#I may not be as fixated on it as I was back then but... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

little-jana · 3 days ago

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"The Vest"

Pairing: Spencer Reid x f!reader

Genre: fluff, heated, fade to black smut, 18+, no explicit s*x

Warnings: later season spencer, kissing, teasing, touching, fade to black smut, reader having the hots for Spence in uniform, use of Y/N

Words: 3.4k

Summary: The Vest, that's it. We all get it.

a/n: more gifs at the end that describe the vibe...

The team had just landed in yet another city to investigate the latest case. I’d been with the BAU for a while now, and while I had come to appreciate the work we did, I couldn’t help but find myself distracted by Spencer Reid.

The thing is, Spencer had changed. Gone was the shy, awkward genius that I had first met. In his place was a man—older, more confident, a quiet authority that radiated from him. His looks had matured too, his features sharpened. And damn, he was looking good. I tried to tell myself it was just the stress of the job or the exhaustion from another case, but there was no denying the attraction I felt whenever Spencer was near.

Today was no different. The team had split up to canvass the area, and I was assigned to work alongside Spencer as we checked out a local business that may have been connected to the suspect. When I met him outside the building, my breath hitched in my throat.

He was wearing the FBI tactical vest—something he rarely wore in the past—but today it fit him like it had been made for him. It was snug around his broad shoulders, the dark fabric accentuating the lean muscles in his arms. I couldn't tear my eyes away from the way the vest hugged his chest, the way the fabric stretched with every movement, making him look more... powerful.

The tension was almost palpable as we walked through the door. I could barely focus on the task at hand, my mind fixated on him—on the way he walked, on the way his jaw clenched when he was focused, on the slight tension in his posture that only made him look more... commanding.

"You good?" Spencer asked, his voice pulling me from my thoughts.

I blinked, realizing I had been staring at him longer than was socially acceptable. "Uh, yeah. Just... tired," I stammered, shaking my head as if to clear the thoughts swirling in my head.

He raised an eyebrow, the faintest smirk curling at the corners of his lips. "Tired, huh? Well, we’ve only been on the job for an hour," he teased, though I noticed a certain edge to his tone that I hadn’t heard before.

I forced a smile, looking down to hide the heat creeping up my neck. "Just... lots to think about."

The air between us felt charged now, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that Spencer was... noticing me in a way he hadn’t before. It was subtle, but it was there. And that only made me feel more flustered.

---

By the end of the day, the team had gathered back in the hotel to go over the case details. I was trying my hardest not to make eye contact with Spencer, but I could feel his presence in the room like a force pulling at me. He wasn’t the same as he used to be. His confidence had shifted the dynamic between us, and now it was almost impossible to ignore.

As we all gathered around the table, discussing the evidence, it wasn’t lost on me that Spencer’s vest was still on. I could barely focus on anything else, but as I tried to make mental notes of the details, I felt a shift in the energy around me. Morgan leaned over to whisper something in Hotch’s ear, then shot me a glance. I couldn’t help but feel the heat in my face as I realized they had noticed the way I was looking at Spencer.

"Someone's got a thing for Dr. Reid," Morgan teased quietly, just loud enough for me to hear. I felt my cheeks flush instantly.

I glanced around, hoping nobody else had caught the exchange, but my eyes met JJ’s, and she was smirking knowingly. There was no hiding it now.

I leaned forward, trying to change the subject, but Derek was relentless. "Come on, Y/N, don’t try to pretend you’re not totally into him." His grin widened as Spencer looked up, clearly unaware of the direction the conversation was taking.

"Stop it," I muttered under my breath, my face burning.

But Morgan wasn’t backing down. "I see the way you look at him when he wears that vest," he added, his voice too loud. "It’s like you’re ready to pounce."

I wanted to melt into the floor, but Spencer, ever the oblivious genius, was still talking shop with Hotch, not noticing a thing. I could feel the heat of embarrassment flooding through me, but all I could do was give Morgan a pleading look.

JJ finally intervened, trying to be the peacemaker. "Okay, okay, let’s not make her too uncomfortable." She shot me an apologetic smile, but I could see the twinkle of amusement in her eyes.

I rubbed my temples, trying to focus on the case instead of my rapidly escalating heart rate. The last thing I wanted was for anyone to know how badly I was crushing on Spencer Reid. I was doing just fine pretending it was nothing more than friendly admiration.

---

Later that night, after everyone had retreated to their rooms, I couldn’t shake the teasing comments. I was trying to wind down, but the images of Spencer in that vest kept flashing in my mind. The way it fit him, how it made him look so... so strong. I let out a frustrated sigh and ran a hand through my hair.

Just as I was about to lie down, there was a knock at my door. My heart skipped a beat, and I stood up quickly, hoping it wasn’t one of the guys looking to hassle me some more. When I opened the door, however, it wasn’t Morgan or JJ—it was Spencer.

He looked at me with a slight smile on his lips, though there was something different about it this time. More knowing. He was standing in the doorway, still in his FBI vest, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity I hadn’t expected.

"May I come in?" he asked quietly.

I nodded wordlessly, stepping back to allow him in. I could feel the tension in the room almost immediately.

Spencer closed the door behind him and turned to face me. He was watching me carefully, his eyes scanning my face like he was trying to piece something together.

"Look," he started, his voice calm but carrying an edge. "I know what’s been going on. And I know you’re not exactly great at hiding it."

I swallowed, feeling heat rush to my cheeks. "What are you talking about?" I managed to say, though I was sure I wasn’t fooling anyone.

Spencer smiled, but it wasn’t the teasing smile from before—it was softer, almost like he was... amused. "The way you look at me," he said, taking a step closer. "The way you can’t seem to focus when I’m around."

My breath hitched in my throat, and I froze, not knowing how to respond.

"I just wanted to say," he continued, his voice lowering, "that I’ve noticed. And I have to admit, I’ve been kind of hoping you would."

I stared at him, not sure if I was hearing things right. "You—what?"

"I’ve been feeling it too," he said, his tone dropping lower, more intense. "This... tension. It’s been building for weeks. And it’s kind of driving me crazy."

Before I could fully process his words, Spencer stepped forward, closing the distance between us. His lips brushed against my ear as he spoke again, his breath hot against my skin. "I know this is crazy, but I can’t pretend anymore."

And then, in one swift motion, he kissed me. His lips were hot and insistent, and I was lost. Completely and utterly lost. His hands slid to my waist, pulling me against him as the kiss deepened, everything else fading away. The teasing, the awkwardness, the unspoken words—all of it snapped away in an instant.

It was a kiss that told me everything I needed to know. The months of tension, the unspoken attraction—it was all spilling out in that one kiss.

When we finally pulled apart, breathless and trembling, Spencer’s eyes searched mine. "So," he said softly, "I think it’s safe to say that we’re both on the same page now, right?"

I couldn’t even form words. All I could do was nod, pulling him back to me for another kiss.

"Spencer," I whispered, my voice barely audible, the air between us charged with more energy than I could handle. My mind raced, but my body wasn’t listening—it only knew that I wanted him close.

"You’ve been running through my mind all night," he admitted, his voice soft but steady, full of that quiet confidence I hadn’t seen from him until recently.

My lips parted in surprise, but before I could say a word, he closed the distance again, his hand gently cupping my face. He deepened the kiss, his lips warm and urgent against mine, and it was as if a dam had broken. The kiss was no longer gentle; it was desperate, hungry—a release of weeks, months, maybe even years of unspoken tension. He pulled me toward him, one arm sliding around my waist, the other threading through my hair, gently pulling my head back to give him better access.

I melted against him, my fingers instinctively curling into the fabric of his FBI vest. The way he was holding me—so firm, so confident—sent a surge of heat straight to my core. The kiss grew deeper, our lips clashing and moving in sync as if we were both finally, irrevocably, giving in to what had been simmering beneath the surface for far too long.

Spencer pulled back just slightly, his forehead resting against mine, our breaths mingling, both of us a little too out of control now.

"I’ve wanted this for so long," he murmured against my lips, his voice hoarse, as if the confession was as much of a surprise to him as it was to me. He sounded almost desperate, like he had been holding this back for far too long and couldn’t keep the floodgates closed any longer.

My chest tightened as I looked into his eyes—his pupils dilated, his lips slightly swollen from our kiss. "So have I," I breathed, my voice shaky, but confident in the truth of my words. There was no doubt in my mind anymore; this connection between us was undeniable.

Without another word, he kissed me again—this time slower, deeper, as though savoring the moment. His hands slid down to my hips, tugging me closer, pressing our bodies together. I gasped at the sudden intensity of it all—the heat, the urgency, the way he was holding me as if he was afraid I might slip away.

I ran my hands up his chest, brushing the fabric of his vest before moving higher, my fingers tangling in his hair. Spencer shuddered at the touch, pulling me even closer until there was no space between us, until it felt like we were two parts of the same whole. The heat between us was nearly unbearable, but I didn’t want him to stop. I didn’t want any of this to end.

Spencer broke the kiss, though, his breath ragged as he looked down at me with a mixture of awe and need. "Are you sure we should continue this? Say no. But do it now" he asked, his voice quiet but full of the kind of intensity that made my heart race even faster. "Or else I won't be able to control myself."

I looked up at him, my chest rising and falling with each rapid breath, my mind clouded with desire. But there was no hesitation in me now. I knew what I wanted.

"I’m sure," I whispered, pulling him back to me, kissing him fiercely this time.

And that’s when the floodgates really opened.

We found our way to the bed, the world outside the hotel room forgotten. The only thing that mattered in this moment was the heat between us, the desperate, thrilling need to touch and be touched, to finally give in to the attraction that had been building between us for months.

Spencer’s hands were everywhere—gliding over my back, cupping my face, tugging at my clothes with an urgency I could feel deep in my bones. I didn’t want to rush, but at the same time, I didn’t want to wait any longer. I needed him. Needed this connection, needed to feel the way he made me burn with desire.

"God, you’re beautiful," he murmured, his voice rough as he kissed a trail down my neck, sending shivers through my body. His touch was both gentle and possessive, like he wanted to explore every inch of me. The way he said the words—like he truly meant it—had my heart racing all over again.

I reached up, threading my fingers through his hair, pulling him back to me, claiming his lips in a kiss that was all hunger and heat. He groaned into the kiss, one of his hands sliding down my side, tracing the curve of my waist, his fingers brushing against the fabric of my clothes.

I didn’t want any barriers between us. Not now.

Pulling away from his lips for a brief moment, I met his eyes, my heart hammering in my chest. "Spencer," I whispered, my voice trembling, but full of need. "I want you. Now."

He froze for a moment, his eyes searching mine, "Are you sure?"

But there was no need for words now. The intensity in my gaze told him everything he needed to know.

With a quiet sigh, he nodded and kissed me again, this time with a new fervor, as if the weight of the world had been lifted. And as we gave ourselves to each other, there was no going back. No hesitation. Just the raw, beautiful connection between two people who had wanted this for far too long.

---

When the morning light filtered through the blinds, I woke up wrapped in Spencer’s arms, his chest rising and falling with each slow breath. My head rested on his shoulder, my body still pressed against his, the faintest of smiles tugging at my lips as I thought back on the night before.

It wasn’t just about the physical connection we’d shared—it was something deeper, something that had been waiting to blossom between us for months, maybe even longer. Spencer and I had crossed a threshold, one that neither of us could ever go back from, and that thought made my heart swell.

His fingers gently brushed against my back as he stirred, and when he finally looked down at me, his eyes were filled with something soft—something intimate that made my pulse quicken in a completely different way than before.

"Morning," he whispered, his voice still thick with sleep, but the warmth in it made my heart skip a beat.

I smiled up at him, my hand sliding up to his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my palm. "Morning," I replied softly, my voice still heavy from the night.

And then, without a word, Spencer kissed me again, slow and gentle, his lips tracing the outline of mine like he had all the time in the world. And in that moment, I knew we both had all the time in the world.

a/n: Bonus gifs:

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds one shot #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds smut #criminal minds x reader #cm #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #matthew gray gubler

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i-like-loserz · 1 day ago

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favorite spots ⋆.˚

synopsis: i just want to talk about the most sensitive parts of their bodies...

featuring: hongjoong, san, and mingi

word count: 1.7k

warnings: SMUT (18+), soft!boys, oral fixation, biting/sucking lips, pda, french kissing, finger sucking, blue-balling (lol), groping, nipple play (m), hickies, for san -- reader has hair that fingers can grip into, mild choking, dry humping, premature orgasms, they're sensitive and aren't afraid to show it

masterlist

✧ HONGJOONG - MOUTH/LIPS ✧

Hongjoong isn't a big pda guy.

The most he does is rest his hand on your waist, hold your hand, or gently fix your hair. Words of affection or acts of service are big in your relationship, but kissing is absolutely a no-go.

Not in public, at least.

In the beginning of your relationship cute pecks on the lips were allowed, though Hongjoong would start acting more antsy and possessive after (you didn't notice as much as his friends would). Short kisses lasting less than a second he could handle -- or that's what he'd convince himself.

Beneath the surface, however, he was holding himself back. He was exerting a concerning amount of self-control over himself every time he tasted your sweet lips, willing himself to hold back from instantly melting against you.

His hands would squeeze into a fist as he'd watch you with dark eyes, going back to whatever you were doing, acting so unaffected -- as if you didn't leave him wanting for the rest of the day.

At the time, you could tell that he enjoyed the affection and attention (a bit too much), and you were more than happy to dish it out. But then one day, he started to shy away from your kisses, turning strategically so you'd kiss his cheek instead of his lips.

At first you thought it was because he wanted to keep your relationship private. He's never been the type of guy to flaunt you like an accessory, so it made sense why he acts so low-key about your love life when in public.

But then you started noticing how he'd act after you'd give him more than a peck.

---

A make-out between the two of you usually leads to sex.

Okay, scratch that, it always leads to sex.

It's like he can't help himself.

As soon as your tongue traces the seam of his lips, he's roughly pulling you against him. He overly indulges in tasting you, laving his tongue against yours as he moans wantonly into your mouth.

You thought he was just enthusiastic about sex, but it was something else that had him shivering against you.

So you began subtly experimenting with your boyfriend:

Tracing his lips with the soft pad of your finger as you feed him a juicy chocolate-covered strawberry (he'd look up at you with those adoring brown eyes as he obediently slurps up the sweet juices from your skin)

Playfully nibbling on his bottom lip to draw out a delicious growl from him (he couldn't hold himself back from grinding his hips against yours like a dog in heat, overwhelmed by the pleasurable pain)

Forcing him to suck on your fingers as you ride him roughly (you could feel the vibration of his broken groans as you pressed down on his silky tongue)

It became increasingly clear that Hongjoong's lips were a bit more sensitive than the average person. The real test was a kiss in public.

It was right after one of his concerts. You were so proud of your boyfriend that when he finally got off stage, you jumped in his arms and pressed your lips to his, eager to give him a deep kiss.

His hands, wrapped around your waist, tighten their hold on you as soon as your lips met his, pressing your body to be flush with his.

Barely a few seconds into the kiss, you feel it, pressing so eagerly against your stomach.

He's hard already, throbbing for attention under his tight pants as his slick tongue meets yours in desperation. His adrenaline from performing may be influencing his sudden boldness, but it's the kiss that was making him so hot and bothered.

"Mmph~" You try to break the kiss, worried that you were receiving stares from others, but he won't let you.

"Not yet, baby" He whispers hotly against your mouth.

"Hongjoong--!" You hit him playfully on the chest as you force him to separate from you. "Later." You grit out, handing him your jacket to use as a barrier between his obvious boner and everyone else.

