#It don't matter what the conversations about or whether or not what he's saying is relevant or even coherent

[vnti-vntiety-recs]

The Cat Burglar's Heist

★ PAIRING: Ceo!Jaehyun x Cat Burglar! Reader

☆ WORD COUNT: 19.6k (sorry TT)

★ GENRE(S): Fluff, smut, angst, drama, strangers to lovers.

☆ SUMMARY: When you attempt to rob a wealthy businessman, things don't go as planned. Instead of calling the police, he offers you a job. Now, you're left uncertain about whether you can truly start anew or if your past will come back to haunt you.

★ ☆ WARNINGS: explicit sex, unprotected sex, minor character death, loneliness, theft

☆★ NOTES: probably gonna be my last fic for awhile so enjoy!

People might call you a pickpocket, a burglar, a larcenist, or a simple thief. Whatever the label, it didn’t matter to you; you always slipped away unnoticed. You never hit the same neighborhood twice, always staying light on your feet and never lingering too long in one place. There was only one rule you lived by.

Don't Get Caught.

Maintaining a low profile was essential whenever you scouted a new neighborhood. As the sun beat down, you strolled through the area with a dog at your side, scanning for the easiest target. The shades you wore partially concealed your identity while shielding your eyes from the scorching sun. Your friend’s dog trotted happily beside you, blissfully unaware of the role it played in your plan. If your friend found out you were using his beloved pet as cover for your schemes, he would kill you. You had to keep this under wraps—after all, your friends were all you had. Stealing was the only way you could keep pace with the lifestyle your friend enjoyed.

You refused to be left behind, so the money you made from stealing became your lifeline for fitting in. Each successful job meant another night out, another round of drinks, and another chance to blend seamlessly into your friend group’s lavish lifestyle. You had built your world around them, and you’d do anything to keep up appearances, even if it meant walking a dangerous line.

Daegal fit right in with the neighborhood, his designer leash and collar catching the sunlight. You wandered deeper into one of the city's wealthiest enclaves, surrounded by towering trees that served as natural barriers for the sprawling estates. Luxury cars glimmered in driveways, while some homes flaunted their riches with intricate architectural designs that spoke of unspoken fortunes.

As you walked, Daegal suddenly slowed his pace, his nose twitching at the approaching scent of another dog. You felt your palms grow clammy around the leash; the fewer people who noticed you, the better. You were keenly aware of the risks, and any unwanted attention could spell trouble.

The older lady, her silver hair gleaming in the afternoon sun, approached with her fluffy Pomeranian in tow. A wave and a smile erupted from her, directed toward Daegal, and you cursed under your breath. The last thing you needed was a conversation.

The two dogs tilted their heads, inspecting one another with the calm demeanor that only well-trained pets possess. You could feel her gaze on you, and you forced a tight smile onto your face, betraying none of your rising anxiety.

Wonderful!

"He's so cute! What's his name?" you ask politely, forcing a bright smile.

"His name is Prince, but the kids call him Pudding," the older woman replies with a hearty laugh.

You let a small chuckle escape your lips. "How adorable!"

"And what about this handsome fella?" she inquires, her eyes sparkling with warmth.

“His name?” Your mind races, almost short-circuiting. "He's… Fluffy!” you say, trying to keep your voice steady and convincing.

You know rich people have more connections than they do money, and there's a good chance she could be linked to your friend Chenle somewhere down the line. It’s safer to spin a little tale.

"Well, he's quite the charmer! I'm sure he’s brought you many joys," she continues, obliviously cheerful, while tension coils tighter in your veins. “It’s a pleasure to have you in the neighborhood! Someone as young and pretty as you would fit right in!” Her compliment catches you off guard, and you feel your cheeks heat slightly at her kind words.

“Thanks!” you reply quickly, hoping to deflect attention from the flush creeping up your face. "I love it here."

She leaned a little closer, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "You know, about a month ago, this really young CEO moved in just a block down. He's a bit too young for me, but my goodness, he’s quite the sight," she said, laughing heartily as she swatted her hand playfully, as if sharing a scandalous secret.

Rich people thrived on gossip, and you realized you didn't have to say much for her to fill you in on exactly what you wanted to know.

"A man like that has to be tied down, right?" you asked, bending down to pet her dog.

"From what I’ve heard, he lives alone," she said, raising her eyebrows suggestively. "Apparently, he works all the time. Word is, he comes home late every night. My husband says he drives an Aston Martin."

Bingo

"Thanks for the heads-up about the neighborhood hottie, but I'm not looking for a relationship right now," you joked, lightly chuckling to keep the conversation light. Just then, Daegal began to fidget, sensing your restlessness, and you took it as your cue to leave. "I’ll see you around, okay?"

As you walked a block down, your heart raced when you spotted a sleek black Aston Martin parked in a long driveway. The houses in this neighborhood were enormous. Although the properties weren’t far apart; the homes were set back from the road, mostly hidden by towering trees that provided an extra layer of privacy.

A young CEO who lives alone and works late.

You mentally sifted through the details you had gleaned from your earlier conversation. He was the perfect target.

Rich people were easy targets. Their homes, adorned with elaborate security measures, falsely reassured them of safety; all it did was signal that they had something worth taking. The flashy yard signs proclaiming "This home is under surveillance by _" told you their security company, which then told you the equipment they used. It wasn't hard to figure out how to disable it from there.

It had been a week since you first gathered your intel. Through careful observation, you had mapped out a schedule for when the house was empty and discovered how to bypass the alarm system. You’d managed to catch glimpses of the homeowner from a distance. The rumors were true; he carried himself with a confidence that only added to his undeniable charm.

Tonight was the night you would make your move. Clad in a black hoodie and sweatpants, you pull your bag over your shoulder and approach the perimeter of the house. Your heart was racing with adrenaline. You navigated the landscape smoothly, well aware of the blind spots in the security cameras. Timing was critical; every second counted.

You pressed yourself against the side of the window, heart pounding as you carefully peeked through the curtain. The green light on the alarm system by the door confirmed it wasn’t armed. This was a stroke of luck. According to your calculations, he should still be at work, and it appeared he had rushed out without arming the system.

You hesitated briefly, knowing this part was your least favorite. Breaking a window was always an awkward and potentially noisy affair. No matter how silent you tried to be, it was impossible to avoid the sound entirely. Taking a deep breath, you picked up a nearby rock, and with a swift, calculated strike, you shattered the glass.

The clatter echoed in the stillness, sending a surge of adrenaline through your veins, but you quickly reminded yourself to keep moving. You reached inside and unlocked the window, then climbed through carefully, stepping over the brittle shards that crunched beneath your feet as they scattered onto the plush carpet.

You found yourself in an open den, its decor exuding wealth and taste. Valuable paintings adorned the walls—masterpieces, maybe—but nothing small enough to pocket. You needed to keep going, focusing on finding something worthwhile.

Peeking your head out of the room, you scanned the hallway. Silence enveloped the house, amplifying the sound of your racing heartbeat. No sign of any pets, which was a relief. You made your way toward the primary areas, passing under the large winding staircase that commanded attention in the center of the home.

The layout seemed to follow suit with luxury; hallways branched off to what you assumed were the kitchen and living spaces. The primary room was likely upstairs, but there were many drawers and cabinets you could check on this level. Eager to find where the real valuables might be stashed, you decided to take a brief look around before venturing up the staircase. You shuffled quietly down the hall.

You glanced into a few rooms—one vast space was styled as a study, filled with leather-bound books and expensive-looking gadgets. A quick search through the drawers revealed a few electronic devices you could easily pocket. Moving on, you turned towards the kitchen, where gleaming countertops hinted at a lifestyle of lavish dinners and entertaining guests.

You couldn’t imagine why he would ever need a home this large if he lived alone; the sprawling floor plan was almost excessive. Each room you passed seemed to hold its own story, yet they stood untouched, as if waiting for guests that would never arrive. The formal dining room sported an enormous mahogany table, set for a feast that would never happen, and the living room boasted a grand piano that echoed a silent invitation to a party long forgotten. The atmosphere felt eerie, the elaborate decor clashing with the emptiness—like a stage set for a play that had never opened.

Your eyes darted toward the staircase. The rich wooden banister glimmered in the ambient light, inviting you to explore the secrets that lay above. You took a deep breath and ascended carefully. As you reached the landing, you spotted a door at the end of the hallway slightly ajar, the flicker of a light spilling into the dim corridor.

When you enter the room, the sweet aroma of cologne lingered in the air like a ghost, a faint reminder of its owner. The sheer magnitude of the space left you speechless. Adrenaline surged through your veins, propelling you forward to the side tables flanking the expansive bed. There, you quickly spotted a discarded high-end watch, its polished surface glimmering in the light. Alongside it lay a selection of intricate rings, each one whispering tales of luxury and allure.

As you rifled through the drawers, your fingers brushed against something solid—a wallet. You opened it, and your eyes immediately fell on the ID card nestled inside.

Jung Jaehyun 02/14/1997

Beneath the ID, you found a stack of credit cards and a few loose bills, all waiting to be claimed. You quickly slipped the wallet into your pocket. You approached the closet, and a gasp escaped your lips as the sight hit you—it resembled a mini-designer store. Expensive shoes, luxurious clothes, and shimmering jewelry lined the walls and shelves, all begging to be claimed. You wasted no time, swiftly swiping rings, watches, chains, and even a pair of stunning shoes, each item adding to the growing bounty in your backpack.

As you rummaged through the treasures, something caught your eye: a safe tucked behind a row of suits. Intrigued, you pushed the garments aside to inspect the lock. Cracking your neck, you glanced at the time—plenty of hours remained before he would return.

Just then, you heard footsteps outside the closet, and your heart dropped. You instinctively moved to hide behind the rack of suits, heart pounding in your ears.

“What the fuck?” A voice sliced through the silence, unmistakably belonging to the man you had been eyeing all week.

You held your breath, peering through the fabric. The hope flickered that he might just turn away and call the police, giving you a chance to slip out unnoticed. But instead, he stepped further into the closet, and your heart raced as you caught your first glimpse of him up close..

His hair glistened with moisture, and he wore nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, droplets of water still cascading down his skin, the steam from his shower enveloping him like a shroud. You had never seen him this close before, and the image was seared into your memory. He looked as if he had been sculpted from stone by the most masterful artist, every muscle defined, every feature striking.

His eyes narrowed as he surveyed the chaos—the discarded clothes on the floor, the missing racks of jewelry, the disarray of his closet. An annoyed sigh escaped his lips, and just as he seemed ready to turn away and leave, his gaze locked onto your hiding spot.

A jolt of panic shot through you, and you instinctively jumped back, trying to press yourself further into the fabric of the clothes. You held your breath, heart racing, as he took a step closer, eyes narrowing in suspicion. It was a moment of vulnerability and danger, a breathless standoff between the two of you.

Don't get caught

His steps were cautious as he approached, each footfall echoing in the silence of the closet. One hand gripped his towel tightly, clearly trying to maintain his modesty, while the other reached out hesitantly toward the clothes.

If it came to it, you knew you would have to fight him off and make a run for it, but with each passing second, you realized just how difficult that would be. He was built solidly and his height towered over you, casting an imposing shadow.

What if he got his hands on you? The thought sent a wave of dread through you. There would be no escaping him then.

Fuck

In a surge of adrenaline, you dashed out from your hiding spot, heart racing. His eyes widen in surprise as you rush past him, but the exhilaration of your escape was short-lived. Just a few feet away, you felt a sudden tug on your backpack that yanked you backwards.

You hit the floor with a thud, groaning as the impact jolted through you. Before you could recover, you felt a strong grip pinning you down, his hand firm against your shoulders. Panic set in, and you thrashed against his hold, fighting to break free, but he was unyielding.

As your struggle continued, exhaustion began to creep in. The fight drained from you, and you finally stopped, staring up at the man who had you pinned beneath him. His wet hair hung down over you, droplets cascading down onto your face.. His stern eyes bore into yours—there was an intensity that made your breath hitch, a mix of disbelief and something else entirely.

"Let me go!" you demanded, though your voice came out weaker than you intended. If it weren't for the predicament you found yourself in, you would have been unable to stop your wandering eyes. The towel around his waist was precariously close to slipping, a detail that, in ordinary circumstances, might have made you blush. But now, survival instincts prevailed over all else.

“If you try to run, I’ll call the cops,” he said matter-of-factly, and the gravity of his threat sent a chill down your spine.

A beat passed, your heart pounding in your chest, and finally, you nodded, conceding to the reality of the situation. There was no escape now; he had you right where he wanted you.

He released his grip on you and pulled himself off the floor, adjusting his towel. “Back to the closet, now,” he commanded, and you shuffled reluctantly back into the space that had formerly felt enticing but was now suffocating.

As you stepped in, you found yourself standing in front of the center island, where the glimmer of jewels had once laid. He followed you, shutting the door behind him, his body leaning against it like a barrier between you and freedom.

“Is everything you took in that bag?” He asked, his tone even, but there was an undertone of curiosity mixed with authority.

With a heavy heart, you hung your head and nodded, pulling your backpack off your shoulders and placing it on the floor in front of you. You could almost feel the weight of the stolen items pressing down on your conscience. You'd had visions of making thousands selling his valuables, the thrill of your heist driving you forward. But now, in the dim light of the closet, remorse washed over you like a tide.

“I’m really sorry, I—” you started, the words stumbling from your lips. What could you possibly say in a situation like this? Sorry, I almost stole a fortune from you? It felt absurd, but you didn't know how to express the chaos swirling within you.

He moved closer, looming over you as his intent gaze seemed to dissect every part of your being. It sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt small beneath his scrutiny. When he reached down, you thought he was about to pick up his possessions. But instead, he grabbed a discarded pair of sweats, and you felt a rush of a different kind of embarrassment as he stood up straight, his towel dropping to the ground. You instinctively looked away, sparing him what felt like an invasion of privacy.

Once he was dressed, he stepped back out of the closet, leaving you with a mix of relief and confusion. "Straighten this up, then come see me. Bring that bag and everything you tried to take with you," he ordered.

You swallowed hard. “Where are you going? Are you going to call the cops?”

Your mind raced with possibilities—how clever would he be if he made you tidy up while the police were on their way?

“Do as I say and you will have nothing to worry about," he replied, and there was an edge to his voice. "I don't like messes; clean that up before I change my mind."

Frustration mingled with a strange sense of gratitude. You were infuriated that he was ordering you around like a subordinate, yet the alternative—a police record—loomed much larger in your mind. Why wasn’t he calling the cops?

Taking a deep breath, you began to survey the mess you had made in your frantic attempt to bag his stuff.

It took you at least an hour to set everything back in its rightful place. You meticulously reorganized the jewelry, aligning necklaces and bracelets, smoothing over the disarray you'd caused. You busied yourself with invisible tasks afterward, finding solace in the repetitive act of pretending to straighten his shoes for the fifth time. Avoiding the inevitable confrontation with him was becoming a game of denial.

“I know you’re done; come here,” he commanded, and you froze for a moment. Biting your lip to gather your thoughts, you hesitantly grabbed your bag and stepped out into his room. He was seated on the massive California king bed, an imposing figure that radiated a mix of authority and casual dominance. Leaning back against his hands, he looked every bit like a king surveying his domain, and the sight sent a fresh wave of nerves through you.

“I know it probably doesn’t mean anything to you, but again, I’m really sorry,” you said, forcing the words out as you handed him the bag.

He took the bag from your grasp without much acknowledgment, his focus elsewhere. “Sit down,” he instructed.

You shifted uncomfortably, the anxiety bubbling to the surface. What more could he possibly want from you? He had said he would let you go, hadn’t he? “Sit where?” You looked around the spacious room, taking in the lack of chairs or any other furniture that might serve as a place for you to perch.

He finally lifted his gaze, his hair still damp from the shower, falling into his eyes. “Sit on your knees, right there,” he said, pointing to a spot on the floor in front of him.

You bristled at the command, a mix of confusion and indignation flooding through you. Kneeling before him felt like a submission you had not anticipated, and despite the gravity of your earlier actions, you hesitated to comply with his demands.

“I—" you stammered, trying to find the right words, but nothing came out that didn't sound foolish or defiant.

Seeing your hesitation, his expression shifted slightly, a mixture of patience and something else in his eyes that you couldn’t quite place. "You can either sit down like I asked, or we can have a much longer discussion about how this is going to go," he suggested, his tone low but firm, setting the stage for whatever decision you had to make next.

Slowly, you lowered yourself onto the floor, feeling the cool surface beneath your knees, and looked up at him, preparing for whatever was to come next.

He reached behind him and pulled out his phone, an unmistakable sense of dread washing over you as he dug into your bag, retrieving the stolen items one by one. Each piece felt like another nail in your coffin.

He was definitely calling the cops TT

But instead of pressing the call button, he seemed to be calculating something. “$532,724,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief.

Your throat tightened at the reality of that number. You were going to jail. Panic bubbled in your chest, and you fought the urge to cry.

He ran a hand through his hair, the frustration evident on his face. “Let’s see how well you clean up,” he said, standing up and ushering you back toward the closet with a wave of his hand.

You stared at him, your heart pounding as his eyes scanned the confines of the closet where you'd made sure to return everything to its original place. His expression was unreadable at first, a blank canvas that made fear swirl in your stomach. But then it softened, surprising you further.

“Not bad. What’s your name?” He asked, his tone almost casual.

You swallowed hard before nervously answering, “Y/N.”

“How would you like a job, Y/N?”

Your eyebrows shot up, and your jaw dropped in disbelief. This had to be a sick joke. “Excuse me? I’m sorry, I don’t think I’m following,” you stammered, incredulous.

“You will work for me to pay off the debt that you owe,” he replied matter-of-factly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“Wait, I didn’t actually take anything!” You argued, your mind racing to process his proposal.

“But you tried,” he shrugged, his casual demeanor shifting to something more serious. “It’s about principle. You made a choice, and now you have to make it right.”

“Are you seriously saying I have to work for you to pay off half a million dollars?” You felt the heat rise in your cheeks, a mix of indignation and disbelief gripping you.

“I could always call the police,” he said lightly, but the weight of his words sunk in with more gravity than you expected.

“Whoa now, no one said I wouldn't help,” you laughed nervously, trying to lighten the mood but failing to shake the anxiety coiling within you.

“Great! You start tomorrow. Come in business attire,” he said with a yawn, as if he were sending you off to a regular job rather than a complicated arrangement born out of desperation.

You turned to follow him out, not sure why you're trying so hard to argue him down “Wait, wha—”

Suddenly, a bright flash burst in front of you, and you stumbled backward, temporarily blinded. You blink a few times, trying to regain your bearings. “Ow! What was that for?” you exclaimed, rubbing your eyes.

He smirked as he lowered his phone, the camera still pointed at you. “If you try to run, I’ll post this picture online and tell the world what you’ve done. Then I’ll hand it over to the police so they can track you down.” His gaze was icy as he scrutinized you, taking in every detail. “I have the resources to find you. Don’t make me have to look for you.”

You felt a mix of anger and fear bubble up inside you. “So you’re blackmailing me?” you huff.

“I’m giving you a second chance,” he corrected, his tone slipping back into that unsettling calmness. He stepped closer, grabbing your shoulders with a surprisingly firm grip. “8 a.m. tomorrow. Now get out.”

Before you could respond, he gave you a gentle push by your shoulders, urging you toward the staircase. You stumbled slightly but regained your footing. As you made your way down the stairs and out of his house, Your circumstances settled squarely on your shoulders. He wasn’t just a thief of your freedom; he was now your employer, your keeper—at least for the foreseeable future.

He walked with you to the front door, his face a mix of annoyance and curiosity. Just as he was about to close the door in your face, he paused and turned back. “How did you get in?” he quirked a brow.

