass you at my place.”

The mention of Beomjae sent a chill down your spine, your discomfort deepening. You didn’t like how easily Mingyu had brought up that night in front of his lawyer. It was a memory you’d hoped to lock away and never revisit. Still, the thought of escaping Beomjae’s shadow was tempting, more than tempting.

“And just so we’re clear,” Mingyu continued, his voice dropping to a serious note, “you’re not sleeping in my bed. The house has more than enough rooms.” He said it matter-of-factly, but the unexpected implication made your cheeks burn. You felt a wave of embarrassment rush through you as if the contract itself was some guilty secret.

The lawyer pointed to another clause. Intercourse was strictly prohibited; anything more intimate than staged public displays of affection would void the agreement and terminate the contract immediately. You breathed out slowly, relief mixing with an odd nervousness. The contract laid out your new reality in stark, unyielding terms, yet there was no malice hidden in its words. Mingyu might have been many things, but he wasn’t deceitful. He wouldn’t trap you with fine print. And the money? The staggering sum of thirty-five billion won seemed almost absurd, a price you weren’t sure you deserved for playing pretend for three months.

Mingyu’s gaze softened as he spoke, almost as if he could read your mind. “This role is harder than you think, Y/N. It won’t be easy.”

You glanced up at him, a blend of challenge and resignation in your eyes, before signing your name. The final stroke of the pen echoed in your ears like a tolling bell. Tomorrow, everything would change. You weren’t just Mingyu’s childhood friend anymore.

You were now his girlfriend. His thirty-five-billion-won girlfriend.

*

As you stepped into the birthday party hosted by Mingyu’s uncle, Kim Jaejoong, a wave of self-consciousness swept over you. The dazzling lights reflected off shimmering gowns and sharp suits, making you feel more out of place than ever. You were dressed simply, far too simply for such an event, and each glance cast your way seemed to gnaw at your self-esteem. You gave your name at the entrance, "Kim Mingyu's plus one," and the attendant nodded, letting you through with barely a glance.

The room was filled with South Korea’s most influential figures, a crowd where power was worn as naturally as their tailored suits. You scanned the room, trying to find Mingyu's familiar silhouette among a sea of business elites. But everyone here looked alike in their uniform of suit and tie, making it more challenging than you'd expected.

Then you spotted her. Wi Hyorin.

Hyorin, the heiress of Wi Finance, one of South Korea's most prestigious financial empires. The very woman who had left Mingyu standing alone at the altar, igniting a wildfire of gossip across the business world. The alliance that their marriage would have cemented had turned into a scandal overnight, the fallout reverberating through boardrooms and society pages. But why was she here, now, at Jaejoong's event? Was she trying to rekindle something? Your chest tightened as you watched her glide gracefully across the room.

Your eyes found Mingyu. He stood tall, commanding attention in a circle of businessmen, his smile practiced and confident. But as Hyorin moved toward him, you noticed a shift in his demeanor—a flicker of recognition and tension. The past month of living with Mingyu as his so-called “gold digger” girlfriend had been surreal. Tabloid stories had painted you as an unknown actress who somehow caught the eye of the jilted billionaire. Kim Mingyu’s New Flame: The Mysterious Actress After the Altar Scandal. The stories practically wrote themselves, and you, once a spectator to such dramas, were now the unwitting star.

You took a deep breath, a rush of impulse taking hold. If Mingyu’s plan was to make Hyorin jealous to win her back, then a bold move was justified, right? No harm done if it served the goal.

You walked steadily toward him, the room seeming to shrink as your heartbeat drummed in your ears. Mingyu noticed you, his eyes lighting up with a practiced warmth as he lifted a hand to wave, playing the devoted boyfriend role perfectly.

“Meet my girlfriend, Ji Y/N. She’s an actress—”

Before he could finish, you acted. Your hand reached up, pulling him toward you as your lips met his in a sudden, daring kiss. A collective gasp rippled through the crowd, the clink of champagne glasses pausing midair. You felt Mingyu’s initial shock; his body stiffened, and he pulled back, eyes wide with surprise.

The room was a frozen tableau for a heartbeat, but it was Hyorin’s voice that shattered the silence. “So, you’re dating your childhood friend now, Mingyu?” Her tone was soft, almost melodious, but it carried an edge that cut through you like a blade. The implication in her words stung more than you expected. How dare she, after abandoning him?

But before you could react, Mingyu stepped away from you, turning to Hyorin with an almost desperate urgency. His hand reached for hers, a gesture that made your stomach drop. “I didn’t kiss her back, Hyorin,” he said, his voice clear enough for anyone nearby to hear.

The world seemed to tilt, his words echoing in your mind. Your heart plummeted as the realization settled in: Kim Mingyu, the man you once called your friend—no, the man you were now pretending to be in love with—was still devoted to the woman who had humiliated him in front of the entire country. And he had just proven it, publicly.

The plan was to make Hyorin jealous enough to return to him. It was working. You’d done what you set out to do, so why did your chest ache like this? You told yourself it didn’t matter. You had no right to feel this way. This was a job, a role to play, nothing more.

You stepped back, your face a mask of practiced calm as you retreated to the quieter corner of the venue. The din of conversation swallowed the silence you left behind. You reached for a glass of wine, the cool liquid promising a momentary reprieve from the chaos in your mind.

“So, you’re Ji Y/N, the one everyone’s been talking about?” A voice interrupted the solitude you had wrapped yourself in. You turned to see an unfamiliar face—a man you had never met before. He was striking, with sharp features and an air of effortless confidence. He introduced himself as Yoon Jeonghan, a college friend of Mingyu’s. The name registered immediately; he was the CEO of Yoonique, a luxury fashion brand that had been making waves locally and internationally.

“If you’re his girlfriend, I should’ve met you by now, especially with all the news swirling around. But here we are, meeting for the first time,” Jeonghan said, his tone light but with an undercurrent that suggested he knew more than he was letting on.

You felt your heart tighten. This conversation was more layered than you were prepared for, and the probing curiosity in his eyes made you reach for your wine again. “I’m not in a position to answer that,” you muttered, the rim of the glass brushing your lips.

Jeonghan chuckled, a low sound that somehow put you at ease and on edge at the same time. He leaned against the railing beside you, his eyes shifting to the city lights that stretched beyond the venue’s grand windows. “Mingyu’s a fool sometimes. I can see that now more than ever. I’m sorry you got caught up in this mess,” he said, his voice softening, making you turn to look at him.

“He told me about his plan—to win Hyorin back. I never thought it was a good idea, but I see now that you’re his partner in this... charade?” He paused, waiting for a response that you didn’t have. Your silence was answer enough.

You sighed, the weight of the night pressing down on you. “I’ve known him since we were kids. This is the least I can do, especially for his parents. They’ve been under so much pressure since the wedding incident,” you whispered, careful not to let anyone overhear your conversation.

Jeonghan’s expression shifted, a blend of understanding and something else you couldn’t quite read. He nodded slowly, acknowledging the burden you both seemed to carry. The quiet between you was a welcome reprieve from the noise inside, where murmurs and sidelong glances threatened to pull you apart.

You sipped your wine again, eyes drifting over the dark, sprawling skyline. Out here, you didn’t have to hear the whispered gossip or feel the eyes boring into your back.

“Mingyu ditched his girlfriend for his ex-fiancée?”

The thought sent a shiver down your spine, not because it wasn’t true, but because you knew people were cruel enough to say it aloud. Even if you were okay with being in this position, it was still humiliating to be part of such a spectacle.

Jeonghan’s voice brought you back. “Are you free tomorrow? Would you be willing to meet me at my office?” He asked, his eyes catching yours in the window’s reflection, the city lights dancing in them like embers.

You turned to face him, a flicker of curiosity sparking in your chest. What could he possibly want from you? Whatever it was, the idea of visiting Yoonique’s CEO office sounded intriguing, an unexpected twist in an already complicated story.

“Sure,” you replied, a small smile tugging at your lips. You weren’t sure where this was heading, but for the first time that night, you felt a sliver of excitement cut through the haze of doubt.

*

"You ran away," Mingyu said as he stepped into your room, his voice low and sharp. The door clicked shut behind him, and you glanced up to see him in a half-dressed state—his suit discarded, an expensive dress shirt clinging to his broad frame, and a loosened blue tie draped around his neck. The sight was disheveled, raw, and too close for comfort.

You sat on the edge of the bed, the script for your newest and most promising role—a second lead that could finally catapult your acting career—resting in your hands. Your eyes met his, refusing to show the tumult of emotions twisting in your chest.

“You didn’t knock,” you said, trying to maintain an even tone. It was a feeble attempt to set a boundary, one you knew he would ignore.

Mingyu’s eyes darkened as he took a step closer, his presence overwhelming the room. “As far as I remember, this is my house. And this room is technically mine.”

A retort sat on the tip of your tongue, bastard, but you swallowed it down. The weight of the day hung over you like a shroud, and rest was all you craved. You placed the script on the nightstand and sat up straighter, facing him.

“Yeah, I know. You’ve made it abundantly clear that I’m living in your place. So, technically, this is still your room. Want to sleep here tonight?” You threw out the jest, trying to shift the tension, but it landed wrong.

Mingyu’s jaw tightened, and he took another step forward, eyes blazing. “You kissed me and now you’re asking if I want to sleep with you? Is that how cheap you are, Y/N?” His voice was harsh, each word slicing through the space between you.

The accusation stung. It was as if the air had been sucked out of the room. “You think I kissed you for that?” Your tone cracked, disbelief laced with hurt.

“You kissed me in front of everyone and caused a scandal! You really thought that would help my plan?” His voice rose, frustration spilling over like an overflowing dam.

You met his glare, eyes narrowed. “The plan was to make Hyorin jealous, to make her want you back. Didn’t it work?” Your voice was low, trembling with controlled rage.

Mingyu ran a hand through his hair, exasperation etched across his face. “Making her jealous and actually getting her back are two different things, Y/N! Your impulsive stunt just pushed her further away. It showed her that I’m willing to move on. That wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Your chest ached as you watched him unravel. “And whose fault is that?” you shot back. “You practically shouted to the world that you didn’t kiss me back. Right in front of her, in front of everyone. That’s how stupid you are, Kim Mingyu!”

For a moment, silence fell, crackling with unresolved tension. Mingyu’s eyes widened in disbelief, as if he hadn’t expected you to fight back. His anger morphed into something deeper, something unreadable.

Suddenly, he reached out and grabbed your arm, pulling you to your feet so swiftly that the room spun. You gasped as he leaned in, his breath warm against your skin.

“So I’m stupid because I didn’t kiss you back?” he whispered, the proximity making your pulse race. Before you could respond, his fingers found the nape of your neck, and he closed the distance between you. His lips crashed into yours with an urgency that stunned you.

Your mind screamed at you to resist, but the battle was fleeting. He was too strong, or maybe, you were too willing. Maybe it was because deep down, this was what you had wished for when you kissed him earlier—this reckless, unrestrained moment. Your hands found their way to his chest, and you felt yourself giving in, kissing him back with the same intensity.

The kiss became a desperate clash, more a battle than an embrace. Mingyu's hands gripped your waist with an intensity that left you breathless, fingers digging into your skin as if trying to mark you, claim you. You gasped when he pulled back, his eyes dark with something raw and unapologetic, searching your face for any hesitation.

The only answer you gave was a tug at his shirt, buttons flying in reckless abandon as you exposed the heat of his chest. He smirked, a hint of danger playing at the corner of his lips, before he pushed you back onto the mattress, following you down with a deliberate slowness that made your heart race. His body pressed into yours, all hard planes and coiled tension, a silent reminder of the power he wielded.

“Mingyu,” you breathed, the sound half plea, half challenge. He caught the way your voice faltered, and his smirk widened, leaning down to brush his mouth just below your jaw, trailing fire wherever he touched. Your hands found their way into his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan, the sound vibrating against your skin and igniting a reckless thrill.

He hovered over you, his eyes boring into yours, the heat between you searing. “Tell me to stop.” he rasped, a taunt that made your pulse quicken. Before you could answer, his lips claimed yours again, hard and consuming, leaving no room for second thoughts.

Clothes slipped away in a flurry of heated motions, the cool air biting at your exposed skin for only a moment before he was there, pressing into you, suffocating and electrifying all at once. The room was filled with sharp breaths and quiet gasps as he explored, each touch setting off a chain reaction you couldn’t control.

Every move was a silent challenge, a push and pull of dominance and surrender. His teeth grazed your collarbone, earning a shiver that he answered with a dark chuckle, fingers tracing paths that left you arching into him. Your nails raked down his back, pulling a hiss from him that made something dark and thrilling coil in your chest.

The space between you became suffocating, bodies moving together in a rhythm that left no room for tenderness, only hunger. Every gasp, every whispered name, was laced with defiance and something deeper, something both of you refused to name.

"The contract..." you muttered, the reality of the situation cutting through the haze that still clung to your mind. The gravity of what just happened settled between you like an uninvited guest.

Mingyu's expression shifted, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face before he sat up, running a hand through his disheveled hair. He scoffed, the sound low and bitter. "Fuck, my lawyer doesn’t need to know about this," he said, half to himself and half to you, the implication hanging heavy in the air.

*

"So, did you sleep together?"

Jeonghan’s sharp question made you choke on the sip of tea his secretary had brought in moments earlier. You managed not to spill any as you placed the delicate cup back on the table, eyes locking with Jeonghan's. He was grinning, eyes sharp and teasing as they assessed your reaction.

"No..." he continued before you could answer, a smirk tugging at his lips. "I mean, I heard you moved in." He restated, though the pointed look in his eyes suggested he already suspected the truth.

"It was a business contract, Jeonghan," you responded evenly, though the words felt flimsy in the air. Jeonghan, who insisted you call him by his first name as though he wanted no reminder of his father’s legacy, hummed, tilting his head as if inviting you to elaborate.

"A three-month contract to get Hyorin back," you said, your voice steadying. "You probably already know this, but he wanted me to play the role of his fake girlfriend." At the end of your words, Jeonghan let out a dry chuckle, the sound mirthless.

"I can't believe he's that childish," he muttered. His gaze shifted, scrutinizing your face as if trying to read between the lines. "And what did you get out of this little arrangement?" he pressed.

You hesitated before muttering, "He paid my debt... 35 billion won."

Jeonghan’s eyes widened briefly before he masked his surprise. "That's a lot of money for three months," he said, watching you nod in agreement. "That’s life-changing."

"I plan to give it back when the contract ends," you admitted, almost shyly.

Jeonghan's brow lifted in disbelief, as though you’d just declared you were planning to burn the money. "Don't give it back. Keep it," he said, leaning forward with sudden intensity. "At least take that much from him after everything."

You let out a small, hollow laugh. "I helped him because he's my friend," you said, your voice tinged with a bitter edge. "And, as I told you yesterday... for his parents. I’ll work hard and pay my own debts."

Jeonghan went quiet, his eyes narrowed in contemplation, taking in every word as if filing them away.

"May I know what kind of situation landed you with that much debt?" he finally asked.

You bit your lip, the weight of the past pressing down like a heavy cloak. It was complicated, a story rooted in tragedy. "It wasn’t originally my debt; it was my father’s," you began, your voice tight. "He owned a production house and partnered with a young director, Lee Beomjae. The project was ambitious, with a promise of 100 billion won. Beomjae even invested his own money, but then... everything collapsed. The company went bankrupt when my father died in a car accident, and my mother... she couldn’t bear it and took her own life. The business fell apart, and no one wanted to pick up the pieces. That left me with 35 billion won I couldn't escape."

The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating. You took another sip of tea, anything to break the tension that stretched between you and Jeonghan.

He leaned back in his chair, eyes studying you with newfound understanding. "Here’s what I think, Y/n," he said, voice soft but unwavering. "Mingyu wanted you to be his contract girlfriend, paid you a fortune, and you signed up for it. Yet, you didn’t take the money. I don’t know any friend who’d go to those lengths for someone."

He paused, his eyes narrowing as a knowing smirk spread across his lips.

"Unless..."

"You have feelings for him."

*

You were certain you didn't have any feelings for Mingyu. That much you knew. But whatever had happened between you and Jeonghan earlier in the office was beyond your control. The way his presence felt so imposing, so suffocating—it was like being caught in a storm you never saw coming. Jeonghan was a menace. You could tell just from the way his eyes glinted with malicious amusement, always reveling in the discomfort or pain of others. And that included his friend, Mingyu.

"Okay, let's say you don’t have feelings for him." Jeonghan's voice cut through the tension, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as if he'd already dismissed your objections.

Without warning, he pulled out his phone and dialed a number. His thumb slid across the screen, and it lit up with a name that made your stomach drop—Mingyu.

What on earth was Jeonghan up to? Why was he calling Mingyu? Your heart began to pound in your chest as the phone rang, the sound impossibly loud in the stillness of the room.

The line clicked, and Mingyu's familiar voice came through, bright and casual. "Jeonghan... What’s up?"

The friendly tone was jarring to your senses. This was the voice of someone you'd never heard since you threw yourself into this mess with Mingyu. Certainly not the same voice from last night, the one that had been cold and cutting. The same man who, earlier that morning, had made his feelings crystal clear.