Your face is heated with a blush as you turn to look around at the sly smirks that the others were sending you. It seems to sober him up a bit as he awkwardly coughs and starts a speech commending everyone for a great show.

So now you know -- Hongjoong's lips are for home.

✧ SAN - CHEST ✧

You were the one who sprouted a sudden obsession with his chest.

He's been working out a lot lately and he loves showing off, even if he doesn't admit it. He comes home in his tank tops or compression shirts with a shy smile, subtly flexing until you say something.

"Ooh, look at my boyfriend!" You tease, smiling as he saunters through the door. "He's so big and masculine~"

San laughs gently, shaking his head at your words (+ slightly fluffing his hair). He loves the way you dote on him, period -- small hands feeling over his biceps and showering him with compliments until he's pink in the face, begging with cute boba eyes for kisses and cuddles.

When you cuddle with him, naked -- or nearly there, your hands are like magnets to his chest. It's just so built and his skin is so hot and smooth, you can't help it!

San didn't get it at first, simply amused by the way you knead his skin like a cat. Sometimes you get particularly feral and start biting his biceps and shoulder -- another odd, yet endearing habit you've gathered recently.

He has started working out with longer-sleeved shirts because he's dotted with bite marks and bruises all over his upper body (with a few on his thighs and one on his cute butt).

You can't get enough of his body and he loves it.

But biting his chest -- that he wasn't expecting.

And he didn't expect that he'd like it so much either.

You were timid at first, placing soft kisses against his ribs and torso before gradually moving upwards.

He shivered as you brushed your lips against his right pec, his skin already buzzing from the lustful look you had in your eyes as you assessed his body.

You pressed gentle kisses over his skin, drinking in the soft sighs that fell from his pretty lips.

He gasped quietly when you gently licked over his nipple, flicking your soft tongue over and around his sensitive bud. Your eyes glanced up at him to see his reactions.

His pink lips were plump and shiny, bitten so deliciously from his attempts to ground himself, not used to this new sensation you were giving him. His flushed chest was rising rapidly under you, unwittingly pressing himself closer to your mouth.

He let out a whisper of a groan as you sucked his nipple in hot mouth, laving your slick tongue over him. A shock of pleasure traveled straight to his cock, making him achingly hard for release.

You squeaked as fingers were suddenly weaved into your hair, tugging slightly at the roots -- not pressing you closer or pulling you away.

You moved your mouth to the other pec, giving his other nipple attention. His hold on your hair became harsher the more you'd suck on him. And you loved it.

You moaned with him as you pulled him into your mouth, teeth just barely pressed against his skin.

"N-nghh~" He shivered, "Baby -- fuck -- p-please."

"What is it?" You swiped a finger over his hard nipple, finding the pleading look on his face to be unbearably adorable.

"I'm gonna bust if you keep going." He groaned softly as you pinched him teasingly, "Lemme get inside you."

"I don't know... I think I'd like to see you finish from this..."

✧ MINGI - NECK ✧

Mingi is a very sensitive boy, overall.

When your fingers intertwine with his, he can't help but squeeze your smaller hand in his, staring down your hands like he can barely believe that you're allowing him to touch you -- even as innocently as this.

When you press sweet kisses to his lips, teasingly and soft, he's instantly smiling against you from happy he is, pressing harder to deepen the kiss and eliminate the space between you.

When you drag your hand over his thighs, settling to your knees in front of him, he holds himself back from throwing you on the bed and fucking you into the mattress.

He's constantly overwhelmed with his affection for you.

Everything is intense for him.

But when your small fingers wrap around his neck, squeezing so gently as you pull him in for another kiss -- he almost makes a mess in his pants.

You sit above him, weight settling nicely over his lap, pinning him to the couch as you lick over his puffy lips.

Mingi whines against your lips as your grasp tightens around him, loving how his head grows hazy from the way you control his breathing.

His cock throbs under you as you start to pressing wet kisses on his chin, jaw...and his neck. Your slick tongue flicks over his heated skin, laving over fading marks that you've left over the past few days.

"Like it?" You whisper, staring up at his flushed face. He shudders as you drag the edge of your teeth against the crook of his neck, eagerly leaning into the feeling.

"You know it do..." He groans deeply as you suck his sensitive skin into your mouth. His large hands hold you by the waist, pressing your body down against his as he grind against your ass, making you feel how desperately hard he is for you.

You suck harder and his hips jolt against yours, stuttering deliciously as he mewls from the intensity.

"F-fuck -- wait --"

You don't. You go to that spot right under his ear, the one that makes him lose it, and suck another love bruise into his skin.

And it ruins him.

His back arches slightly as he throws his head back with a broken moan. You release his skin, licking your lips as you watch him shake under you, panting out heated breathes, coming down from his high.

"So sweet." You coo, comfortingly rubbing a hand on his chest as he starts to calm down.

"It's embarrassing..." Mingi whines. This isn't the first time this has happened.

You place a gentle kiss on the spot, pulling away when he starts to shudder again.

"I like it."

#ateez x reader #ateez smut #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong smut #san x reader #san smut #mingi x reader #mingi smut #choi san x reader #san choi x reader #adding these tags bc i am NOT writing about a skeleton boy from undertale lmfao

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joemama-2 · 11 hours ago

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velvet lies

pairing: gojo x fem reader synopsis: crippling debt and possible evictions have ruined you. working two jobs with no downtime, and a five-year-old son, you really don't know the meaning of taking a break. after continuous questions about his father, you have decided to finally let your son meet his dad. only thing is, he has no idea said son exists. and to top it off, you have not a single clue about what kinds of things will transpire from this sudden revelation. wc: 8.2k tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, fluff, romance, alcohol, classism, mom! reader, lying, abuse, MAJOR angst, slow burn, exes to lovers, (mentions of) cheating, scandals, death, blood, drugs, drama, family drama, miscommunication, blackmail, unhealthy coping mechanisms , depression, manipulation series masterlist < previous chapter < next chapter

“You look so handsome like this…” a sultry chuckle is followed by a warm kiss to the lips. The man with a receding hairline laughs in a slimy way, welcoming the woman into his lap. Arms settled around her midsection, indulging in her lips.

The moment is quickly shut down when an intruding voice cuts in. “Haruka! Some guy is waiting for you at the door.”

With a huff, she pulls back. Lip curled up into a scowl, turning her head over her shoulder to face the man at the top of the stairs. “Tell ‘em I’m busy, damn it!” She snarls out.

The man sighs and rubs his bald head. “I already did. He said he wants to speak to you, now hurry up here.”

When the door slams shut, she turns back to her customer. “I’ll be back.” She smiles and kisses his wrinkly cheek before getting up and off his lap. She fixes her clothing, a simple tank top and shorts. Looking at the small mirror, she frowns and straightens down her hair. She’s reminded to dye her hair black again to cover up the incoming gray hairs that always greet her nowadays. She applies her usual red lick back to her skin, perking them up with a small pop noise. Her eyes, beady and dark, fixate back up at the door while her feet drag her.

Once she’s up in the main portion of the building, she rounds a corner and sees a neatly suited man standing at the front desk. The man who called her attention before gives her a certain look before walking off and letting her deal with it. She smiles, leaning against the hardwood. “Why, hello there, handsome. How may I help you today?”

The man, undeterred and stoic, regards her with barely any emotion. The dark sunglasses on his face obscuring his eyes and Haruka’s brow twitches for a moment in annoyance. She still keeps up her game, however. Resting her cheek against her palm. “Well? How can I—”

“Ms. Haruka, right?”

The stranger’s voice is deep and defined, causing Haruka’s eyebrows to raise in interest. Her smile widens and she hums playfully. “Ah, well depends on who’s asking. If it’s you, then you can call me Candy.” She whispers the last part, leaning in like she told him a big secret; giggling to herself.

The man spares a brief glance down at his wristwatch. Haruka notices its pristine gold, oh how valuable. An idea is already forming in her head when she looks back at the man’s black, circular shades. But what he says next causes her body to go into a temporary state of comatose.

“Are you the mother of Y/N L/N? If so, please come with me. There are some things my bosses would like to discuss with you.”

It’s the day after Christmas. You luckily got the day off and you’ve just been lounging around your place with Koji. Eating some leftovers and cleaning up a bit, watching him rave about the new toys he got; it’s a pleasant sight. Satoru hasn’t texted you anything today, and while you’re not holding him to that expectation, there’s a part of you that worries he’s still angry. Or maybe even upset at the gift you got him. It probably brought up negative emotions for him. But it was a last minute thing and you assumed he would greatly appreciate it.

Maybe your assumption was wrong.

You shake off the thought, refusing to dwell on it. Satoru has always been hard to read, and overanalyzing his silence won’t do you any good. Instead, you focus on Koji, who’s currently making his action figures reenact some elaborate battle scene on the coffee table. His laughter echoes through the room, bright and infectious, pulling a small smile from you.

“Koji, don’t forget to put the smaller pieces back in the box when you’re done,” you remind him gently.

“Okay, Mama!” he chirps, not looking up from his imaginary world.

You take another bite of your leftovers, savoring the quiet domesticity of the moment. It’s not often you get a day to just relax like this. Still, that nagging thought about Satoru lingers in the back of your mind, no matter how much you try to ignore it. Your fingers reach up, feeling for the star pendant Suguru got you. Smiling to yourself as your fingertips graze over the metal. You’re suddenly reminded of the fact that you haven’t thanked him.

You grab your phone, thumb hovering over his contact. It’s a small debate to call or text him, unsure of which is more…appropriate. Maybe he’s busy or maybe he wouldn’t mind a phone call at this time. You bite your lip, inhaling deeply then letting it go, deciding that your gratitude would feel more authentic if he actually heard you say it.

You click the call button and within the second ring, his voice lightens up the other end. “Hello?”

You clear your throat before speaking. “Hey, Suguru,” you say softly, twirling the pendant between your fingers. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“Not at all,” he replies warmly, a hint of curiosity in his tone. “What’s up?”

As you pause for a moment, your thoughts are being gathered. “I just wanted to thank you… for the gift. The pendant, it’s beautiful.” Your voice dips slightly, the sincerity in your words undeniable. “You didn’t have to, but… it means a lot to me.”

There’s a brief silence on his end before he chuckles softly. “I’m glad you like it. I figured it’d suit you.”

You can’t help but smile, your fingers still tracing the small, intricate patterns on the pendant. “It does. Koji said it makes me look pretty.”

Suguru laughs at that, the sound soft and familiar. “He’s not wrong. The kid’s got good taste.”

A small heat pools in your stomach, cheeks blushing a bit. When you glance over at Koji, you notice just how engrossed he still is in his action figures. “He’s been talking about that Spider-Man you got him nonstop. He even took it to bed with him last night.”

“Really? That’s adorable,” Suguru comments, his tone light but carrying an underlying fondness. “I’m glad he liked it. He’s a great kid.”

“He is,” you agree, your voice softening. “I’m lucky to have him.”

There’s a pause, the silence between you both comfortable yet loaded with things left unsaid. Finally, Suguru breaks it. “How are you doing? After last night, I mean. Satoru told me he was going over.”

The question catches you off guard, and for a moment, you’re unsure how to answer. “I’m… okay,” you eventually get out, though it feels like a half-truth. “It was just… a lot. But we did it. For Koji.”

He hums from the other side. “Yeah, that’s good. I figured.” A moment of pause before he continues. “Satoru can be… intense, especially when it comes to you and Koji.”

You let out a small, humorless laugh. “That’s one way to put it.”

“But other than that, it was good?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

He smiles. “I’m glad, you two deserve a good Christmas.”

With one hand, you bring your dirty dishes to the sink, the other keeping your phone to your ear. “What about you? Was yours good too?”

Suguru’s voice sighs wistfully. “It was, yeah. My team and I spent it handing out some gifts and hot chocolate to the kids. Seeing their faces light up with joy like that, it makes you feel really good, you know?”

Your heart warms at his words, picturing Suguru in his element—kind, compassionate, always thinking of others. You’re reminded back to the time you saw him that day with Koji. “That sounds wonderful,” you speak softly, leaning against the counter. “You’re really amazing for doing that, Suguru. Those kids are lucky to have someone like you.”

He chuckles modestly, the sound low and comforting. “I don’t know about amazing, but thanks. It’s just something small I can do. Makes the holidays feel more meaningful.”

You smile, twirling the pendant again as you consider his words. “It’s more than small. It’s thoughtful. It’s... you.” The words slip out before you can stop them, and you feel your cheeks flush immediately. Embarrassment floods your insides.

There’s a brief silence on his end, followed by a soft laugh. “You’re too kind. But coming from you, I’ll take it as a high compliment.”

You shake your head, grinning despite yourself. “It’s not kindness. It’s the truth.”

Koji’s excited shout from the living room snaps you back to the moment. He’s discovered a new pose for his Spider-Man, proudly showing it off as he runs over. “Mama, look!”

Suguru must hear the commotion, his tone lightening further. “Sounds like someone’s having a good time.”

“He is,” you say, watching Koji’s eyes sparkle with joy. You nod in astonishment. When your son is satisfied with your praise, he rushes back to the coffee table. “He’s been nonstop since yesterday. I think this Spider-Man might be his new best friend.”

“Then my mission was a success,” Suguru replies with a chuckle. “I’ll have to find something to top it next year.”

You bite the inside of your cheek while his words bring a pang of guilt. It’s strange; how easy it is to talk to Suguru, how natural it feels to share these moments. And yet, there’s a part of you that wonders if you’re leaning on him too much, especially with everything unresolved with Satoru. You wonder if what you’re doing is wrong, and considering Satoru’s reaction to his friend’s gift to you, you feel like you’re almost…betraying Satoru.

“Thank you again, Suguru,” you repeat, your voice calmer now. “For everything. You didn’t have to go out of your way for us, but you did, and it means a lot.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” he says gently. “You and Koji... you guys are important to me too, you know?”

The weight of his words settles over you, warm and steady. “That means a lot to me too.”

There’s another comfortable pause before Suguru clears his throat. “Well, I should let you get back to your day. I’m glad you called, though. Don’t be a stranger, okay?”

“Okay,” you promise, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Take care, Suguru.”

“You too,” he says, his voice lingering for a moment before the call ends.

As you set your phone down, you glance at Koji, who’s now back to his world of action figures. You can’t help but feel grateful for the people in your life now who care so deeply about you and your son.

But even with that gratitude, your thoughts drift back to Satoru, the press, his parents. And you ponder over the idea of what he’s doing right now, whether he’s holding onto the photograph, if he set it up somewhere; and what it might mean for the three of you moving forward.

There’s no time to start drowning in your thoughts any longer. You’ve already done that yesterday and practically every other day before that. A bigger question has been gnawing at you, and now that you have some free time, you figure you should look into it now. Grabbing your laptop, turning it on and clicking on Google once the screen awakens. The small business card is placed to your right as you type away the company name in the search bar.

You click on the first link.

It takes you to an entire directory of the services of Carlisle & Harlow.

The website loads quickly, its sleek design showcasing high-end properties and exclusive services. The polished images of luxurious estates, private jets, and lavish vacation homes scroll past as you navigate through the various tabs. The site is clearly designed to appeal to an elite audience—every detail is immaculate. You skim through the different services offered, including property management, concierge arrangements, personal assistants, and lifestyle coaching. It all feels a bit too polished, almost like an invitation into a world you’ve only ever seen from the outside.

You feel a slight unease in your stomach. Your mind races back to the business card Evelyn gave you—one that seemed so out of place given everything else you’ve seen in your life. You click through to the “About Us” section, hoping to find more answers about what the company actually does or who else is behind it.

The page provides a brief history, detailing the company’s founding by the woman, Evelyn Carlisle and her now deceased husband, Noah Harlow—both of whom have since made a name for themselves in the luxury service industry.