A small, nervous smile crept onto your lips as you fumbled for an explanation. “Uh, I broke a window,” you admitted.

Jaehyun regards you with an unimpressed stare.

“I’ll clean it up tomorrow!” you added, trying to lighten the mood. “Heh… add it to my bill?”

The door slammed shut in your face, the sound echoing in the cool night air. You turned away from the door and took a few steps down the front path, your mind racing.

The situation was certainly absurd.

—

You roll out of bed at 6 a.m. with a groan, the early morning light cutting through your curtains. You’ve never been a morning person, and the thought of facing the day fills you with dread. After washing up, you slip into an outfit that fits the dress code he set for you—a blend of professional and approachable that feels foreign against your skin.

As you glance at your reflection in the mirror, a fleeting thought crosses your mind: what if you just ran away? With the money you’ve saved up, you could leave everything behind and start anew.

Dont make me find you.

His words echo ominously in your head, sending a shiver down your spine. Jaehyun was an enigma; you could hardly wrap your mind around him, but one thing was clear: he had the resources to track you down, wherever you might try to escape.

You gather your things and head out. When you finally arrive and buzz through the gate surrounding his property, it feels surreal to be walking through the front door. Just a day ago, you’d been climbing over his fence and breaking windows—now you were entering as if you belonged.

As Jaehyun lets you inside, you take in the surroundings anew. The sunlight floods the foyer of his mansion, revealing the space you'd barely noticed in your previous haste.

“Stop gawking. I’ll be back down in a bit; I need to finish getting ready. Go clean up the glass you broke,” he commands coldly, his tone leaving no room for argument as he strides back upstairs. His words and the task ahead settle over you as you prepare to face the mess you made, both physically and metaphorically.

“StOp GawKinG….gO CleAn Up thA GlasS,” you mumble under your breath when he’s out of earshot.

You roll your eyes at his cold demeanor, dismissing it as you head toward the den where you had sneaked in during your last visit. Peeking into the room, you’re greeted by a messy carpet littered with shards of glass. At least the window has been boarded up now. As the daylight streams in, you start to appreciate the paintings that line the walls, each one vibrant and expressive in its own right.

One piece catches your attention more than the others—a striking red canvas that emanates an intense energy. The angry strokes twist together in a way that’s both chaotic and mesmerizing, leaving you to ponder what the artist was trying to convey. As you peer closely, you can’t help but notice the name “Jung Jaehyun” inked subtly in one corner. Your gaze travels around the room, noticing the easel and paints tucked away in the corner; it dawns on you that this isn’t just a display but his workspace. The hard wood beneath your feet breaks the carpeted expanse, revealing about a third of the room transformed into an art studio. Impressed by his talent, you find yourself captivated, the earlier tension momentarily forgotten as you admire the skill behind the chaos.

You shake yourself out of the trance, the allure of the art momentarily fading as you remind yourself of your task. You need to find a vacuum and a trash bin—cleaning up that glass is a priority. Determined, you set off through the rest of the house.

You remember stumbling upon the cleaning closet during your earlier escapades, and you make your way back to it. As you wander, a sense of loneliness hangs in the air, and your suspicions about Jaehyun’s solitary lifestyle only deepen. There was no waitstaff, no other residents—just him in this grand mansion.

You finally locate the vacuum in the cleaning closet, and with the trash bin in hand, you retrace your steps back to the art studio. You kneel on the floor, methodically clean up the shards of glass and place the larger pieces into the bin. You finish cleaning just in time for Jaehyun to come back downstairs.

He fixes the cufflinks on his suit before grabbing his keys. “What else should I tidy up for you? Is there a list somewhere?” You ask.

Jaehyun gives you a puzzled look. “You’re coming with me,” he replies.

You blink, momentarily caught off guard. “I thought I was…" You trail off.

He lets out a laugh, one that surprises you—it's light and genuine, completely at odds with his usual demeanor. His eyes crinkle up, revealing warm dimples that you find surprisingly charming in that moment. “You thought you were going to be doing housework?”

You roll your eyes. “Well, what else is there for me to do?”

His expression becomes more serious, though the hint of a playful smile still lingers. “I said I had a job for you, and I meant it. Come on.” He opens the door for you, locking the house behind him with a click.

As you both walk toward his car, you can’t help but ask, “Where was your car yesterday?” Strapping yourself in, you feel a mix of bitterness and curiosity about how you ended up getting caught snooping—you really should have paid more attention. If his car had been parked outside, you’d have known he was home.

“It was in the shop,” he replies casually, turning the key in the ignition. “I needed new rims. Have you eaten yet?”

Your stomach growls audibly, and you nod in agreement and Jaehyun stops to get breakfast. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and baked biscuits fills the car as he orders.

As he goes to pay, you watch him rummage through his pockets, brow furrowing in frustration. It’s then that you feel a pang of guilt. You had meant to return his wallet, found tucked away in your pocket after your first encounter. Nervously, you pull it out and offer it to him, trying to lighten the moment. “Whoops, how’d that get in there?” You joke lightly, but when you glance up, you notice the glare he’s giving you.

“Seriously?” he replies.

You stutter out an apology as you take a cautious bite of your biscuit, almost choking when you see where he’s pulled into next. Your eyes widen as you take in the imposing tall building—it’s sleek and modern, with huge glass windows reflecting the bustling streets of downtown. The heart of the city is alive, and your heart races with both excitement and nerves.

Jaehyun turns to you, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes. “Surprised? I did say I had a job for you.”

“Uh, I thought we were just going to tidy up at home?” you say, trying to mask your nerves.

As you walk through the lobby beside Jaehyun, you can't help but notice the stares that follow you. Heads turn, whispers flit around as employees greet him warmly. "Good morning, Mr. Jung!" They say, beaming at him with admiration. When their gaze finally shifts to you, you catch a mix of confusion and curiosity on their faces. It’s both flattering and mildly embarrassing standing next to someone so well-regarded and polished. You try to maintain your composure, forcing a smile in response, even as you feel a bit out of place.

After navigating through the maze of cubicles and glass-walled offices, you finally enter Jaehyun's office—spacious, elegantly designed, with a view that overlooks the bustling city streets. The decor is smart and sophisticated, reflecting his professional persona. Once the door clicks shut behind you, Jaehyun makes his way over to his desk to settle into for the day.

Jaehyun leans back in his chair, crossing his arms as he looks at you with a serious expression. “You’re going to be my secretary,” he states plainly.

Your mouth drops open in surprise. “Wait, what? A secretary?” The idea is almost absurd. “Isn’t that a bit… much? I mean, you do realize I’m not exactly qualified for that, right?”

“I’ll teach you everything you need to know. Plus, it’ll pay way better than doing house chores.”

With a deep breath, you straighten your posture, letting determination creep in. “Whats there to lose?”

—

Being Jaehyun's secretary meant answering his calls, scheduling meetings, and running errands. Of course you could do those tasks… you just couldn't do them well.

A little desk had been set up in Jaehyun's office, where most of your day-to-day tasks took place. His office boasted expansive floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a breathtaking view of the city. At night, the bustling streets below transformed into a magical landscape, with streetlights, headlights, and stoplights twinkling like stars.

You couldn’t help but blame the close proximity of your workspaces for your increasing difficulty with even the simplest tasks, like getting his coffee order right.

You had brought him his morning coffee, like he asked. You still hadn't gotten used to running his errands in his car. You felt so out of place at the office and the whispers and curious glances from your “coworkers” only heightened your anxiety.

When you finally brought him the morning coffee he had requested, your heart raced with hope for approval. But as he took a sip, his focus remained elsewhere, and he set the cup down without meeting your eyes. “It’s wrong, but you’ll get it right next time,” he said, casually brushing off your mistake. “There's plenty of time for you to improve.”

You bit your lip, anxious to prove that you could handle this role. You didn’t want to be seen as a screw-up, but everything felt overwhelming lately. Jaehyun shoos you away, giving you a task to retrieve printed papers from the printer. Your mind was a flurry of thoughts as you returned, but when you stumbled slightly, you fumbled the stack of papers in your hands.

As the papers fall from your grasp, you accidentally knock over a coffee cup, sending the contents spilling across the desk. The dark liquid splashed over papers, pooling on the surface.

Heart racing, you froze, staring at the mess you had just created. “Oh no!” you exclaimed, scrambling to grab napkins from the nearby drawer, your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“Just breathe,” he said, reaching over to help you clean up the spill. “How do you call yourself a cat burglar with how clumsy you are?” Jaehyun asked, the bemused look on his face suggesting he genuinely wanted to know.

The napkins did little to absorb the liquid, and you could feel the heat seeping through, burning your fingertips. You let out a small wince, instinctively pulling your hand back. Jaehyun sighed at your reaction, and you flicked your wrist in an attempt to shake off the pain while still trying to contain the mess.

“Just hold on,” you muttered to yourself, picking up his laptop and elevating it to protect it from the potential disaster. The last thing you needed was to add an expensive repair bill to the debt you already owed him.

As you awkwardly juggled multiple items that had once laid neatly on his desk, trying to salvage the situation, you suddenly noticed Jaehyun stand up. He took off his suit jacket and, before you could protest, he used it to mop up the spilled coffee.

You gasped as the coffee splashed onto his jacket, but Jaehyun seemed completely unfazed. With purposeful strides, he walked over to you and gently took the items you were juggling, placing them down safely on a part of his desk that wasn’t sticky. Without a word, he grasped your hands, examining your fingers, which were twitching from the pain and already showing signs of red irritation from the hot liquid.

He blew softly on your fingertips, and for a moment, the world around you faded as you met his gaze. The warmth in his chocolate depths almost pulled you in, but before you could lose yourself in that moment, you quickly pulled away.

“I’ll go grab a towel. That’s going to make the wood sticky,” you stammered, turning quickly to leave, your cheeks burning from the tension that hung between you.

You hurried to the bathroom, running cool water over your fingers to soothe the slight burn. Leaning against the edge of the sink, you took a deep breath, trying to collect your thoughts. After a moment, you gathered a few items from the cleaning closet, bracing yourself for what lay ahead.

As you walked back, you passed the break room and inadvertently overheard a conversation that made your stomach twist uncomfortably.

“She’s probably sleeping with him. Mr. Jung has never taken on a secretary before,” one voice whispered.

“That’s what I heard. Not to mention she’s terrible at her job. She just gets in the way. Last week she accidentally printed 300 copies of a page because she didn’t know to hit the cancel button! We ran out of ink because of her, and now I have to go downstairs for my copies until a new order comes in!” another voice chimed in, laced with irritation.

You bristled at their accusations, knowing they were talking about you. It stung, but you pressed on, scurrying past and heading back to Jaehyun’s office. After giving a soft knock, you stepped inside.

Jaehyun had moved away from his desk, now seated on the couch in the corner of his office. He was typing away on his computer, still nursing the little coffee he had left that you had brought him earlier—a cup you knew he didn’t like, judging by the face he made when he first tasted it. His sleeves were rolled up, the tie discarded on the armrest, and the first button of his shirt was undone.

You tried not to stare, focusing instead on the mess at his desk. Moving over, you began cleaning up the sticky residue left by the spilled coffee.

“Excuse me,” you clear your throat. “Is it okay if I drop this off at the cleaners?” you asked, holding up his soiled jacket.

He didn’t look up from his screen, continuing to type away on his computer. “Go ahead, but please be careful,” he replied, pulling his keys from his pocket without sparing you a glance.

“That’s okay; I can just walk. There’s one not too far from here,” you said, attempting to dismiss the need to take his car.

Finally, he looked up at you, his brow slightly furrowed. “You never had a problem with driving my car before. Did something happen?” He asked, setting his laptop aside, his focus entirely on you.

“Well, no, I just don’t want people to get the wrong idea. I mean, I just kinda showed up out of nowhere and suddenly I’m moving into your office and driving your car,” you tried to explain, feeling your anxiety spike. “No one knows why I’m really here, and I can only imagine the types of things people are imagining.”

“What kind of things could they be imagining?” He replied, staring at you blankly.

You laugh at the statement but when you realize he's not being sarcastic, your face drops. You often wonder what kind of person Jaehyun was and what he did for fun. He always seemed to be looking at the world for the first time.

"Well,” you began, gathering your thoughts. “Imagining the types of things I would’ve had to do to get this job,” you said, hoping he would fill in the blanks.

He waited quietly, eyes steady on you, prompting you to continue. “Things like sleeping with you to get this job,” you finally admitted, your heart racing as you vocalized the thought.

Jaehyun's eyes widened, and you noticed his ears reddening, making you wonder if he truly hadn’t known about the whispers circulating around the office. Clearing his throat, he seemed to collect himself.

“You don’t need to worry about things like that,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I don’t want you being gone long. Take the car, and if anyone has something to say, they can come to me about it.”

His gaze was stern, the kind that made you feel as though challenging him would be futile. You could sense the protective edge in his words, and it surprised you. There was a part of you that appreciated his willingness to shield you from the gossip. “Okay, if you insist,” you replied, unable to suppress the small smile tugging at your lips. The gesture felt surprisingly comforting. “I’ll be quick.”

He seemed to relax a little at your compliance, his expression softening. “Thank you. And, uh, drive safely,” he added, almost shyly.

As you walked to the car, you found yourself reflecting on his words. Maybe it was time to focus on proving yourself here, to rise above the whispers and make your mark in the company. Regardless of how you came to be in this position, you were determined to show them—and yourself—that you were worth it.

—

Ever since that day, when you arrived at the office, the halls were silent, and no one stared at you and Jaehyun as you walked side by side.. The building buzzed along like usual. You were relieved. Your shoulders felt lighter in the absence of judgmental glances, and instinctively, you walked a little straighter, head held high, eyes forward rather than downcast.

As you entered Jaehyun's office, you set your things down at the little desk he had allotted for you, diving into your daily routine of answering emails and organizing his meetings. You found your rhythm quickly, the morning shift feeling productive as you ticked off tasks. The sound of your typing filled the room, creating a comforting background noise.

Halfway through the shift, you stretched your arms overhead, stifling a yawn. Out of curiosity, you peeked over at Jaehyun to see how he was faring. He had leaned back in his chair, his neatly combed hair falling over his closed eyes, looking surprisingly peaceful in the soft glow of sunlight streaming in through the window. The light danced around him, illuminating his desk, and for a moment, you couldn't help but admire how beautiful he looked.

Even after a month of working together, you still didn't know much about Jaehyun's personal life. You had gone over the basics: he lived alone, was single, and kept his family life largely private. Each interaction left you with more questions than answers, and you found yourself scratching your head at the blank spaces in your understanding of him.

You assumed that the high-ranking position had simply been handed down to him—a legacy passed through generations. But you had never heard any whispers about a preceding CEO or what led Jaehyun to take the helm.

Amidst the riddles, the only one you had solved was his coffee order: a no-foam skimmed latte with an extra shot, plus three drip coffees with room for milk. It was a peculiar detail to cling to, yet it felt like a small piece of Jaehyun you could call your own, a little insight he had unknowingly shared during your numerous morning coffee runs.

Your thoughts whirled as you watched him sleep, a wave of warmth washing over you. It was strange how quickly you had grown accustomed to his presence and how much you found yourself wanting to know about the man behind the polished façade. What did he do on weekends? What made him laugh? What were his dreams and aspirations beyond this office?

Suddenly, he’s awake and staring back at you, and you stop smiling, turning to busy yourself. You clear your throat. “You have a meeting at 3 PM,” you mention, making an excuse.

“Thank you,” he responds.

He yawns and cracks his neck before standing from his desk. “We should go grab something to eat before then.”

You don't expect him to take you halfway across town; normally, you just grab him something from the cafe down the street. A bit apprehensive, you worry about making it back on time with the traffic ahead.

Silence engulfs the car as it inches through the congestion. Jaehyun sits relaxed in his seat, his thumb tapping a rhythm against the steering wheel as he looks ahead. You decide to kill the time with some conversation.

“How do you manage living in that large house all by yourself?” you ask, trying to chip away at the silence.

Jaehyun shifts in his seat. “You get used to it, I suppose. It’s peaceful. Quiet.”

“Yeah, but don’t you ever feel lonely? I mean, it’s a huge place. I can’t imagine wandering through all those empty rooms.”

He pauses, eyes still on the road. “Loneliness is…relative. I find solace in my work. It distracts me.”

“But work can only fill so much, right? Everybody needs someone sometimes.”

“Not everyone has someone to lean on, A. Sometimes it’s easier to just…keep to yourself.” Jaehyun looks over.

“I get that. I guess I’ve been on my own for a while too. Never really had a stable family or anything. Just me and the streets.”

“So, what was it like? Living like that?” Jaehyun asks curiously.

“It was tough. You learn to be resourceful and to adapt. But it also gets exhausting.”

You had a rough upbringing; your parents were neglectful, and as soon as you turned 18, they kicked you out. You turned to the streets to get by, making connections with a few questionable figures, but they taught you what you needed to survive. Soon, you were taking care of yourself and hanging out with better crowds.

“Why don’t you talk about your family or friends? It feels like you’ve built up walls—like you’re living in that house, but you’re not really there,” you ask.

Jaehyun takes a deep breath, carefully choosing his words. “It’s complicated. I’ve lost people—friends, family… When you start at the top, it’s hard to trust anyone. Everyone has their own agenda.”

You wince slightly at his words; of course he didn’t open up to you. Trust issues are understandable, especially after you tried to rob him.

“Sometimes, you just have to take a leap of faith and give people a chance. You never know who they might turn out to be,” you suggest gently.

He pauses, letting your words linger in the air, before responding with a nod of acknowledgment. As traffic finally begins to move, you turn to look out the window, watching the world blur by.

Eventually, the car pulls into a cozy little bakery nestled on a side street. The overgrown greenery surrounding it gives the place a charming, almost hidden feel. A LED sign in the window brightens the words “Doughyoungs.” Stepping inside, a small bell chimes, and the delectable aroma of freshly baked bread wraps around you like a warm hug. Your mouth waters as you glance around.

The bakery is empty, but it exudes warmth and invites you further in. The display case is filled with tempting treats: crusty artisan breads, flaky croissants, colorful macarons, decadent cakes, and an assortment of cookies. Your heart feels lighter in this space; it seems like a hidden gem, the kind of place that just might feel like home.

“BE RIGHT WITH YOU!” a voice calls from the back of the shop. A tall man in a flour-dusted apron steps into the front room, wiping his hands on the fabric, a broad smile spreading across his face.

“Oh, Jaehyun! It’s been a while!” He steps closer, his tone filled with a sense of familiarity. “You brought a friend?”

You glance at the man’s name tag—Doyoung. It clicks; he must be the owner of the bakery.

“Yeah, this is my secretary, Y/N,” Jaehyun introduces, gesturing toward you. “And Y/N, this is Doyoung. He’s a good friend of mine.”

“His only friend,” Doyoung corrects with a playful wink before extending his hand toward you. “Nice to meet you!”

The three of you settle down at a small, round table in the corner of “Doughyoung’s,” sunlight streaming through the window and illuminating the inviting atmosphere. A warm plate of croissants sits in the center of the table as Doyoung pours steaming cups of coffee for you and Jaehyun.

You reach for a flaky croissant, the buttery aroma enveloping you. You’ve just met Doyoung, but your instant fondness for him grows as he recounts hilarious stories about Jaehyun, leaving you wiping a tear from the corner of your eye at one particularly embarrassing tale.

“How long have you two been friends?” you ask, still chuckling.

“We go way back to college,” Doyoung replies, a reminiscent smile on his face. “We were both fresh out of high school, and honestly, we couldn’t have been more different. He was this focused, ambitious guy trying to conquer the world, while I was just… well, trying to figure things out.”