“I would never kiss you like I like you, Y/N. You’re a cheap woman. And even if you were the only woman in this world, I still wouldn’t kiss you like I liked you. You understand?”

The words echoed in your mind as if they were still fresh, still raw. The anger, the frustration—it didn’t hurt as much anymore. It was just a painful truth you had come to terms with: he had turned into a bastard. And that realization, as much as you tried to deny it, was freeing.

Jeonghan, however, seemed to savor every moment. He leaned back in his chair, his eyes dancing with mischief as he spoke into the phone.

“I’m with your girlfriend now,” he chirped, his voice dripping with amusement. He glanced over at you, his gaze mischievous. "I invited her over, and she came. She’s a beautiful woman."

There was a long, tense pause on the other side. No immediate reaction. You weren’t expecting one. There was no way Mingyu would get upset that you were here with Jeonghan. He had no reason to. His obsession with his ex, Hyorin, was enough to blind him to everything else.

Jeonghan’s eyes met yours again, but now there was something almost predatory in them as he leaned in closer. “I feel like I don’t deserve his money…” you had told him earlier, confessing a doubt you had never voiced before. And Jeonghan, with his wicked grin, had been quick to respond.

“I’ll help you feel like you deserve it, Y/N,” he’d promised, the words laced with an implication you were too afraid to fully understand.

The phone call continued, Jeonghan now speaking directly to you. “What do you think of my office, darling?” His voice was low, too casual. "How about that... table? Do you like my table?"

You were growing more confused by the second. What the hell was he trying to imply with these questions? Was it a game to him? Did it even matter?

But it was the next question that threw everything into chaos, sending a rush of heat to your face and tightening your chest.

“What do you think about Mingyu?” Jeonghan’s voice was calm but probing. "Do you like being his girlfriend?"

The silence from Mingyu on the other end only made everything worse. You could feel him listening, silently absorbing everything Jeonghan was about to say. The pressure was unbearable, and you found yourself biting down hard on your lip, trying to suppress the tension building inside you. You didn’t want to answer, didn’t know how to.

But you saw the glint in Jeonghan’s eyes. It was playful—too playful—and you knew that once that look took hold, there was no turning back.

“And how about being mine?” Jeonghan’s voice was a low, smooth whisper, the words hanging in the air like a threat, a challenge.

You froze, your breath catching in your throat. Mingyu still hadn’t said anything. The silence between the three of you was suffocating, thick with unspoken implications. You could almost hear Jeonghan’s smirk widening, could almost feel the weight of his words pressing down on you, daring you to react.

*

Mingyu pounded into you with an urgency that felt primal, as if his very existence depended on it. Just an hour earlier, he had stormed into the house, eyes dark with something you couldn’t quite name—desperation, jealousy, rage. You'd barely finished toweling off from your shower when he burst through the door, demanding to know why you had been with Jeonghan.

“I was with Hyorin when you called,” you said, the confusion in your voice palpable.

His jaw clenched at the mention of Hyorin. So it wasn’t just Jeonghan's presence that set him off, but the fact that he was with Hyorin?

The realization simmered between you like a storm on the verge of breaking. But then, without another word, Mingyu had closed the distance, capturing your lips in a kiss that silenced your questions and pulled your body flush against his. It was as if Hyorin had never stood between you, as if she didn’t matter at all. The intensity in his eyes told you everything: he was lost, consumed, and somewhere beneath that, afraid.

Why, then, did he hold you as if the world might end in two months?

Was Hyorin really the cause of this frantic need?

Or was there more that he hadn’t told you?

Mingyu gripped your waist and lifted you onto the dining table, the hard edge pressing into your thighs. The table Jeonghan had mentioned in passing just today, in a tone laced with mischief.

Was this what Mingyu had been stewing over? The idea of Jeonghan touching you in his office?

“You’re mine the moment you signed that contract,” he growled, the heat of his breath grazing your ear as he buried himself inside you with an urgent, unrelenting rhythm.

His hands moved up to cup your breasts, fingers curling possessively around them as his voice dropped, husky and rough. “Gotta make my 35 billion worth it, right?"

*

The next morning, you woke up in Mingyu's arms, the remnants of the night clinging to your skin like a whispered secret. The blaring sound of your alarm shattered the silence, signaling the beginning of a day that promised exhaustion and long hours on set in another city. You shifted slightly, feeling the ache from the bruises on your body.

“Did I do that?” Mingyu’s voice, unexpectedly soft, cut through the tension hanging in the room. His eyes were wide with concern as they traced the discolored marks along your skin.

You turned your head to meet his gaze, surprised to see him fully awake, studying you with an expression you hadn’t seen in a while. He was too caught up in his own world to notice these things — too focused on himself last night. You almost wanted to tell him that they weren’t his doing, that it was Beomjae’s cruelty imprinted on you, but you knew better. Mingyu wouldn’t care. Or would he?

“No, it’s not you,” you whispered, the lie slipping out as easily as breathing.

Mingyu sat up, the sheets pooling around his waist, and reached out to touch the edge of a bruise that crept up your shoulder. “Who did this to you?” His voice was strained, eyes darkening. “Isn’t it painful? Do you need to go to the hospital?”

You looked at him for a long moment, searching for a hint of sincerity behind his sudden worry. He looked almost unrecognizable, stripped of his usual indifference, as though the man you once knew was peeking through. A weary sigh left your lips as you pushed yourself up and wrapped a robe around your sore body.

“It’s none of your business, Mingyu,” you said with a practiced coldness, shielding yourself from whatever softness he was trying to show.

“It is my business. You’re my girlfriend,” he protested, his tone almost petulant, as if he truly believed his own words.

A bitter chuckle escaped you. “Are you even listening to yourself, Kim Mingyu?” The disbelief in your voice echoed through the room as you moved to the vanity, tying your hair with mechanical precision. In the mirror, you caught a glimpse of his confusion, brows furrowed and eyes clouded with something unreadable.

“Just stick to being yourself,” you added, the edge in your tone slicing through any pretense of warmth. Before he could respond, you turned away and began preparing for the long day ahead, leaving whatever half-formed thoughts he had unspoken.

You arrived at the shooting location on time, weaving through bustling crew members as they prepped for the day. Greeting everyone with polite nods and smiles, you slid seamlessly into your work. Without the support of a label or company, there was no manager trailing behind you. Every break was spent alone, sitting in your old, worn-out car, waiting for the next call.

“Everyone knows they cast her just because she’s Kim Mingyu’s girlfriend.” The whispers were never far, a constant background noise you had learned to ignore.

You pushed through the two or three scenes you had, monitoring them closely on playback to ensure your performance held up. It was in places like this where you soaked up everything you could, learning and growing, despite the limitations of playing minor roles. The space for growth was narrow, but you squeezed through whatever cracks you found.

“Hey, I’m Boo Seungkwan.” The voice was friendly, and when you looked up, the assistant director stood before you with an open, sincere expression.

You stood and bowed politely. “I’m Ji Y/N. Please take care of me.”,

Boo Seungkwan was a familiar presence on set, a talented and respected assistant director who had built a strong reputation despite his young age. You knew he wouldn’t approach you without reason, which made your heart race with a mix of anticipation and dread.

“Are you the daughter of Ji Jinkyung?” The question hit you like a cold wave.

Your breath caught for a moment. How did he know? You had spent years avoiding this truth, never mentioning your father’s name to anyone. The rise and fall of Ji Jinkyung had been a scandal splashed across headlines when JiPH declared bankruptcy, a tragedy soon followed by your mother’s death. You weren’t ashamed of your past; you were haunted by the guilt of the lives that crumbled alongside your family’s fall.

Seungkwan’s eyes softened with a mix of curiosity and sympathy. “I remember seeing you on set with him every weekend,” he said, nostalgia lacing his voice. “And I saw ‘Morning Mourn.’ You were incredible in that film.”

The memory stung, but you masked it with a practiced smile. “Thank you,” you whispered.

Driving home, Seungkwan’s words lingered like a dark cloud. If Lee Beomjae was spreading the truth about your identity, the ripple effect could be devastating. If the rumor reached the media, the production team could drop you without hesitation. Seungkwan’s heads-up was a lifeline, a warning to prepare yourself.

You parked outside and dialed Beomjae’s number, the cold metal of your phone pressed against your ear as the night air seeped into your bones. You had to confront him, to make sure he understood that spreading rumors would ruin everything—whatever thin strand of normalcy you were clinging to while trying to repay the impossible debt he held over you. You felt foolish, lost in the labyrinth of his manipulation. Was the debt even real? Or was it just another tool he used to torture you, to remind you of your powerlessness?

The vibration of an incoming message pulled you from your thoughts.

“Come to my parents’ house. There’s something they want to discuss with you.”

Mingyu’s text sat on your screen, an unexpected summons that left you staring, uncertain of what awaited you on the other side.

*

“I don’t remember raising you like this.” Mingyu’s father stormed out of the room, leaving behind an icy silence that wrapped around his wife, their son, and the woman who had walked out on Mingyu at the altar just two months ago. Mingyu released a heavy sigh as he sank deeper into the couch, feeling the weight of the room pressing down on him. Next to him, Hyorin sat with her head bowed, looking as fragile as porcelain, having come to his parents earlier to plead for their acceptance—an act that had summoned Mingyu here in a rush.

“Your father’s right, Mingyu. You’re crossing a line,” his mother said, her voice taut with disappointment. “When we heard you had a girlfriend, we assumed it would be someone we didn’t know. But imagine our shock when we found out it was Y/N. She’s like a daughter to us, Mingyu.”

Hyorin’s confession had unraveled everything. She had exposed Mingyu’s plan to win her back, even spilling the details to his parents. Mingyu had thought he could play for time—hold Hyorin off just long enough to make his next move. He hadn’t expected her to take matters into her own hands and throw everything into chaos.

“She agreed to it, Mother,” Mingyu defended, his voice low and strained. “She needs money—a lot of it. And she’s not the same Y/N you remember. She’s changed.”

His mother scoffed at his justification, a sound filled with disbelief and disdain. “Listen to yourself, Mingyu. Do you even hear how ridiculous you sound?” She stood up abruptly, the soft rustle of her skirt filling the silence as she followed her husband out of the room.

Mingyu’s heart sank deeper into his chest. The finality of his mother’s parting words echoed back at him as she turned at the doorway, her gaze steely and resolute. “This conversation isn’t over. I will speak to Y/N myself.”

Mingyu slumped back against the couch, the tension in his shoulders not easing even a bit. He glanced at his phone. The text he’d sent you over an hour ago remained unanswered, and now your silence gnawed at him with fresh urgency.

“I’m sorry,” Hyorin whispered, her hands trembling as she covered her face. Tears threatened to spill, and she struggled to hold them back. “I didn’t mean for it to get this big. I was desperate.”

Mingyu’s eyes softened, a sigh slipping past his lips. “No need to apologize, Hyorin. It’s done.”

“I promise I’ll do better,” she said, her voice breaking. “But please, stop this, Mingyu. Let’s go back to how things were. Let her go and come back to me.”

Mingyu drove home with a storm of thoughts churning in his mind. Frustration clenched his jaw tight, fueling his anger. You hadn't shown up when he needed you, and the disappointment gnawed at him. His parents refused to have a conversation without you; they cherished you, even after all these years apart. And Mingyu despised you for that. You were always the one they looked at with warmth, while he stood in the shadow of their expectations.

As he pushed open the door to the apartment, prepared to unleash another round of arguments with you, a familiar ritual that often ended with the two of you waking up next to each other in uneasy silence the next morning, he froze. His anger drained as he took in the sight before him. You were lying on the couch, eyes closed, face bruised and lips swollen.

“Who did this to you?” Mingyu’s voice cracked with urgency, his earlier frustration transforming into a different kind of rage. He crossed the room in three quick strides and cupped your face, startling you awake with his touch. The worry in his eyes felt foreign, almost out of place, but it was there, unmistakable.

You blinked at him, dazed and confused, mumbling something he couldn’t quite catch. But Mingyu wasn’t listening. His eyes traced the darkening bruise on your cheekbone and the split in your lip, and an irrational fury bubbled up inside him. The idea that someone had hurt you like this made his blood run hot.

“Tell me who did this to you,” he pressed, his tone leaving no room for evasion. His fingers gripped your jaw just tight enough to draw your gaze, his own eyes blazing. He didn’t know what he would do once he had a name, but he was too far gone in his anger to care.

“I fell during shooting and hurt myself,” you whispered, eyes darting away from his.

Mingyu’s shoulders slumped slightly as he exhaled, the tension simmering down just enough for him to think. Without a word, he stood and retrieved the first aid kit and a bowl of ice cubes, kneeling beside you and insisting on tending to your injuries.

“How was the meeting?” you asked, breaking the heavy silence as he dabbed an antiseptic on your lip with more gentleness than you expected.

“Is that really important right now?” he scoffed, pressing the cloth to your bruised cheek. “We need to go to the hospital.”

You shook your head, a stubborn glint in your eyes. “It’ll heal.”

Mingyu’s movements faltered when you added, “I heard Hyorin was there. Did you get back together?”

He stiffened, setting the ice aside as his eyes met yours. “How do you know?” His tone was sharp, a thread of suspicion woven through it. “Were you there?”

You nodded, wincing as the motion pulled at your sore skin. “I came by for a bit. The maid mentioned Hyorin was inside, so I stayed back. I waited for over an hour, but I realized it would take longer, so I left.”

Mingyu’s frustration returned, tinged with a different emotion this time. “With your face looking like this? Are you always this stupid, Y/N?” His voice cracked, half-worried, half-angry.

You flinched but kept your gaze steady. “So, did you take her back?”

Mingyu ran a hand through his hair, the action filled with exasperation. “Is that what matters right now? You’re hurt, Y/N. I didn’t even know until I walked in the door.”

A confused look crossed your face as you whispered, “But that’s why we’re doing all of this, Mingyu. We need Hyorin back, for your sake.”

Mingyu stared at you, the weight of your words sinking in and tying knots in his chest. Your face was a mess of bruises, but there you sat, so focused on his plan, on helping him, as if your own pain didn't matter at all. The guilt gnawed at him, tearing apart the flimsy walls he’d built around himself.

Maybe what Mingyu feel about you lately is just a guilt. He just... pity you, that's it.

*

One month left before you’d be officially disboyfriended Mingyu. The term you coined mocked you with its bitter humor as you called Jeonghan, settling into the driver’s seat of your car. The air around you was heavy after your meeting with Hyorin. She had been surprisingly composed, delivering her message with a practiced smile: Mingyu and she were getting back together. Mingyu had even promised to escort her to the Jeon annual event this weekend, a public confirmation of their rekindled relationship.

You gritted your teeth, the irony not lost on you—did Hyorin know that for the past month, Mingyu had been tangled up with you, both in mind and body? The betrayal tasted metallic on your tongue.

Jeonghan picked up on the third ring. “So, what’s up?” His casual tone brought a semblance of calm to your frayed nerves.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself for what you were about to commit to. “I’m in,” you said, voice low but firm.

There was a pause before Jeonghan chuckled, the sound both amused and intrigued. “What are you implying?” His voice took on a more serious edge, probing for clarity.

“I’ll take your offer,” you clarified, the weight of the words sinking in. “The offer to make me feel like I deserve his money.”

Jeonghan’s laughter came through, rich and approving. “That’s my girl,” he said with a hint of pride. “Alright, listen. Here’s the plan: meet me at my store in Gangnam after lunch.”

A few hours later, you stood under the warm glow of boutique lights as Jeonghan’s keen eyes assessed you. The racks around you were adorned with high-end pieces—silk, satin, tailored elegance. He moved from one option to another, fingers sliding over fabrics, before selecting a few and holding them up against your frame.

“Change into this,” he said, gesturing to a piece that was an explosion of jewel-toned fabric. You nodded and disappeared behind the velvet curtain of the fitting room. The process repeated: outfits changed, critiques delivered. A disapproving headshake here, a muttered comment there—“Not good enough,” he’d say, or a more frustrated, “We need an emergency meeting with the designers. Yoonique has to fit everyone.”

Then, you stepped out in the last dress. Jeonghan’s eyes lit up, and he gasped, genuinely taken aback. The black satin dress hugged your body like a secret, long-sleeved and sleek, with an open back that hinted at danger and a neckline that dipped tastefully. A slit ran high on your thigh, exposing just enough skin to catch anyone’s attention. It was bold yet elegant—perfect.

“That’s it,” he said, satisfaction curling his lips into a smirk. “It’s yours.” He stood and circled you slowly, eyeing the bruises that marred the expanse of your back. His smirk faded, replaced by a frown. “We’ll need to cover these. Is this from Beomjae?” he asked, his voice tight with concern.

You nodded, catching the muttered “that bastard” that escaped him. Jeonghan’s eyes met yours, a silent promise lingering there: no more bruises, not after today.

On the day of the Jeon annual event, you arrived with Jeonghan, knowing full well the storm of media attention it would draw. 'Mingyu's girlfriend seen with Jeonghan, while Mingyu arrives with the ex-fiancée who left him at the altar.' The headline alone promised chaos and scandal.