You click on the “Our Team” link. Several executives are listed, each with brief bios that read like glowing resumes. Next, you click on the “Contact Us” tab, staring at the address listed—an upscale location in the city’s financial district. It’s the kind of place where secrets are hidden behind high walls and the name on the door probably has a lot of power behind it.

Taking a deep breath, you mull over this instance. Maybe it’s time to investigate further, but you’re not sure how much deeper you want to dig—especially not without some sort of plan. But that Evelyn woman seemed a little strange to you. It’s just the fact that everything felt quite planned out to you, like someone told her to come to your workplace and offer a job interview. Your intuition has always been right and ever since you became a mother, that increased tenfold. But, this seems like it might have more of a good outcome than a bad one.

You wouldn’t have to maintain the hard balance of working two jobs and a child. As you continue scrolling and clicking on multiple tabs within the website, one catches your interest.

‘About Our Founders’

You’re met with pictures of Evelyn and her husband, posing with what you can only assume are other businesspeople, with paragraphs of their background to go along with it. Nothing looks out of the ordinary so far, until a particular picture.

It’s Evelyn and her husband. Posing with Satoru and his father.

Your heart stops for a moment, your breath catching in your throat as you stare at the screen. The four of them are dressed impeccably, their expressions polished with smiles that feel carefully rehearsed. The caption beneath the photo reads:

“Celebrating five years of partnership between Carlisle & Harlow and the Gojo Group, fostering innovation and excellence in high-end luxury services.”

Your stomach churns. The idea of Satoru or his family being involved in this job offer. And it almost makes sense now—Evelyn showing up at your workplace, the too-perfect job offer, the strange sense of everything being orchestrated. It wasn’t a coincidence. It couldn’t be. Unless it is?

Your fingers hover over the trackpad, trembling slightly as you click on the bio beneath Evelyn’s photo. Her background is as pristine as expected: Ivy League education, years of experience in luxury branding, and a reputation for impeccable taste. But it’s the section about her connections that catches your eye:

"Evelyn Carlisle maintains close ties with prominent families, including the Gojo family, and has been instrumental in crafting tailored solutions for their elite clientele."

Your head spins. This isn’t just a job opportunity—it’s a calculated move. But why? Why now? And why through Evelyn instead of directly from Satoru or his family? You glance back at the business card on your table, its gold lettering gleaming in the soft light. It feels heavier now, like it’s carrying the weight of unseen motives.

Koji’s laughter breaks through your swirling thoughts, grounding you momentarily. You look over at him, playing so innocently, so unaware of the tangled web you’re beginning to unravel. Taking a deep breath, you close the laptop and sit back. Whatever this is, it’s not just about you anymore. If Evelyn’s offer is part of some larger scheme, you’ll need to figure out the truth before you make any decisions.

Maybe you’re overthinking this. The Gojo Group is huge and very obviously powerful, of course, they would have ties with Carlisle & Harlow. It’s not that far-fetched, right? It’s just a job opportunity, don’t think too much into it.

It’s around the next day at work now. Walking to the café, phone in hand. Rereading Satoru’s first text to you since you last saw him, it’s not entirely underwhelming, you just hoped that he would have expressed his gratitude for your gift.

Satoru:

Koji left his jacket here from last time, I’ll bring it over today

Your lips purse, thumbs going haywire over the bright screen. Should you ask if he enjoyed the gift? If he even opened it in the first place? Or maybe you’re dragging this out far too much. With a deep breath, entering the cafe, you type back:

You:

I thought you had work today

Satoru’s response comes almost immediately, as if he was waiting for you to text back.

Satoru:

I do, but I can swing by during lunch. The place is a little far from me, can I come to your job and drop it off?

You hesitate, wanting to type back a ‘no’ as soon as he asked. It would feel a little weird if he came. Satoru and your workplace just don’t seem to mix—and you don’t want them to. If he came, it would only further solidify the fact that he’s integrating himself into your life. Again, you’re probably overthinking things, he’s just dropping off your son’s jacket. But the thought of seeing him right now feels oddly nerve-inducing.

You:

Sure, I’m on lunch at 12

When you drop the pin of the café’s address, you pocket your phone and set your stuff down, tying the apron around your waist. Hana, on her phone texting, barely looks up when you enter. It’s becoming a bit more repetitive nowadays. Patting down the apron, you speak up. “Still talking to that Naoya guy?”

She hums and nods, giggling at something that was messaged before swiftly typing back a response. Your lips purse, brows knitting at her lack of acknowledgment for you. This guy must really be entrancing her. “He said he was coming today.”

“Oh, really?” You ask, offering a small smile. “I’ll finally meet the lucky guy.”

Hana’s eyes flick up at you briefly before returning to her phone, her cheeks slightly flushed. “Hm? Oh, yeah. but don’t embarrass me, okay?”

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head as you grab a few boxes to refill the supplies up front behind the counter, cutting them open. “I’ll try not to. Just don’t expect me to be on my best behavior if he’s rude.”

She scoffs, though her grin betrays her amusement. “He’s not rude. You’ll like him, I think. He’s… different.”

You arch a brow, intrigued by her tone. “Different, huh? Guess we’ll see.”

Hana waves you off, clearly too engrossed in her conversation to elaborate further.

And so, the morning drags on, and you can’t help but notice Hana glancing at the door every few minutes, a mix of anticipation and nerves written all over her face. Meanwhile, you busy yourself with the usual flow of customers, though your own nerves begin to creep in as the clock inches closer to noon.

When the bell above the café door finally chimes, you glance up instinctively. A tall man with sharp features and an air of confidence steps in, scanning the room briefly before his gaze lands on Hana. His hair is slicked back neatly, and he’s dressed in a tailored coat that screams wealth and status. The tips of his hair dipped black, his eyes are so cat-like that it almost freaks you out at first.

Hana’s face lights up as she quickly puts the cleaning supplies that were in her hands down and waves him over. “Naoya!”

He strides over, a smirk tugging at his lips as he leans in to greet her with a kiss on the cheek. “Hana,” he says smoothly, his voice low and self-assured.

Your eyebrows raise at the blatant show of affection in front of not just you—but the rest of the customers. It’s slightly unlike Hana because you remember her telling you how much she despised PDA. Maybe Naoya is making her come out of her shell. That’s good, right? You watch the interaction from behind the counter, your initial impression of him forming almost immediately. There’s something about his demeanor—charming, yes, but also a little too smug for your liking. Your senses are telling you to be subtly on guard around this man.

Hana glances over at you, her smile widening. “Naoya, this is my coworker—”

“Friend,” you correct with a playful smile, giving her a tiny look. It’s strange how she was just going to introduce you as a coworker when she always calls you her friend. Not thinking too much of it, you step out from behind the counter to extend a hand. “Nice to meet you, Naoya. I’m Y/N.”

He takes your hand, his grip firm but calculated. His eyes flicker over you briefly, as if sizing you up. If possible, his grin widens, eyes growing more crescent-like. “Pleasure’s mine,” he says, though the smirk on his face doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“So, you’re the one who’s been keeping Hana so distracted lately,” you remark lightly, folding your arms.

Naoya chuckles, his gaze shifting back to Hana. “She’s easy to talk to. Hard not to get distracted by her.”

Hana blushes, clearly pleased by the compliment, but you can’t shake the nagging feeling that there’s something a little… off about him. “Well,” you say, forcing a polite smile, “welcome to our humble abode. Let me know if you need anything.”

Naoya nods, his smirk unwavering. “Will do.”

As you step back behind the counter, you catch Hana giving you a warning glance, silently begging you not to say anything more. You just shrug, grabbing the rag Hana previously discarded to wipe down the counter, though you can’t help but keep an ear on their conversation. They convert over to a booth in the corner, seemingly for some privacy.

Something about Naoya sets your instincts on edge. Maybe it’s the way he carries himself, or the way his smile feels more like a performance than genuine warmth. He’s reminding you of Satoru, just more insidious. It’s probably a little rude of you to have such a critical judgment of the man who’s making your friend swoon, but isn’t that what friends, do? Making sure the men or women that come into their lives are worthy of it? Whatever it is, you make a mental note to keep an eye on him—if only for Hana’s sake.

You stop eavesdropping. Hana’s a grown woman, if anything, she knows what’s more right for her than you do. Besides, you’re one of the only ones working right now, so it’s better to focus on delivering customer service than ensuring the man in the corner (who has been keenly drifting his eyes towards your figure) is good enough for Hana. Hana, oblivious to your discomfort, continues chatting with Naoya, her smile wide as she laughs at something he says. Her back is turned to you, and all you can do is concentrate on the rising sense of unease in your gut. It’s the way Naoya’s posture remains open and confident, but there’s a hardness behind his eyes that doesn’t sit right with you. He seems like someone who expects to get what he wants, and the thought of him using his charm to manipulate Hana makes you clench your fists beneath the counter. You’re just trying to understand the strange energy he brings into the environment. Maybe it’s your overactive imagination, but you still can’t shake the perception that there’s more to this man than Hana is seeing.

As you refocus on your tasks, you can physically feel the weight of Naoya’s gaze lingering on you. It’s subtle, but unsettling—like he’s paying more attention to you than he is Hana. You shake it off, putting your mind into the register as a customer walks up to place an order. However, the uneasy feeling stays with you. You move through the motions of your shift. Every time you briefly glance over to the booth, his gaze is drawn to you. Not in the way you’d expect a person to look at someone they’ve just met, but with something more calculating. It’s almost as if he’s analyzing you, but why?

You don’t even know how long it has been, at least 15 orders later, when the two walk back up to the front. Hana grabs your attention. “Y/N, Naoya brought up a really good idea. His friend owns that new bar I was telling you about a few weeks ago! Do you want to go out tomorrow after your other job?”

You glance up, a bit surprised by the invitation. It’s not like you haven’t been out with Hana before, but something about tonight feels odd. Maybe it’s Naoya’s presence, or maybe it’s the weird sense of being observed earlier. Still, it’s a chance to unwind, and Hana seems genuinely excited.

You give a soft smile, though it feels a little strained. “I don’t know, Hana. I’ve got a lot on my plate. Plus, I’m not sure about the bar idea... not really in the mood for crowds.”

Her eyes widen, and she steps closer, lowering her voice. “Come on, you deserve a break. You’ve been working so hard lately. It’ll be fun, I promise.”

You meet her eyes, trying to gauge her sincerity. She’s always been good at getting you to loosen up when you're feeling overwhelmed. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to go for just a little while, but you still have reservations about Naoya. “Alright, I’ll think about it. I’ll see if I can get out earlier,” you say, trying to keep your tone light. “But no promises.”

Hana’s face lights up. “Yay! I knew you’d come around.” She looks over her shoulder at Naoya, who’s standing a few feet away, reading the two of you with an unreadable expression.

You suddenly feel like this moment might be the start of something unpredictable. As much as you want to just go with the flow for Hana, a part of you ponders if there’s more to Naoya’s invitation than just a night out. But, for now, you push the thought aside.

“Well, you don’t want to miss out,” Naoya speaks up, chuckling to himself. “Just try. It’s called No Man’s Land. I’ll be there around 10:30 tomorrow night, hopefully I'll see you both there.”

You nod slowly, still hesitant about the whole thing. Something about the way Naoya phrased it—so casual, so sure of himself—rubs you the wrong way. There’s an underlying expectation in his words like he’s already decided that you’ll both show up. You’re not sure if it’s just his personality or something more, but the thought of him controlling the situation leaves you with a strange feeling. Hana, though, looks delighted. “It’ll be so much fun, Y/N. Just relax. A drink or two won’t hurt.” She flashes you a grin before turning back to Naoya, all smiles as she talks about what they’ll do at the bar.

You’re like an outsider, watching as Hana becomes more entangled in Naoya’s charm. You wonder if she sees it too—the little things about him that don’t add up. The way he already seems like the type of man to be just one step ahead with a plan. But she’s excited, so you don’t want to rain on her parade. Besides, you can always back out later if it doesn’t feel right.

Luckily, she sees him out right after.

And unluckily, you’re waiting outside on your break for Satoru sooner rather than later.

You glance at your phone once more, watching the minutes tick by. Your break feels longer than it should, and the anticipation of seeing Satoru again only adds to the anxiety that’s been building ever since your last interaction. You tell yourself it’s just a quick exchange—Koji’s jacket, nothing more. But every moment feels charged as if something is on the verge of shifting.

The cool air outside offers a bit of relief, though the tension in your chest doesn’t quite let up. You stand near the corner of the café, eyes scanning the street for any sign of him. The sound of footsteps approaches, and you turn, only to find Satoru strolling toward you with his usual carefree aura.

“Hey,” he greets, his tone light, but there’s something different about the way his eyes stay on you—something that feels almost too familiar. He holds out the jacket. “Koji’s jacket. Didn’t want to leave him without it.”

You take the jacket from him, the weight of it making you more aware of the subtle intimacy of the moment. “Thanks,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. “I appreciate it.”

He doesn’t say anything immediately, just watches you for a beat too long. You shift on your feet, suddenly feeling acutely aware of the silence hanging between you.

“Is that all?” you ask, hoping the question doesn’t come off too abrupt.

Satoru tilts his head as if considering something. “What do you mean?”

God, you hate it when he plays stupid like this. It forces you to be outright with what you want to say. Standing up straighter, chin tilting high. “I mean…like—well I guess what I’m trying to say is that…did you open…the gift I gave you?”

Satoru’s gaze shifts slightly, his usual simmering confidence faltering just enough to make you second-guess yourself. He pauses like he’s weighing your question more carefully than he typically would. For a moment, you wonder if you’ve overstepped—if you’ve asked something too personal or too vulnerable. The silence stretches between you like a taut wire.

“Your gift?” he finally says, the corner of his mouth lifting just a bit. He sounds almost amused, but there’s a hint of something else in his voice, something you can’t quite pin down.

You feel a wave of heat rise in your cheeks, but you stand your ground. “Yeah. The one I gave you on Christmas.” The words feel clumsy as they leave your mouth, but you can’t take them back now.

Satoru’s expression shifts, the air tensing slightly. “I did,” he says simply, as though it’s nothing. “It was… nice.”

You want to push him further, to demand more of a response, but something about the way he says it makes you hesitate. Is that all? You want to ask again. Was it just “nice”? That’s all? After everything—the thought you put into the gift, the small but meaningful gesture—you wonder if maybe it didn’t even register with him the way it did with you. Maybe you were right, he didn’t even open it and is now coming up with a bullshit response because you put him on blast.

But you don’t want to push too hard. You already feel like you’re treading on delicate ground. So you force yourself to smile, even though it feels a little stiff. “Well, I’m glad you liked it,” you reply, not entirely sure if you believe your own words.

There’s another beat of silence, and then Satoru shifts his weight slightly, signalling that he’s about to leave. “I should get going. Got some things to take care of,” he says, but he doesn’t immediately turn away.

Instead, his eyes flicker down to your hands, where you’re still holding Koji’s jacket. “Take care of yourself,” he adds, his tone softening just a bit.

You nod, trying to hide the strange pang in your chest. “You too,” you reply, though your voice is quieter now.

His lips thin into an awkward smile. It’s one you give a stranger or someone you barely know—but that’s how things feel between you now, isn’t it? It’s really not worth dwelling over the tiny things that further more prove the horrid line of connection between you two. But for some reason, it still hurts and picks at your heart.

That moment is quickly splashed away when a familiar—but teeth-gritting voice squeals from behind Satoru. Your grip tightens on Koji’s jacket. Satoru’s shoulders tense up.