You nod, picturing the difference between the two of them. “What about you?” Doyoung adds, leaning in with a mischievous glint in his eye. “How did you manage to land such a serious guy as your boss?”

You stuff your mouth with croissants, desperately trying to think of an answer that isn’t a lie.

“Sorry to cut story time short, but I have a meeting at 3,” he says, finishing his coffee and rising to push in his chair. You follow suit, a little relieved that your escape has come so soon. Doyoung was kind and you couldn't bring yourself to lie to him, but you couldn't exactly tell him you had attempted to rob his best friend.

“It was really nice to meet you, Doyoung,” you wave goodbye, offering a genuine smile as you shuffle out after Jaehyun.

Doyoung smiles and waves as you leave, his infectious energy lingering in the air. The drive back is quiet, but this time, the silence feels different—more comfortable. The gentle hum of the engine and the sounds of the outside world fade into the background as you steal glances at Jaehyun, who remains focused on the road ahead.

—

Since you started working with Jaehyun, today was probably the first time that everything seemed to go your way. You even managed to finish your tasks early. As you straighten up your desk, gathering papers and tidying the space, you’re on your way out when he walks in, his expression curious.

“You’re leaving?” he asks, making his way toward his own desk.

“Yeah, I finished up early,” you reply, grabbing your bag. “I was just going to catch the bus home.”

He nods, pausing for a moment. “Did you organize that pile of paperwork I gave you?”

“All organized and labeled,” you confirm, a sense of pride swelling in your chest.

“What about that email I sent you to look over? Did you make sure everything was in order for that conference?”

“Done and scheduled,” you say, feeling accomplished.

Jaehyun looks like he wants to say something more, as if he’s searching for another reason to keep you there. “Well, if you’re finished, we can head out together,” he suggests, beginning to pack his briefcase.

“Are you sure?” you ask, a hint of hesitation in your voice. “If there’s something you need to finish up here, I don’t want to hold you back.”

“I can finish it at home,” he replies, already standing and heading toward the door.

You share a brief glance, and there’s something in his demeanor that tells you he genuinely wants your company. You can’t help but smile as you follow him outside.

When you get back to Jaehyun's house, you expect him to finally let you off the hook, but instead, he keeps you around a little longer. He finds minuscule tasks for you to do while he works in his study—organizing his files, dusting the bookshelf, separating his pens by color—anything to keep you in his office with him.

“Jaehyun,” you yawn, stretching your arms overhead. “I’ve done everything! I’ve even organized your books by the Dewey Decimal System. I think it’s time for me to head home.” You really don’t mind Jaehyun’s company at all; in fact, you enjoy being around him. Plus, every task you handle for him counts toward the debt you owe, but it’s getting late, and the last thing you want is for him to fuss about you driving home in the dark.

He glances around the room, searching for another task to assign you, but all he finds is a sigh of resignation. “Are you sure you don’t want to just stay over?” he asks, looking genuinely concerned. “There are plenty of rooms for you. It’s getting late, and you seem really tired. I don’t want you to fall asleep at the wheel.” He closes his laptop, giving you his full attention.

You think it over. Spending a night in his mansion feels like the opportunity of a lifetime. Staying here is akin to a luxury hotel experience. You weigh the pros and cons in your mind, but then a concern arises. “I don’t have any extra clothes,” you say.

“You can wear mine,” Jaehyun offers, and your face heats up at the prospect of slipping into one of his shirts—an oversized garment that would probably swallow you whole.

“I guess that would save me the commute of having to drive back over here in the morning.”

You can’t help but smile back, finding his stubbornness endearing. It’s moments like these that make you realize he might be holding onto you not out of obligation but rather because he enjoys your company. After all, he’s been doing everything in his power to keep you around, perhaps because he is alone most of the time. You’d probably become the closest person to him after Doyoung.

"Well, if that's all, I'm going to go get in the shower,” you say.

“Ill meet you upstairs, I just want to finish this up,” he says

You head upstairs, navigating your way to Jaehyun's room with an ease that comes from having spent so much time in his space. You step into the bathroom connected to his room and turn on the shower, relishing the luxurious feel of the gold dual heads—it’s almost like being in a spa.

As the warm water envelops you, the stresses of the day wash away. The towels are fresh and warm as you step out, feeling utterly pampered. You can't help but marvel at the abundance of skincare products lined up on the counter, likely a key contributor to Jaehyun's flawless complexion. After cleansing your face and brushing your teeth with an unopened toothbrush you found in his bathroom pantry.

Peeking your head out of the bathroom door, you confirm that the coast is clear. With nothing but your towel wrapped around you, you make your way toward his closet. As you rummage through his clothes, memories flood back to the first time you were here—a completely different feeling, one of nerves and uncertainty. Little did you know that you’d be invited back as a guest, spending the night in his company.

Finally, you find a large shirt that looks incredibly comfortable and toss it over your head. Pairing it with some pajama pants that are a bit loose around your hips, you tie them with the strings, feeling cozy and at ease.

With a determined smile, you head back downstairs, wanting to say goodnight to Jaehyun. As you enter his study, though, you find him fast asleep, his head resting on a pile of documents. His hair is pushed back by a pair of glasses you haven't seen before, and you can't help but notice the dark circles under his eyes. You never realized how taxing it must be for him to carry the weight of the company on his shoulders.

Gently, you shake him awake. “Jaehyun, come on, let’s go to sleep,” you whisper softly.

His eyes open slowly, taking a moment to adjust as he rubs them and slides his glasses back on. Confusion flits across his face before recognition sets in, and he begins to put his things away, a little disorientedly, but it makes you chuckle lightly.

You watch him for a moment, your heart swelling with fondness. You wish you could do something to help him relax—an idea pops into your mind. “I’ll meet you upstairs, okay?” you say before darting back up the stairs.

You run a warm bath; you make sure to adjust the water to just the right temperature. Bubbles foam up and you lay out his clothes neatly on the counter—a clean, comfy t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, paired with some fresh socks. The soft tune playing from a speaker fills the air, adding to the calming ambiance.

You hear the heavy footsteps of Jaehyun making their way up the stairs, and you work quickly, eager to ensure everything is perfect for him. When the door finally opens, he lumbers into the room, flopping onto the bed still clad in his work clothes.

“Come on, I ran you a bath,” you coax, gently taking off his glasses and tugging him up from the bed. His eyes are still closed, but he doesn’t resist, letting you guide him toward the bathroom.

“Your clothes are right here,” you say, pointing out the set you prepared for him. “Just let me know if you need anything.”

As you start to step away, eager to give him some privacy, he unexpectedly grabs your wrist. His grip is gentle yet firm, and he turns you back to face him. The air is thick with tension as he pushes you up against the sink.

“Help me undress,” he says sleepily, his disheveled hair falling into his eyes—a sight that makes your heart race. You’re practically chest to chest, and the proximity sends a rush of warmth to your cheeks.

Your face heats up and you find yourself a stuttering mess. Jaehyun seems to realize what his words imply “I’m sorry, I don’t know what I’m saying,” he fumbles, suddenly a little more awake. “Excuse me, I’m just really tired.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” you reassure him quickly, your cheeks ablaze. “I want to help you relax. I can do that.”

He looks down at you, and you briefly meet his gaze before you shyly avert your eyes. As your hands shake, you manage to unbutton his shirt one by one, the fabric parting to reveal flawless skin beneath. He stands there, shirt completely undone, his gaze holding a mixture of curiosity and something deeper. You can feel the heat radiating from his body, and you find yourself captivated by his happy trail, your knees feeling weak beneath you. Jaehyun’s hands gracefully move to his belt, taking charge of the moment. You watch, entranced, as he slowly removes it, each movement deliberate and inviting. Your heart races in your chest, a frantic drumbeat that drowns out the soft music still playing in the background. You could practically feel the air thickening between you—a magnetic pull that makes you want to fall to your knees for him—to surrender.

His belt clatters to the floor, the sound echoing in the quiet bathroom, but then a hand catches under your chin, lifting your gaze to meet his. You’re drawn into the depths of his eyes, so close that you can feel the warmth radiating off him. “I’ve got it from here, thank you,” he says, his voice low and confident.

Reality crashes over you like a wave, pulling you back with a jolt. You process the situation: Jaehyun standing before you, his pants hanging loosely around his waist, his shirt sliding from his shoulders. Heat floods your cheeks.

In a rush, you scramble out of the bathroom, the words tumbling from your lips in a hurried mess. “R—right, I’ll be in the room across the hall. Good night, Jaehyun!” You don’t dare look back, your heart racing as you leave the bathroom, and you swear you hear a deep chuckle escape him, warm and teasing.

You slip into the bedroom across the hall, the plush bed feeling foreign and oddly comforting at the same time. You let out a heavy sigh, shaking off the feelings that swirled between you two.

The silence of the house wraps around you. It’s an odd comfort, yet it amplifies the sense of isolation that looms over you. You stare at the clock on the nightstand, ticking slowly towards the early hours of the morning. You toss and turn under the covers, unable to settle. Thoughts of Jaehyun haunt you—thoughts of the way he looked, the way he made you feel—the anticipation, the nervousness. You cover your face with the pillow in an attempt to silence your racing thoughts.

Suddenly, a soft but loud crash reverberates through the house, breaking the stillness. You sit upright, heart pounding in your chest. A sense of dread settles in as you carve your way through the shadows, crossing the hall to Jaehyun’s room.

“Jaehyun?” You call softly, knocking gently on the door, but it creaks open at your touch, revealing a scene that makes your breath hitch. Jaehyun is sitting on the edge of the bed, looking disheveled; his face pales from what you can only assume was a nightmare. There’s sweat glistening on his forehead, and you can see the stark tension in his shoulders.

“Hey, what happened?” You take a step in, closing the door behind you.

He runs a shaky hand through his hair. “I just—I had a nightmare. It’s nothing.” He waves you off, but you can see the unsteadiness in his demeanor.

“No, it’s not nothing,” you assert, walking closer. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. You can talk to me.”

His eyes meet yours—a fleeting vulnerability. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me,” you say softly.

“I dreamed about… losing my family. It’s a nightmare I’ve had more times than I can count.” He lifts his gaze to meet yours, and you can see the pain that runs deep.

You quietly urge him on, your heart thrumming within your chest. “What happened?”

He swallows hard before continuing. “I used to live here, in this house, with my family. It was our summar home. Life was chaotic but… it was fun. My parents were always busy with the company, but they made time for us. Then…it just all fell apart.”

You can hear the tremor in his voice, the unsteady strength behind each word. “There was an accident,” he finally admits, his brow furrowing as if the very thought is a wound that never heals. “A car crash that took them away from me in an instant. I inherited everything. This houses the company and the money. Sometimes I feel like an imposter, like I’m not good enough for all of this. It helps that there are fewer memories here. Its emptier.”

Your heart aches for him, the stark reality of his loss weighing heavily in the air. “I’m so sorry, Jaehyun,” you whisper, feeling a surge of compassion for the boy he once was. You couldn't imagine how alone he felt. The weight of an entire company thrust upon him at such a young age. You understand why he found it hard to let people in.

“It’s been years,” he continues, “but every now and then, I wake up in a cold sweat, feeling their absence like it was yesterday. Sometimes Its so bad I won't sleep at all.”

You step closer and sit beside him on the bed, your heart aching to comfort him. “You don’t have to carry this by yourself. It’s okay to talk about it. It’s okay to feel. You deserve to express that pain instead of bottling it up.”

You take a deep breath, the weight of your own past pressing against your chest. It feels only right to share your truth with Jaehyun now that he’s opened up about his own pain. “I get it, you know—feeling like you’re not enough. I felt that way growing up too,” you begin, your voice steady yet soft as you look into his eyes. “I didn’t have the stability of a family like yours. My parents were often absent, lost in their own world, and I was left to navigate everything on my own. I longed for connection.”

You pause, letting your words sink in. A part of you feels apprehensive, but telling your story also feels liberating. “I did meet some friends along the way. They were a bit snobby, but I loved them. They were everything I wanted to be—popular, carefree, surrounded by laughter. I wanted to fit in so badly that I was willing to do just about anything to be part of their world.”

Jaehyun nods, his gaze understanding as he absorbs your story. You take another breath, your heart racing slightly as you reveal more of your past. “I started to steal. Not just to survive, because there were times when I truly needed food, but mostly to impress them. To show them I could be just as cool, just as daring. Those friends were all I had, and I felt like I was grasping at straws. I never wanted to feel alone again.”

As you speak, you can see the pain in Jaehyun's eyes—he understands the need to connect, the lengths people go to feel accepted. “Most of the time, I felt like a fraud. Like I was pretending to be something I’m not. Their world wasn’t mine, but it was better than being alone. I guess in some way, I thought being with them would fill the emptiness, but it never did.”

“I know what it feels like to wear a mask,” he says, his tone gentle yet earnest. “It’s exhausting isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you reply, a small but relieved smile creeping onto your face. “But sharing it feels freeing. I think that’s why I wanted to tell you. Seeing you so vulnerable made me realize that maybe it’s okay to let myself be seen, too.”

Jaehyun reaches out, tentatively placing his hand over yours. It’s a small gesture, but it ignites warmth where your hands connect, sending a comforting pulse between you.

But just as the moment deepens, a loud crack of thunder rumbles outside, reverberating through the walls, making the lights flicker. A flash of lightning illuminates Jaehyun’s startled expression, momentarily freezing both of you in place until you’re instinctively drawn closer. A storm rages outside.

“Let’s… let’s just stay like this, okay?” You murmur, catching his gaze before looking down at your joined hands. “Just for tonight.”

He nods slowly, the tension shifting into something more profound. You slide under the covers beside him, and even though there’s a noticeable space between you, his warmth envelops you. The moment sinks into something intimate, something that goes beyond the mere physical closeness or the warmth of shared body heat.

— Your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you hesitate before answering an unknown number. But curiosity compels you to pick up.

“Hello?”

“Where have you been?” The voice on the other end drips with annoyance. Taeyong. Just hearing him makes your stomach churn. It's a voice you've been avoiding, one you hoped you'd never have to hear again. It reminds you too much of the past your trying to forget.

You bite your lip, your gaze flickering nervously around the bustling cafeteria. It’s lunchtime, and the air buzzes with chatter as people gather at tables. Jaehyun is tied up in a meeting, leaving you surrounded by a few friends who have become a surprising source of comfort. You've been at the company long enough now that the initial gossip has faded, allowing you to forge genuine connections beyond just your complicated relationship with Jaehyun.

You cover your phone as you pull it down from your ear and mouth a quick sorry to your friends as you make your way somewhere else secluded.

“Sorry, you caught me at a bad time,” you murmur, moving away to a quieter corner.

“A bad time? You've been ghosting us for weeks! We have a big job lined up and need you back,” he says, impatience slicing through his tone.

“I told you, I’m not doing that anymore. I’m in a good place. I can’t mess this up,” you reply, your frustration simmering just beneath the surface.

He scoffs, a sound that irritates you more than it should. “You think you can just bail on us? When we had your back when no one else did?”

His words resonate, stirring unwanted memories. They taught you everything you know about survival.

“Without us, you’d be scraping by,” he adds with a cocky lilt that grates your nerves.

“What do you need me for?” You huff.

“A quick job. In and out. Johnny’s got his eyes on this jewelry store. Thinks it’ll impress some girl he’s crushing on,” he explains, the casual tone in his voice only making you more uneasy.

“A jewelry store? Are you serious? You know that’s risky,” you almost yell before you remember where you are.

“Yeah, well, the guy’s moving across the globe. Apparently, his heart is in Vegas or something. Listen, you owe us. Let’s call this your last job before Johnny bails.” He says.

You pause, weighing your options. You knew how persistent these guys could get and you didn’t need them digging too deep into what you’ve been up to. If they found out about Jaehyun, your not sure what they would scheme.

“If I do this, you lose my number. Don’t ever contact me again. I appreciate everything you guys did for me, but I’m trying to move on.” Your voice is firm.

“Great to have you back, princess. I’ll send over the details,” he says before hanging up.

Your hands were shaking and you could feel your throat close up as tears began to well in your eyes. You wanted to cry. You lean against a wall, trying to calm your breathing.

You could always ask Jaehyun for the money; whatever Johnny was looking to score from the jewelry store, Jaehyun could match it; the only issue is you already owe him enough and Taeyong would definitely ask you where you got such a large sum of money.

You could not get Jaehyun involved. You didn't want him mixed up in any of this. This was your problem, your past, that you had to fix.

You tilt your head back, trying to will the tears away. If Jaehyun found out—Jaehyun couldn't find out.

You try to act normal when you head back up to Jaehyun's office. You bury yourself in paperwork and emails as an excuse for how unnaturally quiet you were today. You couldn't avoid him all day, though.

“How was lunch” he asks after returning from his meeting.

You don't turn to acknowledge him; instead, you give him a “it was good” before returning to your work. He doesn't comment on how quiet you have been but you definitely see it in his eyes that he wants to. He walks to his desk without another word. He knows when to give you space and probably figured now was one of those times.

—

You were making mistakes again. The chaos of the office felt louder than ever as you stumbled through the busy halls, your arms full of files that seemed to have a mind of their own. Papers slipped from your grasp, fluttering to the ground like fallen leaves as you scrambled to collect them, heart racing as you barely managed to avoid having someone step on the important documents.

The printer was your sworn enemy today; it jammed at the worst possible moment, leaving you flustered and anxiously trying to free the stuck sheets while praying no one noticed your struggle. You were constantly tripping over your own feet, rushing back and forth, trying to juggle tasks that felt increasingly overwhelming.

Jaehyun's eyes lingered on you longer than usual, suspicion bubbling just beneath the surface. He could let a few things slide, but it was clear he was picking up on the fact that something wasn’t right.

Finally, you excused yourself, heart pounding as you left for the bathroom. Clutching your phone tightly, it buzzed with a message that made your stomach drop. You glanced down and read:

[Meet us at xxx on Sunday at 3 AM].

This was it—tonight would be the night.

You quickly composed a response, your fingers trembling slightly as you typed. As you headed back to the office, you tried to shake off the brewing anxiety. With every step, you reminded yourself that soon, after tonight, you wouldn’t have to hide anything else from Jaehyun. After tonight, everything could go back to normal.

You had packed a small duffel bag. Its contents reminded you of the significance of the night ahead. Dressed in all black, you made your way to Taeyong's place, the night air cool against your skin. As you arrived, the tension in your stomach twisted tighter when you saw Taeyong, Johnny, and Yuta waiting for you.

“Hey.” you greeted, trying to sound more confident than you felt. You joined them, your heartbeat thumping in your ears as you went over the plan, going through every detail. The stakes were high; robbing businesses was far more complex than the petty house break-ins of the past. There was far more security to navigate this time, and your palms began to sweat at the thought of what would happen if you got caught.

“Stop overthinking it,” Johnny said, flashing you a reassuring smile as he finished loading the last item into the car. “It’s gonna be just like old times.”

You rolled your eyes. “This is the last time,” you declared, shooting a look at the back of Taeyong's head as he settled into the driver’s seat but you couldn’t stop the thrill that snuck into your heart. There was a small part of you that loved this thrill, loved the challenge that the night would bring

Johnny slid into the passenger seat, and Yuta hopped in beside you in the back. “I understand if you don’t want to steal, but we’re still family,” Yuta said, his voice calm and steady. “Don’t forget that, no matter what happens.

Your heart clenches painfully in your chest, a storm of emotions battling within you. You knew you were being cold towards them, shutting off parts of yourself that had always been open to them. They were your everything before Jaehyun came into your life, your partners in crime and laughter, and now you felt sickness coil in your stomach at the thought of discarding them for something that might not even last.