Jeonghan had made you two promises. First, he would help you with Beomjae. His legal team was already working on investigating the debt that bound you to that abusive man, ensuring you wouldn't owe a penny and that Beomjae would face justice for what he had done. Second, he would help you reclaim yourself—to feel whole and worthy, with or without Mingyu in the picture.

“Tell me, since when?” Jeonghan’s question came out of nowhere as the two of you drove back from his store that day. The question made your heart stutter.

“Since when what?” you asked, eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

Jeonghan scoffed lightly, his eyes flickering with a knowing glint. “Since when did you start liking Mingyu?”

The silence stretched, and you searched your memory, trying to pinpoint the moment. Since when? Had you even realized you still liked him? Or was it a relic of the childhood crush you’d once harbored? Memories trickled in: Mingyu as the boy who would lose every game with his friends but somehow always win when he played with you—because you let him. That’s what you remembered most clearly. The rest blurred into moments that felt as if they had always existed.

In high school, things shifted. Conversations became sparse, reserved for those rare moments when home felt stifling, and you’d climb into each other’s bedroom windows just to share the silence. Then, without warning, he had to leave. Distance stretched across miles and years, and life pushed you apart. Your father’s passing forced you to sell your phone, cutting off all contact. What once felt close turned distant, and the feelings that remained had never been addressed.

You exhaled shakily, unable to meet Jeonghan’s gaze. “I...I don’t know,” you admitted. Shame colored your voice—shame that after everything, after being discarded and treated like an afterthought, you still cared for him.

Jeonghan’s arm encircled your waist as the two of you stepped into the grand ballroom, the low hum of whispers swelling as eyes followed your entrance. The whispers said everything you were thinking. Why was Mingyu’s girlfriend with Jeonghan when Mingyu had walked in with Hyorin? The question echoed in your mind too.

Jeonghan, ever composed, treated you like royalty throughout the event. His voice dipped to a conspiratorial whisper as he leaned in. “Just follow my lead,” he instructed. If anyone knew how to navigate this social minefield, it was him.

But when you excused yourself to go to the restroom, a hand shot out from the shadows of the corridor, pulling you into a quiet corner. Your back hit the wall, and you were met with Mingyu’s fierce gaze, a tempest swirling in his eyes.

“Why are you here with Jeonghan? He’s my friend,” Mingyu hissed, voice laced with anger barely contained.

You lifted your chin, meeting his glare head-on. “Am I not allowed to be here? Is it because of my status?” The pointed question carried the sting of Hyorin’s earlier remark: ‘You’re not on Mingyu’s level, Y/N.’

Mingyu’s brows pulled together in frustration. “What? That’s not what I meant! I’m asking why you’re with Jeonghan.” His voice strained as he pressed you lightly against the wall.

You took a steadying breath, finding a surge of confidence within yourself. “Because you didn’t invite me. Jeonghan did."

“Everyone knows you’re my girlfriend!” His voice cracked, the desperation seeping through.

You scoffed, your eyes narrowing. “But you showed up with your ex, so tell me, Mingyu, what’s the difference?”

He faltered, searching for words. “I didn’t come with her. We just met here!”

“Does it even matter?” Your voice dropped, quiet and weary. The fight in you waned as reality set in.

Mingyu’s eyes blazed with anger as your words echoed between you. He took a sharp breath, fists clenching at his sides. “What’s gotten into you? Are you even hearing yourself? We’re still in contract!” he reminded you, his tone harsh and commanding.

“So what? We already broke the contract the moment you put your hands on me, Mingyu,” you shot back, holding your ground. “There’s nothing in the agreement saying other men can’t do the same.”

His eyes narrowed, and his jaw tightened as he stepped closer, the space between you suffocating. “Did you sleep with Jeonghan?” The question came out as a growl, possessive and edged with jealousy.

You tilted your chin defiantly. “It’s not your business, Mingyu. I can do whatever I want.”

“No,” he said, voice low but brimming with fury. “You’re my girlfriend. I paid you to be my girlfriend, and you should listen to me. We’re going home.”

The statement cut through you, reminding you of the transactional nature of what was supposed to be a façade. It was true, he’d paid you to play this role, but somewhere along the way, the lines had blurred. Your heart thudded in your chest as you wondered what awaited you once you returned to his house. The memory of last night lingered—how your bodies had moved in sync, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

But tonight, the air was different, thick with tension and unspoken truths. You swallowed hard, worrying if there were still any condoms left in his house, remembering using the last one in a moment of impulsive passion. Your pulse quickened at the thought of what this confrontation could mean, unsure whether it would spiral into a battle or ignite something deeper.

*

Hyorin had asked you that one time, "Are you two sleeping together in our room?" Her question was layered with implications. Was she trying to confirm if you and Mingyu had crossed that line? Or was she mocking you by emphasizing our room, as if to remind you that she once had ownership over that space, even after she left him on the altar? Your mind raced with anger and confusion. The only thing you wanted to do as you sat across from her was to slap that smug smile off her face. How dare she come back after everything she'd done?

“Why?” The word slipped out of your mouth before you could stop it.

Hyorin’s smile widened, cruel and taunting. “Well, he doesn’t like anyone else in his bed, so I was wondering if you sleep there, in our room. I mean, the master bedroom. I’m sorry…” Her tone dripped with insincerity, and you knew she wasn’t sorry at all.

The memory stung as you woke up before dawn. You were back in your own room, while Mingyu lay sleeping beside you. The events of last night still echoed in your mind. After he dragged you out of the event, you had dared to ask him, almost pleading, if the two of you could sleep in his room instead.

“No. I don’t like when someone else enters my room,” he had said, his voice cold and detached.

“But you said I’m your girlfriend,” you had whispered, trying to understand where you truly stood.

Mingyu’s gaze darkened. “You’re just a girlfriend I paid for. Don’t ask for more.”

The words cut through you like a blade. You sighed and gently pulled yourself from his embrace, a hollowness settling deep inside. It was time. You couldn’t ignore the truth anymore.

He had Hyorin back. The proof sat on the nightstand—his check for 35 billion won, neatly tucked under his phone. Your job was done. Everything you had endured, every humiliation and compromise, had led to this. And it wasn’t enough to let you into his real space, his heart. You knew then that Jeonghan was right; staying by Mingyu’s side would only continue to break you.

You packed your essentials silently, fighting the lump in your throat, and slipped out of the house before the sun rose. You drove aimlessly, just needing to be far away. Your apartment wasn’t safe with Beomjae still lurking; Jeonghan had warned you that it might take two more months to gather enough evidence to protect you in court. He urged patience, but today you had none left.

All this time, every sacrifice you made for Mingyu, every part of yourself you gave, it was never enough for him to let you into his true sanctuary. It was time to go, time to leave behind the pain and reclaim whatever was left of yourself.

Mingyu woke up to an emptiness that gnawed at him immediately. He reached out instinctively, expecting to feel your warmth beside him, but his hand met only cold sheets. He sat up, confusion creasing his brow as he glanced around the room. The stillness was unsettling, the house too quiet.

“Y/n?” he called out, his voice breaking the silence. He listened, hoping for the sound of your voice or even the light shuffle of your footsteps. Nothing. A wave of irritation surged through him as he threw back the covers and stood up, the cool floor beneath his feet doing nothing to temper his rising anger.

He strode through the house, checking the kitchen, the living room, even the guest room. Empty. The frustration that had simmered inside him since the event now boiled over. Why would you leave without saying anything?

As he stormed back into yout room, something on the nightstand caught his eye. The check he had written for you sat there, staring back at him like an accusation. His eyes narrowed, and his jaw tightened. The sight of it made his blood run cold and hot all at once.

It was the final insult. You hadn’t just left—you had left him with the one thing that symbolized the transactional nature of your relationship, the thing that once gave him control but now mocked him with your absence. He clenched his fist so hard his knuckles turned white. The implications of you leaving the check behind sent a spike of panic through him, laced with anger. You were rejecting everything: the arrangement, the money, him.

“Damn it, Y/n!” he roared, sweeping his arm across the nightstand. The check, his phone, and a glass of water crashed to the floor. The sound of shattering glass echoed in the room, mirroring the turmoil inside him.

He paced back and forth, running a hand through his disheveled hair. The idea of you walking out without a word gnawed at him. You had always been the one constant in his chaotic life, the one person who, despite everything, was there. Now, the emptiness felt sharper than ever, and he realized too late how deep your absence cut.

Mingyu grabbed his phone from the floor, ignoring the cracked screen as he tried to call you. The call rang once, twice, and then went straight to voicemail. Frustration clawed at him as he dialed again, the unanswered call only fueling his desperation.

“Pick up, damn it,” he muttered under his breath. The third call met the same fate, and it was then that a sinking feeling set in. This wasn’t just you leaving for a break. This was different.

He stared at the check on the floor, now crumpled and stained with water. The reality of your departure settled heavily on his chest. You were gone, and for the first time, he felt the weight of what it meant to be truly alone.

*

Mingyu stormed into Jeonghan's office first thing in the morning, his eyes dark with urgency and frustration. Jeonghan, who had been informed of his sudden arrival, greeted him with a polite smile that quickly faded at the sight of Mingyu’s tense expression.

"Where’s Y/n?" Mingyu demanded, his voice sharp and accusing. Jeonghan’s smile faltered as confusion clouded his features. What did he mean?

"She’s gone, Jeonghan. And you were with her last night," Mingyu continued, his tone carrying a hint of accusation, referencing the moment you arrived at the event on Jeonghan’s arm.

Jeonghan’s brows knitted together, a flash of realization and disbelief crossing his face. "No," he said firmly, shaking his head. "You were the one who took her home. You dragged her out of the event, remember?"

Mingyu’s expression darkened, and he muttered a curse under his breath. "Shit."

Jeonghan leaned back in his chair, studying the man in front of him. "What’s going on, Mingyu?" he pressed, his voice steady but probing. The room felt heavy with the weight of what was left unsaid.

Mingyu bit his lip, his eyes darting around as if searching for the right words. "It’s... complicated," he finally mumbled, his shoulders tense.

Jeonghan tilted his head, his gaze sharpening. "What could possibly be too complicated for me to understand? The contract? The debt? Spill it."

Mingyu’s eyes widened slightly. He knew? Did you tell Jeonghan everything? After a moment’s hesitation, Mingyu nodded, acknowledging Jeonghan’s knowledge. His mind raced as he tried to piece together what you might have shared.

"I wrote her a check for 35 billion won. She was in debt, so I helped her, and in return, she helped me with... well, everything. But now she’s gone," Mingyu’s voice cracked as he threw his hands up in exasperation, his frustration palpable.

Jeonghan was silent for a moment, his gaze unreadable. Then, with a deep sigh, he said, "She didn’t take the money."

Mingyu’s heart skipped a beat, disbelief flickering across his face. Did you tell Jeonghan that as well? The thought of you leaving behind the money he had given you felt like a slap in the face.

"If she’s gone, she’s really gone, Mingyu," Jeonghan said quietly, a hint of empathy coloring his tone. "You have Hyorin back, don’t you?"

Mingyu’s eyes flashed with something close to desperation. He ran a hand through his hair, disheveling it further. "This isn’t about Hyorin," he said, almost growling the words.

Jeonghan nodded slowly, a knowing look settling on his face. "I know. You're confused right now, I can tell. But maybe you need to ask yourself why it’s not about Hyorin anymore."

Mingyu paced back and forth in Jeonghan’s office, his mind racing with thoughts that tangled and frayed like a rope under too much pressure. Every moment that passed without you felt like sand slipping through an hourglass, a reminder of how close he was to losing you for good.

“Jeonghan, tell me where she went,” Mingyu’s voice cracked, a rare vulnerability shining through his usually composed demeanor. He wasn’t used to feeling so out of control, and it gnawed at him.

Jeonghan leaned back in his chair, arms folded over his chest, watching him with a look that was part sympathy, part indifference. “Even if I knew, I wouldn’t tell you,” Jeonghan said, his tone as calm as ever. “You need to figure this out for yourself, Mingyu. Chasing her without understanding why she left won’t help either of you.”

Mingyu’s jaw clenched, frustration coursing through him. “I don’t need a lecture, Jeonghan. I need answers,” he snapped, his eyes narrowing. “You said you knew everything, so why won’t you help me?”

Jeonghan sighed and stood up, walking over to the window where sunlight filtered in, casting long, jagged shadows across the room. “Mingyu, you’re looking for her like she’s an answer to a problem. But she’s not an answer—she’s a person who needed more than you were willing to give,” Jeonghan said, turning to face him. “And if you don’t understand that, you won’t find her in any meaningful way.”

Mingyu’s breath quickened as anger and panic warred inside him. He wanted to shout, to lash out, but deep down, he knew Jeonghan was right. You had left, and it wasn’t just because of Hyorin, or the contract, or the money—it was because he hadn’t given you what you truly needed. A place in his life that was more than just obligation or arrangement.

Mingyu paused in the doorway, half-turned back to Jeonghan, who was still watching him with an expression that mingled curiosity and challenge. The silence crackled between them, charged and tense.

“I’m doing this because she’s my friend,” Mingyu finally said, his voice strained as if he was convincing himself as much as Jeonghan. “I love Hyorin. I always have. This isn’t about feelings, it’s about doing the right thing.”

Jeonghan’s eyes narrowed, a wry smile curving his lips. He crossed his arms and leaned back against the window frame. “Your friend?” he echoed, the words laced with skepticism. “Mingyu, if she was just a friend, you wouldn’t be standing here, desperate and wild-eyed because she left. You wouldn’t have risked everything to keep her by your side.”

“I’m not risking anything!” Mingyu’s voice rose, his fists clenching at his sides. “I’m looking for her because she needs help, not because—”

“Not because what?” Jeonghan cut in, raising an eyebrow. “Not because you’re afraid of losing her? Not because seeing her with someone else drove you crazy last night? Tell me, Mingyu, what kind of ‘friend’ does that?”

Mingyu felt the heat creep up his neck, anger and confusion tangling in his chest. He opened his mouth to argue but couldn’t find the words. Every accusation Jeonghan made landed too close to the truth, hitting on a part of him he refused to acknowledge.

“It’s not like that,” Mingyu muttered, though even to his own ears, it sounded hollow. “She’s different. She was there for me when no one else was, and now she’s gone. I owe her, Jeonghan. That’s all.”

Jeonghan stepped forward, his expression softening for a moment. “If you owe her, then give her more than just this frantic search. Be honest with yourself. If she’s just a friend, why did you let her become more? And if she’s more, why are you fighting so hard to deny it?”

Mingyu looked down, the room blurring as his thoughts spiraled. Memories of you, laughter shared in quiet moments, the way your eyes softened when you looked at him—all of it clashed with the image of Hyorin, the woman he once thought he’d spend his life with. The weight of conflicting emotions pressed down on him until he could barely breathe.

He turned away from Jeonghan without another word, storming out of the office, his mind a chaotic mess.

Jeonghan sighed as he pulled out his phone, his fingers tapping impatiently as he called you. It took five rings before you finally picked up.

"Sorry, I had a shoot," you muttered, your voice laced with exhaustion. But that wasn’t the answer Jeonghan was looking for.

"You didn’t take the money. What is wrong with you?" he shot back, frustration sharp in his tone.

There was a pause on your end, the kind of pause that said more than words ever could. Then, a quiet sigh slipped through. "How do you know?"

"Kim Mingyu stormed into my office looking for you," Jeonghan said, his voice growing more clipped. "He’s running around like a madman, and you didn’t take the money! I thought we were clear, Y/n."

But it hadn’t been clear, and Jeonghan knew that. It was never clear when it came to you and Mingyu. Silence lingered on the line, thick and telling.

You thought you’d fallen in love alone.

Jeonghan wanted to scream at you, to tell you that Mingyu loved you back. He wanted to shout that Mingyu’s ego was too big for him to admit it, that Hyorin was a convenient excuse, and that the people around him had only ever clouded his judgment. But Jeonghan wasn’t naive. He knew Mingyu better than that. Deep down, he knew Mingyu cared for you. No, it was more than that — Mingyu wanted you. He just didn’t know how to want you properly.

"It’s complicated," you muttered, the words barely above a breath.

Jeonghan pressed a hand to his forehead, fingers threading through his hair. Since when had he, of all people, failed to understand "complicated"? He'd seen it from the beginning — the way Mingyu's gaze lingered too long on you, the way your eyes softened at the sight of him. He saw it every time Mingyu made an excuse for you to stay. Complicated was an understatement.

"Okay," Jeonghan exhaled heavily, trying to stay calm. "Where are you?"

"Why should I tell you?" you countered, voice laced with weariness and defiance. "I’m just at a shoot. It’s a little far away."

Jeonghan let out a dry scoff. "Don’t play with me, Y/n. I’m not in the mood." His eyes darted to the window, the sunlight blinding but not nearly as irritating as the situation. "I need to make sure Beomjae doesn't get to you. Who’s gonna do that after you left Mingyu, huh?"

There was another pause, and this time it lasted longer. The weight of his words settled into the air, heavy and undeniable.

"Jeju," you finally admitted, voice quieter than before. "I’m in Jeju Island."

Jeonghan closed his eyes, letting the tension drain from his body. His head tilted back as he stared at the ceiling, lips curling into a faint, bitter smile.