“Satoru! Why’d you leave me in that boutique? It took forever to find you!”

She appears next to Satoru, her presence immediate and unmistakable. Her eyes flicker between you and Satoru with a mix of scrutiny and something else that you can’t quite place. She’s dressed in something designer, as usual, with that polished, effortless look that screams of wealth and status. Her gaze lingers on you for a moment longer than necessary, a quiet challenge in her eyes.

You feel a knot twist in your stomach, an all-too-familiar sense of discomfort settling into your chest. Satoru’s gaze meets yours for just a moment before he shifts his attention to Himari. “Sorry, didn’t mean to leave you hanging,” he says, his tone light but lacking its usual warmth.

Himari, not seeming to notice or care about the tension in the air, flashes you a tight-lipped smile that screams fake. “Oh, well look who it is. The leech.”

“Himari.” Satoru gruffs under his breath, giving his girlfriend a dirty side-eye.

“What? One minute we're spending the day together and the next you’re here with…her.”

Your jaw clenches, noticing the tug Satoru gives the other woman to the back of her dress, lowly whispering something into her ear. But her facial expression doesn’t deter, and neither does her snaky persona.

“I thought you had work.” You utter, eyes flickering back to Satoru.

His brows tighten, huffing out an exasperated breath. Before he can respond, she does it for him. “If you consider being by my side and treating all my needs work, then yeah, he is working.” She giggles at her own joke, making a show of turning his head towards her and plopping a kiss on his pink lips. It lasts only a few seconds before he pulls away.

But even those few seconds feel like a lifetime.

You feel the bite of Himari’s words, even if they’re clearly meant to dig into you. The word “leech” still stings, even though you know it’s not intended for anything other than a cruel jab. Satoru’s response, or lack thereof, makes the situation all the more uncomfortable. His eyes flick to you for a brief second before turning back to Himari, his expression more quiet and guarded

One question sounds throughout your brain. Why are you even with her?

You stand there, the tension heavy in the air between the three of you, white-knuckling onto Koji’s jacket, as if it could anchor you through this awkward, uncomfortable moment. Himari’s gaze holds yours for a moment longer like she’s trying to read you, trying to see if you'll react. You want to say something, anything, but you can feel the weight of the situation hanging on your tongue, making it hard to even speak.

Satoru looks between the two of you, his jaw tightening slightly. "Let's go," he mutters, more to Himari than to you, though you can tell he’s trying to smooth things over. Himari, however, isn’t having it. She steps forward, a small smirk on her face as she eyes you again.

“So,” she starts, her voice dripping with sarcasm, “you two still playing catch-up or is it ‘out of sight, out of mind’ now?”

Her clipped tone is pointed, deliberately meant to prod, and the weight of them sinks in—her intent clear. Satoru doesn’t reply, simply glancing at you with a silent apology in his eyes—if you can even call it that. You want to scoff at his lousiness. It’s clear she’s trying to assert her dominance in the situation, but you’re not sure whether it’s her trying to put you in your place or if it’s something else entirely.

You force a tight smile, the words you're looking for escaping you. “No need to worry,” you manage to say, the words barely leaving your lips as you turn to look at Satoru one last time. “I’m sure you both have things to do. I’ll get back to work.”

Satoru doesn’t protest, and Himari just gives you another dismissive glance. "Whatever," she mutters under her breath, but you catch the taunt in her voice. She might be playing it off, but you sense otherwise.

As they walk away, the weight of the encounter lingers in the air around you. You stand frozen for a moment, the jacket still in your hands, and then—almost instinctively—you turn on your heel and head back inside the café. Your heart still pounds in your chest, the sting of Himari’s words lingering long after they’ve both left.

You don’t even know what hurts more—the fact that Satoru’s dismissive attitude didn’t change, Himari’s words somehow managed to rattle you more than you care to admit, or the fact that he barely…stood up for you. It is selfish to at least hold him to a certain degree—a degree where he has the decency to protect you from the cruel shit his now girlfriend so nonchalantly delivers towards you? Maybe how he acted during that first unexpected encounter was all for show.

And of course, the pain in your chest feels more like a slow burn now, another brutal—unwanted reminder that things between you and Satoru, whatever they were…are long gone.

An Izakaya of this caliber is something Haruka would have only dreamed of sitting in. Warm lighting is stationed above them, inside their own private room while she drinks away and away—solely because the people before her are buying. There are dishes of food scattered around, some picked from and others haven’t been touched yet. “You know, I really appreciate you spoiling me for the past two days, it’s nicer than any man has ever treated me.”

She laughs to herself, casually leaning back on her palms, holding her pitcher of beer back up to her lips and sipping like a madman. Emi and Kenji Nakamura regard the woman with equally disgusted faces. Beside them is their personal lawyer.

“So,” Haruka starts, burping and leaning forward once more. “What’s this all about my precious daughter, huh?” Her lip quirks up in a sneer at the reminder of the child she had and practically threw to the wolves. “Is she acting up again? She’s always been a little troublemaker.”

“I’m sure you’ve seen the articles, yes?” Kenji’s firm voice replies. “Involving your daughter, Satoru Gojo, and their son.”

She chokes on her spit. “What?! Son?! No, I haven’t seen anything! I’m a free spirit and I don’t believe in social media, it’s the devil’s play!”

The couple show no further emotion to her outburst.

Haruka’s face contorts with an expression of disbelief as she wipes her mouth hastily with the back of her hand, trying to regain some composure. The news about Satoru Gojo and her daughter having a child seems to rattle her more than anything else. She leans back again, almost toppling over from the force of her sudden shift in posture, eyes wild. “I—what do you mean, son?” Her voice cracks, and she shoots a glance at Emi and Kenji, her eyes narrowing. “Are you telling me that boy… and my daughter? They have a child?!”

Kenji’s lips curl into a slight frown, his eyes cold. “Yes, it seems your daughter has kept things a secret for years. The media and everyone else have only just found out.”

Haruka’s eyes flash with something venomous, but she quickly masks it with a laugh, the sound forced and hollow. “Ah, what a little dirty sneak. And, please. You know I’m not interested in all that family nonsense. And that son? How could they even think of bringing a kid into their… situation?” Her head shakes as she scoffs at the thought of you bearing a child of your own. And especially with…him.

“You may not understand now,” Kenji mutters darkly, before leaning in slightly. “But I think it’s time you start paying attention. Because this situation concerns you more than you realize.”

Haruka’s face twitches, the words hitting her harder than she wants to admit. The weight of the sudden revelation was heavy. She glances down at her beer, swirling it absentmindedly, her mind clearly racing with thoughts she doesn’t want to process. “You’re telling me my daughter has a son with him?” she scoffs, shaking her head. “That’s rich. Really rich.” Her tone is bitter, but the realization of the reality around her seems to slowly sink in, and she takes another long sip from her pitcher to steady herself. “She’s such a goddamn fool, I almost feel bad for her. I provided a lot for her, you know? Then she threw it all away.”

Kenji and Emi watch on in disinterest. The lawyer beside them brings out a formal sheet of paper. “We’d like to offer you a deal, Ms. L/N,” Kenji states.

Haruka looks back up, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Haruka’s eyes narrow, expression shifting from one of indifference to one of calculated curiosity. She shifts in place, wiping her mouth once more with the back of her palm. “A deal? What kind of deal?” she asks, her voice carrying a note of skepticism, but there's a flicker of interest behind her gaze. She leans in slightly, one hand still gripping the pitcher of beer as she lowers it to the table now.

“You see,” Emi starts. “Our only child—our precious daughter is dating Satoru. She probably felt the most disgruntled in this situation out of everyone else. With the suddenness, we fear that everything we have worked for will be put to waste.”

“And with the news of your daughter’s involvement with Satoru Gojo, it has thrown things into disarray for us. What we need is to ensure that this situation doesn’t jeopardize our family’s legacy—both our reputation and, more importantly, our fortune.” Kenji finishes.

Haruka snorts softly. “I see. So, you’re telling me this little bastard of hers is a problem for you too? What does that have to do with me?” Her words come out sharper than she intends, but she quickly masks it with another bitter laugh.

Emi��s cold gaze sharpens, a glint of something unspoken flickering behind her eyes. “Everything, Haruka. Your daughter’s ties to Satoru Gojo are a direct threat to the family’s interests. And with a child in the picture now… it complicates things further. But we’ve come to a solution, one that involves you—if you’re willing to cooperate.”

Haruka tilts her head, eyes narrowing as she watches the lawyer slide the formal paper across the table toward her. The ink on it is neat, but her eyes flick over it quickly, scanning the contents before she lets out a quiet scoff. “What is this? Some kind of bribe?”

The lawyer, keeping a neutral expression, nods. “It’s an agreement that ensures your cooperation in smoothing over this… situation. If you agree, your involvement will not only secure your own future, but it will also protect the financial interests of both families. In exchange, you’ll receive a position of influence, a stake in the inheritance.”

Haruka’s laughter rings out again, more amused. “Influence? A stake? Do you think I’m some desperate fool who’ll fall for your little schemes? I don’t need your money. I have enough desperate fools willing to give me that already.” She sneers at the paper but then pauses, looking at Kenji and Emi, the weight of their gaze pressing down on her.

She takes another sip from her pitcher, her mind whirling as she weighs her options. A part of her wants to lash out, to dismiss them and their offer completely. But there’s something about the way they’re looking at her, something cold and calculating that makes her pause. The truth is, she’s always been a gambler, and she knows when to fold and when to play her hand. “You really think this is gonna work out?” she says, her voice quieter now, but still filled with an edge of disbelief. “This… deal?” She hesitates, eyes flicking over the paper again, the signature line staring her down. “What exactly are you asking of me?”

Emi leans forward slightly, her posture unyielding. “We need you to leverage your relationship with your daughter. Influence her decisions, guide her actions—anything you can to help steer her away from Satoru. We want to ensure that the child and his existence don’t affect our plans. In return, we offer you protection, money, and a place at the table. It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

Kenji watches her closely, his expression hard, but there’s a glimmer of expectation in his eyes.

Haruka’s mind races, her fingers idly tracing the rim of her beer glass as she processes the offer laid out before her. The temptation of power, of influence, is hard to ignore, even for someone who prides herself on being a free spirit. But she’s also no fool. She knows this is a high-stakes game—one where the risks outweigh the rewards if she misplays her cards. And the amount of 0’s she’s staring down at is inexplicably thrilling. She’s already imagining what she can buy with it.

For a long moment, the room is silent, the tension thick. Emi and Kenji both stare at her intently, their eyes cold and calculating, watching her every move. The lawyer remains as neutral as ever, the formality of his expression only adding to the weight of the situation.

Haruka's lips curl into a smirk, the edges of her mouth twitching slightly as she leans back in her chair. “Leverage my relationship with my daughter, huh? You really think I can do that?” Her voice is laced with a mix of amusement and disdain. “You must think I’m a puppet master or something. But I’m not interested in some petty manipulation games.”

Kenji’s eyes flash for a brief second, a flicker of something darker crossing his features. "You know the consequences of doing nothing. You’ve been avoiding your daughter long enough, Haruka. But she’s not the same girl anymore. She's tied to Satoru Gojo now, and that complicates things. We need you to make sure she doesn’t forget her place. The family’s future is on the line."

Haruka’s hand freezes in mid-air, her gaze locking with Kenji's. She can feel the weight of her daughter’s past mistakes bearing down on her, the consequences that could affect everything she’s tried to distance herself from. Her jaw ticks, her eye twitching. What a stupid little girl, I tried warning you, didn’t I? “I don’t care about your legacy or your fortune,” Haruka mutters, her tone turning colder, sharper. “But I’m not stupid. I can see what you’re offering me.” Her fingers curl around the edges of the paper, her nails digging into the surface. “I have one question for you, though. What happens if I refuse?”

Emi doesn’t blink, her gaze unflinching as she answers. “If you refuse, Haruka, you’ll be left in the same position you’ve always been—irrelevant. Your daughter’s problems will escalate, and your connections, your influence, will be stay meaningless. You will never succeed and you’ll lose the tiniest amount of leverage you have. You’ll watch as everything you’ve ever taken for granted crumbles.” She pauses, the words hanging in the air. “But if you cooperate, we can guarantee your future. Your daughter’s involvement with Gojo doesn’t need to ruin you.”

Haruka’s eyes flick over the paper again, the signature line now feeling like an anchor, pulling her down into a world of obligations and consequences. She takes a deep breath, feeling the familiar rush of excitement that always comes when she’s faced with a gamble. It’s the thrill of uncertainty, the pull of what could be hers if she plays her cards right. Her bottom lip is worried between her teeth.

“So, what you’re saying is... I’m supposed to ruin my own daughter’s happiness for the sake of your precious family’s legacy,” Haruka says, her voice low, almost contemplative. She stares at the paper one more time before meeting Emi’s gaze. "Fine. You’ve made your offer. But just so you know, I’m no one's pawn. I’ll make this work for me too. You’re not the only ones with something to gain."

Emi gives a small, satisfied nod, and Kenji’s lips tighten, but there’s a small shift in his demeanor—one that signals the deal has been struck. "Good," Kenji replies, his voice firm. "We’re glad we could come to an agreement. We will contact you if necessary and when your action is needed.”

Haruka, for the first time, sets the pitcher of beer down, her fingers now gently grasping the edge of the paper. She grins maniacally and signs it with a flourish. The ink is dark and permanent, sealing the agreement.

With the ink dry, she sits back, a smirk curling on her lips. “This will be fun.”

taglist is now closed

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lilipens · 3 days ago

Text

✧. HEART IN A CUP.

Synopsis: To ensure the taste is perfect, you're invited to a tea party by Riddle himself—though, there is more than meets the eye.

Pairing: Riddle Rosehearts x Gender Neutral!Reader

Warnings / Genre: None ^_^ It’s implied Riddle has romantic interest, so it’s kinda fluff

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: aaaaaa late post,,, partially rushed because i lost track of time but enjoy anyways and belated happy new year to all!!!

Order. Precision. Routine. These are cornerstones of Riddle’s world. An uptight schedule governs every hour, every minute, ensuring nothing is out of place. There is no room for error, no time to waste. Nevertheless, you’ve somehow managed to slip through that perfect system. He doesn’t know how, but here he is, settling aside his meticulous plans to make time for you. Not that he’d admit it aloud.

Placing the teapot down carefully, he makes sure it aligns just right with the table’s edge. It must be exactly measured as it is a step in a well-practiced routine. His focus is keen, but something feels different today. A subtle tension sits in his shoulders, betraying the calm exterior he’s trying so hard to maintain. You don’t comment on it; regardless, you can’t help but notice him peeking at you now and then.

“I trust you’ll provide an honest critique,” Riddle speaks out quickly—fairly rushed. “Your input is valuable—essential, even; not because it’s yours, of course, but because improvement demands impartial feedback.” This tea-tasting is no ordinary event, even though he’s done it countless times before. This one feels personal.

You bite back a smile. The way he’s trying so hard to sound detached is almost endearing, although you know better. There’s nothing impartial about the way he keeps glancing at you, as if gauging your every reaction.

Riddle may hold his routine in high regard, but he’s still human, and no amount of perfectionism can mask the little cracks in his armor.

With his fingers now gently adjusting the teapot once more, he refocuses on the task at hand. The sound of liquid pouring into the cup fills the silence between you. When you lift your lips, you can still see how palpable his stare is. Riddle’s breath hitches slightly. "How is it?" he blurts out, breaking the quiet with an edge of urgency. "The balance of flavors—does it meet expectations?"

Your lips curve into a soft smile as you take another sip. The tea, for what it’s worth, is lovely. The light sweetness blooms on your tongue, a delicate balance of flavors that speaks to the careful thought he’s put into it. "It’s wonderful. The taste isn’t overpowering, and it’s not too sweet... Did you add something special?"