You bit back tears, feeling the sharp sting of regret and longing. One part of you mourned the life you were desperately trying to hold onto—the stability, the calm, everything that came with Jaehyun. The other half grieved for the carefree moments you’d shared with Taeyong, Johnny, and Yuta and for the friendships that felt more like family than anything else.

“I’m going to miss you guys,” you finally managed to say, your voice wavering as you fought to steady it. “Let this be it for all of us.” Your words hung in the air.

“Y/N…” Yuta began, an understanding between all of you that couldn’t be voiced.

“Please,” you interrupted softly, desperation coloring your tone as you looked from one familiar face to the other. “I don’t want anything happening to you guys.”

Silence settled in the car. No one answered you; there were no reassurances to offer, no words that could change the precarious situation you were all in. They couldn’t up and leave this life and you knew it.

As Taeyong turned the key in the ignition, the engine rumbled to life, breaking the stillness. You glanced out the window, taking in the familiar streets you had navigated countless times, the memories flooding back.

—

The blaring alarms pierced the night like a siren's wail as you moved to grab one more bag full of jewelry. Every clang of metal against metal made your stomach churn. Your hands were shaking, and as you tossed another bag over to Yuta, you felt a sense of disgust washing over you. How had it come to this? You stuffed your feelings deep down and concentrated on the task at hand—the only thing you could control. Yuta caught the bag and hurried it to the car, urgency fueling every movement.

Then came the wailing of sirens that sent a jolt of panic through your body. The familiar blue and red lights flickered on the walls of the alley as they crept closer, and your heart raced faster.

“Out now! GO!” Taeyong shouted, urgency slicing through the chaos. You hurled yourself into the car just as the engine roared to life, Taeyong hitting the gas pedal with a force that slammed you back against the seat. Your head twisted around, searching for any sign of the approaching police cars. Relief washed over you when you didn’t see their flashing lights right behind you—yet.

Then, terror gripped you as a police car roared around the corner, lights ablaze, barreling towards you.

“We’re not going to make it!” You cried out, panic rising in your chest like bile.

“Shut up! Let me think!” Taeyong snapped back, his voice sharp and focused.

With skill, he made a sharp left turn and then another, weaving through the streets as your heart thundered in your ears. The fear began to lift, the thrill of escape practically intoxicating, until the dreaded sight of the police car revealed itself again, like a predator stalking prey.

He maneuvered the car swiftly into a dark alleyway, the bright streetlights fading behind you, swallowed by the inky shadows of the narrow passage.

“Get out!” Taeyong shouted suddenly, and you whipped your head around to look at him, wide-eyed, disbelief painted across your face.

“Are you crazy?” you exclaimed, your pulse racing even faster. The alleyway loomed dark and empty beyond the car.

“What are you—” Yuta started to say, confusion evident in his voice.

“I’ll lead them away; just go!” Taeyong insisted, urgency etched deep into his words. “We don’t have time!”

You knew if he was caught, he would never snitch—Taeyong was loyal, he would take the fall for you without a second thought. But the prospect of him behind bars was more upsetting than you'd ever anticipated.

“That wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go,” you murmured, helpless, as Johnny dragged you along through the darkness. You struggled to comprehend what was happening through the haze of tears obscuring your vision. Out of instinct, you pulled off your mask and dark jacket, tossing them into a nearby trash bin.

With your heads down, you walked in silence, the distant sirens haunting the air. It wasn’t long until Kun, Yuta’s friend, pulled up to a nearby park to pick you all up.

You didn't go home that night. Instead, you ended up at Chenle's place. He didn’t ask any questions when he saw your tear-stained cheeks; he simply pulled you inside and set about making some tea to soothe your frayed nerves. Chenle was always the one who understood you the most.

Tonight, the weight of secrets felt heavier than ever. You couldn’t keep it all inside any longer. As you sank onto his couch, the dam broke, and you began to tell Chenle everything—from the very beginning to the events of the night. Sobs wracked your body as you relayed the tale, the guilt and shame spilling out with each word.

You were a liar, a thief, a fake.

Chenle sat in silence for a moment, absorbing your confession. He let out a heavy sigh and rose from his seat, your teary eyes tracking him as he rummaged through his cupboard.

“We’re gonna need something stronger than tea tonight,” he said, pouring you a shot.

—

When you wake up the next day, a piercing headache pounds through your skull. You had fallen asleep on Chenle’s couch. Blinking against the sunlight filtering in, you glance around the large living space and spot Chenle sprawled on the other end of the couch, still blissfully asleep.

Rummaging around the couch cushions, your fingers finally brush against your phone. You remember that you powered it down last night, a decision made during the chaos of emotions. You turn it back on, the screen lighting up and revealing a barrage of messages.

YUTA [taeyong got away last night] [Just keep your head down and we should be fine]

JOHNNY [TY PULLED THROUGH LET'S GO!]

You can’t help but roll your eyes at that. “Selfish bastard.” you think, feeling a stir of resentment alongside the relief.

JAEHYUN [are you coming into work today?] [are you hurt?] [if your sick i can bring you something] [call me when you can]

You wince at the notification count—Jaehyun had called you at least five times this morning

Just then, Daegal, Chenle’s dog, leaps onto the couch, nudging your leg. Chenle stirs awake, cracking an eye open, squinting against the bright light that seeps into the living room.

“Taeyong was able to get away somehow,” you inform him quietly.

“Don’t know whether I should be happy or upset about that,” he replies, his voice still thick with sleep.

“I’m sorry about lying, and I’m sorry for bothering you, but this was the only place I knew to come.” You let out a heavy sigh, tossing your phone down on the coffee table.

“If it makes you feel better, I’m not upset that you lied,” Chenle says, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. “I understand what you were going through, and if that’s how you made ends meet, I won’t judge you for it.” He stretches and yawns, then narrows his eyes playfully at you. “What I am mad about is the fact that you’ve been seeing a hot CEO and didn’t tell me about it!”

A weight lifts off your shoulders at his playful reprimand. At least you wouldn’t lose your best friend. You crawl toward him on the couch and envelop him in a warm hug. “I love you,” you smother him with affection.

You sit across the table from Chenle, a steaming plate of breakfast in front of you. As you tell him everything about your relationship with Jaehyun—the sweet moments, the little things that made you blush—it feels like a breath of fresh air. It takes you back to those late-night gossip sessions in high school, a sense of comfort washing over you. For that brief moment, you felt like yourself again, like the world around you wasn't being held together by a single string.

But soon reality creeps back in. You check the time and realize you can’t put off Jaehyun's calls any longer.

[im ok]

[where have you been?]

[Can we meet?]

[i can meet you at home]

Your heart clenches at the word ‘home.’ You aren’t sure when you two became this close, but the thought of lying to Jaehyun anymore feels unbearable.

As you approach the house, a heavy silence envelops you. It’s eerily quiet; the only sound is the faint shuffle of papers filtering in from Jaehyun’s study. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for the confrontation ahead.

You clear your throat, your voice slightly shaky. “Hey,” you announce, trying to keep your tone steady.

Jaehyun looks up, his expression distant and unreadable. “Where have you been?” he asks, setting aside the documents that had consumed his attention. Frustration flickers across his face as he stands and closes the distance between you. He crosses his arms over his broad chest, the muscles evident even beneath the wrinkled fabric of his work clothes, a testament to the long day he’s had.

He leans back slightly against his desk, exuding a mix of authority and weariness. His glasses sit low on the bridge of his nose, casting a shadow over his eyes and intensifying his gaze as he studies you, waiting for an answer that feels heavy in the air

“I was at a friend’s,” you reply, your words catching slightly in your throat.

“Why weren’t you answering my calls? What’s been going on with you lately?” His voice is firm, perhaps too firm, sounding too much like your boss, and you can feel your irritation simmer.

“It won’t happen again. I’ve just been taking care of some business,” you mumble, but it feels inadequate.

“You need to let me know if you’re not going to show up!” he says, and you can see the frustration etching lines across his forehead. But beneath that, there’s something else—something more worried.

“Is this all I am to you? Just another one of your employees you have to keep track of,” you challenge, the heat of your annoyance flaring. “I’m sorry I didn’t show up to work, Mr. Jung!” You spit his name like it’s a bitter taste in your mouth.

“Don't do that. I was worried about you!” He snaps back, his eyes blazing with a mix of anger and concern.

“I just needed some time!” You fire back, defending yourself but feeling the weight of his gaze.

“Time for what? I’ve been giving you time! Time to text, time to leave, time to make calls to whoever it is you’ve been talking to,” he replies, the edge in his voice sharpening with jealousy.

“Why do you even care who I talk to?”

His lips are on yours in an instant and he kisses you for the first time. You can feel his anger, frustration, and annoyance at you through the way he kisses you. It was as though the heavens had opened and a lightning strike had struck you, igniting every nerve ending in your body. The kiss was electrifying, sending waves of warmth cascading down your spine, and you felt as if your lips were two magnets with an irresistible force drawing them together. The kiss is harsh, and your teeth clink together as you kiss him back with just as much heat. Everything that had been boiling within you—the frustration, fear, and anxiety—pours out as you let it all go. Your fingers pull at his hair, and you bite at his lips. His hands grip your hips roughly, like he's barely holding himself back from breaking you. He pulls you against him, and you can feel him hard through his slacks.

The tension in the room was high, and when it snapped, it was like the barriers that you both worked hard to keep up around each other had fallen.

He switches positions with you, pushing you up against his desk as he kisses down your neck. You have half the mind to be mindful of the things that litter his desk, trying not to knock anything over as his hands explore your body. He senses your hesitation and clears his desk with a swipe of his arm, not breaking the kiss in his haste. You moan into his mouth as he lays you down flat against his desk.

“Who have you been texting?” he asks, his chest heaving. You knew it must have been eating him up over the past few days.

“It was no one. I’ll explain later, just don’t stop,” you whine and pull him back to your lips.

Your fingers start working at the pesky buttons of his shirt. You try to work them one by one, but only get half way before you give up. You slide the fabric half way down his shoulders.

You run your hands down his back, savoring the feel of his skin beneath your palms. His hands move to your shirt, pulling it over your head with ease. His lips trail kisses down your collarbone, causing you to arch your back involuntarily. He pulls your bra open, the fabric falling away to reveal your breasts. His mouth descends on one nipple, his tongue flicking against the sensitive nub as his hand cups the other breast, squeezing gently. His tongue circles your nipple, teasing and tormenting until you’re practically begging for release. His hand slides lower, slipping beneath the waistband of your sweats. His thick fingers pinch and tug at your clit, rubbing it in tight circles that elicit moans from your lips. You’re soaking wet, and it’s not hard for him to slip his fingers inside your tight pussy.

Your eyes meet his, and his pupils are dilated, like he’s lost in pleasing you. His fingers pump into you at a steady pace, and your thighs spread wide for him, giving him complete access to you. His hand presses against your abdomen as he curls his fingers inside you. He wants you to feel it.

“Say you’re mine,” he commands. “Say it.”

“I’m yours,” your voice trembles, and you can feel your stomach clench with how close you are. Your back arches as you squirm under his ministrations. He leans down and attaches his mouth to your clit as he fingers you, and that’s all you need before you’re cumming all over his fingers. He continues to suck and lick at you until you’re pushing at his head to stop.

Once you have caught your breath, you pull your clothes back on as a heavy silence engulfs the room. You know you need to tell him the truth. You need to tell him what happened.

“I robbed a jewelry store.” You say as he helps you down from his desk.

He freezes, eyes widening in disbelief. “You did what?”

“There’s nothing to worry about! It’s over, okay? I just didn’t want to lie to you anymore,” you say defensively.

“Are you serious? What were you thinking?”

“I didn’t want to drag you into this! It was my past that got me here. I can’t rely on you to fix everything for me,” you explain.

“But you were the one who taught me not to bear it all alone!” he counters, hurt flashing in his eyes.

“Not this Jae, I couldn't drag you into this. I care about you way too much”

“And you think I don’t care about you? You throw yourself into trouble like it’s nothing, and you want me to just forget it? Tell me what really happened.” His gaze is piercing, demanding honesty.

You tell him everything.

You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment. “I didn’t want our lives to cross paths like this. I thought I could leave that stuff behind but they kept reaching out. It was just one last job, and I thought I could handle it.”

“You should have told me. I could have helped,” he says, brow crinkling in frustration.

“I was scared,” you admit, stepping closer to him. “Scared that getting you involved would get you hurt.”

Jaehyun sighs deeply, processing what you’ve just shared. “No more secrets, okay? You need to promise me that.”

—

The way your life had fallen into rhythm with Jaehyuns was scary; you couldn’t help but worry about what would happen when this arrangement finally came to an end. You found yourself practically living in his home, spending almost every day together. You cherished the moments you shared working side by side. Each laugh, each quiet evening, felt like a treasure you never wanted to lose. Still, you understood that, like everything else, even the best things must eventually come to an end. You just hoped that day would remain far off.

Unfortunately, today was that day. After the countless hours you’d spent with Jaehyun, both on and off the clock, you had officially repaid your debt. Of course, your coworkers gathered around the dinner table at the prestigious restaurant had no idea. They believed you were simply celebrating your one-year anniversary. You forced a smile; would they still see it as a celebration if they knew the full story behind your relationship with Jaehyun?

The atmosphere in the restaurant was a blur of laughter, clinking glasses, and the delicious aroma of carefully prepared dishes. As the celebrations for your one-year anniversary at the company unfolded around you, a wave of anxiety gnawed at your insides. You had worked hard for this moment, but all you could think about was what came next. You glanced down the table, where Jaehyun sat, a warm smile plastered on his face as he engaged in conversation with your coworkers, but he hadn’t looked your way once.

It was a stark contrast to the intimacy that you two shared. He didn’t bring up that night. He didn't bring up how he made you promise that you were his. For awhile, you thought you had just imagined it all but you could feel the shift in your dynamic. His touches lingering a little longer and the way his eyes wandered to you when he thought you weren't looking.

You find yourself looking back on your relationship with Jaehyun. Surprisingly, Jaehyun wasn’t the cold, distant person you first encountered; now, he trailed after you like a loyal puppy, and there was something sweetly comforting in the role reversal. You remembered how he had seemed so vast and imposing on your first day at the company, while you had followed him around like a lost puppy trying to match his stride. Now, as you walked through the hallways with your head held high, Jaehyun was the one keeping pace behind you, as if he feared losing you.

But as you looked at him now, across the expanse of the table, he felt miles away. The realization that the debt you owed him was fully paid loomed over you, casting a shadow that threatened to eclipse the joy of the evening. What would happen after tonight? How would your relationship change? You couldn’t shake the nagging fear that everything you had built together might soon unravel.

The cake arrived, beautifully adorned and lit with candles, drawing enthusiastic cheers from your coworkers. Jaehyun raised a glass to toast the moment, and when he glanced around, his eyes skated over you without recognition. You blinked, a pang of hurt lacing through you as the reality of it all settled in.

After the dinner wound down and laughter faded into the background, Jaehyun drove you back home—well, to his house. The silence hung between you like a tightrope, and it was nearly suffocating. Once inside the house, the familiar warmth enveloped you.

Finally, unable to contain your feelings, you broke the silence. “Jaehyun,” you started, your voice trembling slightly. “Why have you been so quiet tonight?”

He paused, fingers brushing through his hair as he leaned against the kitchen counter. The flickering light above cast shadows across his face, making it difficult to read his expression. “I—” he hesitated, eyes dropping to the floor, “I know your probably getting ready to leave since the debt is paid and I guess I was just preparing myself for that”

Your heart raced. “Is that why you haven’t brought up that night in your office?”

"I just didn’t want to grow more attached than I already am. I thought if I could pretend that night never happened, it would hurt less when you left.” He takes a deep breath as he searches your face for the right words to say. “I want you to stay with me. I know you’ve paid me back for everything… but I need you to understand that I want you in my life for reasons that go far beyond debt.” He took a breath, as if gathering the courage to continue. “I care about you. More than you know.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Jaehyun. I'm not going anywhere you don’t want me to,” you say, stepping closer to him and cupping his face.

Jaehyun reached up, touching the hand that was caressing his face. “Then let’s stop pretending that all this is just transactional. I want something real.” The sincerity in his gaze melted your worries away, replacing them with something brighter, something full of possibility.

When he leans down to kiss you, your fingers caress his cheeks, memorizing the contours as you breathe in the essence of him. His hands roamed over your hips, exploring with an urgency that both thrilled and comforted you. The way they eventually tangled into your hair was possessive, a silent promise that he wasn't going to let you go.

Your bodies pressed together tightly and with every passing second, the kiss grew hotter, needier, and wetter as he slipped his tongue into your mouth. You panted softly, surrendering to him, allowing him to take over completely, losing yourself in him.

As the fervor of the moment intensified, you felt his hands traveling back down to your hips. Before you could process what was happening, you found yourself being lifted off your feet. Instinctively, you wrapped your legs around his waist, anchoring yourself as he backed you up against a nearby wall. The cool surface contrasted sharply with the heat radiating between your bodies.

The makeout session became heavier and more desperate as passion consumed you both. Each kiss felt like a promise, filled with hunger and longing, as if you were trying to convey everything that words could never fully express. Finally, as your lungs burn for air, you part, a thin string of saliva connecting you.

The way he looked at you suggested a man starved—and that only fueled your desire to explore him further. As his hips rocked against yours, a low moan escaped your lips, the friction backing your toes curl. You welcomed his touch and his kisses but you wanted more. You wanted to take your time, savoring each curve and contour of each other’s bodies.

His face nestled in the crook of your neck, his warm breath sending shivers racing down your spine. A dampness was forming in your panties, an exhilarating rush that clouded your thoughts. Gathering the courage, you gently tapped him on the shoulder, hoping to break the spell that enveloped you both.

He lifted his head, planting soft kisses along your neck, climbing up to press a tender peck against your lips. He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes holding a raw sincerity that made you forget the world around you. “Should we stop?” he murmured, his voice low and earnest.

“It’s not that,” you replied, your breath coming in soft gasps as you regained your composure. “I just want to move to the bedroom.”

You expected him to set you down for a moment, but instead a gasp slipped from your lips as he tightened his grip. He effortlessly began to ascend the opulent winding staircase. The walls were adorned with portraits, their painted eyes following your every movement, as if they were witnesses to this unfolding moment. Rich mahogany railings glimmered under the soft light of the chandelier.

You felt like a princess from a fairytale, swept away on a wave of romance and fantasy as he carried you up the staircase. Yet, amidst the enchantment, a small knot of doubt tightened in your chest—a complicated mix of guilt and disbelief. You don’t deserve this, you thought, battling the insistent voice in your head. This isn’t your life.

This dreamlike encounter with Jaehyun, who seemed to embody the very essence of Prince Charming, felt almost too good to be true—like a scene plucked straight from a storybook. The way he held you, the intensity of his gaze, and the atmosphere were intoxicating. But hessitation tugged at you, casting shadows over the light of your fairy tale.

As he gently set you down on the edge of his bed, Jaehyun kneeled before you. He looked up, his deep eyes searching yours as if trying to read the secrets hidden within.

“What’s wrong, pretty?” he asked, his voice a low, soothing murmur that seemed to wrap around you like a protective embrace. His hands enveloped yours, thumb stroking over your skin in a languid, comforting rhythm.

You forced a smile, desperate to maintain the illusion of this fairytale moment, but you knew better than to lie to him. Jaehyun had a way of seeing through your facades, as if he had developed some sixth sense when it came to understanding you. The light in his eyes flickered, a mix of concern and curiosity, as he waited for you to speak.

This was all so surreal—when the world outside seemed so turbulent, here he was, the embodiment of calm and acceptance. But as much as you tried to bask in this moment, the shadows of your past crept in, reminding you of who you once were.