"Of course you are," he muttered to himself, glancing out at the sky as if Jeju was close enough to see.

*

It was hard to control everything rationally when your heart had been battered one too many times — and it always seemed to be by the people you cared about most. Your father had left you with a crushing 35-billion-won debt. Your mother had left you behind as if you’d never existed. And now, Mingyu... You couldn’t even put into words what he had done to you, perhaps because he’d never truly been yours to begin with. He was just a friend. A friend who made you his contractual lover. How had it all come to this?

"That’s a wrap for tonight! Thank you so much for your hard work, everyone!" Boo Seungkwan's voice rang out loud and clear on set, cutting through the evening air.

He was the one who had cast you himself — handpicked you to play the lead in his film about a woman struggling with depression, seeking the meaning of life on Jeju Island. He’d told you he saw something in you, something raw and unspoken.

What a cruel twist of fate, you thought. The script no longer felt like a story you were telling. It had become your story. Every scene, every line, every emotion you were asked to portray felt like you were reliving your own pain on screen.

The crew slowly packed up, their tired voices fading as they made their way back to the rented house to rest. But you stayed behind, drawn to the shore like it had called your name. The night air was cool against your skin, and the steady lull of the waves was the only sound accompanying your thoughts.

You sat by the edge of the water, hugging your knees as you gazed at your reflection in the rippling surface. The moonlight softened the contours of your face, but it didn’t soften the hollow look in your eyes. The water moved, shimmering, shifting — it looked like it was calling you. Come closer, it seemed to say.

But you knew better. You knew that chasing that call wouldn’t solve anything. Ending it here wouldn’t leave anyone with peace — it would only leave scars. The kind of scars your mother had left behind when she vanished. She had been forgotten by most people, but for the ones who had loved her, the wounds never quite healed.

Who loves you, though?

The question struck you like a sudden gust of wind. It wasn’t the first time you’d wondered, but tonight, the ache was sharper.

Has anyone ever truly loved you?

Your mind wandered to your first love.

Your first kiss.

Your first everything.

All of them had been with Kim Mingyu.

You blinked, your lips parting to whisper his name, "Kim Mingyu..." The sound of it disappeared into the breeze, unnoticed and unanswered.

It was foolish, you knew. Because at the end of it all, Mingyu didn’t love you. He loved someone else. Wi Hyorin.

Her name alone carried a weight you didn’t want to bear, but it settled on you regardless.

What’s so great about Wi Hyorin? you wondered bitterly, clenching your fists against your knees. Your heart wanted to scoff, but your mind was crueler.

She’s soft-spoken. Calm. Composed. Smart. And from a wealthy, well-respected family.

You let out a bitter laugh, hollow and sharp like glass breaking. Of course, it made sense. She was everything you weren’t.

So what about you?

Your lips pressed into a thin line. No words came to mind. Not a single one. Because what could you offer him? Debt? Baggage? A heart too bruised to believe in love anymore?

Nothing. That’s what.

The ocean breeze brushed past you, cold but oddly comforting, like a quiet reassurance that you were still here. Still alive. Still breathing. The waves rolled in and out, persistent and unyielding, never once doubting their place in the world. You envied them.

For a moment, you closed your eyes, letting the sound of the sea fill the hollow space inside you.

If only love could be as steady as the tide.

"Ji Y/n..."

The familiar voice made you freeze, your heart lurching in your chest. Slowly, you turned toward the source of the call.

Your eyes widened. Kim Mingyu.

He stood there, breathless, still in his office attire, his tie loosened and his hair slightly disheveled. His chest rose and fell with each sharp breath, as if he’d run straight from the city to find you. His gaze locked on yours, his brows drawn together in a deep, urgent frown.

"You—" you stumbled toward him, your mind scrambling for words. "How did you get here? Why are you here?"

He chuckled lightly, a dry, breathless sound. His eyes, however, were far from playful. They were intense, sharp with resolve.

"You really want me to chase you, huh?" His voice was low, almost like a whisper meant only for you.

Before you could even process his words, he moved. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close, firm but gentle at the same time. His warmth seeped into you, his heartbeat thudding steadily against your ear. For a moment, you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, caught completely off guard by his sudden embrace.

"Mingyu, what are you—"

"I need you, Y/n." His voice was low, rough, filled with something raw and unfiltered. He leaned his head down, his breath fanning lightly against your hair. His words fell like quiet confessions against your ear, each one carrying more weight than the last. "I need you in my life."

Your breath hitched, your fingers curling into his shirt as if you were afraid he might disappear.

"You’re—" you pulled back slightly, just enough to see his face. His eyes, usually so guarded, were bare now, stripped of all his usual bravado. You saw it there — the honesty, the fear, the vulnerability. The love.

Your heartbeat felt like it stopped entirely when his next words fell from his lips.

"I think I love you, Y/n," he said, his gaze unwavering, his tone steady despite the chaos of emotions swirling between you both.

You blinked, stunned into silence. Your heart thudded painfully in your chest, faster and faster until it felt like it might burst.

"But..." Your voice trembled, barely above a whisper. "What about Hyorin?"

Mingyu’s eyes softened. He let out a slow, measured breath, as if he’d been waiting for that question. His hand cupped the back of your head, his thumb gently tracing small circles against your hair. His forehead leaned against yours, eyes closed, his next words spoken with absolute certainty.

"Not once in the past three months did I think about anyone but you."

The weight of his words crushed every doubt you’d been holding. It wasn’t just something he’d said to convince you — it was the truth, raw and undeniable.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, your chest tight with the weight of all the unspoken feelings you’d been burying for so long.

"You’re cruel," you whispered, your voice shaky as you tried to hold back your tears. "You’re so, so cruel, Kim Mingyu."

"I know," he murmured, his eyes opening to meet yours, filled with guilt and something that looked too close to regret. "But I’m here now, Y/n. I’m here."

His arms tightened around you, his embrace firm and unyielding, as if he was afraid you’d disappear.

"And I’m not letting you go this time," he said softly, his voice steady but filled with an unshakable resolve.

Your breath came in shallow, uneven waves as you stared into his eyes. The weight of his words pressed down on you, making it hard to think, hard to breathe. Your heart wanted to believe him, but your mind, bruised and battered by everything that had come before, hesitated.

"You say that now," you muttered, your gaze dropping to his chest where your hands rested, still clutching his shirt. "But what happens when it gets hard again, Mingyu? What happens when Hyorin looks at you like you’re her whole world, and you start to doubt this—" You swallowed hard, blinking away the tears threatening to fall. "—start to doubt me?"

He tilted his head, his eyes soft but unwavering. "I won’t."

"How can you be so sure?" Your voice cracked on the last word. "How am I supposed to believe you when it’s always been her? She was your dream, your everything. I was just—" Your voice broke entirely, and you hated how vulnerable you sounded. "I was just convenient."

"Stop," Mingyu said firmly, his voice leaving no room for doubt. He cupped your face with both hands, forcing you to look at him, really look at him. His eyes were darker than usual, filled with something you hadn’t seen before — clarity.

"You were never convenient," he said, his thumbs gently brushing away the tears that slipped down your cheeks. His forehead pressed against yours, his eyes closing as he breathed you in, like you were air after suffocating too long. "You were the only thing that ever made sense."

Your chest tightened, your breath hitching as you fought against the onslaught of emotions threatening to pull you under. "You’re just saying that because I left. People always want what they can’t have."

"No," he replied, his voice low but steady, carrying the weight of everything he’d been too blind to see before. "People always want what they’ve already lost."

Silence hung between you, thick and suffocating. The sound of waves crashing against the shore echoed in the distance, rhythmic and unending, a stark contrast to the storm brewing between you both.

"You didn’t lose me, Mingyu," you whispered, your voice small but certain. "You gave me away."

His face contorted with pain, his brows furrowing as if your words had physically struck him. His hands fell from your face, his head dropping low, his breathing sharp and shallow.

"You’re right," he muttered, his hands curling into fists at his sides. "I did."

You took a step back, needing space to breathe, needing distance before your heart betrayed you again. "So why are you here now, Mingyu? What do you want from me?"

He lifted his head, eyes wild with desperation, his gaze locking onto yours with a ferocity you’d never seen before. He stepped forward, closing the distance you’d tried to create.

"I want you," he said with such raw intensity that it left you breathless. "Not as a friend. Not as an arrangement. I want you because I’m in love with you, Y/n. And it took me losing you to realize it, but I know it now. I know it with every part of me."

Your breath hitched. The waves crashed louder in the distance, or maybe it was the thundering of your heart in your ears. You shook your head, backing away another step, but Mingyu followed.

"You’re just scared," he continued, his eyes never leaving yours. "You’re scared because I hurt you. I get it. I hurt you worse than anyone else ever has, and I’ll regret that for the rest of my life. But I’m here now, and I’m telling you I won’t hurt you again."

"Don’t promise me things you can’t keep, Mingyu," you said, your voice trembling with exhaustion and heartbreak. "I’m so tired of hearing people say they’ll stay, only for them to walk away."

"I’m not walking away," he said, his eyes glinting with determination. His voice didn’t rise, but it carried a conviction so strong that it made you pause. He took one slow, deliberate step forward, his gaze unwavering. "If you tell me to leave, I will. But if you tell me to stay, Y/n, I’ll never leave again. I swear it."

His words hung in the air between you, delicate but unbreakable.

Your breath trembled, your body taut like a wire pulled too tight. "And if you’re lying?"

"I’m not," he answered immediately, his gaze steady and sure. "But if I ever do, you won’t have to leave me, Y/n. I’ll walk away myself, knowing I never deserved you in the first place."

Silence. Long, heavy, unbearable silence.

The waves filled it. The seagulls in the distance filled it. But you didn’t speak.

He stood there, waiting, holding himself still like he was afraid that any sudden movement might scare you away. His chest rose and fell slowly, his breath measured, but his eyes... his eyes didn’t waver once.

"I hate you," you said softly, but your voice cracked in a way that betrayed you.

Mingyu exhaled a small, almost broken laugh. "I know."

"I hate how easy it is for you to say these things now," you continued, your lips trembling, tears brimming once more. "I hate how much I want to believe you."

"Then believe me," he said, stepping closer, his hand reaching out to take yours. He held it gently, like he was holding something fragile and precious. His eyes searched yours, soft but certain. "Believe me, and I’ll spend the rest of my life proving you made the right choice."

You stared at him, his words sinking in, the sincerity of it wrapping around your heart like a thread you couldn’t untangle. It terrified you how much you wanted to believe him.

"Mingyu," you whispered, his name a breath, a plea, a warning all in one.

"I’m here," he replied, his eyes never leaving yours. "I’m right here."

The tears you’d been holding back finally spilled over, and you hated him for that too. Why did he always make you cry? Your fingers gripped his shirt, your forehead pressing against his chest as the weight of everything came crashing down.

"You better not be lying," you mumbled into his shirt, your voice muffled but not lost. "If you are, I’ll never forgive you."

Mingyu’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you in with a tenderness that shattered every wall you’d built. He pressed his lips to the top of your head, lingering there for a moment longer than necessary.

"I’m not lying," he whispered, his voice steady as the waves beyond you both. "I’m never lying to you again."

And for the first time in a long time, you let yourself believe him.

*

"Cut!"

The director’s voice echoed through the set, and the entire crew let out a collective sigh of relief. Mingyu watched from the sidelines, his gaze fixed on you. His lips tugged into a small, proud smile as he saw you beam at everyone, bowing politely and thanking each crew member for their hard work. Your energy was infectious, even after a long day of filming.

"That’s a wrap, everyone!" Boo Seungkwan, the ever-lively director, announced with his trademark enthusiasm.

Mingyu stepped forward, his presence as commanding as ever in his sleek suit. Seungkwan spotted him and grinned, walking over with open arms. They exchanged a firm handshake, the weight of trust and friendship clear in the gesture.

"This movie better be a hit," Mingyu joked, his deep voice laced with playful seriousness.

Seungkwan snorted, rolling his eyes. "With your investment? It better be. I’m not about to ruin my spotless reputation."

"You should be grateful," Mingyu shot back, raising an eyebrow. "I let you use my name and my wife's name for this movie. And I even let her make a cameo appearance." His grin widened with mock arrogance, and Seungkwan waved him off like he’d heard it all before.

"Yes, yes, thank you, Mr. Investor," Seungkwan quipped, tilting his head in a sarcastic bow. "I’ll be sure to write that in the credits — 'With gracious permission from Kim Mingyu, the benevolent.' How’s that sound?"

Mingyu's laugh came from deep in his chest, sharp and rich with amusement. "Don’t forget to add 'world’s most handsome husband' in there too," he added, eyes flicking toward you as you approached.

Seungkwan's gaze followed Mingyu's line of sight, and his face lit up as he noticed you walking toward them. Your smile was bright, your strides light and confident, even as exhaustion clung to the edges of your movements.

"Amazing," Seungkwan muttered under his breath, his grin turning sly as he watched Mingyu’s entire demeanor soften.

“Thank you so much for letting me be part of this movie, Director Boo,” you greeted Seungkwan warmly. Your voice was light, your eyes crinkling with genuine gratitude.

“Trust me, I wish I could’ve had you in more scenes,” Seungkwan replied, shooting a teasing look at Mingyu. “But this man refused to let me put you in for more than two.”

Mingyu, as if on cue, jabbed at Seungkwan’s side, but Seungkwan dodged with the agility of someone who had been friends with Mingyu for far too long.

"Don’t listen to him," you said, letting out a soft, melodic laugh. Your hand rested lightly on Mingyu’s arm, grounding him in a way only you could. "I would’ve been happy with more scenes. Honestly, I would’ve loved to do more if you'd asked."

Seungkwan’s eyes widened with dramatic flair as he whipped around to face Mingyu. "See? See? Your wife doesn’t mind. She’s a professional, unlike some people I know."

Mingyu shook his head, his lips quirking into a grin that didn’t quite hide his possessiveness. "Nope. Absolutely not. I’m the one who minds," he declared, his eyes darting to you like he was staking a claim. "My wife is pregnant, and she needs to rest. No long shoots, no late nights, no unnecessary stress."

You shot him a playful glare, pinching his side just hard enough to make him flinch. “My husband is a bit noisy, isn’t he?” you said, glancing at Seungkwan like you were seeking solidarity.

Seungkwan raised both hands in surrender, his smile wide with amusement. “Don’t look at me. I’m not about to go against Mr. Handsome Husband, World’s Best Protector.” He snickered, his eyes darting between you and Mingyu. "But if it were up to me, you’d be in every scene."

Mingyu pulled you close by the waist, his hand resting protectively on your lower back, his thumb rubbing soft, absentminded circles. He leaned in, his eyes filled with that familiar mix of pride and adoration he could never seem to hide.

“It’s not up to you, Seungkwan,” he muttered, his gaze never leaving you. “We’ll be taking our leave now, Director Boo. My wife needs to rest.”

His words were simple, but the affection in his tone made your cheeks warm. You glanced at him, your eyes softening, and this time, you didn’t fight him on it.

“Take care, Director,” you said with a small bow. Seungkwan waved you off with a knowing grin, watching the two of you walk away.

“Yeah, yeah, go be all in love or whatever,” he called out, unable to hide the affection in his teasing.

As you walked side by side with Mingyu, his hand firm and steady on your back, you glanced up at him with a small smile.

“Possessive much?” you teased quietly, nudging him with your elbow.

“Protective,” he corrected, glancing down at you with that look that always made your heart stumble. His eyes softened as they lingered on you, his voice quieter now. "I’m protecting what’s mine."

You rolled your eyes, but your fingers intertwined with his, and you squeezed his hand just a little tighter.

“Okay, Mr. Handsome Husband, World’s Best Protector,” you murmured, leaning your head against his arm as the two of you walked off into the evening light.

*

Seungkwan sat with the entire cast during the promotional interview for his highly anticipated movie. The host was lively and charismatic, effortlessly guiding the conversation while bringing out the natural chemistry between the cast. Laughter filled the room, and the atmosphere was warm and relaxed.

“Director Boo,” the host began with a playful grin, leaning forward with curiosity. “You mentioned that this movie was inspired by your friend’s story, right? Care to spill a little tea on that?”

Laughter erupted from the cast and audience. Seungkwan’s eyes widened, and he waved his hands frantically as if to push away the implication. His cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but he quickly composed himself.

“Ah, I don’t want anyone to misunderstand,” Seungkwan said, half-laughing, half-sighing. “It’s not like that. I drew inspiration from a lot of places — life experiences, stories I’ve heard, observations. But,” he paused, his grin turning sly, “I’ll admit, my favorite actress, Ji Y/n, agreed to make a cameo, and we did use her name and her husband’s name for the characters.”

“Oho!” the host gasped, eyes lighting up with excitement. “Using your friend’s actual names? Sounds very intentional, Director Boo!”

More laughter followed, with some of the cast members playfully nudging Seungkwan as if to expose him further.

“Look, look, look,” Seungkwan chuckled, his hands raised in surrender. “It’s not like their relationship is exactly like the one in the movie. It’s totally the opposite, I promise!” His gaze flickered to the camera, as if directly addressing the viewers. “They’re an amazing couple, honestly. The kind of couple that makes you believe in love again.”