Riddle straightens in his seat, a flicker of pride crossing his face despite his effort to keep it neutral. He clasps his hands together in his lap, the rigid posture a reflection of the precision with which he approaches every task. "Naturally," he responds proudly, as though each word has been chosen with the utmost care. "Every blend must be unique. Heartslabyul prides itself on its exacting standards, and I made adjustments to ensure it met them."

What he doesn’t say is how many late hours he spent poring over recipe books and testing proportions, how even his own peers had begun to comment on his unusual fixation. He rationalizes it to himself, convinced this is merely an extension of his relentless pursuit of perfection. Yet, deep down, he knows it’s more than that.

When you set the cup back on its saucer in satisfaction, Riddle feels an uncharacteristic wave of relief. He glances away, feigning interest in the napkin folded neatly by his plate, smoothing its already straight edges. “However, I am glad you approve,” he adds softly.

You observe him closely, noticing his cautiously maintained disposition start to falter a bit. A fleeting vulnerability shows as his hands fidget in his lap, giving way to the nerves he’s suppressing. He’s done so much for this moment, yet it’s as though he fears it’s still not enough. You lean forward slightly, resting your elbows on the table as you meet his eyes.

“You know,” you start gently, “not everything has to be perfect. Sometimes, it’s okay to let things just... be.”

The words leave your mouth without much thought, but you can see how they settle into him. He freezes, his fingers clutching the teacup so tightly that you almost fear it might shatter. "Let things just be?" he repeats in a louder pitch, face slowly burning vivid red, before abruptly cutting off. He inhales sharply, exhaling through his nose as he tries to gather himself, to rein in whatever frustration is bubbling beneath the surface.

"Do you have any idea how—" He stops himself mid-sentence, eyes widening slightly as he realizes his tone has become far too harsh. A deep breath. Then another. He visibly forces his frustration down, his face flushing a deeper shade of crimson. "Forgive me," he apologizes stiffly, somewhat coming out restrained. "That was uncalled for."

For a second, you’re taken aback by the sudden outburst. There’s a tendency for Riddle to lose his composure in such a way, but witnessing it firsthand catches you off guard. As you watch him, you see the way his body tenses up again and his hands clench, you realize that he’s not angry at you—he’s angry at himself. The heaviness of his unyielding expectations presses on him. It’s the fear of not being enough, of not meeting the impossibly high standards he’s set for himself.

“It’s okay,” you reassure, offering an understanding smile. "I didn’t mean to upset you. I just… I want you to know that you don’t always have to try so hard." It’s how you say it that’s so simple, but they seem to cut through the tension like a knife. Riddle’s gaze softens ever so slightly, as if he’s allowing himself to let go of the tight grip he’s always kept on everything. He doesn’t respond right away, and you catch a glimpse of something deeper—something he rarely lets anyone see.

You don't push him further; instead, you sit quietly, allowing the moment to settle around you.

Soft ticking from the clock seems louder than usual, accompanied by gentle rustling of wind outside, branches tapping lightly against the windowpane. A faint scent of tea lingers in the air, mixing with the tranquility around you. The space feels alive with stillness—your breathing, his, the distant hum of life beyond the room—all blending into a peaceful harmony that Riddle isn’t used to. His shoulders relax slightly, though the tension remains in the way he holds his cup, his posture rigid, as though still caught between a desire for order and the acceptance of the present.

Riddle holds his teacup delicately, feeling the warmth seep into his palms. He doesn’t move right away, as if holding the cup has become more of an action than part of his carefully planned routine. His gaze shifts toward you again, but this time, it carries no urgency, only quiet curiosity, as if he's trying to understand something new. His brow furrows slightly, lips pressed together as if grappling with a thought that refuses to come to the surface.

“You know,” he says after a long halt, “I’ve always been so absorbed in my routine that I never really stopped to consider... how others might see things.” He hesitates, his brow furrowing. “I never saw much point in it. Everything had to be exactly where it should be. But now, I think there’s more to it.” His eyes briefly flicker to the teapot, but this time, there’s no urge to adjust it, no need to measure the space between the spout and the edge of the table. He simply lets it be.

You watch him, your smile warm, eyes following the subtle shift in his demeanor. There’s vulnerability in him now, a crack in his polished shell that makes him seem more... human. Despite how small the step seems, you know it’s significant. This isn’t just about a teapot or a cup of tea—it’s about him allowing himself to exist without fearing that even the smallest slip will ruin everything. It feels like the most genuine connection you’ve shared.

“I guess I could stand to be a little more lenient sometimes,” he considers, somewhat willingly, though the thought alone makes his stomach twist. Disorder was something he had always worked to prevent, a disruption he could never fully tolerate. Change had never been Riddle’s strongest suit—acknowledging it was one thing, but acting on it was another entirely. Yet, he must understand that not everyone sees the world as he does.

Unable to resist, you tease him with a playful smile. “A little more lenient? I’ll believe it when I see it. I’m sure your teapot has been perfectly positioned for the next hour, hasn’t it?”

Riddle freezes for a split second, his cheeks flushing a deeper shade of red. “I... I can’t help it if I like things in order,” he stammers, attempting to cover his flustered expression with clearing his throat. You almost laugh, but the sight of him—the way his usual demeanor forfeits—makes you pause. It’s the first time you’ve seen him so unguarded, like he’s letting someone inside without the usual barricades.

Leaning forward slightly, you smirk. “It’s alright, Riddle. I think I’ll enjoy watching you try to let go of some of those... habits.”

A sigh escapes him, this time more in resignation. “I suppose... one could attempt to be a bit more flexible.” His tone softens, though there’s a subtle strain to it, as though admitting this is a minor yet monumental step for him. He doesn’t meet your gaze, but his words hang in the air between you, carrying a hint of vulnerability you never thought he’d show.

A small, satisfied smile tugs at your lips. “Good. You’ll get there eventually.”

Crossing your legs on the chair, you watch as he fiddles with his cup again, a slight tremor in his fingers as he tries to regain his cool. There’s something strangely comforting in the way he does it—like a part of him is still holding on, not quite ready to let go of his habits. The tension remains, but it’s less oppressive now. For once, he isn’t rushing to make everything perfect. In lieu, it feels like he’s taking his time, just a little.

Riddle looks at you again, though his hands still move with a touch more uncertainty. "I don't know how long I'll last," he mutters, half to himself. "But I'll try."

“Good enough for me,” you retort with a wink, glad to see a crack in his carefully constructed walls. "I’ll hold you to it."

Although Riddle is still not entirely comfortable, there’s a tiny shift in him. He seems to settle into the gentleness of the atmosphere. The weight of the day’s tension slips away, even if just for now. The room no longer feels like a battleground for control—it feels like a place where two people can exist without expectations, without the need for everything to be perfect.

When he speaks again, his voice is grounded with the faintest trace of a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "Next time, we’ll see how well I manage…. without the rules.”

“Next time?” You raise an eyebrow. “So you’re not throwing out your schedule just yet, huh?”

Riddle’s lips twitch. "One step at a time, of course."

He turns his attention to you, and something shifts in his eyes—like he’s sharing a secret. Then, realizing how rare this is, he looks away quickly. His equanimity returns, though not as fierce as before. It’s better now. More honest.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll manage,” he guarantees, less forced.

You lean back in your chair, the contentment of seeing him take that first step settling in your chest. "I think I’d like to see you try."

At last, it feels like time is finally on both of your sides. The rigidness that once controlled begins to fade, and regardless of the fact you don't expect an overnight change, you sense more serenity. For the first time, Riddle seems to be easing up. And you'll be here to witness it.

#riddle rosehearts #riddle rosehearts x reader #riddle rosehearts x yuu #riddle rosehearts twst #riddle twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #riddle rosehearts x you #twst x reader #twst #jsjshhwhw i was vry sleepy while doing this

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genderqueerdykes · 2 days ago

Note

ive been reading a lot about transmascs/trans men throughout history (alexander durov, one eyed charley, albert cashier etc) and many of them from what ive seen were able to get pretty far without having their sex discovered and im just wondering how? i know you don't really need much to pass even in 'modern days' and that you don't need to medically transition to pass (i passed a lot before T in front of strangers)

does it really only come down to just not telling and the men around them not caring for their voice?

its a bit harder to research since so much of history involving transmascs are either scrubbed or they're deadnamed and misgendered once they're gone

idk maybe im just lowkey jealous because many of them rarely got questioned from what ive seen and they were generally respected while they were alive

you know, that's a good question

if i had to guess, i think part of the reason people are so focused on gender right now is because we have recorded media to refer back to. instead of referring to people in our real lives we know, people tend to refer to the highly scripted people they see on the television, tablet, etc. we are fixated on what women "should look, act and sound like" and the same for men because we have multiple industries pushing this narrative. the internet is probably also likely a huge problem.

instead of people pointing to someone they know in their life and going "oh yeah i knew a guy like that before, he just had a high pitched voice!" (<- is actually talking about a trans man who isn't publicly out) they refer to the sculpted, scripted, preened and airbrushed people they see in shows, movies, games and popular content on YouTube. i think we're becoming way less accepting of the diversity humanity offers by being continuously lambasted with what "conventional attractiveness" and gender roles should look like.

it may also have to do with the fact that trans rights and trans people only really became known to the general public within the last 100 years. cishet people really just did not know about or consider the idea of a trans person anywhere near as much as they do now. i have a feeling its a lot of backlash from the civil rights movements of the past and present. i think people may have just minded their business before they became painfully aware of the existence of trans people.

those are my guesses, anyway. i'd love to hear more from other people on this!

#asks #answers #queer history #transmasc #transmasculinity #trans man #trans men

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ethereal555 · 3 days ago

Text

FUCK BOY PT.1

player!jude x stonerblackfem!reader

You laugh, not quite believing your ears, “What?'

'Please don't make me say it again. Honestly baby, I'll never forgive myself'.

You fixate on him. The man you loved, gave your body to and had the lowest of lows with has done the one thing he promised never to do.

He betrayed you.

You get off of the couch, as if it’d become hot lava. You feel your blood vigorously pumping through your veins, heating up your cheeks and ears. Like church bells had just gone off, your ears were ringing.

“Get out my flat - now” you forced out shakily, you felt as if your throat was closing in. Your chest raising rapidly.

He blinks, as if I was speaking a foregin language.

'No, sit down' he pleads reaching for my hand. You swat his hand off of you, taking a huge step away from him.

“Jude please, I don’t want you to touch me. How dare you think you can even come into my home right after disrepecting me? Do you think I'm a joke?” you pant

'I'm not going to even ask you why you did it? She's clearly who you wanted all along. The world's right; you only got with a black girl to make your Mum feel better. I swear I should have listenied when they called you a man!fucking!whore”.

'I've wasted my time with you, time I'll never get back'! I realise in hysterics. You feel like someone has hit a wong in your ear, its an intense feeling you feel in your head. You cover your ears to silence your thoughts that were going off on autopilot.

You pace around going on a tangent, finding all the offesive words in the dictiionary to throw at him. You search to find any small inanimate objects to throw at him, a way to inflict the hurt you felt emotionally onto him.

'Yeah, Yeah,ok' he bitterly chuckled trying to play off as unfazed, as if all the lethal words you spat had fallen upon deaf ears. His jaw was tense, it was taking everything for him not to shut you up himself, but he knew how genuinely wrong he was in this situation and how much he deserved the names so he decided against taking any action. This time.

You scower the kitchen trying to find any items that were bought for you by him. You take the Gucci scarf off of your kitchen highchair, lobbing it at him. He sat there, with the nerve to have a scowl of his face 'Take it' you yelled as you threw the cloth. 'I don't want anything of yours, you're disgusting'.

It landed on his face, and he, in an act of self -discipline didn't react, folded it up placing next to him on your couch, licking his lips. I must admit it must've taken a lot for him to not retaliate, the Jude last year was another story.

'This too’', you removed the burgundy coloured Van Cleef bracelet he had gifted you for your birthday back in May, aiming it for his face. The athletic boy, with instincts like a cat, caught this too, placing it untop of the scarf next to him. His left leg was shaking with irritation. A scowl on his face. His teeth tucked into his plump bottom lip as he sat back cross armed on the couch, pissed.

“You're not fucking intimidating me, not in my own house. Good try. GET the fuck OUT JUDE!”

I was seeing red, because he wasn't listening to me. My nose and eyes running like a water fountain. I looked a hot mess. I wipe my face with the back of my hands. Embarrassed.

To my advantage, I find my tedbaker slippers on the floor near the door. I laugh at myself picking it up with full intention to throw it -

He stand ups “Don’t you fucking dare, I swear to God Tiana act like you have some fucking sense”.

'I will do whatever the fuck I want to you. You’re not welcome here anymore, I dont want you in my house anymore. Listen to me Jude, for once... leave' I cry, shaking. “I’ve told you to leave and you’re still here”

“I can’t, I can't leave you. Why dont you listen to me for once, just once, I can explain” he fought shouting over her cries.

'Why dont you understand' i hiccup, 'i cant, i physically cant sit here, whilst you, a fucking vile the vilest man ive ever met, wants to speak, to me and justify him sleeping with someone he's lied to me about for 8 FUCKING MONTHS'

' A bitch that racially abused me, and you fucking too? You are not worth anymore of my time. Like, really Jude? Are you that fucking desperate for pussy? Are you that desperate to hurt me? For fucks sake, if you really needed to fuck someone, at least fuck someone that resemebles the woman you claim to love 'more than football' she looks nothing like me Jude' you drag..

'It didn't happen rec-' he started

You felt the waterworks again but you didnt want to give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry. It was the fact he wasn't understanding that him explaining the details was causing you to have to envision him with another woman. Having had enough of this row, you turn around immediately going to your cabinet to get your pre rolled blunt.

'I wasn't in the right mind, I have no excuse, it was a genuine mistake. Baby, please..' he argued.

You turn on your stove, shoving your blunt into it, to light it. You sit on your counter once it finally draws and you inhale deeply, making sure to cough so it hit you harder, Cali. You weren’t in the right mental headspace to deal with this sober.

“You hear me Ti?” he begged

It was like pathetic fallacy, a dark day for you emotionally and the only things illuminating the house were the many Central London streetlights outside your grand glass windows as well as your purple led's shining from your room upstairs.

'You can check my phone, my social media DM’s, theres not one trace of a woman Tianna, because I've decided all I need you. You don't understand I cant do it without you- this thing called life, no. Hell i cant even go a day without thinking about you and the life we could have’ he confesses clapsing at his heart.

Then there's a deafening silence.

You transfix on him fresh tears still imprinted on your cheeks, as you inhale, one toke after another after another. You both hold each other’s eye contact for a split second, before you withdraw focusing on your blunt.

The boy you loved most in the world, now turned traitor, sat across from you looking helpless. The only things that can be heard in the flat were both your infrequent sniffles, your sharp inhales and distant modes of transport outside.

Emptiness.

He rubs his eyes, typical, always seeming to cry when you cried, excusing it as something he couldnt help because he loved you so much. Well if only he thought of that before he decided to fuck the bimbo.

You snigger, you’re eyes low, the weed has you feeling like you’re floating.

“Jayy” You drag, your head and body feeling extremely light

“Yeah, yes” he answers quick, attentive

“You know, it’s a true shame, for Denise. I just wonder, like, if only she knew what an absolute bitch she would have raised before having you, would she have had an a-' you giggle

' Don't finish that sentence or we'll have a problem' he growls shooting up, charging towards me.