“About that night…” you started, your voice barely above a whisper, throat tightening. Sudden shame washed over you like a cold wave. “I can’t help but feel like I don’t deserve all of this.

Jaehyun’s gaze softened, and he leaned in closer, brows furrowing slightly in concern. “Everyone has a past. What matters is who you choose to be now.” he said gently, as if unfurling your tightly wound shame with each word.

“But I’m a thief, Jaehyun… I tried to steal from you. I lied and even robbed a bank” The admission hung in the air.

“I don’t see a thief when I look at you; I see someone who has struggled but is capable of so much more. Someone I care about.” His thumb brushes over your knuckles.

You looked down at him, finally meeting his gaze, and in that moment, you saw a man who would stop time for you if he could, who would pause the world just to shield you from its harshness.

He was your man.

Without a second thought, you leaned in and pulled him into another kiss, the warmth between you igniting once more, filling the room with an undeniable heat. He broke away for just a moment, a playful glint in his eyes, before he gripped your hips and effortlessly lifted you. In one swift motion, he tossed you onto the middle of the soft, inviting bed.

You bounced with a delighted laugh, the sound echoing through the air as you playfully crawled back toward the headboard, an exhilarated sparkle dancing in your eyes.

Jaehyun crawls to you and you tug off your blouse before he reaches you. It was like he couldn't keep his mouth off of you. He kisses the bare skin of your chest and stomach as his hands toy with the button on the dress pants you wore at dinner. He tugs them down your legs until your only left in your bra and panties. When he's done, you push at his shoulder until your able to sit up, stradling him.

You begin undressing him like the time in the bathroom but this time he lets you strip him down until hes in his boxers. You could see him straining against the fabric of his boxers and you whimper. You had to have him in your mouth. He tries to lay you back down, insistant on taking care of you but you shake your head; thats not what you needed right now. You connect your lips and grip him through his boxers. He lets out a slight gasp, and you can feel him twitch in your grasp. His eyes are closed, but you can see the tension in his jaw and the way his hands grip the sheets beneath him. You’ve been thinking about this for a while now, about how you want to unravel him, piece by piece, until there’s nothing left.

“Can I show you what's been on my mind?” You whisper against his lips, your voice low and sultry. “Do you trust me?”

His eyes flutter open and he nods. You slide down until you settle between his legs, your fingers trailing over the fabric of his boxers and you kiss along his chest. Finally, you pull him out of his boxers. His tip is a pretty pink, begging for your attention, and there’s a vein that follows along the base of his cock, pulsing with every heartbeat. You make a mental note to pay extra attention to that. His breath picks up before you can even do anything, and when you finally tear your eyes away from his cock, you see that his cheeks are dusted pink and his ears are red. Even at a time like this, you find him endearing. You smile, but it comes off more sultry than you intend.

You gather spit in your mouth to wet your tongue, savoring the anticipation as you lean in closer. The moment your lips wrap around his tip, he lets out a sharp gasp, his body tensing. You take him into your mouth, feeling the warmth and saltiness of him as you bob your head gently. You circle his tip with your tongue before pulling off to lick him from base to tip, spreading your saliva and making him slip easier into your mouth.

You look up, meeting his gaze as you take him deeper, your throat working around him. Jaehyun’s head is thrown back, his chest heaving as he tries to keep still, but his hips betray him, thrusting slightly into your mouth. You moan around him, the vibrations sending shivers down his spine. Each time you pull off, you leave a trail of saliva connecting you, making your next descent even slicker.

“Fuck…hah,” he breathes, his voice rough and strained. “You feel so good.”

“When was the last time someone did this for you?” You ask, your voice muffled around his cock, noticing how sensitive he is.

“I can’t remember,” he groans.

“We’ll have to fix that, won’t we?” You say seductively, your eyes locked on his as you take him back into your throat, not holding back as you show him the pleasures he had probably been withholding from himself. You moan around him, pumping him vigorously as you suck on him, making a show of giving him the sloppiest head possible.

He was polite in the beginning; he didn’t push your head or tug your hair, and he didn’t buck his hips. Instead, he gripped the sheets and bit his lip, trying to control himself, trying to be a gentleman. But after he hits the back of your throat a little too roughly and you gag on him, he loses it. The way your throat convulses makes him bury his fingers into your hair, pressing you down until your nose is nuzzling against his happy trail. Tears burn your eyes as you let him drown in his pleasure, your own arousal building in response.

You know your panties are ruined at this point. Your free hand snakes down between your legs, your fingers gliding over your clit, circling the swollen button as he uses your throat. You barely notice the ache in your jaw, too consumed by the sensations coursing through your body. Suddenly, he pulls you off, his breathing ragged, his eyes wild with desperation.

“Lay down,” he commands, his voice gruff and urgent. You don’t even have time to follow his command before he manhandles you onto your back, his hands moving with a mix of urgency and precision. Desire and desperation swirl in his eyes as he practically rips your panties from you, his fingertips grazing your inner thighs as he strips them away. He’s far too impatient to unclip your bra, so he just pushes it up, exposing your breasts to the cool air.

Your back arches into his touch as he attaches his mouth to your nipples, flicking and nibbling at them with a ferocity that leaves you breathless. You moan, your nails scratching down his arms lightly, urging him on. He kisses down to your thighs, leaving a few love bites along the skin there that have your hips twitching for more. Finally, he pulls back, his eyes raking down your body like he’s seeing you for the first time.

“Hurry, I need you,” you cry, your voice breaking with urgency, your fingernails digging into his arms.

He shushes you with a kiss, his lips pressing against yours in a brief but intense moment of connection. Then he lines himself up, coating himself in your slick, making sure he’s slick enough to slide right in. Your breath hitches when he presses against your entrance, the head of his cock nudging at your folds. You were definitely feeling how big he was. Not only was he long, but he had a nice girth as well, stretching you in ways that had you clenching your teeth a little at the sensation.

“Relax,” he murmurs, his voice soothing as he begins to push in. “Let me in.”

You gently press him back, creating a space between your bodies, your eyes drawn to where your bodies connect. You can feel him deep inside you—only a third left before hes in completely and you already felt full. A soft whimper escapes your lips, vulnerability flashing in your gaze as you look up at him, searching for assurance.

“It’s okay, baby. You can take it,” he whispers, his voice low and soothing, sending shivers down your spine.

You stay still, allowing the initial sting to fade, his fingers intertwined with yours, rubbing gentle circles into your skin as a calming gesture. You focus on the warmth of his hand against yours and the tension slowly dissipates. The discomfort begins to melt away, replaced by a delicious ache. You give him a slow nod, a silent agreement, and he takes that as his cue. His hips pull back, and you can’t help but watch, mesmerized, as he slips out—he was so big but still so perfect.

“Keep your eyes on me, baby. Focus,” he urges, his voice a deep rumble that resonates in your core.

You meet his gaze and its so intense you almost shy away. “Thats right baby, im right here”

One of his hands grips the underside of your thigh before pressing it up against your chest. your back arching involuntarily at the delicious rush of pleasure that courses through you. You could feel him in your gut in this position. His eyebrows furrow in concentration as he drills into you again and again. Short, fast thrusts gradually deepen into long, languid strokes that have you pushing at his hips weakly.

“Fuck, Jae… it’s too deep,” you cry out, your thighs trembling.

He pulls out slowly, leaving you empty and momentarily disoriented. “Turn around,” he commands, a sheen of sweat glistening on his brow. You pout, suddenly regretting opening your big mouth.

Taking a deep breath, you prop yourself up on your hands and knees, glancing over your shoulder at him with a pleading gaze. “I can take it, I promise,” you reassure.

“We’ll see,” he replies, his tone low and teasing, as he leans down to lay a line of soft kisses down your spine.

You shudder at the gesture and just as the last kiss lingers on the small of your back, you feel him slip inside again. This position gives him more control but he isn't as deep as before. You roll your hips back into him, urging him to fuck you as deep as he was before.

But he slows, his thrusts coming to a halt as he watches you move, his gaze dark with pleasure as he just watches you fuck yourself on him. He hums a noise of pleasure. He lets it go on for a little while longer before he is gripping your hips and stilling your movements.

“Let me take care of you”

He pushes the space between your shoulders, urging you down into the softness of the mattress until you're face down, ass up. With one hand gripping your hips, he resumes his thrusts. Picking up a brutal pace and this time you don't fight it. Each thrust strikes with precision, sharp and calculated, as he takes you from behind. His movements are relentless.

A low growl reverberates from deep within him. In an instant, he pulls you up until your back presses against his chest, your body perched in his lap as he continues to drill into you. You tilt your head back against his shoulder, gasping as his hands roam over you. One grips your chest, kneading your breast, while the other slips between your legs to expertly rub your clit. You let out unrestrained moans, the sounds echoing in the room without a care.

Your thighs tremble and you can feel tears prick your eyes as the overwheliming sensation consumes your body. Each thrust, each caress pushes you closer to the edge, and your chest heaves as you squirm in his hold. It was too much.

“I got you. Let it go baby.” he whispers breathily in your ear. His hand that was kneading your breast moves to hook beneath your shoulder, anchoring you down as he thrusts deeper, pulling you back into him as his hips drive into yours.

It isn't long until your an incoherent mess, until finally you collapse against him as your orgasm washes over you like a tidal wave. You moan shamelessly, feeling your heat pulse around him and coating his cock as your release spills out, dripping down his balls. Jaehyun groans, his arms wrapping tightly around you as he holds you in place, burning himself into you over and over again until hes lightheaded.

“Just a little more, baby, please. You can take it, yeah?” Jaehyun's voice wavers slightly, the raw need evident as he edges closer to his release. The urgency in his tone drives you wild. With a few more deep thrusts, he finally reaches his peak, filling you with thick, hot strands of cum. You shudder in his grasp, a wave of pleasure washing over you as he exhales harshly, breaths mingled with soft curses. “Fuck… mmmh… fuck,” he murmurs.

Jaehyun breathes as he slowly tries to catch his breath. You both take a few moments to come down from your high. His grip loosens at last, and with a gentle touch, he pulls out, laying you delicately on the mattress. You sink into the sheets, breathing heavily as he gets up to run a bath.

A few moments later, he returns, scooping you up in his strong arms. Together, you step into the warm water, which soothes your tired muscles instantly. You sit in front of him, letting the warmth encapsulate you as he takes on the role of caretaker, washing your back caringly.

He massages your shoulders, and you let out a content sigh, a sound that embodies the perfect blend of exhaustion and bliss. The water laps around you, and you feel a sense of tranquility settle in, wrapping around you just as warmly as his hands.

After you both wash up, you're enveloped in a comfortable silence. You were too tired to talk anyway. You lean back against him, feeling his fingers play in your hair. Eventually, when you finally muster the energy to pull yourselves from the bath, he wraps you both in warm towels. You don’t even bother with clothes, opting instead to pad back toward the bedroom

The bed was a chaotic mess, sheets crumpled and soiled from the nights activities. You yawn, too exhausted to even think about changing the linens, and way too impatient to wait for Jaehyun to take care of it. Without hesitation, you reach for his wrist, pulling him gently out of his disheveled room.

You guide him into the room across the hall—the very one where you first stayed. As you get under the covers, you tug them up and slip in beside him, legs tangling with his as you get comfortable.

Jaehyun can’t tear his gaze away from you as you settle next to him, the soft glow of the moonlight illuminating your features. Your eyes feel heavy, and you yawn again, surrendering to the fatigue. “Go to sleep, Jae, stop staring like a creep,” you grumble, nuzzling deeper into his chest.

“I'm afraid to,” he admits, his words muffled against your hair as he leans down to press a soft kiss on the top of your head.

“Why?” you ask, brows furrowing in concern.

“Because I’m afraid that when I wake up, this will all be a dream,” he confesses.

“Jaehyun. I’m right here,” you murmur with a soft yawn, your eyelids feeling heavier by the second. The warmth of his body and the soothing rhythm of his heartbeat lull you into a sense of comfort that makes it hard to resist the pull of sleep. “I’ll always be… right here,” you promise, your words fading into a whisper as sleep finally overtakes you.

[cielenruine]

To her credit, he does think back on himself, onto the conversation and the happenstance that brought them both here. He listens to her once again and despite her own outburst, he finds himself unmoved. A commoner, shrine maiden and among the younger attendants here. A veteran of a field he knew not but much to say about Fodlan she did have. "Indeed I do. You are already here and you've nothing better to do." Another commoner. Another divide that need be bridged. "You bemoan another lecture but humor me this once and I assure I'll never enforce the displeasure of being before you again." The rain wouldn't let up its onslaught. "Perhaps it is cruel of me to say so, but as a commoner, I'd expect you not to behave like those you bemoan. Far be it from equal in measure, but do you think a noble will give you that grace? Do you think the enemy will care whether you are a healer, mage, or pegasus knight? Do you think they will sit idle on their hands and wait for people to be in the places you'd like them to before their onslaught? You have fought, you have weathered whatever war it is you did, but do not speak on the trials of this land as if you know what they entail." There was no reason in raising voice, in taking any sort of tone. No, it was hardly even a reprimand, a statement made and believed. "Change requires buffer, change and transition from war to peace all the more or do you believe that all of Fodlan is of one mind, as if we do not have those who actually intend to keep us fighting where we have otherwise made strides? You are smarter than to make statements like this, that is if you actually were aware of any of what has happened to us." He clicked his tongue. He doubted she would listen. No this lecture was for his own self satisfaction at this point, to know what one might say should need ever arise again. "Us 'Lions' did not ask for the one king who sought peace to have his head separated from his neck and a force stronger than most to be decimated as if they were sitting ducks. Speak on this land all you want, get angry all you wish at my speaking on your comrades but don't presume I lecture you for any other reason than sending you off with all you might need to know." Then a vulnerary, tossed at the twinge he'd scarcely caught. He would have approached but he wasn't keen on chancing another spell his way. "You aren't stupid. Don't confuse strength with ingenuity. I will not fault you for thinking it might apply, using one's terrain to their advantage certainly has its merits but not all can cast such spells." "My intentions in leading you to the top was a lesson, not for you, but for those far too comfortable with thinking their strength was enough, that there was little need for them to consider anything other than 'their duty.'" He did not know her and she did not know him. Clear enough in the way she spoke of things, the ignorance she held to all that he had seen and done with little concern for the truth. It mattered not. He knew that. Lambert's death had spelled the end for any progress their generation may have made. "I don't expect you to take anything from this. At the very least know you'll not need to worry about passing or failing in this little insignificant game."

the battle of mud and flags

[flufflecat]

Talking to my brainwashed family members is going to be. So painful, no matter which way this election goes. Hoping your stepdad keeps his mouth shut

i hope the same to you friend :') it's really hard to ignore any part of the election when it's in your house with you, and god it sucks trying to deal with family members who don't seem to care if the person in charge of the country wants you dead

[isostatic-uplift]

.

[tripping-tennis-ball]

Morgan doesn't utter a word. Sol has sat up by the end of his rant. His knees are tucked into his chest, arms wrapped around them. He stares blankly at a wall. Exhaustion pours off of her in waves. The silence persists for long enough that most would usually mark the conversation over by now. Xe gets a feeling, though, that she's not quite done yet. They're right, of course. Sol looks towards them, eyes wide and alert despite the medication coursing through his system. "Hayte," he whispers, "It- It doesn't think I'm people."

She doesn't say anything else. Morgan nods in understanding. They don't ask how he found out. They wouldn't. There are no reassurances xe could possibly give, not any that would mean anything. At least, not right now. Instead, they stand up. "I'm gonna grab you some water. Alright, sunshine? You stay right here." She acknowledges their departure with just a small nod. Instead electing to stare blankly at the wall again. Morgan walks into the kitchen to grab a cup. They'd known Sol had a lot more to him. Xe always had a vague sense of what could have caused some of her behaviors. It's unsurprising, at least to them, that he'd struggled socially growing up. The specifics are what interests xem. It's depressing, to say the least. The pressure to conform, to be liked, It's something Morgan has always despised. They'd rather be themself and drive people away than give in to what others expect from xem. That mindset has caused issues in the past, sure, but it's worth it. They don't think Sol would agree. For as long as Morgan has known her, Sol has been a people pleaser. It's clear in the way he holds himself around those who's opinions matter to her. It shows in how she smiles and laughs to hide any emotion that he doesn't think is "necessary." That's not to say he never shows negative emotion or that she can't assert herself. He wears anger well. When someone crosses a line or ignores a clear boundary, she isn't afraid to do something about it. They've seen it themself. Too many people have come out of an interaction with Sol with a broken nose for xem to say otherwise. Whether those lines are drawn well or if there's enough of them, however, is a different story. Not to mention the attachment.

(He's spent so long trying to be normal for other people that he practically throws himself at anyone who doesn't hate her "differences". She's so desperate for someone to know him that he lets too much slide. I think she knows that as well as I do.) By the time Morgan returns with the water, and a couple of painkillers, Sol has passed out in her seat. They smile, setting the water and painkillers down on a nearby counter for when he wakes up. They grab a blanket and place it gently over his shoulders. They'll have a lot to talk about once she's awake and sober. There's no way xe are going to pretend nothing happened, come late evening. For now, though, they'll sit and watch over her. Maybe even take a nap of their own once they process everything. Morgan glances over at Sol. "Rest well."

Sol knocks harshly on the door.

"Morgan? Morgan, open up!"

He takes a deep breath. A futile attempt to calm her already fraying nerves.

" I can hear you. I know you're in there."

"Alright, alright. I'm coming, jeez."

Morgan grabs their shirt off the back of their chair and shoves it on. They stumble a little as they make it to the door.

They unlock the door, swinging it open. They raise a brow as they take in Sol's disheveled appearance.

His clothes are wrinkled, and the bottom of her jeans damp from coming through the grass. He's breathing heavily, as if he'd been walking for a while.

"The hell happened to you?"

Xe usher her in.

[churipu]

JJK MEN REACTING TO YOU GETTING LEFT OUT BY YOUR FRIENDS 𓆝 ⋆｡𖦹°‧

ִ ࣪𖤐 featuring. gojo satoru, toji fushiguro, sukuna ryomen, inumaki toge.

ִ ࣪𖤐 warnings. just jjk men being overprotective of you bye, and cursing.

note. guysssss, no requests pls, they're not open :(( and if you sent one in, i apologize but they're going to take a bit of time to do :(

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

before you did — gojo had already sensed that your friends were shit. believe me when i say that he has tried talking to you about it from the moment you introduced him to them during your weekly "girls night".

but you said that your friends were fine. gojo doesn't think so. ever since that day, every time you said you were going out with your friends; he came along with you, not leaving you out of his sight.

that includes today. your "girls night" or whatever — when you try to convince gojo that he didn't need to come with, but all he said was, "i am one of the girls, aren't i?"

so he came along. and he didn't regret it. not. one. bit.

your friends, he didn't even know how to describe them without slipping in a curse or two. because he couldn't believe you were actually friends with these douchebags. it was plain obvious they were leaving you out on purpose.

whenever you try to chime in the conversation, your voice is immediately toppled over by one of them. or when you try to walk beside them, they step a bit further — on purpose. he could tell.

the male was really glad he could smell the stench from a long time ago. so when you and him were walking behind them, fingers interlocked. he stopped walking, and it made you stop too, "what's wrong, 'toru?"

"let's go," he tugged you in the opposite direction from where your friends are walking to, "they don't deserve you."

the male was very upset for you. he wasted no time driving you home with him, giving you the love you deserved (and a pep talk on why you should never ever talk to your friends again).

𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎

toji didn't even care whether he knows your friends or not. but when you convinced him that they wanted to meet him, he agreed (begrudgingly).

and everything went south when he noticed the different way they react to you — and to him. you and your friends were a trio.

it's always a trio. he never gets it, he's seen his fair share of shitty friendships among people. that's why he doesn't have friends (or people don't want to befriend him, doesn't matter).

it wasn't even a trio any more. it was a duo, with you on the side. toji noticed the subtle way they share a look to each other whenever you start talking — or the way they nudge each other when you do something. god, it pisses him off.

he swore if you weren't there, he'd resort to violence.

when you excuse yourself to go to the restroom, toji of course takes the chance to give a small talk (straight up threatening) to them. he waved to you vaguely as you walk towards the direction of the restroom.

"don't ever fucking talk to my partner again after this. y'hear me?"

the mood plummeted and you realized after you came back from the restroom. but you said nothing about it.

and like toji threatened, your friends never talked or contacted you ever again. which obviously saddened you — but the male told you how shitty they are and that it was a good thing they're not talking to you anymore.

to this day, you still didn't know it was toji behind it all.

𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀 𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍

he has no shame in speaking his mind. and he immediately sensed how your friends were treating you differently from the first time he sees them. the male wastes no time giving them the eyes, where he was clearly telling them to fuck off.

when you and your friends (and him) decided to take a break inside a restaurant, he was pissed. sukuna, didn't even want to come with at the first place — he actually forced himself to come for you. he wanted to make sure your friends knew their place.

he has a bold tongue. sukuna is spicy with his words, he could care less about what people think of him. so the second he hears a disrespectful comment from either one of your friends directed to you to make you feel like you're the odd one out, the male glowered at them.

"mind repeating that?" he questions calmly, but something in his voice was intimidating. as if he was about to jump up from his seat and strangle the hell out of your friends.

of course, your friends were silent. afraid of him.

"exactly." the male stood up, tugging you along with him out of the restaurant, "what friends you have."

you were embarrassed at the comment, and sukuna sensed that too. even if he was tempted to say more things about your friends — he held back. for you.

"you don't need friends. what more do you need than me?"

𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐈 𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐄

believe me when i say that he contemplated using his cursed speech technique on your friends. he had seen you come back from a night out with your friends, upset and teary eyed.

and from that day, he's always hated them. so when you said that you were going to hang out with them again — inumaki followed you, trailing after you like a lost puppy.

actually — scratch that, you were the lost puppy. trailing after your friends, behind them like you aren't even a part of the group. if it weren't for inumaki being there, it would just be you alone.

inumaki mutters out a lot of, "salmon" and "tuna mayo" to you. fuming.

you grabbed his hand, swinging it happily. at this point, you didn't even care about your friends — as long as inumaki was there, you didn't feel alone like you used to. so you did what you had to do since long ago.

ditch them.

"thank you for being here, toge."

inumaki was happy now, no longer in a foul mood, and he squeezed your hand, "tuna mayo!"

a little translation: "i'm hungry."

© CHURIPU 2024 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE

[fordtato]

Alex Hirsch will imply or say through text and subtext of books about FiddAuthor and BillFord, while Dan Povenmire and Swampy Marsh will just have Perryshmirtz moments on Chibi shorts and tiktoks... and you know, sometimes I'm glad I get to live in this world. (I made this weird train of thought connection through the ending joke in Bill's interview in the book.)

SPOILERS: Look, no matter how one feels about it, Hirsch used terminology associated with romance and breakups throughout nearly every interaction between Ford and Bill. "Attracted-to," "will-they-won't-they," "were we even partners?," starting a conversation after a fight with "Can we talk?", calling Fiddleford a "third wheel," etc. - THESE ARE QUOTES.

Also, Bill uses language that is INCREDIBLY tied to abusive relationships when talking to Ford: "who else will make you feel like this?" etc.

Hell, Bill goes on a drunken bender after the breakup. Mabel calls Ford Bill's ex, and tells him to "get over" her Grunkle.

I've seen some discussion on the timeline on whether or not it's problematic to make BillFord canon and my thoughts are: this book DEPICTING an abusive pairing (or at least using language that echoes an abusive relationship), and then framing it through the lens of an unreliable abusive narrator is not the same thing as glorifying, romanticizing, or supporting the pairing. The people reading this recognize that Bill is a villain and not to be trusted, you know? It isn't even shades of grey, it's 100% depicted as the most ruinous thing in Ford's life. Hell, I think it's just very compelling writing. I love this. I think it's so interesting. Books should be able to tackle this.

And then the Fiddauthor fodder. The FIDDFODDER. He handmakes Ford two xmas presents, and makes nothing for Emma-May??? HE COMES BACK FOR FORD AFTER HIS FIGHT WITH HIS WIFE? AND THEY WERE ROOMMATES IN COLLEGE? AND FIDDS MADE 5 PROTOTYPES TO HANDKNIT FORD GLOVES??

The book also has a reference to Ford possibly being ace. Ford has nightmares about a pop quiz asking him what he's attracted to. He answers "planning and preparation." So, I have layered feelings about these tongue-in-cheek references to asexuality without just SAYING asexuality, you know? Like when it's wrapped in a joke, I think it affects how meaningful it is, but I'm not ace, so it's up to ace people to decide how they feel about this. But I do think it's interesting.

At the very least, this book adds queer undertones to the way Ford and Bill interact. Book of Bill gave more queer undertones in the TEXT, not just subtext, to how Ford interacts with others, and while that experience is translated through an abusive relationship, it's still there.

Y'all, this man is queer. I can't believe I'm not seeing everyone talking about this. Ford is queer. I don't know how to define his relationship with Bill Cipher, but it isn't straight.

[itaipava]

— little hints f1 boys would give that they have a crush on you.

˒ ⌕ LANDO NORRIS

he is interested in all your passions and hobbies: even if it is something he knows little about, he’ll ask you about your passions or things you like to do to have more to talk about with you and to get to know you even better. he also likes to research on the internet and send you videos that he finds about your favorite topics and, when you least expect it, he will start conversations about it, leaving you surprised but happy to know that he puts a lot of effort into connecting with your world.

˒ ⌕ GEORSE RUSSELL

he always includes you in his plans: whenever he travels, he talks as if you’re going too, without even inviting you directly. when you ask him about it, he usually says, “well, you’re going with me, aren’t you?” and when you can’t go because of work, he gets really frustrated, but he makes sure to keep you updated. he’s also always saying “we should check out that new place together… when are you free?” or “wouldn’t it be fun if you go with me for the next race?” he loves planting the idea of ​​future moments with you, and he loves it when they actually come true.

˒ ⌕ SEBASTIAN VETTEL

he loves teasing you: he always looks for a way to tease you, but always with a touch of flirting, which leaves you wondering if it's really just a joke or if he means something with it. he also hates it when someone else does this and he doesn’t hide his anger, and it’s at this moment that you also don't miss the opportunity to tease him; and the look in his eyes tells you that in fact, he doesn’t tease you just for fun.

˒ ⌕ CARLOS SAINZ

he always offers to help you with whatever you need: no matter what you need, he will do whatever it takes for you and to make your life easier. he will get you a coffee (and a sweet treat) in minutes when you say you want it. he will buy you something you said you needed but couldn't because you were too busy. he will come to your house to fix that broken drawer. he will always be there for you, even when you don't ask him directly, he will be there.

˒ ⌕ CHARLES LECLERC

he always remembers little details about you: sometimes he'll casually mention something small that you've said in the past, like your favorite snack or a specific memory. and sometimes you're delightfully surprised by how accurately he tells you these things because you could swear he'd forgotten or didn't really care, but he's always paying extra attention to you and everything you say is important to him.

˒ ⌕ LEWIS HAMILTON

he always compliments you a lot: but they’re not generic compliments that you always hear, he focuses on unique characteristics of yours that he really admires, like “you always have a way of making everything more fun and cool” or “you always seem to know the right things to say”, he’s always complimenting you, and he always means it.

˒ ⌕ OSCAR PIASTRI

he always looks for reasons to text you: he likes to send you news about your favorite singers, bands, authors or something he knows you’ll like. it’s things like “you popped into my head when i saw this, and i had to share” or “doesn’t this remind you of that joke you made?” and he always tries to keep the conversation going, no matter what.

˒ ⌕ LIAM LAWSON

he is always your biggest fan: whatever you do, he gives you all the support and help in the world. he is always the first one to show up when you need encouragement, whether it’s to wish you good luck at an event or send you a bouquet of flowers with a little note, or a brief message saying that he believes in you, and that he knows everything will turn out fine. he also loves talking about you to people like “did you see what y/n did? she’s amazing, right?” he is your biggest fan, and he doesn’t hide it from anyone.

˒ ⌕ MAX VERSTAPPEN

he looks at you a lot: when you two make eye contact, you have to look at something else first because he can’t get enough of you - and he loves it when you get embarrassed about it. he also loves to admire you when you’re distracted and don’t realize he’s looking at you; he loves looking at you and learning your mannerisms. to him, you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever seen, and even though sometimes you catch him staring at you and ask him with a smile what he’s looking at, he doesn’t stop or give you a serious answer, which creates a spark of curiosity in you.

[thelostconsultant]

Midnight rain

pairing: Lando Norris x reader

summary: Lando wanted a family, but you weren’t ready. Three months after your breakup, he's still in love with you, and now it's your turn to decide whether or not to give him a second chance.

“You’re exhausting,” you groaned into the phone.

It was well into the morning when Lando’s name flashed on your screen, which wouldn’t have been so surprising if you were in the same time zone. But you were in Singapore, six hours ahead of Belgium, which meant it was around three in the morning over there. When he spoke, his speech was slurred, he was obviously struggling to form coherent sentences, but he sounded hell-bent on talking to you right now.

Since you were almost at the stadium for rehearsal before tonight's concert, you didn't feel like keeping up the conversation, but the way his voice broke made you listen. You knew he hadn't been in the best state of mind since the breakup, but the fact he still felt so miserable made you sad.

“We would have beautiful babies, you and me. Why don't you want to see them? A mini you, or a mini me, maybe a mini mix of us… So cute,” he said, at least that’s what you managed to understand from his mess of a speech.

And he giggled. You could imagine him lying on his back, one hand holding the phone while the other hugged a pillow to his chest. Rolling your eyes, you thought about what to say to this. It was always the same story, he would call you, tell you how much he missed you, how much he loved you, how he wished you would marry him, and how much he wanted to have a child with you.

The same things that made you break up with him in the first place. He told you about his vision; a big wedding somewhere remote, then the two of you would travel together, preferably with you coming to his races as a good luck charm, and soon you would welcome your first child who would be spoiled rotten.

That's not what you wanted. You wanted to focus on your career, you wanted to go on tours, you wanted to make more albums, you wanted to do so much before becoming a wife and a mother. Lando didn't seem to understand this, he kept telling you it would be okay, that there were many singers who could return to where they'd been before, but you didn't buy it.

“Go to sleep, Lando,” you told him calmly, hoping that gentle parenting would work.

“No, I won't sleep until you're back to me. I'll stay awake and–Don’t touch my phone, Osc!” he protested suddenly.

You heard some bickering in the background, which was followed by a long sigh. “Hey, it's Oscar. I'm sorry, we stayed with him and have been trying to keep him from calling you, but he somehow snatched his phone back from Max. You okay?”

At least he was in good hands and under supervision. “Yeah, sure, thanks for staying with him. Good race for you two by the way,” you said with a smile.

“You watched it?”

“Well, I checked the results and saw the highlights.”

There was a short break which made you wonder if he was still there, but then he spoke up again. “Listen, I don’t want to be involved in this, but I’m worried about Lando. You broke up three months ago and he’s still a mess. I get it, you don’t want marriage and kids yet, but maybe he would understand your reasons and agree to wait if you just sat down to discuss it.” You didn’t know what to say to that, but apparently Oscar was also a bit hesitant. “Do you still love him?”

“I don’t know if it’s love, but I care about him. We were together for over three years, it’s not gonna disappear from my life in a blink of an eye,” you explained. “But… I don’t know, I’m just afraid he would be back at it in a matter of weeks, once again trying to convince me to start a family with him.”

“And if we talked to him when he was sober? If we made sure he understands what you’ve been trying to tell him? Would you give him another chance?”

You took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. Would you? Would it be worth it? You were on tour right now, but after the next four concerts you would end the Asian leg and have a few weeks for yourself. You would have time to figure things out. “I would talk to him, and maybe I would be willing to try again. Once last time. The moment he’s back on his bullshit, I’m going to leave him for good,” you added.

You could hear the soft laugh from Oscar’s side, and you could see him glancing down at his teammate with a smile. “I’m sure he would like it. I’m not sure how long he’ll be knocked out once we convince him to sleep, but I’ll tell him to call you at a reasonable time when he’s finally sober again, okay?”

“Yeah, okay. Thanks for everything.”

He said goodbye and left you with your thoughts, wondering if you made the right call. Maybe there was a part of you that wanted to be with him, because the years you spent together meant a lot to you. He was one of the kindest people you’ve ever met, a ray of sunshine, really, in stark contrast with your sometimes gloomy personality.

But who knew, maybe his friends can talk some sense into him.

Lando knew he only had one chance at this. All his friends were very clear about this, Oscar especially, since he had been the one to talk to you. During that one phone call a week ago, you agreed to come to him in Monaco, visiting his apartment so you wouldn’t have this conversation at a public place. It was something between the two of you, there was no need for strangers hearing even snippets of it.

When you arrived and his eyes fell on you again, every single thought left his brain. He was just standing there in the door, utterly speechless, surprised that he didn’t start drooling at the sight. After all those months spent looking at photos of you at your concerts, seeming like you had the time of your life on the stage, it was so nice to see this you, the one without the sparkling dresses, the down-to-earth girl he loved so much it hurt.

“Can I come in?” you asked him hesitantly.

He blinked a few times before realizing he had been staring for a little too long. “Sure, sure, come in,” he said as he stepped out of the way. “Can I bring you anything?”

Shaking your head, you sat on the couch and patted the empty space next to you. Like a well-trained puppy, Lando sat down and turned to look at you, taking in every little detail as if this was the last time he saw you. Because maybe this was the last time, maybe you would end the conversation with the decision that this relationship couldn’t be revived.

After several painfully silent minutes later, you finally stopped fidgeting with your ring and let out a long sigh. “I don’t want to start a family yet, at least not the way you want it. Marriage is one thing, but… You expected me to spend my time following you around. I have my own career to nurture, Lan, you need to understand that. Sure, one day I’ll be ready for it, but not yet,” you explained kindly, your eyes examining his face for a reaction.

But Lando knew better than to let his disappointment be visible, he fought hard to keep it away from you. So, when he spoke up, his voice was also kept neutral. “But you wouldn’t be against it one day, right? Starting a family with me, I mean,” he said, deep down hoping there would be a dazzling smile on your face as you replied.

You smiled, but it was more of a polite, maybe little uncertain smile. “Yeah, one day, although I can’t tell you when, I can’t give you a deadline. Maybe in our early thirties, maybe sooner. You would have to wait and see. Do you think you can do that?”

He couldn’t hold back a sad laugh, mostly because you didn’t really give him the choice to negotiate. You told him what you had to offer, and it was a take it or leave it situation. And he wanted you back in his life, he wanted to be by your side every step of the way, he wanted to be your biggest fan, and he needed you to support him. “I can. For you,” he added seriously as he reached out to take your hand.

[avatar-anna]

i saw this trend on tiktok where girlfriends flash their boyfriends to win an argument, and i thought that was genius, so...yeah! that's what this is. enjoyxx

"Baby, we've talked about this."

"I know, but I just think if you listened—"

"I have listened, and I just don't think now is the time to do this."

You rolled your eyes at your boyfriend, annoyed by both his tone and his words. "It'll never be the right time. You just don't want to commit to this relationship."

"Seriously? That's where we're going with this?" Harry asked, finally looking away from where he was chopping vegetables for dinner. "I say it's not the right time to get a dog and you think it's because I'm not committed? Really, Y/n."

He looked down pointedly at himself. Harry stood in the kitchen in an apron that said, Kiss the Cook! You got it for him as a gag gift on his birthday last year since he was always in the kitchen, but he ended up loving it. Naturally, he also demanded you kissed the cook whenever you helped him out with cooking.

You knew what he was trying to say without voicing it, that was committed to you no matter which way you tried to spin it to win the argument. And you knew that, you were just a little annoyed that you and Harry couldn't get on the same page like you normally were.

You and Harry continued to bicker back and forth about the pros and cons of getting a dog together. Harry insisted he wasn't against it, just not now, but you'd done too much research and you knew now was the time, or you would never get around to it.

"You always do this," you said.

"Do what?"

"Try and table a conversation only to never come back to it. Just have a backbone and say you don't want a dog instead of hiding and avoiding it."

Rolling his eyes Harry ran a tired hand over his face. "You know what? Fine, you're right. I don't want a dog."

"But why?"

"Y/n, we travel all the time. We can't train a puppy when we're—"

Harry paused, his eyes finally opening after removing his hand from his face, his eyes settled on you, a mix of emotions quickly running across his face.

"When we're what?" you asked innocently, trying not to smile.

Still not answering, your boyfriend opened and closed his mouth as if his brain was short-circuiting. "You—You just—That's cheating."

"What do you mean?" you said, no longer trying to hide your smirk as Harry stepped closer to you, his eyes not meeting yours at all. They were focused solely on your chest, where you'd conveniently lifted your shirt to expose your breasts.

Coming out of his stupor but still not meeting your gaze, he said, "You don't get to—to use your tits against me!"

"Why, is it working?"

Harry shook his head in utter disbelief, his eyes almost completely glazed over. Whether he liked it or not, you won this round.

"Yes—No—I mean...What were we arguing about again?"

Chuckling softly, you cupped his cheek with your hand. "We were deciding on whether or not we should get a dog."

"Oh. Right. Whatever you want, baby."

"Really?"

You thought this would soften your boyfriend, push him in the right direction, but you didn't think he'd cave so quickly. Harry was already leading you toward the stairs, clearly ready to leave the argument behind.

"Course. Come convince me some more upstairs."

*.*

"Seriously? You're still on that stupid thing?"

Harry barely glanced your way before looking back at the TV, his thumbs moving furiously over his game controller. He mumbled his greeting, too engrossed in his game to acknowledge your presence.

Your boyfriend wasn't typically the video game type, only ever using his gaming console occasionally. That was until a few weeks ago when one of his friends got him hooked on some new game and now he played it nonstop. You didn't really care if Harry played video games, but this had become a fixation. It had been ages since you and him went to bed together at the same time, or gone on a date,, or had sex.

You'd been thoroughly replaced by some game.

"H, have you even gotten up from the couch since I left?"

The response Harry gave you was abysmal, only sparking your irritation more. You'd left him in that exact position hours ago to run errands, and he was still there. You doubt he'd so much as gotten up to eat since you'd been gone.

"Are you even listening to me?"

"That sounds great, baby," Harry said, his eyes still glued to his game.

You narrowed your eyes at your boyfriend. "I will not be second to a video game," you muttered before inching closer to the TV. With a sigh, you reached for the bottom of your shirt and lifted it up, taking the bralette you wore with you.

Harry didn't notice at first, which was really going to piss you off, but his eyes snagged on your naked chest as he switched positions on the couch. His whole body stilled as he took you in, his rapidly moving thumbs coming to a halt on his controller.

"Are you done playing now?" you asked, your brows raising expectantly.

Not looking at his game once, Harry tossed the controller on the couch and stood up. As if in a trance, he walked toward you. As he got closer, you could hear shouts of protests from his friends coming from the headset still on his head. He took that off too, then lifted you up without warning. You quickly wrapped your legs around his waist as he led you to your bedroom. And when he laid you down on the bed, you grinned, satisfied that your boyfriend was still wrapped around your finger.