The host’s eyes narrowed with mock suspicion, leaning forward like he’d just uncovered a scandal. “So you’re telling me that you just so happened to name the characters after them and just so happened to cast her as a cameo?”

The audience howled with laughter, and Seungkwan pressed his palms together in a mock plea for mercy. “I’m innocent, I swear! I’m just a man trying to tell a good story!”

"Glad he didn’t mention that the 35 billion won contract was actually true," you muttered, eyes glued to the television as the interview played. Your three-month-old daughter, Sera, lay in your arms, breastfeeding peacefully. Her tiny fingers occasionally curled and uncurled against your skin.

Mingyu let out a long, exasperated sigh from beside you. "I should’ve read the script myself before signing that deal," he groaned, rubbing his face in frustration. "I didn’t think Seungkwan would actually bring up the contract."

"Why? Feeling a little exposed now?" you teased, shooting him a sly grin. "Starting to see what an asshole you were back then?"

His gasp was immediate, his eyes wide with faux horror. "Language, woman!" he said dramatically, reaching over to cover baby Sera’s tiny ears. "She can hear you, you know."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hold back a soft laugh. Gently, you lifted Sera from your chest and placed her carefully in her crib. Her lips puckered in her sleep, and her little body shifted slightly before settling back into slumber. You watched her for a moment longer, letting that familiar warmth fill your chest.

With Sera safe and sound, you made your way back to Mingyu, plopping down beside him on the couch. Your head found a home against his shoulder, your hand resting on his chest, fingers tracing slow, lazy circles.

“It’s true, though,” he muttered, staring at the ceiling as if reliving the memory. “Everyone thought I was gay, and somehow, my genius solution was to get a contractual girlfriend.” He shook his head at his younger self, clearly unimpressed.

"But you have to admit," you murmured, your voice low and teasing, "I was way too gorgeous to pass up, huh?"

Mingyu glanced down at you, his eyes softening with that look he reserved only for you. A slow, crooked smile spread across his face, and he let out a quiet chuckle, the deep rumble of it vibrating through his chest.

"You are," he said simply, his hand coming up to rest on top of yours. "The most gorgeous mistake I ever made… and the only one I’d make again."

His words were so sincere, so steady, that it made your heart squeeze in your chest. You tilted your head up, catching his gaze, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. It was one of those rare silences where everything was already understood.

"Smooth talker," you whispered, lips curling into a smile as you leaned up to kiss him softly.

"Only for you," he replied, his voice a little quieter now, his eyes still locked on you like you were the only person in the world.

And in moments like this — with your baby girl sleeping soundly nearby and the man who once made the worst mistake of his life now holding you like you were his greatest treasure — you believed it.

[wonderjanga]

This is a Setup

Billy has a problem. Multiple heroes keep trying to set them up on dates with other people. The worst part is that none of them know he’s 12, and he doesn’t plan on really telling them anytime soon so he’s just forced to go on the dates. Don’t worry though. He has a plan. Or at least Mary has a plan. A plan that includes her and Freddy sabotaging his dates.

Marvel: *trying his best to converse with this lady normally*

Lady: *thinks the date is going well and puts her hand on his arm*

Marvel: *internally panics so hard*

The date was actually going pretty well. Like actually. Too bad Billy was not interested in dating anyone.

Mary: *dressed a super villain crashes through one of the windows* “Captain Marvel! I have come to enact vengeance upon you!”

Marvel: *so relieved and looks to the lady* “Miss? Please find somewhere safe.” *stands up from the table* “Stop right there, villain!”

Mary: “Never!” *flies away*

Marvel: *follows*

They pretended to fight, and Billy pretended to take her to the police but instead flew away so she could return as Mary Marvel.

Reporter: “Captain, what can you tell us about your latest villain?”

Mary: *grabs the mic* “She’s awesome!”

Marvel: *nods along* “That she is.”

Then there was the other time they did this but with Freddy. He also wasn’t cosplaying as a villain.

Marvel: *pretending he wants to be there*

Junior: “Dad!” *flies in from somewhere*

Marvel: “Yes?”

Junior: “There’s an emergency! Mom is hurt!”

Date: “Mom?!” *gasps* “Are you guys still together?”

Junior: “Yeah they are! He’s a cheating cheater!”

Date: *double gasps and is about to smack him before they realize they’d probably break their hand so they just throw their napkin in Billy’s face and leave*

Marvel and Junior: *watch them go*

Marvel: “Questionable means but it got the job done.” *gets up and gives him a thumbs up*

They did this schtick of sabotaging dates until the heroes trying to set him up with people gave up and gave Marvel some looks of pity.

Flash: “Maybe you’re just un-dateable?” *trying to make him feel better*

Marvel: *doesn’t need to be made to feel better cause he’s chilling* “Yeah, it’s probably that.”

Supes: “Oh, come on don’t say that about yourself—”

Marvel: “In fact, since I’m un-dateable, we should stop setting me up with people.”

That got him even more pity glances even though as soon as he left the room, he went to the kitchen, grabbed some ice cream sandwiches and ate them with Junior and Mary in a rec room with a smile on his face.

[luvs4matt]

I’m not trying to rush u, but when is soaked part 5 gonna happen 😭 I dying to what happened next

𝐒𝐎𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐃 , 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟓 ✿ 𝐃𝐈𝐋𝐅!𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐖 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐎

“oh baby.. is daddy makin’ your mind all fuzzy? huh?”

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 - dilf!matt x subby!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - in which, when matt witnesses reader letting someone flirt with her, he has no choice but to remind her who she belongs to.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - SMUT 18+, daddy kink, sir kink, begging, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, cow girl, praise, breeding, size kink, pet names (baby, honey, sweetheart, princess, good girls, sweet girl, angel, babe, bunny)

𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐄𝐅𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐂𝐔𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐃 vulnerable, all by yourself. you find your way to your feet, running out of the bedroom. thank god lilly wasn’t home, because if she was, if she walked out of her bedroom, she would see you completely naked running around.

you finally found matt in the kitchen; you ran up to him and dug your face into his shoulder “matty.. m’sorry” tears start to well in your eyes, why would he leave you there like that? “yeah? y’gonna stop bein’ bad an’ lying, sayin’ that i’m mean when i have been so much nicer than i should’ve been after how you acted”

you nod “yes sir, i promise” he chuckles “you promise, huh?” you hummed as you nodded “well, then we should get my sweet girl out of the handcuffs, yeah?” you nodded again “please.. they are starting to hurt..” before he left the bedroom, he had put on a pair of sweatpants, and brought the key with him.

he turned you around as he grabbed the key from his pocket “there you go baby”

“thank you” he grabbed your waist “you wanna take your plug out too princess?”

“yes” he nodded “okay, just bend over the counter, alright?” you did just as he said, bending over the counter. you winced as he pulled it out “i know it hurts baby, m’sorry” he hugged you from behind before leaving kisses down your neck “need you matty..” he smirks “yeah?”

“mhm” you grind yourself back onto him “you think i teased you enough already tonight? hm?”

“yes sir” he turns you back around, placing his lips on yours. you were desperate, you tried to deepen the kiss but he pulled away “no baby, be patient. try it again and i’ll put you back in your cuffs”

“m’sorry” he kissed you again, this time, you moved at his pace. he lifted you onto the counter, never separating your lips. you gasp as you feel his fingers slowly trace up your thigh, he smiled “mm.. so sensitive” you let out a quiet whine, desperate for more attention.

“don’t worry princess, daddy’ll touch you soon, okay?” you nodded “okay.. just please don’t make it too long” he chuckles at your neediness “i won’t baby.. i won’t” he smiles as he kisses you.

he lifts you from the counter, bringing you to the couch. he sits you on top of him, allowing you to be on his lap “gon’ ride me honey?” you hummed “c’mon.. we’ve been working so hard on using our words, use ‘em” you rolled your hips against his bulge “yes sir, m’gonna ride you”

“good girl” you whimpered as you continued grinding on him “take my pants off sweet girl” you did as he said before getting back on top of him “can i now daddy?”

“go ahead angel” you line up your hole with his tip, he holds your waist as you sink down onto him. you struggled, his dick already so deep inside. it feels deeper with you being on top “need help babe?”

“yes.. please help me.. so deep..” he pushes you down until you have taken him all “see, you can do it” you sat there for a minute, in his arms, letting yourself get used to his size. no matter how many times you have sex, you’ve never got used to his size.

matt uses the grip on your waist to roll your hips, the sudden movements making you whimper “f- feels good..” he removes one hand from your waist, using it to hold your face “yeah?” you start to move yourself, bouncing on his cock.

you forgot all pain you were experiencing when he brought your face to his, your lips colliding together “just the prettiest little lips” he mumbled against you. you whined as he deepened the kiss.

you gasp as he suddenly starts thrusting up into you, you moan as he hits all of your spots “my good girl.. taking it so well” he bites his lip as he watches your face twist in pleasure “always- fuck- always take my dick like a fuckin’ champ, don’t you princess?”

you can’t comprehend what he is saying, you just know that you feel so good “oh baby..” his voice was laced with faux sympathy “is daddy makin’ your mind all fuzzy? huh?” your eyes rolled back. matt was right, your mind is all fuzzy, but you didn’t know he was right, you had no idea what he just said.

he brought you back into reality with a few taps on your cheek “i- huh?” he smiled “you’re so adorable.. you can’t even think straight” you couldn’t form a sentence, the pleasure was just so overwhelming “cum?” he wasn’t going to make you work for it this time “cum baby”

a loud moan erupted from your throat as you came around his cock hard “daddy’s close honey, it’s almost over” you whined in overstimulation “squeezin’ me so tight” he groaned.

as he was building his orgasm, he was also building your second one. “gonna cum with me sweetheart?” you frantically nodded.

he thrusted a few more times before he shot his load into you, triggering your orgasm “daddy!” he rides out your highs before you cradle yourself into him, allowing him to hold you, running his hands up and down your back “good bunny.. good bunny”

© luvs4matt

a/n - a little christmas present for you guys 💋💋

[jasvtsc]

office surprise

warnings! mdni! mentions of inappropriate pics. slight sexting. softdom!beau. blow job. oral (m!receiving). slight voyeurism. almost getting caught. probably grammar mistakes.

word count! 1.6k

you’ve been purposely getting on beau’s nerves the whole day. there wasn’t any reason for it — you just felt like being an annoying little shit.

at first, you wouldn’t let him out of bed, clinging to his side and whining whenever he tried to move. how did he manage to escape from a leech like you? he still wasn’t exactly sure. however, it all got worse when you decided to send him some… pictures, while he was at work. at first, he thought you were just pestering him and that maybe you wanted to ask when he was finishing his shift.

well, he couldn’t be more wrong.

because as soon as he clicked on the message, his eyes widened and he shoved his phone into his pocket, feeling his pants growing tighter as he quickly side-eyed hoyt to check if she saw the content on his phone. luckily, she was too busy talking to some officers about the case they were working on. luckily, she didn’t see the picture of you, sitting in his bedroom, in his bed, wearing his shirt and hugging his pillow with your hand in your lacey white panties he got you not that long ago. he inhaled sharply through his nose as his phone started buzzing even more, painfully teasing the growing bulge in his pants.

he excused himself and went to his office suspiciously fast, bumping into some people on his way there. as soon as he closed the door behind him so that nobody would interrupt him, beau pulled out his phone and checked new messages from you.

more pictures.

you playing with your pussy through the dampened fabric of your panties. another one where you stuffed your fingers into your mouth, looking up at the camera with those puppy eyes you often made while being on your knees for him and your mouth full of his cock. and then yet another one where you were biting your lower lip, your brows scrunched and your fingers shoved in your dripping core. he could only imagine the pretty sounds that were probably leaving your mouth as you played with yourself.

he took a shattering breath as he palmed his crotch, trying to relieve himself a little while staring at his phone. suddenly, he was wondering how fucked up he would be if someone heard him grunting if he decided to get himself off.

suddenly, the door to his office opened. he shot up from his chair and cleared his throat, expecting to see hoyt — so imagine the surprise on his face when he saw you.

In all honesty, he was baffled. you just sent him those pictures and now you were standing in front of him, that huge grin on your face as if nothing had happened. for a moment, he was moving his mouth like a fish freshly taken out of the water before he could make any sound.

“hello?” it sounded like a question when you walked up to him and pecked his lips, standing on your toes to reach him.

“hi,” you giggled in that innocent manner and he knew damn well that you were just acting. you were a little devil.

“what are you doing here? i thought you were at home. when did you—” he cut off, words suddenly stuck in his throat since he couldn’t force himself to ask it out loud. he needed to know when did you take those photos.

“earlier. right after you left,” hearing that was enough to make him speechless.

“why now?”

“why not?” you shrugged, fluttering your lashes at him, trying to act coy. he took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose before running his palm through his face.

“you’re being a bad girl, y’know that?” with a sigh, he pulled you closer and pecked your lips which only got yet another one of those sweet giggles out of you. “unbelievable,” he muttered, kissing you again. “y’gonna pay for that, got it?” he said and bit on your lower lip, giving it a slight tug.

“oh, i know,” you hummed teasingly, pulling away as if you were going to walk away. but he was already done with you being a brat, so he grabbed your arm and quickly pulled you back in.

“now,” and clearly, you weren’t expecting that. your eyes went wide and your plump lips slightly parted as it was your turn to be flabbergasted.

“what do you mean by now?”

“you heard me sweetheart,” he almost growled lowly into your ear. “get under the desk,” he was done with you playing games and trying to gain some control when he was the one in charge.

you looked at him, still not believing that he wanted you to do that. you thought he might wait until you get home but his expression was speaking in volume. you gulped nervously and turned to look at the door, now closed. but anyone could enter at any given moment. you turned back to face him, tilting your head back to voice some protest but he just gave you a stern nod.

“now,” his tone left no place for discussion and even though you’d never admit it, you felt a familiar tingle at the bottom of your stomach.

with a small sigh, you quickly put your hair up and got under his desk. a satisfied smirk graced his lips as he sat in his chair, spreading his legs to give you some room between them. you scooted closer on your knees, fixing your skirt to not get the light fabric dirty. however, the way your knees would be bruised later would be enough of a sign of your little visit to the sheriff’s office.

“go on,” he encouraged you, rubbing his bearded chin as he stared you down like a hawk. you already knew what to do and since you didn’t want to piss him off even more, only imagining what he would think of then, you began to unbuckle his belt, your small fingers fiddling with the leather. after struggling for a few seconds you finally did it and unzipped his pants, lowering them slightly to expose the bulge underneath. the grey fabric was already stained with precum as his dick was straining against the fabric, waiting impatiently to be freed.

you gasped quietly which made beau chuckle. however, he was soon the one to make a sound as a small moan escaped from his throat the moment you pulled his throbbing cock out. your eyes widened when you saw the pinky shaft in all its glory, the prominent veins throbbing under your fingertips and precum leaking from the tip. sheriff bit his lip to muffle any more sounds from coming out and drawing in any unwanted attention from outside the office.

“come on, sweetheart. you know what to do,” he rasped out, his voice gravelly with need.

you gave him a few firm strokes, trying to fit in your small grip. with your thumb, you spread the precum around and finally — after what felt like agonizing hours to beau, you took him in your mouth.

at first, it was just the tip as you swirled your tongue around it. only then, after teasing him enough, you felt bolder and moved closer, feeling him slide deeper into your throat. he inhaled sharply, his nostrils flaring as he moved his hand to the back of your head, gripping your hair and impatiently pulling you closer. it made you gag slightly but you didn’t pull away, quite the opposite, you tried taking him in fully. and soon, you were bobbing your head up and down, as much as the desk allowed you to. he growled lowly, helping guide your movements as he tilted his head back, his legs spreading even further apart.

“good girl. you’re such a good girl, baby. you’re doing so well. just like that,” the way he praised you in that lust-driven voice only encouraged you to keep going. you skillfully moved your tongue, your pace relentless, as your nose bumped against him, his tip hitting the back of your throat.

soon, you felt him getting closer by the way he was twitching between your swollen lips covered in a mix of your drool and his sweet essence. his breathing picked up and he looked down at you with hooded eyes, his chest heaving and a few droplets of sweat trickled down his temple.

“i’m close, baby. keep going,” he gasped, the way he was talking almost as if he was out of breath.

you didn’t stop, too eager to please him which seemed to be what had driven him over that edge he was tethering on. but before he could tell you to pull away, as he always did, the door to his office opened.

he widened his eyes, looking up at hoyt and poppernak, trying to act his best as if nothing was happening. meanwhile, you widened your eyes when he finished in your mouth. you had no other choice but to swallow as he kept you close by the back of your head.

somehow, he managed to talk with his voice surprisingly steady and the two soon left his office. after he made sure that they were gone for good, he looked down at you as you pulled away, your lips puffed and messy. he chuckled lowly, wiping them with his thumb and letting you lick it clean.

“well, that was close,” he grinned stupidly as you helped tuck him back in his pants.

oh, you were going to get your revenge for that later.