'Get up off the counter now, Tiana. Have you lost your fucking mind?' he spat. His natural doe - shaped eyes enlarged with anger, this dark brows furrowed.

You look at him, your giggles disentergrating into the air just like your weed smoke, daring him to do what he's been doing indirecting for the past 8 months.

'Fucking dare do what, what are you going to do about it? Hm, Jude? I’m going to continue to make you feel like shit until you leave because I’ve asked you to LEAVE MY HOUSE and you're still here, so take the insult”. You take another puff of your blunt, feeling the anger rising again.

Granted, the blunt was probably making you say things you shouldn't, he deserved it.

“I could’ve hurt you, so so badly” he lets out his jaw clenched.

'I beg your pardon?, you fucking idiot what do you think I'm -“

'Shut up and let me talk, i could have kept it silent and have the whole world find out at the same time as you, but i didnt. i've flown here on Chrismas to tell you. To be here I’ve sacrificed spending time with my brother and my parents. I've literally put your feelings and wellbeing first before my families,before mine but you're too bloody dense to be objective and see things from another person's perspective'.

You drop your blunt on the counter, hopping off of it. At the same time, not caring if you blew the rest out in his face, although you knew he hated the smell.

'I don’t give a fuck about how it all unravels, or who's feeling you are putting first over others. You got your self here in the first place, you wouldnt be in this predicament if you had some sense about you; and stayed loyal to what we have built. And shit, even if you genuinely needed to fuck a girl, do better next time and fuck a woman who wont go round running your business, dumb boy. But you're too thick and pussy hungry to realise that' she seethed pushing at his chest with every last world.

'Jude, we are sooooooo done' you ridicule 'i cant actually emphasise it enough'

'We're not, technically can't be. Tiana, we havent been together since March, which is another reason I dont know why you're so angry'

You sneer, clenching your fists as your sides. Your nostrils flared, you decided against screaming or shouting; you didn't have the energy. So using up all the mature strength you could muster, you leave to go to your room. Genuine rage and shock slapped onto your facial features. You barge past him walking at high speed until he grips your wrist pulling you back to stand infront of him.

'Don't walk away from me when I''m speaking to you.' you snatch out of his harsh grasp.

You push at his chest, 'I've told you stop touching me, Jude. I'm walking away because this conversation can't be had with a 2 year old.'

'And who's the two year old?, I havent been the one throwing a fucking tantrum this whole time and gettting high thinking it’s cool, whilst an adult has been trying to have a mature conversation with you! He spits.

'A tantrum ? I have everyright to be fuming. You’re so lucky I'm high right now you should thank God because, if I was sober you know exactly what would happen' you threaten.

'Yeah I do know, because that’s the type of person you are. You’re so quick to dehumanise people',

“And rightfully so for you at least.. so... where do we go from here? Nowhere, bye. Shut the door after you'.

You push yourself off of the kitchen counter, that you were reluctantly leaning on.

'Stop fucking walking away from me. Tiana. We’re not finished. Act your fucking age', he exclaimed trapping you between himself and the counter, leaving no room for you too escape. Both his arms, decorated in bulging green veins, clenched either side of you.

He gets in my face as if you make it clear to me ‘I’m going to ask you again ok.. Why are you so fucking angry?'

'BECAUSE YOU'RE STILL FUCKING ME JUDE ME !!! WHAT DONT YOU UNDERSTAND!! you rage in this face.

You feel you're eyes watering again so you break out from his constraint and turn around to go a relight your blunt before taking another 3 tokes.

“What type of question is that-have you no emotional intelligence or sympathy?” you exhale

'Because you fly me out to Madrid to fuck and hang out. You choose to spend time with me when instead you could be with your family or friends. You come over here during you're off season to fuck me, kiss me, cuddle me, give me presents, bags and jewellery. You eat my ass, we've been fucking on my period for Gods sake - all these things have happened whilst we've been broken up. so dont - please dont try to play it like we're just sneaky links, sneaky links dont have history , sneaky links are not ex's'

'For Jobe’s birthday you flew me out, for Mark’s and Denise’s birthday you flew me out to celebrate with you and them. When you went to go check on your grandma I was there, all of this happened when we were broken up. Doesn’t this sound particularly “together” to you ?

'I explicitly rememeber telling you that if this was truly over than the fucking, and seeing each others family and all that had to stop, and then what did you do, you came to London the very next month and stayed 3 nights.'

'So excuse me for feeling cheated on, Jude’ you pant, out of breathe, you take some tissue roll from your counter top, wiping your eyes. Saying all of this makes you feel dumb, and taken advantage off.

He only looks at you, with regret, sympathy. Stillness befriended him. He turns around going to sit down.

“I wish you and Laura the best in the future.”

Jude sits down on your black fur rug, playing with his fingers, something he never did unless we was uncomfortable. His plump lips parted looking at the ground.

He clears his throat, his eyes glazed over. His tone was soft, you'd given a different persepctive he was to blind to have seen

'Love, I've tried to explain to you that there was no emotional connection there with Laura, she was something easy, she was something i used, as horrible as it sounds, to distract myself from the fact that i felt like i might lose you, the love of my life. But now that, well, we were back on track I feel the need to tell you because i don’t want anything in the way of our relationship progression. I - can assure all the while we have been sleeping with other, i swear i havent so much as touched another girl, this happened in early April before we started messing around again. When you gave me the expression it was really done. I needed to tell you about it today, because she’s been threatening to tell people and news outlets. And if she did that-“ he paused swallowing the lump in his throat.

'It would kill me Ti, you have to believe me, i don’t want to do this thing called life without, i'd rather die' he swears.

You stand there watching him, your blunt was now finished and to be honest you were so high, not even his most compassionate love poem would sober you up.

You start to clap, obnoxiously 'Weooooo, and the Oscar goes to Jude Belligoallll, wooooo', you fall into a fit of laughter.

He wasn’t amused. Not one bit. He looks directly at you, his widened eyes connecting with your red hazy ones.

You walk over to sit down infront of him on the floor. He listens attentively.

'Ok that was mean, sorry' you giggle

'Jude you can't hurt me and then apologize expecting everything to be better again, we need to - ' you hesistate trying to find the right words.

'To, level the score, surely. You play football baby, you know how it goes. We need to draw, right now its 1-0 to you. When I score, then its over right because then it'll be 1-1', you advise.

'Between me and you' I lean in closer, he stares following my lips.

'I like the look of Levi', you draw back, you lick your lips. The cotton mouth getting to you.

'I need water Jude, and you look like you've just seen a ghost. So I'll make that two waters, since you're not going to leave anytime soon right?'.

He snickers,a frown on his face when he grabs my jaw, tight.

'You're not going to do such a thing, not to me'

'So what? you can do it but I can't, boy please' you tut trying to leave from his grip.

'Sleep with him or any man for that matter and I swear I'll make you miserable' he swears

Your mouth drops, the audacity you think mentally

'Jude you're insane, clinically -'

' I mean just think of all the friends you've lost, because they were trying to fuck me, all those friends you've had to cut off are at my beck and call you know that right'

'You wouldnt dare' you snatch out of his grip on your jaw. You felt dizzy moving your head too fast, and the cali was only intensifiying both feeling of heartbreak and dizziness.

'I actually hate you Jude, oh my God, why would you say that?" you softly cried. It was such as slap in your face, espeically because those women he was mentioning were childhood bestfriends that it had taken you ages to get over, still to this day.

You stumble up, stomping into your room, slamming the door shut.

'What, are your feelings hurt baby?" he shouts after me, mockingly. His voice following me up the stairs.

---

part 2 may have smut

this was requested, a toxic jude. this page is for my girls that have been through many toxic relationships. im here to heal you LMAOO

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham x black reader #Jude #real madrid #kylian mbappe #england #jude bellingham fanfic #jude x reader #jobe bellingham x black!reader #jobe bellingham x reader #jobe bellingham

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nottivagos · 2 days ago

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Hello! Welcome to Notti's "Not So Innocent" Notebook, where I write some filth to make your Monday a little better <3 || 18+ mdni pls and ty

Model Photographer!Carlos Sainz that can’t help but do a dirty photoshoot for his own dirty pleasures.

Imagine he’s been your personal— or at least go-to— photographer since you joined your modelling agency all those years ago. He was kind, maybe a little too kind, from your first ever interaction with him and he welcomingly taught you everything you needed to know. And ever since then you’d formed a close bond with him.

From the first ever shoot he had with you he was fixated on your body. The way different designer outfits and lavish accessories just clung to your figure in amazing, even eye-opening ways, made his mouth water. Tight fabrics clinging to your soft curves ever so snugly in all the right ways, he had a right to be swoon. Your body had become so obsessive and addictive to him that he had to start taking his personal work camera home just so he could jerk off the growing stiffness that tortured him all day whenever he had a photo session with you!

But today? Well, Carlos wanted to try something different. ‘A bit of excitement’, was the way he sold it to you. A naked photoshoot? But, wouldn’t that make you a pornstar? You definitely weren’t a pornstar, maybe Carlos had the wrong person! At first, yes you were sceptical, but the calming thickness of his accent and smoothness of his reassurances put your uneased mind at rest. After all, Carlos did have more experience than you. Of course he knew what he was doing!

”Just a few photos, nena,” the Spaniard mumbled in that beautiful accent as he looked at your unsure face. ”I only want to spice things up a little. Give you some more.. creative freedom, hm? When have I ever failed you in ideas?” He wasn’t wrong. Carlos’s ideas usually got you the front page in many magazines.

So you reluctantly complied. You felt safe in his hands, and honestly, you even thought it may be nice to show off some skin for once in a while. You hardly ever did it with your ‘normal gigs’, so this fun one might be the chance of something new. Despite his job description, Carlos had even gone out of his way to choose and pick out some cleavage for you! You couldn’t let him down after he went through all of that stress for you.

You quickly slid into the lacy bra and silky thong, which exquisitely complimented your slim frame perfectly, highlighting all the right areas of your bare body, giddy and full of anticipation for this exciting session with Carlos.

Carlos’s breathing hitched the moment you walked back onto set after changing into your clothes. The way your hips gracefully swayed slightly, ass jiggling with each step, black lace thigh-high tights covering your smooth, shaved legs— Carlos couldn’t help but feel a growing imprint in his pants, rubbing uncomfortably as his length kept contained in his tightening boxers. ”Where do you want me first, Carlos?” you asked with your new-found confidence, standing proudly in your revealing lingerie, biting your bottom lip ever so slightly as you ogled at the saucy set design as if it was straight out of a porno.

Trying to keep composed, Carlos cleared his throat, adjusting himself as his clothes became stifling, his body burning with desire.

”Let’s try the... desk first, cariño.” The Spaniard suggested in a croaky voice, dangerously low enough for you to hear, moving his camera to be placed directly in front of the miniature office-like set. ”Here looks good,” he motioned you over with a finger.

Gliding across to where Carlos had set up base, his eyes lingered and hawked over your form for a little too long than he should have, noticing how your nipples had hardened as a gush of cold air hit your body from the air conditioning unit above. God, he yearned to just take you there, groping and pulling at your breasts until they were hardened and sore peaks, the sweet moans escaping your plump lips as he brushed his calloused fingers over your sensitive skin.

”Ass up.” he commanded darkly, his voice thicker and more tar-like now. A smirk formed on his sly lips as you followed his every word, treating them as the modelling gospel. ”Good girl, that’s perfect,” he purred out a praise.

A cheeky giggle escaped your lips as your boobs dangled onto the polished wood, elbows perking up your torso so you had a well-kept posture. Your rear lifted gracefully into the air as your back arched ever so perfectly, the angle allowing some stray, long locks of your hair to trail down your bare back.

”Is this okay?” You asked with a slight nervousness in your tone, tilting your head to look at Carlos for a moment. He looked composed at your brief glance, nodding sharply, but when your head turned back to look at the wall, he was teetering on the brink of losing control, the desire of pounding his throbbing cock into your slick, tight pussy driving him crazy.

Surely a few shots wouldn’t hurt, right?

HELLO! Thanks for reading this if you do, I really appreciate it:) If you have any dirty ideas feel free to message me in my inbox, I'd love to hear your filth! - notti<3

#nottivagos #carlos sainz #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 x reader #cs55 #carlos sainz drabbles #carlos #f1 carlos #f1 scenarios #f1 x female reader #f1 x you #carlos sainz jr #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x reader #smut

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prettytallalien · 2 days ago

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I’m backkk 😝

Took a much needed little mental heath break. And now I’m back and with another fixation I can’t get enough of aquatic gardens 🤩. I may currently be growing lotus’s in my bedroom lol. Also does anyone know a good place to buy healthy tiger lotus’s.

Anyway I’m rambling if you want to support me & my hobbies click the the link 🫶 love you guys🥰

https://throne.com/prettytallalien

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ivymarquis · 8 hours ago

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Say You Won't Let Go

Greedy Little Thing

Pairing| John Price x F!Single Mom!Reader Rating| E Word Count| 4.3k Kinks/Content/Warnings| Zombie!AU, PiV, Oral (F!Receiving), pregnancy sex, wee bit of lactation kink

First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

If you thought your solo play time in the shower would calm you down, you thought wrong.

You’re truly spinning out and losing your mind. That is the only reasonable explanation for the level of arousal flooding your system at the moment.

All of a sudden you can’t help but be keyed into John’s every move. And surely you are projecting every depraved thought squirming around in your little brain- you’re imagining that he’s encroaching that much more into your personal space. His hands- broad and warm- gentle as always feel a bit firmer with his hold as he either brushes past you or herds you where he wants you.

You’re distracted, eyes fixated at the boarded up windows like they’re a big screen showing your favorite sitcom. The book you found lies open on the table, failing to capture your interest in favor of your imagination. Of another universe where John’s interest isn’t a figment of your imagination and he’s willing to do something about it.

“Something on your mind, Love?” John’s voice startles you out of your thoughts and has you jumping on reflex. “Easy- ‘s just me,” he soothes as he crosses the distance from the doorway to the table you’re sitting at.

“Nothing important,” you answer breezily, trying desperately to hide that you were just thinking about the various ways he could fold you like a piece of paper. Can always lie and claim to be reminiscing on the past.

He has no reason to doubt you, the rumbling hum of acknowledgment from him showing that you’ve not gained any unwanted attention.

You don’t know what’s wrong with you, what all of a sudden has you acting like a cat in heat. The only thing you haven’t done at this point is lift your skirts and bend over the table in invitation.

Any hope you may have of getting back into your book is dashed as he comes closer.

You’ve never been one to fixate on how a man smells- and not even cologne, since that’s not an option these days really. But how he actually smells- you have no idea if you’re pulling off subtle well, but he smells divine and you know nothing will get done if you don’t get a hold of yourself.

Hopefully your sinful thoughts are not evident on your face, but if they are then he doesn’t call you on it.

It’s not uncommon for John to leave you alone for stretches and sporadically swing by to check on you. You know he’s in the neighborhood lurking for supplies and hoping to scrap up radio parts.

The drop ins soothe your anxiety- that he is just across the street, or a few houses down.

Although it’s still the end of the world and anything can happen. You begrudgingly accept that he has to leave on occasion so you don’t starve to death in the middle of winter in this frozen tundra.

“Gonna need to go further out today, Love. Not sure when I’ll be back.”

Your displeasure is blatant across your face.

“None of that, now,” he reproaches firmly. “I’ll come back when I can. I want you back upstairs before the sun goes down.”

You’re pouting like a child, your earlier fantasies completely derailed as your thoughts swirl around the anxiety of being abandoned. Of course there’s a part of you that knows this is an inevitability. There’s only so many supplies in the area. John is reluctant to move you, knowing that the pair of you are relatively safe and hidden which means he’ll have to move further out to scavenge to care for you.