[kalims]

⊹ㅤattractive things they do | heartslabyul

parts. heartslabyul, savanaclaw, octavinelle, scarabia, pomefiore, ignihyde, diasomnia

characters. riddle, trey, cater, ace, and deuce.

content. gender neutral reader as always

note. fun fact: was scrolling thru my really, really old drafts and saw this. so I decided to just finish it cause why not. (this been rotting there for like a year and a half lmao)

I have about, 14 in my to do list haha. im doing them at random but trying to squeeze in writing at the crack of the night

perhaps he isn't aware of what he's doing exactly but riddle nods every once in a while during a conversation with you. that alone wouldn't have striken something in you if he wasn't intent on looking in your eyes every, damn, time! when you started to notice whatever habit it was it honestly got you skipping words mid sentence. eye to eye contact was something he thought was basic etiquette, hence his lack of care about it. there's something nice about his undivided attention focused, and probably soaking up whatever you had to say. if that wasn't enough him remembering every single thing you mention to him definitely did the trick..

everything, coughs. if i had to narrow it down probably the fact that trey quite literally looms over your shoulder to take a look at whatever you're doing. it doesn't matter whether you're tall, if you're sitting down that's what he's doing. if you had a penny you'd bet that he knows exactly what he's doing from the small smirk he does right after you jolt. you could smell his cologne, his skin over yours and you don't know if you want to screech into the void or throw yourself out of the window. you're as still as a statue, refusing to look up at him or else you're gonna get more down bad than you already are.

some might have contrary opinions but we all love an affectionate guy who isn't afraid to show it. caters just the type to bound up to you and attach himself like a magnet or something. it's funny cause you could be talking to your friends or something and he just bounds up behind you and encases you in a hug. sometimes when he's the one in a conversation he's pulling you over like he needs an emotional support item. literally whenever you're in reach, he's putting his arms to good use. you will not escape I guess.

for someone who claims to be a major hater to certain things considered weird in his book, affection included. ace does it a lot. he somehow always gravitates towards you, it doesn't matter if deuce is walking beside you he's gonna literally bump the guy away with his shoulder (one time into a bush.) a thing he likes to do though, is an arm over your shoulders like you're buddy buddies, which you technically are. just kinda out of character for a guy like him to pull you close so suddenly—and he's semi-aware of it.

looks away really fast when he gets flustered. it's really obvious that you got him, with whatever you've done. a cute thing deuce has done is laying face down in his desk at record speed just because you managed to make him embarrassed, in a good way! if you peeked through the gap under him you'd see his red face. if he can't hide his face from you, as in you keep tryna peek at it when he looks away he's literally just gonna use his hands to cover it. (although his likely response is to just sputter some excuse and dip.)

[leviraaaaaa]

All that's left.

“I know you’re there.”

Levi's voice cut through the stillness, startling you. You’d been watching him from the side of the wreckage, watching as the ghosts of your comrades appeared for one last time, one last salute. One last declaration of all they dedicated. One last goodbye. They had met your gaze too, shooting a small sad smile and you knew what it meant.

You two were all that's left. The last one's standing.

You stayed out of his sight even after they disappeared, giving him the privacy to mourn. God knows he needed it. You didn’t think he had noticed your presence, but then again, who were you trying to fool? His extraordinary instincts were never to be underestimated.

With a sigh, you pushed yourself to stand straight and stumbled forward, trying not to put too much weight on the ankle you had injured. He glanced at you out of the corner of his eyes. Ever resilient, ever strong, the cracks were so slight, just barely there. But you knew. You could always tell.

“Hi.” You mumbled. He stared at you as you dragged yourself in front of him.

“Nice of you to make it out alive.” He said.

“Who would’ve thought?” You shrugged.

“You made an ugly titan by the way.”

“I’m sure you would’ve looked charming.”

“Bet.”

A small smile tugged at your lips. The conversation was so unbelievably normal, it was surreal. Like nothing ever happened. Here, amid the ruins of everything, all the corpses, smoke, blood and destruction—here you were, back to how it always was. Almost as if, if you concentrated hard enough, all of it would go away and you’d find you and him back in the soggy cafeteria of the scout headquarters, back to bantering with him and arguing about silly little things that don't really deserve arguments but it’s you and Levi so of course it’d end up an argument.

You felt so old suddenly.

How come you ended up here? In this way?

And Levi looked so tired, you could cry. Hasn’t he given enough? Doesn’t he get to rest now?

“Does that..” You glanced down at his leg, the one he had spread out in front of him. It was clear it was beyond repair. The fabric of his pants were torn at the knee, from where it was crushed between the titan’s jaw, a bloody, mangled mess. “Does that hurt?”

“Not really, no.” His eyes followed your gaze. “Numbed a while ago. Can’t feel shit really.”

You sighed. "Not very humanity's strongest anymore, huh?"

Levi raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?" He said. "Careful, I could still kick your ass."

"I'm sure."

You grinned. Then went ahead and dropped yourself beside him. He frowned.

“Shouldn’t we be getting up?” He said. “Why are you getting comfortable?”

“Why not?” You muttered, pulling your legs upto your chest, hugging them. “What’s it matter what we do or not? Armin’s the hot shit now, let him deal with everything.” Your head throbbed as you buried them in your knees. "We're too fucking old now anyways,"

He didn’t argue, but he made no attempt to get up either. If anything, he looked more relaxed. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to spend the rest of your life here. After all, you were so tired, and you were sure he was too. This was as good as anywhere else would be.

Because there’s no home to return to anymore.

“Do you think there’s anything left of Hange to bury?” He suddenly said.

You shuddered. What do you answer to that?

Your head pounded so hard, you couldn’t really think. Far away, somewhere in the distance, you could hear someone yelling at another someone, but you couldn’t bother to pay attention to the words. Armin and the others would figure something out surely.

You were exhausted.

“Say, Levi.” You said tiredly, nudging him slightly.

“What?”

“Wanna get married?”

Levi almost choked, he was suddenly all uptight, stiff as a board as he looked at you with wide eyes.

“What the fuck?” He asked, looking mildly horrified. “Are you seriously gonna make jokes here? Here?”

“Not joking.”

You lifted up your head, tilting it to look at him. It was hard to tell whether he was annoyed or flustered. Maybe both. "Not joking at all," You sighed. You’re not sure where the sudden boldness came from, but this is as good a time as any. Might as well. “You’re right. It’s a bad time to make jokes. So I’m dead serious.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I am.” You nodded, turning your expression very serious.

“You’re weird as fuck.” He muttered out after several failed attempts to speak. The tips of his ears turned red, red as it always did whenever you used to jokingly suggest that he should date you. Except you weren’t really joking anymore. In fact, you haven’t been joking for a long, long time.

“I mean..” You closed your eyes. You were too tired to even feel embarrassed. “We’re the only ones left. Me and you. You’re all I have left, Levi. So, why not?”

He gasped at you for a long moment. Then he started shaking his head. “You’re insane.”

“You’re just realizing that?”

“No.” He muttered. “You’re insane. And it’s rubbing off on me.”

He paused for a long time, his one good eye searching your intensely, as if he was considering something. And finally, he made up his mind.

“You’re insane. And I’m no fucking different.” He sighed. “I must’ve hit my head pretty damn hard because I’m actually considering this shit.”

You grinned. “Go on, say it. You like me.”

“Wrong. I tolerate you.”

“Good enough. You don’t tolerate a lot of people, so I’ll take it as I'm special.”

He sighed, turning away, hoping that’s enough to hide his heart from you. You were special to him, always. But you didn’t need to know that. He didn’t want you to know that. He didn’t know how to let you know that.

“Can you believe us?” He scoffed instead. “We’re practically sitting in a graveyard. Half the world’s ruined but then there’s us.”

“That’s fine. Let’s keep being us. The world can go fuck itself. Meanwhile, we can—”

“Do not finish that sentence.” He glared.

You couldn’t help it—you laughed. A deep, aching laugh that left you gasping for air and brought tears to your eyes. And for the briefest moment, Levi’s lips twitched into something resembling a smile.

“We’re insane.” You admitted, still breathless. With that, you pushed yourself up, stumbling a little before you found your balance. You reached out your hand to Levi, who took it without question.

“Come on, Lev.” You pulled him up, letting him wrap an arm around you to brace himself. “Let’s go home.”

You were right, Levi thinks as he limped with you, letting you support him. It was nice to finally let himself lean on someone.

You two are the only ones left.

You’re all he has now.

The world has taken enough from him. He’s so tired of letting go.

And he’d be damned if he let you go too.

[moonydustx]

a/n: just leaving it here

How does it feel?

Part 1 (you're here) - Part 2 - Part 3

warnings: smut, porn with no plot. Law "teaching" F!Reader how to have orgasms. without many warnings to avoid spoilers.

Law x F!Reader

Comments, reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated.

MDNI | MINOR DO NOT INTERACT

Law found it funny how escalating a conversation between his friends - coincidentally also his crewmates - could escalate.

It had started with each person commenting something about the most recent island they had visited, the chat continued until the topic became about Shachi having met a woman, staying with her and she said that she had had the best night of her life and then she charged him for the services. Finally, the subject that had left him uneasy: orgasms.

His uneasiness was directed at you and how you claimed you had never had one. That your previous companions didn't seem too concerned about it and you had never been able to get close to the height of your pleasure not even by yourself. You and Law were nothing more than a few stolen kisses when you were both high or when a certain need struck. You had never gone beyond that, you had never assumed anything either. But Law couldn't get it out of his head.

That was when he convinced you to accompany him to the bedroom and as soon as the door closed behind you, he took your lips in a kiss that, no matter how much you both denied it, was full of feeling on both sides.

"Can I help you with that?" he asked and saw you looked lost. "With the orgasm thing."

"Oh." was the only thing that seemed to come out of your lips. Your mind was going haywire with the information.

"I'll understand if you don't want to. I mean, it's a strange request, isn't it?" Law almost let his nervousness get the better of him. "I just want to make you feel good and I don't intend on actually reaching the end and..."

"Please." the request didn't seem clear to him, so you insisted. "Please give me an orgasm."

A growl escaped Law's lips and he had to control himself. The focus was on you and only your pleasure that night. After you discovered what it was like to actually get there, he would let you choose whether you wanted to continue feeling that way with him.

"Take off your uniform." Law took a few steps back and sat down on the bed.

He watched you take off your outfit and remain in just a thin blouse and panties. A sight that pleased him enough. He leaned against the headboard and tapped the padded spot in front of him and you promptly complied, sitting up and letting his arms wrap around you.

"What do you plan captain?" you turned your face so you could face him.

"First, no captain here." he pointed out. "I plan to teach you how to get there. And then you can do it yourself or teach your future partners." the idea sounded bitter on his lips, but he didn’t want to put you in an uncomfortable situation.

"So where do we start?"

"This way."

He gently held your face and started kissing you. Calmly, he felt you snuggle even closer to him. Almost like an authorization for him to sink deeper into your mouth.

While his tongue massaged yours, eliciting small murmurs that vibrated between you, one of his hands kept you trapped in the kiss, cupping your face. The other walked around your body, running down the sides of your skin, down your thighs. You squeezed your legs, trying to find some relief from the heat that was starting to accumulate there.

"A kiss is a good way to start." He pulled away just enough to comment, returning to your lips for a few more seconds. "When it's about you, a kiss is a good thing for any occasion."

"Don't say things like that." you moved away from his lips almost definitively, your head lolling just enough to rest against his chest.

The sight - almost as sinful as his own thoughts - was something to behold. You were there waiting for him to start showing you what pleasure was. One of his hands continued to trace some incoherent patterns on your skin, while the other wandered over your hardened nipple.

"Women are a little different from men in this regard." now avoiding touching your nipple through the thin fabric of the shirt, he just circled the areola. "Some are extremely sensitive at this point, others not so much, for some it also depends on the period of the cycle."

This time, he suddenly ran his thumb firmly over your nipple, your back letting you touch his chest for a brief moment, just to seek more contact.

"I see you fit into the first group."

"And what does that mean?" the question sounded innocent and silly, but it was difficult to think with Law so close to you, where you needed him.

Both of his hands came up enough to remove the straps of your blouse and expose your breasts.

"It means I can have some fun with them." he need to focus this was about you and not him. "So fucking beautiful."

His fingers gently slid over the two highlighted points. First he caressed your nipples gently, testing to see how much more you might want. Seeing you tighten your thighs even more and move a little in search of friction, Law captured both nipples between his fingers, eliciting an intense gasp from you.

Since the position didn't allow him to taste it directly on his lips, he at least tried to simulate the sensation for you. The hands that were previously on your nipples briefly went to his mouth and were bathed in saliva. In a calculated movement, Law placed his wet fingers back on your nipples just as his mouth closed on your neck in a wet kiss. A no longer so shy moan escaped you and made his dick twitch inside the pants he was wearing.

"Law, this...this feels good." your body arched against his fingers.

"I bet I could make you cum with just that." his lips untied themselves from you only to speak softly in your ear. "I will do this next time."

His hands allowed themselves to slide down your body again, now exciting a more breathless version of you. Law took his hands to your bare thighs and after caressing them, he gently opened them, placing them on top of his legs. Even though you were still covered by your panties, you felt exposed.

"Most women don't like to get straight to the point. Teasing can help make things more interesting." His hands ran up your inner thighs, raising goosebumps.

"I don't think provoking is the best option." you tried to sound firm, but your voice came out more breathless than you expected.

"This tells me otherwise." without hesitation, two firm fingers pressed your damp panties. "This pretty pussy is so wet just from me teasing you a little."

"Please Law." you tried to move against his fingers, which were now sliding along the sides of your intimacy.

"Did you know that the labia majora also have nerve endings?" he pointed out, ignoring your plea and letting his fingers slide. "Some stimulus can help."

His movement stopped for a brief moment, so brief that you were unable to ask why he had stopped or to contain your moan when you felt him touch through your panties where you needed it most.

"But they're not as sensitive as this one." Law started to make small circles over where your clit was. When he looked at your face, he could see that you had brought both hands to cover your mouth, your nails digging into your own cheek. "Room. Silence." he saw your eyes look around briefly. "Just let me hear you, please."

As soon as the blue dome formed around you, Law deftly removed your hands from your lips and covered them with his own mouth. His tongue invaded your mouth shamelessly while his movements over the damp fabric of your panties became a little faster. Your hands tried to hold on to him as best you could and even with him kissing you so voraciously, your moans still found space to remain there against his lips. Again, he stopped his movements and moved away from your lips just enough to find your attentive eyes, dilated pupils and reddened lips.

"I'll buy you another one. As many as you want."

Instead of explaining why, you just felt his two hands force the fabric of your panties and it split into some pieces.

The touch of his fingers directly against your little bud could be enough for Law to have his own orgasm there. More exciting than that was just seeing your eyes closing in front of his, a loud moan escaping your lips at such a short distance from him. Heavens, that was a little bit of paradise he thought he'd never taste.

"I need more Law, more please." you turned to him again, but one of your hands remained tied to the back of his neck. "It feels so good, so fucking good."

"Fuck" he murmured against the skin of your neck as his fingers slid easily to your entrance. The warm wetness against his fingers left him on the verge of irrationality. Gently, he slowly penetrated you with his middle finger, your fingers against the back of his neck held tight to Law's dark strands of hair. "That's a good girl, I can feel you squeeze me. Is that what you wanted?"

"D-Don't stop Law, please." you involuntarily moved your hips against the back and forth of his finger, searching for more and more.

"I won't stop, babe, I won't." Law removed his entire finger and added his ring finger, slowly penetrating them again. The way you moved your hips against his fingers - and against his cock behind you - indicated that you wouldn't last long. "You're taking me so good, pussy so fucking tight."

“Law, I just…” as soon as his fingers pressed against your g-spot, a sharp scream left you. A knot beginning to tighten and burn inside you. "Fuck, that's it. I c-can feel something, I think… Law, please."

Seeing you start to lose control of your hips and tighten even more inside your pussy, Law knew he needed little for you to get there - and to be quite honest, he was about to reach an untouched orgasm himself.

"Stop holding back." His voice came out as a whisper at the edge of your ear, using the palm of his hand to stimulate your clitoris, your increasingly intense moans were a melody for him. "I can feel you squeezing me, begging for more. Come on, give it to me, let me feel you come. Just for me, okay? You're going to do this just for me."

"Law!" With one last moan from you, Law could feel you squeeze him hard and the fingers inside you become drenched as your body softened against his arms.

Giving a few more gentle caresses against your intimacy, Law took his hand away from you and had to dare the urge to put his fingers to his own lips. He would have the chance to taste you and when he does, he will taste it straight from the source itself.

Seeing your tired form nestled against his chest, Law let the caresses against your body be softer and without any trace of malice, just as his lips placed some chaste kisses on the top of your head.

"Thanks for trusting me." You smiled at his thanks, taking one of his hands and placing a small kiss on it. "So... how does it feel?"

"It felt so good, I've never felt that before." you adjusted yourself just enough to meet his lips.

"Yes, it was great."

"I'm sorry for not making it up to you." you pointed out and saw a light laugh escape his lips. "What?"

"I feel like a teenager, but..." his gaze directed yours to the wet spot on his light pants. "Feeling you and hearing you was a little too much for me."

You both laughed for a brief moment, enjoying the little bubble of affection that seemed to be surrounding you.

"Law?" his murmur indicated that he was paying attention. "You must be pretty experienced, right? To know all this."

"Not so much." his fingers intertwined with yours. "Part of it I know because I'm a doctor, so it's easier to know how bodies work. And part of it is because I've seen it in some books."

You just nodded and snuggled into him, his fingers were distracted playing with yours. This time, just like you had done, he called your name and you just mumbled back.

"What I said before." it was strange, but Law felt a little shy about bringing the subject on board. "I take back what I said. I wanted this – what you felt today – to happen just to me and not to other partners."

"It's okay. I also want you to be the one to do this to me."

[cvnntagious]

♱ ⋮ fratboy!chris headcanons ⸝⸝

all my fratboy!chris blurbs, fics, and wips : here

⇢ SFW

✱ fratboy!chris who, of course, met you at a party his fraternity threw and instantly decided you were comin' up to his room at some point, even if it wasn't gonna happen that night

" y'look good "

" me? "

" yeah, you— wa's y'name? "

✱ fratboy!chris who's known all too well by girls at boston university, though, despite contrary belief, he doesn't actually entertain most of them... guess you got lucky?

✱ fratboy!chris who's BU's resident dealer, known by every fiend on campus and more

✱ fratboy!chris who doesn't fuck with relationship labels whatsoever

✱ fratboy!chris who doesn't mess with anyone else, and doesn't want you to either, even though you guys aren't really 'dating'

✱ fratboy!chris who has no problem letting everyone know you're his with pride

✱ fratboy!chris who would rather focus on his lacrosse career than "some shitty college romances", or at least that's how he explains it to you

" and why are you telling me this? "

" jus' thought y'should know... i'on want you gettin' any funny ideas about what we got goin' on here "

✱ fratboy!chris who avoids any conversations about the future, or anything that requires him to even think about committing

✱ fratboy!chris who constantly needs you with him, whether he's just lounging around, at practice/games, or out making moves. ironic, isn't it?