THEE SMUT FAIRY IS BACKKKK YALL

@frosttbitessam special tag for my wifeyyy

༄♡ tags: @beausling @deanswidow @titsout4jackles @a1ecmcdowell @deansbeer @figthoughts @deansbite @aileenunfiltered @fitxgrld @angelicp0etry @hrtsoldierboy @10ava01 @abellmunsonmovie @momoewn

[covenofagatha]

A dance with death (and her wife) (Part 5)

Agatha takes you back to her house after the realization that you may have been responsible for the recent murders

Word count: 5200

Warnings: murder, purposeful thumb dislocation, violence

A/N: this got so long so fast so I had to split this chapter into 2 parts so as of right now I'm planning for 3 more parts

You can’t stop your teeth from chattering as you slide into the passenger seat of Agatha’s car. She followed you back to the motel so you could leave yours there, her headlights shining onto you the entire time, reminding you that she was right behind you.

Her lingering presence is ominous, rather than comforting. You just can’t put your finger on why.  

You’re not cold. The opposite, really. Your body is running hot, perspiration gathering on your forehead, but you’re shaking like a leaf. She turns up the heat, but you immediately reach over and turn it off. 

“I didn’t do it,” you say, but you’re not even sure if you believe it yourself. 

Agatha snorts. “Still think you’re being framed by The Witch and Lady Death?” She asks, and your heart spikes. Rio and her have been talking. Perhaps this whole time. Does she also know her wife drugged you? 

“Maybe,” you try to argue, but you know it’s just false hope at this point. How would they have gotten his blood under your nails? 

But how could you have killed him? You were completely unconscious the whole time. 

The knife from your motel found at the crime scene. Rio washing your clothes and being secretive about what was on them. And now this. 

You know you used to sleep-walk, but is sleep-murder a possibility? 

“Why did you want me to see it first?” You question, now latching onto something else. Agatha is a detective, she should’ve called the rest of the squad as well as you. 

Does she know more than she’s letting on? 

I’m just curious about something is what Rio said as she watched you succumb to sleep. 

What is going on? 

Agatha’s knuckles tighten on the steering wheel and you’re momentarily distracted by remembering what they felt like inside you. Her fingers, Rio’s mouth, together? “Just wanted to see how you’d react,” she finally says, and it snaps you out of your fantasy about them. 

“Rio drugged me earlier,” you tell her, watching her face closely for any sign of recognition or confusion. 

She remains neutral. “Oh?” 

You grit your teeth. They are both so good at keeping their cards to their chests. “Neither of you think I’m being framed. You seemed pretty certain that the body from yesterday wasn’t from them, that it was someone new.” Your voice drops to a whisper. “Do you think I killed both of them?” 

You’re not capable of that. There’s no possible way you did. But you want to hear what she thinks. 

“I think,” she pauses to choose her words carefully. “I think that I believe you when you say you think you didn’t do it.” 

“I couldn’t have,” you say weakly, needing more than anything for it to be true. 

She glances at you with pity. “We all think we couldn’t. People can surprise you.” The look on her face matches the darkness outside. Is she speaking from experience? 

The drawer opens and your fingers wrap around the handle of one of the knives. 

“I didn’t do it,” you insist. 

You park by the woods and ask the first man you see for help finding your dog who ran into the trees. He’s wearing a flannel and pants, and has the most brilliant blue eyes. 

Agatha reaches over to pat your leg. 

The kitchen knife cuts his legs surprisingly well and he slumps back against the trees, blood rushing from his wounds. You get immense pleasure in watching the cerulean in his eyes fade. But it’s not enough. You want to send a message: a heart on his chest. A nod to the shape drawn on the sticky note from The Witch and Lady Death, and to their calling card. 

A whimper tears its way out of your throat and you clamp a hand over your mouth. Agatha hears it and looks over, raising an eyebrow. “You okay, superstar?” 

Your head is spinning. Are these memories real, or not real? Is your mind playing tricks on you?

The femoral arteries were too quick, too easy. You need something more. It’s only too easy to lure this man into the woods. 

“I don’t know,” you gasp out. You’re hyperventilating now. You were supposed to protect this town, stop the killers, but instead, you became one. 

Plunging the knife into his throat sent a thrill like you’ve never felt before tingling down your spine. You drag it down, grunting with the effort, but the blood pours out and you’re breathless. The red on the white snow is almost angelic. 

What have you done? 

Memories, dreams, images, whatever they are, come rushing into your brain, almost completely overwhelming you. 

You killed them. 

Were you really unconscious, or were you just erasing the memories to protect yourself? 

But you were asleep, at least at first. Did you wake up and decide to go on a murder spree? How does that even happen?

“Pull over,” you demand. Agatha scoffs but you say it again, more sternly. Your entire body feels awful and you know what’s about to come. 

Thankfully she obeys, and the second her car screeches to a halt, you’re throwing open the door and barely making it two steps away before you double-over and retch, puking your guts out. It burns your throat and your lungs ache, but it feels like you’re cleansing your body.

Agatha quickly runs over to you and holds back your hair while you continue to vomit. She rubs gentle circles on your back and then you’re finally able to stand up and breathe normally. 

“Did you know after the first one?” You say, wiping your mouth and turning to face her. 

She shrugs, but there’s an affirmative glint in her eyes. “Figured you were bound to snap eventually. Didn’t realize how drastic it would be until Rio told me about the bloody clothes you had her wash.” 

You’d throw up again if there was anything left in your stomach. She 

But she’s not done yet. 

“And then we got the call about the body with all the blood and I had a hunch. But you not knowing anything gave me a bit of pause,” she admits, swiping her thumb on your lip affectionately. “Thought you were just a really good actor. But then you said you’d been sleeping for the past few hours, so I wondered.”

You cough, still tasting acid. Things still aren’t adding up. She fucked you after thinking you murdered someone? “Why didn’t you turn me in?” Not complaining exactly, but why have they been holding onto this? “Is that why Rio drugged me? She wanted to see if…I’d what? Murder someone else?” 

Agatha tilts her head back and forth, like she’s partly agreeing, and you back up from her, the gears in your brain turning. She gives you a look as if to say Really? and starts advancing towards you. You put your hands out to stop her and flinch, and she freezes. 

“If you’re feeling better, get back in the car,” she orders, and the hairs on the back of your neck stand. She takes one more step and stops an inch away from you, eyebrow raised like she’s anticipating your next move, and you gulp before obeying. “Good girl,” she says in a low voice, closing the door on you, and you hate the way your body betrays you. 

She gets into the driver’s seat and locks the doors and it makes your heart lurch. Why do you feel so unsafe right now? 

The key gets turned in the ignition but the car won’t start. “Fuck,” Agatha swears, turning it again and again. Panic starts to climb and settle into every crack and crevice in your body; what if you have to spend the night with Agatha on the side of the road? 

What if you fall asleep and accidentally kill her? 

Is that something you do now? Can you just never sleep for the rest of your life? 

The engine finally clicks and turns on, just taking a bit longer in the snow. But Agatha is almost out of gas, so she pulls into the next gas station she finds on the way to her house. 

“Have you eaten?” She asks gruffly, something seemingly changed in the air between you. 

The moment she brings up food, your stomach grumbles. You can’t remember the last time you ate. Tony would kill you, if you had heard from him at all. It’s weird he hasn’t called you back yet. Unfortunately, you have been sleeping though. You’re not sure if he would be proud. 

Agatha gets out of the car and slams the door and you quickly scramble out too. “We’ll go get you something to eat after I’m done filling up.” 

“I can just run in now,” you offer, desperately needing a moment to yourself. You can’t breathe next to Agatha right now. 

She scoffs and presses the pump into her car. “You’re a mess, superstar. I can’t risk you confessing to her about what you’ve done, or worse.” 

You bite back a sarcastic comment, still weary of her mood shift, and you tap your foot until the pump stops. She follows you into the station, watching carefully as you pick up a slice of pizza from the hot food area. You snag a drink and walk to the cash register, where a woman is snapping her gum. 

“Hi,” you say politely, putting your stuff down. Agatha’s hot breath is on your neck. “Oh, and can I get these too?” You quickly slap down a container of cinnamon mints. 

She looks you up and down, and winks. “On the house,” she says and Agatha steps even closer to you. The cashier’s eyes flicker to her. “Anything for your mom?” 

Agatha practically growls behind you and yanks your head back by your hair so she’s able to capture your lips in a bruising kiss. You try to pull away in shock, but she holds you there and slides her tongue into your mouth. You can still taste the little flap of skin from where you bit her when she fucked you. 

After she’s sufficiently stolen all the air from your lungs, she stops and grabs your pizza and drink from the counter. “Come, pet,” she says in a low voice that makes you hotly tingle all over and you make brief eye contact with the cashier, who looks severely taken aback. You wonder if you look as flushed as you feel. 

“Sorry about that,” you say sheepishly, face hot, and slap a ten dollar bill on the counter, scampering after Agatha. “What the fuck was that?” You call after her, and she whirls around, face contorted into something scary.

“Get. In. The. Car,” she demands, seething, anger radiating off her in waves and almost knocking you back. 

There’s silence the rest of the way to her house as you eat your pizza. It’s a cute two-story house, hedges trimmed neatly out front, and another car in the driveway. 

Your heart begins to race at the thought of seeing Rio again, at the thought of dealing with them together. 

What are you doing here? Are they going to blackmail you? What could they want from you? 

You trail Agatha to the front door and then into the kitchen, where Rio is trimming a bouquet of flowers in a vase. Yellow, blue, red, and a flash of purple. 

Brows furrowing, you try to get a closer look but Rio steps to the side, unknowingly blocking your view. 

“Hey, Aggie,” she says, her back still to you. The glimpse into domesticity and the nicknames makes you feel a longing pang inside you. 

In the past, girls had been too put off by your line of work, by your fascination with female serial killers, even by the scar on your stomach. You just wanted someone that could accept every part of you. 

Agatha walks over, leaving you standing awkwardly in the entrance, and presses a kiss to Rio’s cheek, murmuring something in her ear. Rio’s body stiffens and she turns around, a wide grin stretching over her face when she sees you. 

“Welcome, doll,” she says and you fight the urge to run away. She motions to a fresh batch of cookies cooling on the stove. “Want one?” 

You don’t budge. “Did you poison them too?” 

Rio’s head tosses back with a laugh and Agatha smirks bemusedly. “Touché,” Rio says, grabs one, and chomps on it. She brushes her hands free on the crumbs once she’s done and holds them up to show you that she didn’t lace them. 

“What am I doing here?” You ask, wanting to cut to the chase. There’s some ulterior motive, one you just don’t know of yet. 

Both of them beckon you to follow them into the living room. They sit on the couch and you sit in the chair facing them. 

“‘What am I doing here?’” Agatha mocks in a deep voice and you roll your eyes. 

Rio takes all of you in, eyes flicking up and down your body several times. “Such a trivial question. Why don’t you ask something better than that?”

You think about it for a moment. What do you really want to know? “Did I kill those men?” 

“Boring. Ask something you don’t already know the answer to,” Rio criticizes and your cheeks burn. 

“Why did I?” It comes out quieter than you intended, your voice breaking. 

The two of them finally look interested. “Why do you think?” Rio asks, ever the therapist. 

“I…don’t know,” you say lamely.

Agatha snorts. “Come on, superstar, we know you’re smarter than that. Use that brilliant brain of yours.”

Knife from the drawer. Slicing through fabric to cut the arteries. Hearing a squelching sound when you plunge it into the chin. 

Blood.

More blood. 

A brilliant blaze of fire erupts. 

You jolt. Fire? “I think…” You trail off, feeling shaken by the new revelation. Is the fire something that happened in the past, or something that’s about to come? 

“Yeah?” Agatha whispers, leaning forward. 

You try to search your head for the answer. “I think I wanted to know what it felt like,” you say slowly, testing the words on your tongue, still not completely sure if they’re right. 

You’re remembering more of the murders, remembering being in a trance-like haze when you woke up, getting into your car, coming back to the room after, stripping naked from the bloodstained clothes and scrubbing your skin in the shower until it stung. And then laying back down. 

Some sort of psychosis? Or just your unconscious mind fulfilling one of your darkest fantasies? 

Rio’s breath hitches. “And? How did it feel?” 

“It felt…powerful,” you say, and you know what the feeling in the woods with Agatha was now. It was the feeling of taking in your own work, seeing what you had done, somehow remembering the feeling even when you didn’t remember doing it. 

Agatha licks her lips, her eyes dark. “Holding their life in your hands, it’s a sensation like no other. That control makes you feel like a god, doesn’t it?” 

The way she phrases it sounds like she knows how it feels. How could she? 

Can you brush it off to her being a detective? Surely she’s had to make a decision like that once in her career, but there’s a nagging in the back of your mind that is sounding alarm bells. 

You cautiously look back and forth between them, between their faces with an indescribable hunger, and things start to come together. 

The Witch and Lady Death. 

Lovers, two brunettes, one thinner and taller, the other shorter and fuller. Just like Rio and Agatha.

Both Agatha and Rio were so convinced that there was a different killer. 

Both Agatha and Rio knew that you killed someone, even before you did, yet neither of them made any effort to get you in trouble. 

If anything, they pushed you to do it again. 

Rio said she wasn’t The Witch, but you hadn’t asked if she was Lady Death. 

Which means…

Agatha is The Witch. Rio is Lady Death. And you’re in their home, with both of them.

It’s ingenious though, really. Being the lead detective on a case trying to catch yourself, able to throw a wrench into any leads that the squad may happen to get. 

That must be why she was so nitpicky with all your theories. She knew all the right details the entire time.

Although, it never really seemed like she was shooting you down, it was almost like she was guiding you. 

Did she want you to catch them?

And Rio, being your therapist to find out more about you, get inside your head and understand how the profiler on their case thinks. 

You’d almost be impressed if you weren’t scared for your life right now. 

The only question is: why? 

Why murder all those people? Why break into your motel room and leave you all that stuff? Why help you in catching them, if that’s truly what they’ve been doing? 

Why not just kill you already? Unless that’s what they’re planning on doing tonight. 

“Can I, uh, use your bathroom?” You ask, praying they can’t hear how fast your heart is beating. 

They’re both regarding you with careful looks. “Second door on the left,” Agatha says, pointing down a hallway. You nervously smile and try to walk normally out of sight. 

Just make it to the bathroom, you chant. Then you can text Tony, text the police chief, text anybody. If you can keep up the pretenses, you might be able to hang on until reinforcements come. 

But as you’re walking by the first room on the left, you see that the door is ajar ever the slightest. 

You shouldn’t. You should go to the bathroom and get help. You absolutely should not open this door. 

It creaks as you push it open and you stop breathing, waiting to hear footsteps or one of them asking if you’re okay. 

Nothing. 

The door is open just wide enough for you to slip in now, and you can’t help the loud gasp that escapes your mouth. 

Purple azaleas are in a vase on the table, along with vials upon vials. Information about every single person in Westview on one wall, red circles highlighting either victims or a list. 

But what’s most startling is the shrine they have for you on the big wall. Pictures of you, case files, every piece of information accessible that concerns you is plastered there. 

They know exactly who you are. They’ve known. 

Fighting the nausea that climbs into your throat, you step closer. There’s something that draws your attention in the bottom left area, a medical record with your name on it from Salem, Massachusetts almost fifteen years ago. You don’t remember ever being in the hospital when you lived there. 

You bend down to see what it says and 

Snow. 

The frozen creek. 

Laughter and red birds when you step on a stick. 

The person whirls around, long dark hair flipping with the momentum, blue eyes cutting through the darkness. 

Fire. Sparks fly and land at your feet, hissing in the snow. 

“Well, well, well,” a voice says behind you and you spin so fast you almost fall over. Agatha and Rio are standing in the doorway, arms crossed. “Guess the secret’s out.”

But you don’t care about that. 

Because the woman from your memory has a name now. 

“It was you,” you accuse, jabbing a finger towards Agatha. The face in the flashes was a bit younger, but you’d know her anywhere now. 

A cold feeling sinks into you when she bares her teeth in a smile. “I see my wife’s techniques have been efficient.” 

Your head starts to pound. “How…?” 

“Why don’t we go back into the living room and we can talk about this?” Rio suggests gently. 

“So you can kill me?” You spit, completely disoriented. How did you know Agatha fifteen years ago? Why didn’t you remember? 

What did she do to you? 

Agatha scoffs. “Really, you think if we wanted to kill you, you wouldn’t be dead already? Honey, we could’ve had your heart the instant you stepped into town.” 

Your hand grabbles at your belt, trying to grab onto the gun that isn’t there. 

Fuck. 

You ran out of your room in such a hurry earlier that you forgot to grab it. 

“So what do you want from me?” You ask, trying to sound even the slightest bit braver than you feel. You fail. 

“We want you to join us,” Rio says, being uncharacteristically straight forward. “We see you and what you’re capable of. We’ve known it. We want you, all of you.” 

You shake your head. “No, absolutely fucking not. You two are crazy. I don’t know how you know me, or what happened in the woods all those years ago, but I would rather die than kill more people with you.” 

They both sigh like they were afraid you’d say that. They start to walk over to you and you feel prey being stalked, being hunted. 

“What are you–” 

Agatha shushes you. “You’re just confused, superstar. But don’t worry. We’ll give you some time to think about it.” 