Your lack of an immediate response prompts him to reach out and cup your face, prying your mind from your surly thoughts. By now you know him well enough to understand the cue for what it is- a silent ask for you to soften back up to him and quit being a brat about him leaving.

The logical part of your brain understands that there’s no choice considering you don’t wish to starve to death. Unfortunately until further notice your hormones are what call the shots so you can’t help yourself other than to be in duress over the thought of John leaving you for more than a few hours.

“Why are you being difficult, hm?” He ponders, tone substantially softer than one might expect.

“I’m not trying to be,” you protest gently, settling into his hold.

“And yet here we are,” his tone is more amused than anything else.

His free hand drops to your belly, something that immediately garners the attention of your baby who gives a volley of kicks.

“You can’t wind him up and then leave me here alone to deal with him,” now it’s your turn to reproach John good naturedly.

Again, you blame your hormones. You like John’s hands on you- like John touching you.

“He’ll be a good lad for his mummy, won’t he?” He prompts the baby, and you don’t protest as his hand smooths down your belly.

This time your child is not called to action, deciding to spare your poor ribs from another litany of kicks. You decide to not question the way he immediately quiets down at John’s prompting.

Despite the conversation you just had, you can’t help but pout and mope as John leaves. You keep it to yourself, even though you know your anxiety is bleeding through and he knows exactly what your thoughts on the matter are.

There’s nothing to be done for it though, so you’re left alone with nothing but Fred’s shadow and your child for company.

You listen to John’s request and begin your trek up the stairs just before it starts to get dark. The natural lighting in the house is weird and casts odd shadows. It's overcast and a new moon, which will leave little to guide you with when the sun goes down.

With only your thoughts to occupy you, you think about silly little things because if you don’t then you’ll be cognizant of the crushing realization of your solitude. That John is out there somewhere in the murky darkness and there is no guarantee that he will come back to you.

You’d have made a piss poor military wife.

It’s easier to think about how things could be in another life- if you would have met the handsome captain in some bar and flirted shamelessly in the hopes that he liked you enough to take you home and show you a good time.

That you were at his home, in his bed, with his baby nestled under your ribcage.

But you’re not, although in a way you are as close to that fantasy as you can get.

You’re tucked into the little hidey hole that John has chosen to squirrel you away, waiting for his return upstairs just as he asked while your child does somersaults and uses a kidney for soccer practice.

Somewhere between bouts of fretting, you manage to fall asleep. It’s certainly not the best sleep of your life by any stretch but you’ve also had worse without question.

It’s also easily disrupted. There’s a part of you that is still keen to your surroundings- that’s still aware that you’re alone in the dark and the cold, and that to truly slip under the haze of sleep could sign your death warrant.

You don’t quite wake at the sound of the door creaking, but you drift that much closer to the land of the living.

It’s when the bed dips under his weight that you stir, partly in offense at the cold air that creeps under the covers with him.

The greeting that escapes you is more of a whine than anything else, hands grabbing at him and trying to burrow under the weight of him.

“I’m right here, lovely- told you I’d be back.” He soothes you like an over reactive pet that’s absolutely enthralled with his return and showcasing it by trying to crawl into his skin.

He’s warm, a welcome reprieve from the biting cold waiting for you just outside your blankets. You want to melt at the sensation of his hands on your back. You’re a puddle of a human being in his hold.

And somewhere between your squirming and his soothing, you’re not completely sure who ends up kissing who first but you have zero complaints.

Quickly your searching hands find purchase on him, just as his anchor you to him.

You’re drowning, you think- head dizzy, completely disoriented as lust burns through you. This is everything you’ve been pining for and now that it’s in your hold you don’t quite know what to do with it.

John rolls you gently onto your back as the pair of you break for air- hovers above you, mindful of your belly while still not being too far away.

“Tell me to stop,” he looks as flustered as you feel, and a part of you preens in the knowledge that you’ve impacted him the way he’s impacted you. That you haven’t been the only one yearning for more.

“Please don’t s-“ you don’t even finish the sentence before he’s on you again, the covers rustling as he shuffles to position himself closer to you.

“Good girl” he praises against your lips, the words itching something seated deep inside you.

John’s hands roam your body, searching for the hemline of your dress only to hike the skirt up to your hips once he finds it.

“Please,” you whimper and try to arch under his touch.

Rather than immediately diving under the skirt of your dress, he continues to feel up your chest, back, hips and thighs. You could practically melt at the attention, gladly feeling him up in turn before your hands grope down his chest to pry at his shirt. Your make out is briefly interrupted as he shucks his shirt, although in the dim lighting of the dark it’s hard to fully appreciate everything he’s displaying at the moment.

“God, you are soft,” he marvels, lips leaving yours to kiss down your neck.

You realize that he’s trying to keep the covers over you as he works your dress up your body, pooling the fabric around your collar bones as his attention drifts from your neck to your sternum.

One hand gropes at a breast as he teases your nipple with his tongue, immediately making you gasp and grab his hair.

“Gentle!” You correct him- while under normal circumstances his grip on you would have been perfectly acceptable, you’re currently very pregnant and part of that means your chest has been sore the last few weeks. You’re so sensitive now.

“I’m sorry, lovely. I’ll be gentle,” he apologizes, and you relax back into the mattress.True to his promise, John is far more careful of where he gropes and kisses, delighting in all the noises you make.

The sensitivity in your breasts has you squirming underneath him, whining in pleasure.

You feel strung out and desperate, some nebulous part of you aware that you're in trouble if you're already this amped up and he's barely begun to touch you yet.

Arching into his hold, you both freeze at the same moment you feel something akin to a release in the pressure of your chest. You haven't quite been sure when you would start actually lactating- knowing that the real stuff wouldn't come in until after birth, but knowing that there was the colostrum prior.

You're not quite sure what you feel. Flustered? Relieved? Embarrassed? But John remains unflappable, a mere "Tastes sweet" before returning to the task at hand.

The hand not anchoring your breast for his mouth drifts down your side, ghosting over the fabric of your underwear. You're wet- keenly aware of how his fingers trace across your skin. Gooseflesh rises in the wake of his touch, something to do less with the all encompassing chill that you two are trying to avoid and more to do with the lust that is firmly growing in your belly. The gusset of your panties doesn't take long to soak as he teases you over the fabric.

Your hips twitch, trying desperately to follow his fingers.

You want more. It's been so long since you've had anyone touch you, and the weight of John over you feels phenomenal. "Please, John- I need you to touch me." Never in all your days have you actually begged a man to touch you, but your life has just been full of unexpected surprises lately.

"I'll take care of you, lovely- gotta be patient," he consoles you, paired with a teasing suck of one nipple before moving across your chest to get to the other one.

You don't want to be patient. You want him- now- and even though you actively have him right in this moment it's somehow still not enough. You'd say you're like an animal in heat, but animals in heat aren't usually ready to calve at any moment. It's almost alarming how little control you have over your own body right now. You're little more than your most base urges with spread thighs and heaving breaths as you keenly watch him.

"Gotta get you ready for me, sweetheart," he soothes with his words as his hand slips under the waistband of your panties. "'m not a small man- don't want to hurt you."

You feel dizzy just at the thought. You're well acquainted with what he's packing at this point, and the knowledge he's going to try to make sure it's good for you too is enough for you to find what minimal patience you possess.

The feel of his fingertips lightly searching for your clit has your legs spreading and thighs twitching in anticipation. He's an insufferable tease, tracing the pad of one calloused fingertip around your vulva and teasing the seam of your lower lips. Just enough to keep you keyed in on him, hook line and sinker, whining for more like an anxious dog.

When he finally parts your pussy with his fingers, you arch up into his hold as he spreads your wetness around. "Bein’ such a good girl f'r me" his praise is low and gravely and shoots straight between your thighs.

God the things that this man could make you do if he asked you nicely.

"John, please!"

"So impatient" he chuckles against your soft skin, nipping at you ever so carefully. Just enough to get your skin between his teeth, the squeal that escapes you more in anticipation than from any actual discomfort.

He shushes you, lapping at the patch of skin that he nipped in a mock apology as the hand slipping between your lower lips slides one finger inside of you.

There's certainly more to his one finger than to your own, and you must be such a greedy little thing tonight because you're still wanting another finger. John is in no hurry it seems, content to rock his one finger in and out of you as your body gets wetter in preparation of future events.

His hand doesn't leave from between your thighs, but he moves further under the covers where they've obscured him completely, falling around your collar bones. Certainly warmer for the pair of you for him to do this like this, although your hips are already rocking.

You've got a reasonable guess on what he's about to do, but not being able to physically see him does, you admit, add a certain level of excitement. There's nothing you can do other than lay on your back patiently like a good girl and wait for him to make his next move. His warm breath on your pussy makes you jolt, a thrill shooting up your spine.

You haven't gotten head in ages- certainly not with your last beau.

"Try to be quiet for me, lovely. Don't need anything outside hearing your pretty noises," is all the warning you get before he's lowering his mouth to you.

It is certainly easier said than done- partly you manage to keep your whines and whimpers down, but it just makes your eyes want to roll back the way John doesn't hesitate to put his tongue to work.With a cursory lap of your vulva, he's quick to hone his attention on your clit while his finger continues to slip in and out of you.

After a few thrusts of his wrists you have to turn your head and muffle yourself with a pillow as he gives you the second finger you've been so keen for. His fingers stroking you from the inside paired with his tongue on your clit is certainly enough to work you steadily towards your orgasm.

You're not sure that you're going to last much longer when he starts to crook his fingers against the anterior wall of you- seems he knows exactly how to try to wring out every last drop of pleasure from you, and you're more than game to let him.

"John," your whine is a small, pleading thing this time- not the same feverish anxious plea from earlier, attempting to get him to give exactly what you want. This is a softer cry, a plea and an acknowledgement all wrapped together that he will take you where you're trying to go if you'll just let him do it.

Cold be damned, your activities under the sheets have a sheen of sweat breaking out over your skin. You pull the blanket off of you, partially because you're starting to get hot and partially on the reflex that you want to watch him- although that isn't really going to be an option with your belly in the way. "Oh my God, please don't stop,” you beg, perfectly able to picture the smug grin on his face as you feel the vibration of him chuckling in amusement at you.

Your squirming is dealt with swiftly as he grips one of your hips with his free hand, holding you in place as you rock against his mouth. The pleasure coiling in your belly twists down tighter and tighter, your staccato breaths hitching as he pushes you closer to your climax.

Right when the dam breaks, it seems both of you were on the same page- one of your hands clamping over your mouth to muffle yourself right at the moment John straightens a bit and abandons your hip in favor of trying to cover your mouth as well.

Which suddenly puts you in the position of being completely at his mercy- that he's using the hand buried between your legs to see how much he can get you to squeal now that your noises are muffled to his standard.

When he lets up, you're dizzy and gasping for air. This is so much more intense than the orgasm you'd brought yourself to in the shower and that one had literally brought you to your knees. There's a part of your brain still cognizant enough that you want to return the favor- That he's made you feel absolutely divine and it's only fair to reciprocate that.

However, rather than functional words, all you can come up with is to just paw at the top of his pants, mumbling more so than speaking "I want- I-"

Despite your complete lack of clarity, he seems to understand what your mission is regardless.

"We can worry about that later, Love," he assures you, coaxing you onto your side and getting in close behind you. Despite having just gotten yours, for a moment you are incredulous at the idea that he's about to just tuck you back into bed and go to sleep.Then you realize the covers are still down around your ankles, and your night dress up across your breasts- and, blessedly, that he's pulling down his pants.

God you wish you could see it, but between the darkness and the angle with him behind you it's not really an option. You can see enough shadows to have a vague idea of where he is behind you, but also the lack of vision is adding to the experience.

Just groping and touching in the dark like a pair of frisky teenagers trying to not get caught.

"I've got what you need right here, pretty girl- lift your leg up for me," he instructs and you comply immediately.

Oh God he's big. You knew that, sorta- have been well acquainted with what he feels like pressing up against you with morning wood. And he just told you that you needed to be prepped in order to take him.

But somehow this feels completely different, and here you are lying soft and compliant on your side with your legs spread wondering how the fuck he's going to make it fit.You're completely gagging for it either way.

"Please, please, plea-" you beg, head turning his direction in the dark even if you can't see well. Your begging is cut off as he drags his cock across your swollen folds, sensitive from the earlier attention he paid to you.

"Easy, lovely. Told you I'd take care of you," he instructs, and it takes everything in you to lie still in his hold while he lines himself up with you.

Your mind is spinning a hundred miles an hour, excited by the prospect as he finally pushes the head in and gives a shallow thrust.

His chest is lined up to your back, one hand helping prop up your thigh to give better access. It's the most intimate position the two of you can manage, and it gives you a front row seat as he groans low in the back of his throat.

Oh, you like that noise.

You want to hear him make it again.

"Christ you're warm," he chokes, and a deep satisfaction rolls through you. Just knowing that he's as affected by you, as you are by him is enough to stroke your ego.

"John, I can't wait anymore," you whine, pushing back against him in encouragement for him to move. Since when did you become such a needy little mess? It would be embarrassing if you could bring yourself to care.

You've been long overdue for a good romp between the sheets, and you are just thrilled to pieces that the captain has decided to be the one up for the task.

"You are an impatient creature, aren't you pet?" His admonishment is a gentle thing, as are his first few thrusts as your bodies acclimate to each other.

"It feels so good. Want you to feel good too," you plead your case, and really who was he to disagree with that?

"Feels fuckin' incredible, lovely, don't you worry about that. Sweet pussy of yours has me like a vice," You push back against his thrusts, eyes rolling as the angle lets him hit that one spot in you. Pragmatically, this position was the best to allow the pair of you to be close to each other while not overcrowding around your belly- allow some level of intimacy, as John is able to get up close behind you, and you can reasonably turn to touch and paw at him. But God is it also working for you as far as bringing you pleasure. Each time his hips bury against the plush of your ass he hits that spot that makes your leg shake in his hold.

"Gonna get you there, lovely, just-" it strokes your ego that he's babbling slightly as he speaks. That he's just as excited to have access to your body, to let you have him like this.

"John, right there- I, ah!- Oh God, right there," your pleading seems to just ramp him up. He's not rough with you by any stretch, just clearly comfortable that he's not going to hurt you and confident that your body's acclimated to take all of him. It's your turn to babble, whimpering and whining in his hold. The hand holding your thigh spread coaxes your leg over his hip, hand drifting back to your clit to stroke the little bundle of nerves.

"Just like that, hm?" he asks you like your eyes aren't almost crossing from how good he's giving it to you.

"Oh my God, please!" your brain's possibly broken. Your entire universe has condensed down to you, and him, and this bed and how damn good he's making you feel.

A quick study, he's already learned your tells that you're inching closer to your climax.

"You can do it, pet- cum for me. I wanna see your pretty face when you cum all over my cock.”

You’re past words, clinging to him with one hand and the sheets with the other as you breathe and try to relax your tensing body.

“That’s it, good girl- deep breaths,” he coaxes you, and that’s the magic combination to get you seeing fireworks.

He must still doubt your ability to stifle your orgasm yourself, muffling your noises by grabbing your face and turning it so he can kiss you. You certainly have no complaints, aware by the way his pace changes for a few thrusts that he’s not very far behind you before reaching his own end.

For a moment, the pair of you recline in silence as you come down from your respective highs. The heat the two of you made quickly starts to dissipate in the night with the covers still bunched at the foot of the bed, making you shiver as the cold finally settles back over you.

That movement is enough to bring John out of whatever post coital bliss he was in, shifting behind you to pull out.