And then they grab you and drag you kicking and screaming upstairs into their bedroom. 

This is it. This is how you’re going to die. 

“Wait, wait!” You scream as they throw you onto their bed. “I’ll do it.” You can pretend, you can make them think you want it until you can get out. 

Rio bends over and grabs your chin, scanning your teary eyes. “Oh, doll, you’re an FBI profiler and you’re still such a bad liar,” she tuts, roughly pushing your face away. 

Your body goes numb while they stretch your arms out and pull handcuffs – real handcuffs – from the nightstands and cuff you to the bedposts. 

Agatha smirks and waves the key in front of your face and you snap at it with your teeth. She chuckles darkly and puts it on the nightstand, just out of reach. 

“We’ll be back later, pet,” she says. “We have to go teach someone a lesson about taking things that don’t belong to them, and then The Witch and Lady Death are going to strike again.” 

Rio cackles and then picks up the bottom half of her skeleton mask and holds it to her face, widening her eyes at you. You strain against the handcuffs until they sting your wrist but you don’t stop struggling as they walk out of the room and close the door behind them. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

You are absolutely reeling. You met Agatha when you were ten years old. Something happened, something with fire? And the medical file from then, is that related? 

It can’t be a coincidence that you’re here now, working on a case in which she’s a killer. 

What happened that made you want to think like a killer? It’s the question that Rio asked when you first met her, that she swore she didn’t but now you think she was just fucking with you. 

You didn’t know the reason, couldn’t remember it at the time, but that was what made you start having these flashes of repressed memories. 

Is Agatha the reason? 

Did you see her kill someone at ten years old, but then your brain blocked it out because it was too traumatic? And then you spent the rest of your life determined to figure out what made her do that? 

It seems to make sense. 

It still doesn’t answer the real question as to what they want with you, and why they went through all this trouble. 

But you’re not going to find anything else tied up in their bed. 

The Basic Field Training Course at Quantico taught you several important things, like how to fire a gun and how to read a person’s posture and how to solve a case. But perhaps the most valuable lesson to you now was learned from a classmate, who taught you how to dislocate your thumb. 

Jimmy Woo had dislocated his thumb twice during lacrosse in high school so he could now do it whenever he wanted. It still hurt obviously, but the damage was less serious, it was easier to dislocate, and it was much easier to pop back in. 

All it took for him to teach you was a six pack of beer. You didn’t know exactly why you were so set on being able to, but you couldn’t be happier now. 

You remember the first time you did it. It had taken four shots of vodka to get your courage up before bending it back on a table. The ligaments had strained, not wanting to give, but through sweat and tears, you had persisted. 

Jimmy immediately took you to the clinic to get it wrapped up and you told them you had done it while throwing a ball with Jimmy. 

You’d only done it a few more times, but it got to the point where you could do it with minimal crying and could relocate it by yourself. 

Taking a deep breath to prepare yourself, you duck your chin down to grab ahold of your sweater between your teeth to have something to bite down before positioning your left thumb against the bedpost. Better to do it with your non-dominant hand, Jimmy always said. 

You can almost hear him encouraging you as tears spill down your cheeks and your whimpers are muffled. 

Pressing harder, a slight sheen of perspiration breaks out on your head. Fuck, you’d forgotten how much it hurts. 

Finally, finally, there’s the desired pop and pain floods up your hand. It almost entirely overwhelms you and 

Snow. 

Frozen creek. 

The woman turns toward you and looks surprised to see someone else in the woods with her. 

She waves to you and you’re pulled forward by an invisible string. When you get closer to where she’s partially hidden by shadows, you see she’s not alone. 

A younger woman with pale skin, dark hair, and wide hazel eyes. 

But there’s another woman too. 

The throbbing in your thumb pulls you out of the flashback. 

Rio.

Rio was there, too. You’ve met both Agatha and Rio before.

But you don’t know who the other woman is; you didn’t even get a good look at her. 

Focus on that later, you tell yourself, whining as you gingerly pull your hand out of the cuff. You lean over and snatch the key off the nightstand and quickly unlock the other cuff. It hurts like hell to use your dislocated thumb to turn the key, but you don’t know how else you’d use it. You take another slow, deep breath before popping that thumb back in. 

After moving it around and massaging it to get the blood flowing back in, you scramble off the bed and run downstairs. 

You need to go back to your motel room and get your gun, not even bothering to look and see if they have any, but first you need to go back into their room downstairs and see if there’s any hints about where they might be going. 

It appears that all the photos that have red circles on them are past victims, so you have absolutely no idea where they might be. 

You’re about to leave the room and go back to the motel when you remember the medical file from Massachusetts. It looks like they have pictures of a copy; how would they even get that? 

But you bend down to read it and a searing pain splits through your forehead. It hurts so bad it forces your eyes shut and you’re only able to comprehend a few words and phrases. 

Hypothermia…18 hours in the snow. 

Pneumonia. 

Head-induced trauma caused retrograde/post-traumatic amnesia. 

The pain in your head brings you to your knees as you try to make sense of the record. You remember learning about types of amnesia in your psych classes, and retrograde means you can’t remember things that happened before the accident. 

Is that why there’s a block? Or is it because of something you saw in the woods? 

Nothing is adding up. 

Why didn’t your parents ever tell you about this? Is this the reason you left Salem so quickly? 

The throbbing in your head has leveled down to a dull ache and you’re able to stand up. This is all connected somehow, you just don’t know how. 

What you do know is that you need to find them and stop them. 

You dig around the drawers in the kitchen to find a set of keys to Rio’s car, you’re guessing, and you’re peeling out of their driveway, not even caring about the speed limits. You blow through stop signs and red lights, but it’s late enough that no one else is on the road. 

Throwing the car into park once you get back to the motel, you shoulder open the door to your room and come to a halt. 

It’s the smell that hits you first. 

A sickly sweet honeysuckle scent wafts into your nose and you almost retch. Purple azaleas litter the floor in a path from the front door to the bedroom door, candles lit on both sides like a romantic rendezvous. 

They were already here. How could they have known you’d come back? Are they in the other room? 

Heart pounding, you gulp before reaching for your gun on the table and cautiously stepping toward the bedroom. You close your eyes and say a little prayer that you’re not about to be killed, and you kick it open. 

There’s more azaleas, and enough candles to perform a ritual. Your gaze scans the room, breaths getting shorter and shallower. 

And then you see the bed and your hands clamp over your mouth in order to smother the cry that comes out involuntarily. 

It’s the woman from the gas station, sprawled out like a starfish, completely naked from the waist up. There’s a lace from one of your pairs of shoes wrapped tightly around her neck, face tinted blue. 

Your body violently shakes as you walk over to her and you see her chest. 

The letter “O” is carved around her right breast. The letter “U” around her left. “R” is carved into the right side of her stomach, and “S” into the left. 

OURS. 

We have to go teach someone a lesson about taking things that don’t belong to them. 

Ignoring the heat running through your body, you spot a notecard clenched in her hand and you wrench it out. 

On one side, it says: Sorry, baby. Xoxo. On the other side, there’s an address. 

You know it’s a trap, like this right here was, and like everything else may have been, but what choice do you have? 

Your fingers tighten on your gun and you get back into Rio’s car, punching the location into your phone. 

This ends tonight. 

[bloatedandalone04]

Under the Tree

���the one where you and tyler celebrate christmas together, and he has a surprise waiting for you underneath the tree.

Warnings: fluff, swearing, mentions of smut, nothing too wild (yes, i write fluff too).

Word Count: 2.8k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡ | Merry Christmas !

The department store was crowded, but what store wasn’t during this time of year? Christmas was next month, after all.

You were currently in the ornament aisle of the store, practically shoulder to shoulder with Tyler and an elderly woman that was standing to the left side of you. While you felt a little bad for dragging your boyfriend here after he just finished a rather grueling chase yesterday and likely still needed to rest, Tyler was still a pretty festive guy. And the chances of there being another tornado for the next few months was unlikely, so he would have lots of time to rest. 

And he didn’t even look annoyed or irritated at the moment, even though you had been in this aisle for about fifteen minutes now. His arm was slung around your waist as your eyes flickered all over the various boxes of Christmas tree ornaments, an active debate going on in your head as you thought about what theme you wanted to go for this year. 

This would be yours and Tyler’s first Christmas together, alone that is. You’d been together for almost three years, and the first year you had spent the holiday with your own families, and the second year with all of them together, but this year it was just you and him. Tyler’s family is going on a vacation this year, so you and he spent last weekend with them, and your mom was taking care of your dad since he just had surgery on his leg, so it wasn’t really a good year for them. Though you were planning on stopping by a few days after Christmas. 

With that being said, this was the first year it was just you and Tyler, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t so excited to spend the holiday with him. 

“No rush, babe, but is there a reason we’ve been standin’ here for over ten minutes?” he asked after watching you glance between two different boxes over and over again. “Again, no rush at all, but…someone’s grandma is looking a little pissed off.”

When you looked to your left and saw the elderly woman glaring at you, your hand came up to cover your mouth as you tried to hold in a laugh. “She has a valid reason,” you said, leaning more into your boyfriend’s side to give her a little more room. “This time of year is…stressful for everyone.” 

Tyler hummed in agreement, wrapping his arm tighter around you as he leaned down to press a kiss to the top of your head. “True…but I don’t think pickin’ out what to put on the tree is very stressful,” he teases, “Or at least it’s not supposed to be.”

You laughed quietly, watching as the woman grabbed a box of all red ornaments before briskly leaving the aisle. “I don’t know which ones I want,” you whined, pulling him back to where you were before. “I don’t know if we should do red and green, or white and gold, or white, gold and red.” 

Tyler laughed under his breath as he looked at the multitude of different colored ornaments on the shelves. “Well, we have a pretty big tree, why don’t we do a mix of all of them? And maybe we can add some random ones here and there. We still have the ornament my mom got us last year to put on too, remember?”

“Oh yeah,” you smiled, looking back at him. His mom had gotten you a cute ornament that said both yours and Tyler’s names on the brims of a Santa hat that two penguins were wearing, and you were kind of obsessed with it. “That’s actually a really cute idea. You’re better at this than I thought you’d be.”

Tyler smirked, wrapping his arm around your waist again as he pulled you back against his side. “I love Christmas, you know that,” 

You nodded, wrapping both your arms around his middle as you leaned your head against his chest. “I know you do,” you hummed, “But most guys don’t.”

“Baby, I think we’ve long since discovered that I’m not like most guys,” he grunted, reaching for both the big boxes of the red and green ornaments, leaving you to grab the smaller box that held both white and gold ones. 

When he gestured for you to finally leave the aisle, you rolled your eyes. “Must you always show off?” you huffed, grabbing the smaller box before following after him. 

“In front of you?” he grinned, “Always.”

-

“Pick a movie already,” you groaned, worried that the candy cane hot chocolate you had made for both you and Tyler would be stone cold by the time a film was even chosen. The living room was only lit up by the recently put up Christmas tree in the corner, an array of ornaments scattered on its branches, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t think it was one of the cutest and prettiest things you had ever seen. 

Tyler turned around from where he was hunched over the fake fireplace. The remote had been lost a long time ago, so whenever either of you wanted it on, you had to get onto your knees and hit the button manually. 

The look he gave you had you cackling as you draped the big throw blanket your mom got you a few years ago across your body. “I did,” he said, “Two of them, actually. You said no to both.”

You laughed and sipped on your drink. “The Grinch is so overrated, and Home Alone is so overplayed,” you mumbled, placing your whole palm around your mug to warm your hand. “We watch it, like, five times every December.”

Tyler, once he turned the fireplace on, stood up and towered over you, his hands on his hips. His red and green Christmas pyjama pants he was wearing made your smile grow, even though you were wearing matching ones, complete with Max from The Grinch scattered all over the fabric. “Because it’s a classic,” he defended his choice of movie as he moved towards the couch. “And it’s good. Your choice was awful, but you don’t hear me complainin’, do you?”

His words weren’t harsh at all but rather teasing as he grabbed his own mug before sitting next to you and leaning over to kiss your cheek when you draped the blanket over him as well. “Love Actually is good,” you muttered, bringing the rim of your mug up to your mouth again. 

Tyler laughed, reaching for the remote with his free hand. “Babe, it’s barely a Christmas movie,”

“Okay, you have not seen it enough times to be able to say that,” you said and Tyler grunted. 

“Alright, fine, it doesn’t feel like a Christmas movie,” he corrected himself as he flipped through the Holiday section on Netflix. “How about…this one?”

You looked up and saw that he was hovering over Four Christmases, and your lips curved into a smile. “Okay,” you answered, cuddling close to him while being careful not to spill your drink. 

When the opening scene started, Tyler turned his head and nuzzled his nose against your temple. “We should do that,” he murmured, draping his arm around your shoulder as he pulled you closer to his side. 

“What?” you laughed, your eyes still on the TV but your focus was almost entirely on your boyfriend. 

“You know…roleplay,” he said, and your face heated up as you looked over at him, seeing the mischievous look in his eyes you were very used to by now. 

“Roleplay?” you echoed, tilting your head back to get a better look at his handsome face. “You wanna call me a bitch, hmm? And tell me you hate my earrings?”

Tyler’s face heated up now and he quickly shook his head. “No, that’s not what I meant,” he rushed out, but you just laughed and draped your legs over his under the blanket. “I just meant, like…you know, pretendin’ we don’t know each other, only for me to kiss you in front of a room full of people like it’s the only thing I want to do for the rest of my life.”

You bit your lip and pressed your cheek against his shoulder, running the tip of your nose along his jawline. “You already do that,” you murmured, “Kiss me in a room full of people. What would be different?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead before pressing his own against it. “We could make it like our first date all over again. I could act all cool and confident, when really I was already fallin’ head over heels for you, and you could pretend you aren’t completely obsessed with me already and just dyin’ to hear more of my storm chasin’ stories.”

You scoffed, pulling back to lightly slap his shoulder. “You’re so full of it,” you shook your head before moving closer to him again. “It wasn’t your stories that drew me in, it was you. Just you.”

Tyler smiled down at you before leaning in and pressing a firm kiss to your mouth. “Everythin’ about you drew me in,” he mumbled against your lips. “Your eyes, your laugh, your smile…and those tight jeans you were wearing definitely did somethin’ to me.”

You rolled your eyes and placed your hand flat against his face, pushing him away from you. “Once again, you’re full of it,” you muttered, quickly pulling your hand away from him when his tongue poked out and licked your palm. “And disgusting.”

Tyler laughed, and the sound made your mouth curve upwards in a smile as you turned your gaze back to the movie. “You love it,”

-

Christmas Day always seemed to creep up on you ever since you became an adult, unlike how it seemed to take forever to arrive when you were a kid. 

With that being said, it was just as exciting as it was when you were younger. Back then, you, like any other kid, loved receiving gifts, but now that you are older, you love giving them out. 

Okay, maybe you go a bit overboard every year, but your mom could always use another mug, and your dad could always upgrade his housecoat. And Tyler could always stock up on that piney, sexy cologne you fucking love. 

When you woke up on the 25th of December, alone and cold in your bed, you groaned and grabbed Tyler’s Tor-nae-do hoodie and shrugged it over your shoulders, the grey fabric matching well with your Grinch pajamas. 

You left the room and walked down the stairs, hearing the faint sound of Christmas music playing from the living room. When you entered the room, you found Tyler sitting on the couch, his laptop placed on his thighs and his legs kicked up on the coffee table as he scrolled through the comments on an old upload. 

“Working on Christmas?” you asked with a tired grin, crossing your arms as you leaned against the doorway. 

Tyler looked over at you, his handsome grin forming on his lips as he closed his laptop, instantly giving you his full attention like he always did. “Someone has to,” he teased, setting it aside as he leaned back on the couch. “Kinda hard to make money when you’re in bed and sleepin’ all morning.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, pushing off the wall when he reached his hand out to you. “It’s only ten thirty,” you mumbled, crawling onto his lap as you snuggled up on his chest. “And yeah, yeah…you’re the breadwinner out of the two of us. I know that.” 

Tyler hummed as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his arms wrapping around your body as he held you against him. “That’s not true and you know it,” he murmured, dipping his head down to nuzzle his face against your neck. “Merry Christmas, baby.”

You smiled, closing your eyes as you pressed a soft kiss to his jaw. “Merry Christmas, Ty,” you said back, sitting up on his lap and placing your hands on his chest. “What do you say? I make breakfast, we sit for a bit, then open presents? Maybe after we can have a nap too…you kept me up late last night.”

Tyler smirked, shrugging a bit as he ran his hands up your back, under his hoodie. “What can I say? I know how to celebrate a holiday,” he grinned, then sat up a bit. “How ‘bout presents first? I got you somethin’ I’ve been dying to see you open for weeks now.”

One of your brows raised as you let out a soft hum. “Weeks, huh?” you echoed, a small smile forming on your lips. “Alright, we’ll do presents first.”

“Okay,” he immediately agreed, his hands giving your hips a gentle squeeze. “Open mine first. It’s right there, under the tree.” he nodded towards the corner of the living room, the Christmas tree lit up in a soft, warm tone, and under it was a small, surprisingly well wrapped box. 

“Okay,” you said, getting off his lap to retrieve the box, and one of the gifts you got him. You walked back over to him and sat down on the couch beside him, rather than on top of him again, and placed your gift for him on his lap. “Remember, we said we weren’t going to go overboard since it’s just us this year, right? You remember that?”

Tyler grinned and draped his arm around your shoulders. “Babe, just open it,” he laughed, his other hand wrapping around one of your thighs to pull you closer to him.

You laughed quietly too, draping your legs over his lap. As your fingers began ripping at the wrapping paper, you noticed that Tyler began to shift beside you, but he only gestured for you to keep going when you looked over at him. “Are you okay?” you asked, glancing up at him again as you pulled off the rest of the paper. “You’re acting kinda weird or anxious or-”

You cut yourself off when you opened a small box, and you quickly looked down to see what was in it. When your eyes caught sight of the princess cut ring that was sitting on the velvet cushion inside the box, your throat closed up as a soft gasp left your mouth. 

“Ty,” you murmured, your eyes burning a bit with unshed tears as you tore your gaze off the stunning ring to look over at him. 

Tyler looked less nervous now as his fingers ran up and down your thigh, his eyes wide but his face relaxed. “Baby,” he said back, reaching up to caress your jaw in his hand. “I love you. More than anythin’ in the world. You know that.”

You nodded quickly, your hands shaking a bit as you looked between him and the ring in the box. “Yeah,” you whispered, gripping his arm tightly with the hand that wasn’t holding the box. 

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” Tyler rasped, taking the ring out of the box as he held it between his fingers. “I want to marry you, babe. I want everythin’ with you, forever.”

Your cheeks heated up in a blush, your eyes filling with tears as you moved closer to him. “I want that too,” 

“Yeah?” Tyler grinned, taking your left hand in his as he held the ring up to you. “Will you marry me, baby?”

You were nodding before he even finished asking the question, your arms thrown around his shoulders as you pressed a deep kiss to his mouth. “Tyler, oh my God,” you mumbled against his mouth, your voice muffled by his lips. “Yes.”

Tyler laughed against your lips, his arms wrapping tightly around you as he pressed multiple kisses to your mouth. Neither of you knew how long had passed before you finally broke the kiss and pulled back so he could slide the ring onto your finger, and already you were absolutely obsessed with it. 

“It’s so beautiful, Ty,” you said quietly as you gazed down at the new addition to your left hand. 

“Yeah? I tried findin’ the prettiest one because you’re the prettiest girl,” he smirked, running his hand up and down your spine as you snuggled up against his side. “This one will have to do.”

You scoffed and shook your head, nuzzling your face against the side of his neck. “It’s perfect,” you mumbled, kissing his shoulder. “I love it. I don’t even want you to open my gift now because you’ve given me the best one by far. I feel cheap.”

Tyler laughed, holding you tightly against his side as he looked down at the gift bag you had put on his lap. “Oh yeah, it’s gonna take you at least…I don’t know, four Christmases to catch up to me now,” he said, a proud smile on his face, and he was clearly happy with his stupid joke as he reached for the bag. “Oh, and thanks for the cologne by the way, wifey.”

[starcharmed]

— MEMOIRS OF THE PAST

summary: leaving a topic behind to go check up on sunday worked out well in your favor.

cw: romantic sunday pairing, past romantic dan heng pairing, after 2.7 quest but nothing mentioned, reader is an astral express member, caelus as trailblazer, fluff with an undertone of hurt/comfort | wc: 2k+ | my secret santa gift for @milksnake-tea <3 please read the note at the end

The Express seemed to hum during its “nighttime”. The record Caelus set earlier this morning looping idly, the tune stitched into your memory. Pom-Pom had stopped sweeping around ten minutes ago, Himeko retired to her cabin, Welt had long gone to his own as well for a much-needed rest.

Dan Heng insisted that he assisted March in “helping Caelus decorate his room”. Not that you would raise an eyebrow at him for doing so, those two were bound to have everything turned upside down and on the ceiling if left alone.

Which left only one Express member left, Sunday.

In your opinion, he could rival Dan Heng in measures of silence. At first you weren’t sure if he simply disliked you, but after being around him for more than a month you soon realized he was just like that.

It’s not as if he was cold, though.

The first week he was on the Express, he brought everyone delicacies that he presumed would match everyone’s taste.

He was correct in his judgement.

You weren’t even sure how he had figured out that you loved deep-fried flying sea anemone — a dish you tried on Xianzhou when in need of a small energizer after all that went down — nonetheless how many toppings you liked to have with it.

You remember messaging Caelus after receiving the gift, questioning if he had played any part in it. The only response you had received was a Wubbaboo emoji.

Very helpful.

That was besides the point, however. 

Unlocking your phone with a click, you opened your messenger. You sent Dan Heng a simple “u up?” before scrolling through your contacts, bored and in need of someone to bother. 

The second Dan Heng responded, you tapped on the notification.

You ; 10:45pm     u up?

Dan Heng ; 10:47 pm    You should be asleep.

Of course….

You ; 10:47pm    so should you

You hit him with the Pom-Pom “Pay Attention”. That’ll get him.

Dan Heng ; 10:48pm    …    Sleep if you can.     If not go see what Sunday is up to, he’s been silent for a long while.

Dan Heng ; 10:49pm    March said she let him in her room to look at photos.    Try looking there first.

You ; 10:49pm     march is letting him go through her photos alone??     did see get possessed by some random heliobi somehow??

Dan Heng ; 10:49pm    As far as I’m aware, no.     He’s…processing a lot of things right now.     Especially ones about his past.     I know how that feels.

You bit down of your tongue harshly to stop the bitter laugh surfacing from your throat. You knew that. How could you not practically know everything about him considering you two were the only people on the Express besides Welt, Himeko, and Pom-Pom for a long time.

Maybe, maybe you were still irritated that Dan Heng had kept his secret from you after you both had “dated” off and on for a time of years. Leaving you to a not so fun surprise during your time in the Xianzhou Luofu. Iron filled your mouth and you let your facial muscles relax. Aeons…you needed to get a grip. What was done was done.

Your phone’s ding pulled you out from the mucky mess of the past.  

Dan Heng ; 10:50pm    Please check up on him. 

Cringing, you hesitated before sending a Pom-Pom emoji. Huffing you placed your phone down beside yourself, rolling your head to the side to stare at your cabin’s door. Ah, what the hell. All of that didn’t matter right now. Sunday.

It didn’t take you that long to find him, in March’s cabin. Sitting cross-legged and shuffling through photos, door ajar just enough that you could peek in without disturbing him. You assumed March let him in, she’s bubbly yet still wary when need be. 

After what went down Sunday certainly was a “need be”. 

Rapping your knuckles against the door, you watched as a photo album slipped from his grasp before he caught it between his forefinger and thumb. The only sign of him being startled. Turning his head, Sunday’s posture relax imperceptibly. 

“Sorry”, Slipping inside the cabin, you caught the door before it shut completely, “I should’ve been more noticeable, didn’t mean to startle you.”

“You didn’t startle me.” He was quick to retort, sparing you a second glance before focusing back on the picture.

“Right.” Easing over you crouched beside Sunday, noting the lack of his gloves and coat – two clothing items he almost never went without. Peering over his shoulder, the image of a smiling Robin with an excited March taking a selfie with her filled your vision. 

Oh. 

You hesitantly sat down, “I remember when that was taken, y’know? On the feldspar.” The addition after everything happened in Penacony died down on your tongue, you shouldn’t mention that. “March was so excited to finally snap a photo with her. She wouldn’t stop rambling about it all day.”

Sunday’s right wing twitched as he placed the photo back in its slot within the laced album, “That sounds like Miss March.”

A silence creeped back over the both of you, the Express’ humming becoming more prominent within your mind. The nagging feeling that you made an incorrect choice prodding along with the melody running on repeat inside your head. Perhaps you should have made the decision to leave him be. Maybe letting Dan Heng know that he was looking through photos would’ve been enough. 

His message became center stage in the circus of your mind. He’s processing a lot of things right now. That was understandable, and that was also the problem. You weren’t sure how to interact with Sunday without dragging him back in his murky mess of a past.

Like you did with yourself earlier.

But, then again, it’s not like you’ve done anything to make him feel outed, right? All you have to do is just leave and check back in with Dan Heng. And maybe you can catch a few hours of sleep. Just excuse yourself and head back to your cabin. 

“Well…” Standing up you raised your arms over your head, stretching until you could start to feel a slight burn, “If you don’t need anything I guess I can-”

“Wait!”

Time seemed to freeze as your eyes went wide, both of Sunday’s wings twitched violently, and the Express seemed to stop humming as if his shout momentarily stunned it. Lowering the hand he had extended in suddenness, Sunday cleared his throat. 

“I apologize. That was abrupt of me.” You swear you could see his eyes flickering between you and the wall, a moment of nervousness from Sunday caught for once in your eyes, “I was curious if you had any more stories about your travels to tell. I enjoy them.”

Feeling yourself becoming flustered, you started to ease back over to where he was sat. Perhaps your tendency to recall and talk about your journeys with the crew had gotten yourself a title as the second best storyteller within the crew.

You were never beating March for second. 

Point still stands. 

Although no one honestly asked you to retell stories unless no one else was present to do so. It might’ve been because you do so without honest flair or excess details that added a hint of humor to the mix. However, that could be your opinion of how you tell tales carrying over to your own thoughts. 

It was like he handed you the book for popcorn reading.

Sunday seemed to slide over, making room for him. A considerate action that wasn’t new. He often didn’t want to get in the way, even when he wasn’t. You can recall when he stood to the side when Pom-Pom was sweeping in a completely different area than him, as if he was trying to blend into the wall. 

Odd.

You reached for a photo in the album blindly, blinking thrice as you realized which one you had chosen. It was one from Xianzhou of all of your luck, one snapped in a hurry. It was on of you, Dan Heng, and Caelus in front of the Express. Caelus and you were mimicking Dan Heng’s newly-found horns (at the time) with your fingers before you all departed Xianzhou, March snapping the photo quickly before Dan Heng had started to stalk off the train.

That was a fun moment, despite all that had happened.

“That’s from the Xianzhou Luofu, correct?” Sunday questioned even though you could tell he already knew by the look within his eyes, “I’ve heard about what had happened there.”

You nodded. “It was a thing.”

A thing? Really?

“I never thought to ask what the story behind his form in these pictures was all about”, Sunday started, “Do you think you could tell me some about it?”

You take that previous statement back, he handed you a loaded gun.

The wince that slipped past your lips was sharp enough to sound like a whistle. With a click of your tongue, you started to put the photo back, “Well, I think you’d have to ask Dan Heng that yourself. He seems to have taken a liking to you so maybe you won’t get the sharp end of the sword.”

The statement was meant to be humorous, yet it came out as the complete opposite.

“It’s just something from his past. Everyone has one that nags them on this Express it seems, even someone as giddy as Caelus,” Closing the album, you reached for another one.

“Even you?”

“Unfortunately”, laughing you turned your face to look at him, “It’s not as deep as memory loss or being birthed from a literal nuke. Why? You surprised?”

“It’s hard to imagine you being chained down by memories and experiences of the past, you don’t let it seem to show.” You weren’t sure if you or Sunday had moved closer to one another.

In public you wanted to add, letting the two words melt on your tongue. 

“Yeah, well”, Scooting closer, your right knee bumped his left, “It’s different for everyone.”

“That it is.”

The humming of the Express seemed to become muted, as if you had submerged underneath the water.

Sunday was so pretty.

His hair framed over his wings perfectly, his eye color blending into his attire beautifully. Little things that he seemed to make stand out wonderfully.

“Do you and Dan Heng have quarrel?” Lifting his head, Sunday’s eyes locked onto your own, “I do not want to trouble you by mentioning the past if both of you have some together.”

“No, it’s just a…little thing.” 

Who started to lean in first?

“A little thing? You have a lot of those, hmm?” Sunday’s lips upturned slightly before they fell into their normal line, “Are you sure?” “You’re not getting in the way of anything, Sunny.” The nickname made his lips part, his honeyed breath being intook by your nostrils, “It’s fine, I swear.”

You could practically feel his hair against your face as he tried to close the distance, flinching back once his nose brushed against yours. Your fingers traced the outline of his jaw as he exhaled shakily, his lashes fluttering closed so delicately it was if a feather had fallen against the smooth water of his skin. 

Smooth lips met yours as soon as your own eyes closed.

You felt his hand sneak up to the nape of your neck, a gasp pushing past your lips at the skin-on-skin contact. Sunday must’ve felt as he did something incorrect, pulling back before you brought up your other hand, keeping him within the moment of the kiss.

The muffled humming started to become clearer as you pulled back to open your eyes. Sunday’s wings had come around to fit around his face, a pink creeping past the edges. 

And you let out a small laugh filled with nothing but joy.

Lowing his wings from his face, Sunday averted his gaze partially to the ground, “I suppose you should go back and try to sleep now.”

Although it was a statement, it carried more a questionable tone.

“Yeah”, you croaked out, nodding stiffly as you stood up. “You rest well if you can.” With a nod himself, Sunday started to study the pattern on another photo album. You practically speed-walked out of March’s cabin, heading to your own down the hall as your hand subconsciously raised to your lips.

Aeons were you glad you didn’t bring the past to the present with Dan Heng.

HI ILLU!! i hope you enjoy and this wasn't too ooc 😓😓 you've been such a huge inspiration and a major reason of why i'm so hooked on sunday as much as i am HAHAHA, i hope you have a very wonderful christmas and the rest of the year treats you right. thank you so much for being so wonderful and joyous to be around, i truly appreciate you 🫶🏽

[dixons-sunshine]

The Hottest Santa | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Day Twenty Five: Christmas Morning

A/N: Merry Christmas/Happy holidays my loves!

You awoke to the feeling of tiny fingers grasping and poking at your face. Opening your eyes, you were nearly nose to nose with your daughter, her toothy smile widening as she came to realize that she had successfully woken her mother from her slumber.

“Hi, Mama,” she whispered softly, her voice as sweet as honey.

You laughed lightly. You could not be angry when you were woken up by such an adorable little bean. “Hi, Baby,” you greeted Hazel in a voice just as quiet, slightly hoisting yourself up to rest your weight on one of your elbows and reached out to cup her cheek in your hand. “What are you doing up so early?”

She giggled and looked over your shoulder, before shifting her attention back to you. “Gifts,” was all she offered up for an explanation, and that was all you needed to hear to know why she was up barely at the crack of dawn.

From behind you, you could feel two arms encircle you, pulling you flush against the chest of your partner. He rested his chin on top of your shoulder, his tired cerulean eyes meeting those of your daughter. Despite not being able to see his face, you could tell that he was smiling. That beautiful smile of his was always present when your daughter was involved.

“Gifts, huh?” he inquired in a ‘surprised’ voice, feigning ignorance. His voice was gruff and clearly still laced with sleep. It sounded downright sexy, although you had to remind yourself that it was definitely not the time to let your mind indulge in not so innocent fantasies.

Hazel nodded and eagerly pointed towards the door. “Gifts! Out there!”

“Can’t be,” you said with a playfully surprised gasp, your eyes widened for a dramatic flare.

“It is!” Hazel giggled, her earlier quiet demeanour gone and long forgotten. “Under the tree. So many gifts!”

“Santa must have come, then,” you whispered softly, as if revealing a secret you had sworn to take to the grave.

Hazel did not share in the sentiment of keeping quiet. She squealed happily and bounded on her toes, a mere two seconds away from losing her cool and racing to the living room to open all of the gifts. Her excitement elicited chuckles from both you and Daryl, and you had to admit, your daughter’s happiness was contagious.

“Okay, okay. Here’s what we’ll do since I can tell you really wanna see what Santa got you,” you began with a big smile on your face. “How about you go get dressed and Daddy and I will meet you downstairs. We’ll eat a very speedy breakfast, and then we’ll see what Santa brought us during the night.”

“Okay!”

That was all it took for Hazel to go running from the room, leaving you and Daryl alone. You turned over to finally face him, smiling up at him and taking in his handsome features as his body slightly hovered over you. God, how did I manage to get so lucky? you thought to yourself.

“Thanks for the gifts, Santa,” you joked with a light laugh.

Daryl rolled his eyes and let out an amused scoff. “Don’t start. S’too early for the teasin’.”

“What? I’m just trying to thank you,” you laughed, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek. “Did you see how happy she was, Dar?”

Daryl nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I did. Ain’t never seen her that excited ‘bout anythin’. Was definitely worth it, them days spent lookin’ for toys and shit like that.”

“I appreciate it,” you began in a sincere tone of voice. “And I know Hazel appreciates it, too, even if she doesn’t know that her daddy is Santa.”

“You ain’t gonna stop callin’ me that the whole day, are ya?”

“Nope,” you confirmed with a smile. You leaned up and gave him a soft, tender kiss, one that spoke volumes of the love you both had for one another. “Merry Christmas, Dar. You’re definitely the hottest Santa I’ve ever seen.”

“Thanks.” Daryl huffed a breathy laugh at that and simply shook his head. “Coffee first, then you can continue with your relentless teasin’. Deal?”

“Deal.”

And to seal the deal, you pressed your lips against his for one final kiss.