“Hang on, love,” he instructs while pulling his pants back over his hips before pulling your dress back down your legs and grabbing the covers.

You feel calm for the first time in days, content to laze on your side with John behind you as he snuggles in next to you.

You remember turning your head back towards him for one last kiss- something slow and soft and gentle- and don’t even realize it when you fall asleep.

Age in bio/pinned or I will block you ♡

#john price x reader #John x love #price x you #zombie au #pregnant reader #single mom reader #lactation kink #pregnancy sex #my writing

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straykids-2001 · 17 hours ago

Text

Request:If you are up for it, maybe dom reader x Myung-Gi. It’s up to you what you want to do with the story, but if you need a little idea, it could be the reader being a guard and protecting Myung-Gi from Thanos and his gang. Thank you for reading this 💖

Male reader x myung-gi (player 333)

Warning: Anal, mlm, blowjob, fucking even though they don't know each, mention of guns, Random room, male reader, dom reader, sub myung-gi, and more probably.

YN stood at the door, holding his gun as he watched myung-gi as thanos and his gang walked up to myung-gi. Making you take a step forward, thano mouth was moving, and next thing Yn know he was threwing punchs, Yn walked up, pressing his gun on thano's back

Myung-gi looked up in a slightly shook as he heard a gun cock, seeing the guard that's been protecting him, standing behind thanos woth his gun to his back

Y/N stood there, holding his gun. "No fighting." I said behind my mask, pushing my gun deeper in thanos back

Thanos let out a growl, his muscles tensing up as he slowly raised his hands. "This has nothing to do with you, guard." He spat out, looking over his shoulder at you.

I slid the gun up to his head. "You've seen us kill people already... Do you really want to be on the end of it right now?" I asked, putting my finger in the trigger.

Thanos's eyes widened slightly as the gun pressed against his head, his men around him tensing up as well. "Fine. We'll back off." He muttered through gritted

I pulled the gun back and grabbed myung-gi, pulling him with me, out of the room. Myung-gi stumbled a bit as you pulled him along, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and relief.

Myung-gi stumbled a bit as you pulled him along, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and relief. "W-who are you?" He asked, glancing back at the room as the door closed behind them.

"Shh." I muttered, pulling him to a private room, closing the door behind us, looking around the room to see if there were cameras

Myung-gi looked around the room as well, still bewildered by your sudden appearance and forceful action.

"You... you saved me back there." He said quietly, his voice shaking slightly. Making me chuckled and looked at him.

"And in every other game." I muttered, taking my mask off and pushing my hair back and wiping the sweat off my face. Myung-gi's eyes widened as you took off your mask, his gaze fixated on your face. "You... you've been protecting me this whole time?" He asked, his voice filled with surprise and gratitude.

"Yeah, I've been watching every game, making sure you survive." I told him, taking my gun off and sitting it down. Myung-gi stared at you for a moment, his expression filled with disbelief.

"But... why? Why would you go through all that trouble for me?". grinned and moved closer to him with a grin on my lips. "Through you were cute, I mean look at you." I said lowly, gently grabbing his waist

Myung-gi's face turned bright red as you approached him and grabbed his waist. He was caught off guard by your compliment and touch, his heart racing in his chest.

"W-wait, what?" He stammered, trying to process your words. I chuckled and pushed him against the wall, "I....thought....you....were....cute." You said, slowly sliding my hand up his jacket.

Myung-gi's breath hitched as his back hit the wall, his body now pinned between you and the hard surface. His face was flushed, and his eyes were wide as he felt your hand slide up his jacket.

"Y-you... you find me... cute?" He repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. You nodded and tilted my head. "Yeah." You whispered, looking him over

I nodded and tilted my head. "Yeah." I whispered, looking him over, Myung-gi's blush deepened as you looked him over, his body trembling slightly under your gaze.

"But... I'm just a player. A nobody. Why would you be interested in me?" He asked, his voice tinged with disbelief and vulnerability.

I laughed and leaned down to his neck. "May I?" I asked gently, Myung-gi's breath hitched again as you leaned down to his neck, his heart thumping loudly in his chest. "Y-yeah..." He managed to say, his voice shaky and full of anticipation.

I smirked and kissed his neck, leaving kisses on his collarbone, holding him close to me. "Show you on the first game, and god, I wanted to go down there and take you, right there and then." Myung-gi's breath caught in his throat as you started to kiss his neck, his body melting against yours as he clung to you. He closed his eyes, a soft moan escaping his lips.

"You... you wanted me that badly?" He asked, his voice filled with a mix of surprise and excitement. "So bad." I whispered, sucking in his neck, and groaned, unzipping his jacket slowly, then pushed it off his shoulders

Myung-gi's body shuddered as you sucked on his neck, a shiver running down his spine. He whimpered softly as you unzipped his jacket, his skin burning under your touch.

"Ah... nnh..." He moaned, his arms wrapping around your neck as he clung to you tightly. I pushed my crotch against him and moved up to kiss him, moving my hand up to his cheek, holding his gently as we kissed

Myung-gi gasped as you pressed your crotch against him, his hips involuntarily bucking against yours. He moaned into the kiss, his tongue slipping out to meet yours.

He leaned into your touch, his body trembling with desire as you held his face gently. I pulled back and grinned. "May I?" I asked, grabbing his track pants, hooking my finger in the top of his pants,

Myung-gi looked up at you, his eyes filled with lust and anticipation. He nodded, his breathing ragged as he bit his lip.

"Yes... please..." He whispered, his body arching towards you. I pulled them down and glanced up at him with smirk, rubbing my hand over the small bulge,

I pulled them down and glanced up at him with smirk, rubbing my hand over the small bulge. Myung-gi gasped again, his head falling back against the wall as you pulled his pants down. He let out a soft moan as you rubbed your hand over his bulge, his body growing more and more sensitive to your touch.

"Ahh... please..." He whimpered, his hips bucking into your hand. "So cute, baby." I whispered, pressing a kiss against his covered bulge, holding his thighs

Myung-gi's face flushed a deep red at your words, his heart racing even faster. He bit his lip to hold back another moan as you kissed his bulge, his thighs quivering under your hands.

"Nnh... please... touch me more..." He begged, his voice barely above a whisper. "Yeah, want more?" I asked lowly, licking up it, glancing up at him with a smirk on my lips. Myung-gi's eyes widened as you licked up his bulge, his hips jerking at the sensation.

"Y-yes... please, more... I need more..." He whimpered, his body trembling with need. I pulled back and pulled down his underwear, watching his cock spring up and hit his stomach, I grabbed it and licked the tip.

Myung-gi gasped loudly as his cock was exposed, a shiver running through his body as it hit his stomach. He watched you with wide eyes as you grabbed his length, his breath hitching as you licked the tip.

"Ah... hah... ahh..." He moaned, his body writhing against the wall. I took him in my mouth and groaned around him, bobbing my head as I sucked him off

Myung-gi's eyes rolled back in his head as you took him in your mouth, a strangled moan escaping his lips. He gripped your hair tightly, his hips bucking against your mouth as you bobbed up and down.

"Oh god... yes... please don't stop..." He whimpered, his voice filled with desperation.

I grabbed his balls and gave them a soft squeeze, taking his whole length in my mouth, moving faster. Myung-gi cried out in pleasure as you squeezed his balls, his body trembling violently. He was panting heavily, his moans growing louder and more desperate as you took him all the way into your mouth.

"Ahh... I'm... I'm close..." He warned, his grip on your hair tightening. I licked the vein on his cock and pulled back, wrapping my hand around him, moving it up and down fast." So fucking cute baby." I muttered and stood up, looking at him

Myung-gi let out a whine as you pulled away, his cock twitching in your hand as he panted heavily. He looked up at you, his eyes clouded with lust and need.

"Nnh... please... I need to cum..." He begged, his body arching into your touch. "Yeah, got to cum baby?" I asked lowly, moving my hand faster, Myung-gi nodded frantically, his hips thrusting up into your hand.

"Yes... please, I need to cum so bad..." He pleaded, his voice hoarse with desire. "I'm... I'm gonna cum..."

"Cum baby, cum on my hand." I whispered in his ear, giving him a squeeze. Myung-gi's body tensed as he reached his peak, his eyes rolling back in his head as he let out a loud cry. He came hard, his cum shooting out onto your hand and his stomach.

"Ahhh... fuck... oh god..." He moaned, his body trembling as he rode out his orgasm.

I smirked and licked my hand, groaning at the taste of him. "Taste so good, sweetheart." I muttered, licking my lips. Myung-gi blushed furiously as he watched you lick his cum off your hand, a shiver running through his body at the sight.

"Y-you... you're gonna make me hard again..." He mumbled, still trying to catch his breath. I chuckled and sat on the bed, pulling my outfit off, i pulled my boxers to make my cock spring out and hit my stomach, hissing slightly as the cold air hit it. Myung-gi's eyes widened as you undressed, his gaze fixed on your exposed body. He watched as your cock sprang free, a shiver of desire running through him.

I chuckled and pulled him to my lap, holding his waist gently, "Why, thank you." I said lowly, with a smile. Myung-gi let out a soft moan as you pulled him into your lap, his body pressed against yours. He wrapped his arms around your neck, a small smile on his face.

"You're welcome... but you're really making it hard for me to resist you..." He said, his voice tinged with both humor and desire.

I reached over and grabbed some lube, and pouring some on my cock, rubbing it in. Myung-gi watched intently as you grabbed the lube, his breath hitching as you poured some onto your cock. He bit his lip, anticipation building inside him as you rubbed it in.

"Are you... going to take me?" He asked, his voice filled with a mixture of excitement and eagerness.

"May I take you?" I asked softly, holding his hips up, looking at him with a soft look in my eyes. Myung-gi nodded, his eyes locked onto yours.

"Yes... please... take me." He whispered, his body quivering in your grip. "I want you to claim me..."

I chuckled and lowered him down on me, groaning at how tight he was. "Feels so good, baby." I moaned deeply, putting my head back. Myung-gi gasped as you entered him, his body clenching around your cock. He let out a small whimper, his nails digging into your shoulders.

"Ahh... oh god... you're so big..." He moaned, his eyes fluttering shut as he adjusted to your size.

I let him adjust to my size, holding his waist gently. Myung-gi took a few deep breaths, trying to relax as he adjusted to your size. After a moment, he opened his eyes and looked at you, a small smile on his face.

"I'm... I'm ready..." He whispered, slowly starting to move his hips. I nodded and thrusted up in him, "Fuck so tight baby?" I moaned, moving my hands to his ass, holding it tightly

Myung-gi let out a loud moan as you thrusted up into him, his body arching against yours.

"Ah! Yes... so tight for you..." He whimpered, his hips moving in time with your thrusts. "You fill me up so good..."

I lifted him and pushed him down over and over, "Just like that baby." I groaned, laying back pulling him closer

Myung-gi cried out as you lifted him up and down on your cock, his body trembling with pleasure. He clung to you tightly, his nails raking down your back as he rode you.

"Nnh... yes... just like that..." He moaned, burying his face in your neck. "Please... harder..."

I flipped us, causing my cock to slip out a bit, Myung-gi let out a gasp as you flipped him over, a shiver running through him as your cock slipped out momentarily. He looked up at you with needy eyes, his body writhing beneath you.

"Please... put it back in..." He begged, spreading his legs wider.

I groaned and pushed back into him, holding his waist, fucokng into him. "God, you feel so good." I moaned in his ear, moving my hand up to pinch his nipple

Myung-gi's back arched as you pushed back into him, a loud moan escaping his lips. He gripped the sheets tightly, his body trembling with each thrust.

"Ahh... ahh... yes! Right there!" He cried out, his nipple hardening under your touch. "Please... touch me more..."

I rammed back in him and moved over, sucking his nipple. Myung-gi let out a high-pitched moan as you sucked on his nipple, his body arching into your mouth. He gripped your hair tightly, pulling you closer.

"Ah... yes... harder... suck harder..." He pleaded, his eyes rolling back in his head.

"So demanding." I muttered against his nipple, bitting down on it and sucking again

Myung-gi whimpered at your words, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. But the sensation of your bite and suck made him even more needy.

"I... I can't help it..." He whined, his body writhing beneath you. "You just make me feel so good... I can't think straight..."

I chuckled and moved faster, being to pound his hole, I held myself up, grabbing his leg and putting it on my shoulder, moving faster in him "You're so tight baby, feels so good for me." I moaned loudly

Myung-gi's eyes widened as you started pounding into him even harder, his body jolting with each thrust. He let out a strangled moan, his grip on the sheets tightening.

"Ah... oh god... you're going to break me..." He panted, his voice filled with a mix of pleasure and desperation. "Keep going... please don't stop..."

I slammed into him and gasped as he squeezed at the same time "Fuck." I shout, moving my other hand to his throat. Myung-gi's eyes fluttered shut as you squeezed his throat, a low moan escaping his lips. He felt a thrill of excitement at the feeling of your hand around his neck, his body trembling with anticipation.

"Yes... yes... please... choke me..." He gasped out, his voice hoarse. I squeezed his neck and threw my head back. "Taking me so good." I muttered, slamming into him, my hips slamming against his ass

Myung-gi's eyes rolled back in his head as you squeezed his neck harder, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He clenched around your cock, his body tensing with pleasure.

"Mmm... I love it... I love how rough you are..." He moaned, his words strained. "Use me... make me yours..."

I looked down at him and moaned at the sight. "So pretty." I said, deeply, leaning down and kissing him

Myung-gi kissed you back passionately, his lips parting for your tongue. He wrapped his arms around your neck, pulling you closer as you continued to thrust into him.

"Only for you..." He whispered against your lips, his body arching up against yours. "I'm all yours..."

I groaned in his mouth and pushed my tongue against his, moving faster, hitting his sweet spot. Myung-gi moaned into your mouth as you hit his sweet spot, his body jerking with pleasure. He clung to you desperately, his nails digging into your back.

"Right there... don't stop... I'm so close..." He panted, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Going to cum?" I asked, grabbing his cock, and jerking him off as I pounded his hole, feeling him squeeze around me

Myung-gi nodded frantically, his eyes squeezed shut as he felt your hand on his cock. The combination of your thrusts and strokes was driving him wild, and he knew he wouldn't last much longer.

"Yes... yes... I'm gonna cum..." He gasped, his body tensing as he teetered on the edge of orgasm.

I hit his swweet spot again making my eyes roll back "Going to cum, fuck inside?" I grunt, bitting down on his neck

Myung-gi's eyes widened as you hit his sweet spot again, a loud cry escaping his lips. He felt his body tense up, his muscles tightening as he was pushed closer and closer to the edge.

"Yes! Yes! Inside... fill me up!" He pleaded, his voice filled with desperation.

I sucked down on his neck and let out a grunt, cumming inside of him with a couple of thrust. Myung-gi let out a strangled cry as he felt your hot cum fill him up, his own orgasm crashing over him. He arched his back, his body shaking as he came hard all over your hand and his stomach.

"Ahhh... fuck..." He gasped, his body going limp beneath you as he tried to catch his breath.

I sighed and pulled out of him, cleaning him up and laying down next to him. "I'll get you out of here." I whispered in his ear softly

Myung-gi curled up against you, still panting from the intense orgasm. He looked up at you with tired eyes, a hint of hope in his gaze.

"You will?" He whispered back, his voice barely above a whisper. "You promise?"

"Promise." I muttered, pressing a kiss on his lips gently. Myung-gi returned the kiss, his heart swelling with a mix of relief and affection. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close.

"I believe you..." He murmured, resting his head on your chest. "I trust you."

#dom reader #dom male reader #sub squid game #squid game x dom reader #squid game #dom male #player 333 #Myung-gi #request

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