✱ fratboy!chris who doesn't call you anything but mama, not even ma, no matter the occasion

" y'see how crazy you're bein' right now? mama, m'jus sittin' here, see? can't stand when y'do allat whinin' shit "

" don't call mama right now, chris, i'm done with all your fake nonchalant ass games "

✱ fratboy!chris who, even with being admired for his outgoing and charming personality, has such a rotten temper, especially when things don't go his way

✱ fratboy!chris who always says what's on his mind - to you, his friends, random people, anyone - even if it's completely unnecessary

✱ fratboy!chris who absolutely relishes in the respect he has from not only his peers, but the staff as well. humble's simply not a word in his world

⇢ NSFW

✱ fratboy!chris who's big and knows how to use it

✱ fratboy!chris who favors doggy, but can also get down with some rough missionary

" nah, s'okay mama... we'll switch it up tonight, don't worry "

✱ fratboy!chris who likes giving, but loves receiving. the image of your lips wrapped around his length is what helps him to sleep at night

✱ fratboy!chris who's a huge hair puller and thigh slapper (as well as occasional cheek squeezer)

✱ fratboy!chris who will take any opportunity he possibly can to either roll up or puff his joints while you use him

✱ fratboy!chris who makes sure to leave marks. usually where only you two can see, but if he feels like a guy's paying too much attention to you, he'll mark you on your neck or something for him to see

" chris, it's so obvious. how am i even gonna cover this up? "

" don't cover it. i'd like to see m'try an' get in your pants again when he sees allat "

" he literally asked for the material in our class..? "

✱ fratboy!chris who's almost always down for trying something new, but isn't usually one to suggest it

✱ fratboy!chris who loves when you praise him, even if it's unintentional. simple things like "so big," or "so good," really get him going

" yeah, s'good? y'wan more of that good shit? "

✱ fratboy!chris who, to no surprise, is horrible at aftercare.

a/n : i fear this took a lot longer than i thought it would to make... but i'll be making at least one of these for each of my au's since a) i'm unmotivated/don't have time to actually write, and b) want to develop the characters (and some of their pairings) further

-love, grandma cvnty ☆!

[nouearth]

the boy next door.

pairing. alan ritchson x male reader headcanon.

summary. with his profile brewing in hollywood, projects are consistently lining up for alan, and the last thing he needs is a new roommate getting in the way of his stress. unless, reader finds himself becoming alan's personal stress-ball?

content warning. camboy!au, camboy!reader, top!alan, bottom!reader, food!play (cucumber as dildo), muscle worship, size difference, spitting, oral (r!giving on dildo), dirty talk, verbal, masturbation, alan and reader are roommates.

moving in.

roommate!alan who surprises you with his massive stature when he greets you on move-in day.

it was jaw-dropping. well, almost so. you were luckily aware enough to catch the slack of your jaw from relaxing any further. any second longer, and you would've been hypnotized into submission by the man's brawn physicality; massive chest, bulging arms, and thick fingers—traits you would find yourself drooling about.

"hey, uh... (m/n), right? is that how you say your last name?" "spot on! and... alan. man, your name already sounds like a celebrity, i'm jealous." "haha, hopefully the casting directors feel the same way."

roommate!alan who helps you with your luggages without a single request from your end.

aside from being eye-candy, alan utilized his muscles for the greater good and brought your belongings from the trunk of your car, to the front of your door in a matter of minutes. even when you pleaded him not to, he went on ahead while urging you to take a rest after the long drive across the city.

you complained, though half-heartedly because your ass was sore from driving all day. his massive arms were a distraction as the veins surged through every muscle of fiber like lightning.

"you really didn't need to do all of that—" "hey, you're saving me from shelling out an extra thousand by being my roommate. plus, you seem... normal? that's the least i could do." "normal? pft, i don't know about that. but i will say, your kind gestures have put you on my 'no-kill' list." "let's backpedal a bit. is it too late to kick you out?"

roommate!alan who has already taken a liking towards you in the few hours you two have spent together to unpack.

saying that people 'stared' at alan would be underplaying what they've actually done. it was a daily occurrence to catch people gawking at his stature. whether it was with astonishment, intimidation, lust, or hostility, all eyes were on him, collective eyes and gasps piecing together how a man could look the way he does. some whispered 'steroids', others envied his dedication.

as uncomfortable as it could be at times, he liked the attention knowing he'd be the subject of one's conversation to another friend.

with you, it was no different. he'd caught you several times staring at his arms from across the room. or maybe it was his shoulders? how they perfectly filled his shirt out from seam to seam? either way, you were enchanted, especially when he'd nonchalantly flex his muscles every now and then in hopes he'd catch your eye.

and he could say the same about himself when he'd catch you bent over, ass raised high while you dug inside of your boxes to unpack the remaining decor you had brought with you.

until that moment, he never noticed how much smaller you were compared to his, the top of your head barely meeting his chin if he was to line you up. how much of a desire had awakened to have you in his arms, just to see how you perfectly fit into his body.

getting to know each other.

roommate!alan who has already learned of your habits, likes and dislikes, and hobbies within a few weeks of you moving in.

it was the small stuff that you found yourself gushing over. you two almost always had dinner together on the couch. condiments on the side for you, ketchup over his fries for him.

whether it was homemade or takeout, the best memories being made between the two of you were simply eating in front of the tv and watching alan's roles despite his reluctance.

you would cheer whenever he appeared on the screen, the camera somehow making him seem smaller than he appeared to be in real life. it was impressive, and once again, you found yourself drawn to the sheer size of muscles beside you.

throbbing, even at the simplest touch, as he gave your shoulders squeeze amidst passing by you to collect your plate.

"have to head to bed early. got an audition in the morning." "awesome! was this the one you were telling me about earlier?""yep. i worked with the director once, so fingers crossed?"

roommate!alan who can read your body language early on, and senses that you're hiding something from him.

it was that one question that either turned you into stone, or a babbling buffoon as you would try to avoid the subject.

your occupation.

he didn't know much other than the fact that you worked from home, which was why your bedroom was so intricately set up like a tech start-up.

four different types of cameras, a gaming chair, several monitors for one pc; it was intricate and honestly, alan didn't really understand it.

"so, you don't have to say yes or no, but..." "hm..?""are you a youtuber? like, one of those tech guys who reviews new phones and stuff?""something like that, i guess?" "is it mentally draining?" "more so... physically?"

roommate!alan who asks about your day after coming home from a shoot.

you looked exhausted, drained, wrecked—images of you that he never thought would rile him up. yet, as you groggily came out of your room with flushed skin, and a thirst that needed to be quenched, alan was equally parched just watching you recover your breath in between gulps of water.

cluttered state of mind.

roommate!alan who merely offers you a look of annoyance when you greet him after he arrives home.

you've recognized that look by now, and all you could simply provide was his dinner plate, and a sympathetic pat on the back.

"listen, i know a friend and he has a mutual that can help you—" "not in the mood right now, (m/n).""just trying to help, alan."

roommate!alan who ends the night early, leaving you on the couch with his plate left untouched.

it was awkward, to simply put it. the show you put on happened to be the one he was auditioning for, and then ultimately flunked because he forgot his script. from the corner of your eye, you could see his jaw tightening, straining, fork scraping against the ceramic plate as he pushed the fried rice in a corner, and then eastward, because that corner was empty.

though, is it wrong to say that you found it hot? if only there was a less forward and awkward way of saying, 'hey, i'd love to take your mind off of things right now. let me suck you off.'

secret unlocked.

stressed!alan who spends half-an-hour in the shower contemplating whether this career was worth it.

countless of potential roles never making it pass the call-back stage; he was growing exhausted from it. driving from city to city, filling his car with gas that would amount to nothing in the end. he could only stretch his royalties out for so much longer, and—

no, he wasn't a quitter. the last time he felt like this, the next audition was a success. if predictions are right, he'd consider this madness a sign of luck, at least for the meantime.

stressed!alan who needs something to take out his frustration on.

maybe he should head to the gym? no, he already showered. and it was already getting too late for his liking to drive back and forth at this time, even if he wasn't tired.

at the corner of his eye, his laptop glinted with a sparkle.

some good porn would fix him.

stressed!alan who has one hand down his sweats, and the other calmly scrolling through his favorite cam site.

his lips grew chapped, licking them from time to time as he watched the page load without the decency to sugar-coat its offerings. his sight was immediately assaulted with moving thumbnails of women, and men under the spell of their own lust. some squirmed from the uncontrollable feeling of being filled, while others preferred talking to their patrons, touching themselves to the pixelated smut sent through the chat.

stressed!alan who has you on his mind despite the options to choose from, and he squeezes his large balls in his hand.

the cursor maneuvered respectfully around one performer’s breasts and another’s erection in its journey to the filter list. the drop-down menu pulled open and alan checked off the men within his age range. 

with a quick load, the website refreshed with a new assortment of performers, and his cock began to sprout at the moving thumbnails. his hand immediately began to feed his growing bulge with gentle squeezes and rubs as he scrolled what seemed to be endless cycle of camboys.

the sudden warmth of his clothes stuck uncomfortably to his skin. alan removed each article within seconds, yet the flush of his skin remained, ached as it yearned for the physical touch of the seductive men beckoning him.

stressed!alan who felt the world had stopped. the heat frozen in his cheeks, his hands equally mirroring as he hovered over a familiar face. strained, orbs dilated and wandering, and holy shit—so fucking inviting.

it was you.

stressed!alan who watches your stream for a few minutes to decipher if it was truly you before shamelessly stroking his cock after he confirms that it was.

sweat dribbled over your neck and body in diverging streams. your legs were raised on their own accord, thick thighs shaking from the muscles working overdrive to keep you still and perfectly centered before your webcam.

stressed!alan who couldn't believe what he was seeing. it all made sense now, why you were so reluctant to tell what you truly did.

you were a fucking whore. a whore for the internet for everyone to goon to, to cum to. he can imagine it now, how much pleasure you'd given these men as he watched you fuck yourself with a cucumber.

and he was one of them. alan's large cock was manhandled by his hand, stroking sloppily with an ample amount of lube squeezed over the flesh of throbbing muscle.

all those memories of you looking so wrecked came fluttering in. you looked wrecked because you were fucking wrecked.

by a fucking cucumber.

and alan has never been so envious of a vegetable despite eating them on a daily.

you were plunging your tight hole with a long cucumber, slickly lubed from the condom over the girth of the green plant. with every push of your wrist, your legs caved into the pressure to set themselves down, but every time the crown of the plant pressed into your prostate, you were reminded of the viewers who had been donating, their pop-up messages urging you to keep them up 'like a good boy.'

stressed!alan who jerks himself off to the rhythm of your wrist.

every time you sank the thick cucumber inside of you, alan paced himself to match your tempo, plunging himself into his closed fist, mimicking your refusing hole by opening his fingers one-by-one, until he had fully breached through.

stressed!alan who mutters to himself, who mutters words that you couldn't hear because you were busy pleasuring yourself for hundreds of men watching you.

"fuck yeah, take that dick..." "too big for you?""fuck, we'll make it fit."

stressed!alan who imagines himself fucking into you.

he knew his cock was big. he'd been told countless of times, by men and women, and lots of time, they would quit a few minutes in because it was just too much.

but you, he was certain that you were able to take him. because—fuck—alan was bigger than that cucumber you were fucking yourself open with. it needed a glorious amount of lube, like what you had displayed before him, dripping heavily from your abused cavity, but luckily, you had experience in handling big sizes, right?

you'd take him, like the 'good boy' the users were spamming in the chatbox. you'd take him with your eyes forced shut from him stretching you out. from alan's impatience and reluctance to wait for you to adjust to him, because he's fucking furious at you.

why didn't you tell him sooner? why were you hiding this from him? how could you be so selfish and leave him blue-balled whenever you'd come out in those shorts of yours? teasing him with the smallest glimpse of your inner thighs?

if he could ever lay his hands on you, he'd show no mercy. fucking your ass doggy-style till your cheeks clapped. plunging you with his cock as you spread your legs open for him. locking your throat with his arm while he's under you, your back pressed to his chest, rendering you trapped within his embrace. you'd take his cock in every position, in every state, whether you'd like it or not, because you were a good, fucking, boy.

stressed!alan who spits on his cock because you began simultaneously filling your mouth up with a dildo.

spit. god, there was so much spit coming out of your mouth. you loved pushing yourself to the limit, alan could see it. the light leaving your eyes whenever you pushed the dildo a little too far to the back of your throat. that could be his cock, if you let him.

he imagined how warm your mouth would be. how perfectly shaped it's made for his thick, meaty cock. he had the perfect curve to make it a struggle to swallow him down, but like he noticed, you loved a challenge, didn't you?

alan's cock was plump, and beaten red in his hand. noises similar to the sound of you sucking off the dildo were made with his hand, his spit and lube sloshing together in a lewd symphony that could be heard from your room if you'd learn to shut up.

"choke on it, gag on that fucking dick..." "fuck yeah, spit on it.""good fucking boy."

stressed!alan who's nearing his climax from watching you tease the camera with your hole.

you repeated countless of profanities after every plunge of the cucumber flushing deep inside of you. you made sure to buy the girthiest one; they loved seeing your asshole gape at the end of the stream. twisting your wrist, you could feel the subtle ridges of the cucumber, violating your guts with its nature, and it was all-so glorious. the size, the texture, the viewers, the sound of donations coming in, the ‘thank you’ messages after for making them come; you were a true star within this community and it evidently showed when you finally hit your donation goal for the night.

alan fucked his fist, nearly coming to the sight of your gaping hole when you yanked the cucumber out of you like a sword-wielding knight ready to slay a dragon.

it was beautiful, watching you desperately hold onto the physical being of the cucumber, but all there was to it in the end was the memory of its girth. your hole was perfectly molded it, clenching and pursing, blowing fluttering kisses to the camera, to alan.

and if it was up to him, he'd ram his cock into you by now, not letting a second to spare in fucking you until your muscles felt like jelly, because fuck, you were so enticing like this. head lolled back, mouth open with your tongue hanging out as if you had a dripping cock to catch its cum above you.

the sound of donations kept chiming in, and alan knew he wasn't alone in this enchantment.

one more hit to your prostate, and you came undone in seconds. thick spurts of cum shot at your chest from your current position, then at your face when you raised your hips a little higher and pumped your cock with a ravishing fist. the sound of donations rang like a police siren. if you were being profiled for a crime, it was because you couldn’t hold in your cum any longer like one user had begged for you to.

stressed!alan who perfectly aligns his orgasm with yours and blows multiple loads on the screen on his laptop. his moans came out in hushed stutters, countering your choked whimpers that would then break out into begs for cum.

"fuck, fuck, fuck. i need your cum, i need it. give me all of it, fuck. all over my body. in my ass. on my face. i need that load."

his cum came out in thick, pulsating ropes, flying forward to land on the image of you resuming to fuck yourself to your audience's collective orgasm. this time, at a closer view, as you centered the camera to fill the stream with a screenful of ass and a gaping hole. it was your fans' favorite part of the stream, the chat exploding in several fire emojis and astonishment as you showed your pretty insides blooming for thick, endless spunk.

it was hypnotizing, almost as if you were really there before him.

with one hand, alan brought his laptop in between his legs, and smeared his own cum over the blooming resolution of his screen. feigning a breeding, he slides his cock over his cum, over his laptop screen, while you moaned in the background, begging lewdly for cum, to be filled, to be bred, to be dripping, to be fucked, and alan doesn't know what came over him, but another load automatically came out of him like some kind of spell.

"h-holy shit...""fuck, yeah... give me that load, all your load... are my fans breeding me right now?"

alan painted you until you were practically hidden beneath the layers of his orgasm. translucent white blurred the screen, but he could still make out your silhouette. sitting now, exhausted, wrecked, evidently too tired to be bothered to clean up the mess you made on your body.

and just like that, his head felt lighter. all of his worries had left with every dump of load over your pixelated hole, and yours as well, as you leaned back to catch your breath with your eyes closed. his breathing matched the pace of yours, together, collectively, and all he could do was shortly laugh at the situation before him.

roommate!alan who greets you in the morning with a strange smirk as you made yourself breakfast.

"i can see why your job is physically draining now." "hm?" you yawned. "what are you talking—"

roommate!alan who pulls out a cucumber from the fridge, and cuts it into thin slices for his morning smoothie.

"i-i can explain—""you can make it up to me tonight."

he popped a slice into his mouth after.

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. and if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

[thriftedtchotchkes]

come clean

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: joel comes home after a messy day on patrol, but you're already in the shower

warnings: 18+ MDNI, fluff, language, getting together, slow buildup, jackson era, smut, handjob, f!masturbation, fingering, unprotected piv, rough sex, shower sex, size kink

word count: 4.7k

a/n: this one goes out to emotional support daydreams! as always, thoughts and feedback are always appreciated. hope y'all enjoy 💕

Joel’s having a rough day. It’s late, and he’s bone-tired and covered in…well, he’s not really sure what he’s covered in. Mud and bits of dead grass, definitely, but there's splotches of red on his jeans, too. He couldn’t tell you whether it’s his blood or something else’s—the adrenaline still hasn’t completely worn off, so it’s entirely possible he’s not feeling the full extent of his injuries yet.

His day hadn’t started that badly, but it wasn’t a typical morning, either. Maria had stopped him and Tommy at the gate to ask if they'd mind checking out a situation at the dam instead of patrolling their usual route.

Apparently, some of the machinery was acting up and the only person she trusted to oversee the repairs was Tommy. She honestly hadn't given much thought to Joel's part in all of it—their relationship is still pretty tense, even after his return to Jackson, so he was just along for the ride.

Things went downhill fast after they arrived at their destination. No one's really sure how the infected got into the facility, but it was a lucky thing Joel was there after all. With the help of a few guards, they were able to dispatch everything in and around the building without any bites or serious injuries but, boy, did they make a serious mess. Of the facility and the machinery they were supposed to help fix, and of Joel.

So now here he is, exhausted and dirty, getting shit from his kid when all he wants to do is get clean and take a fucking nap.

“Ew, gross,” Ellie groans, clearly not giving two shits about how badly Joel’s day is going or how little she’s helping right now. She had the day off and is somehow still watching movies in the same spot he left her in this morning. “Stop touching things! You’re getting shit everywhere.”

He ignores her and shrugs off his coat, walking into the living room to toss it over the back of his recliner, but she throws him a dirty look that stops him in his tracks.

"Whatever, m'gettin’ in the shower," he grunts, dropping it on the doormat instead. He'll probably have to burn that coat anyway if the stains and…odor are anything to go by.

"Uhhhh, no, actually you're not," she says matter-of-factly, and he raises his eyebrows, eyeing her expectantly when she doesn't elaborate.

"Why the fuck not?"

"Did your hearing get worse or something? Shower's already on,” she nods toward the stairs. He’s not sure how he didn’t notice the sound of running water filtering down from the second floor earlier, but now he’s annoyed that he can’t shower and that she might actually be right about his hearing.

"Well then, I'm waitin' here," he sasses back, taking a seat on the recliner with zero regard to the upholstery.

"Dude!" She’s starting to look as exasperated as he feels. And her reaction isn’t unwarranted. If he touches literally anything in this living room, they’ll probably have to burn it, too.

"Fine, fine, m'not touchin' anythin'," he stands back up, holding his hands up in surrender. "How long's she been in there?"

"Like, five minutes. Probably gonna be a while, knowing her,” she replies with an amused grin. Oh, so she thinks this is funny.

"The fuck do ya expect me to do then, stand here ‘til she's out?" He asks as if it’s not exactly what he’s been doing the entire time they’ve been having this conversation.

"As long as you don't sit on any of the furniture, I don't really give a shit what you do," she shrugs.

He rolls his eyes at her, running a hand down his face in frustration. He’s just about to give up and hose himself down in the yard when she finally offers a solution.

"You could just knock and see if she'll swap out with you. She basically just got in, anyway."

“Y’know what, I think I will,” he grumbles, heading upstairs to the bathroom and leaving Ellie to her shitty 90s sci-fi thriller. She shakes her head, laughing as she slips on her headphones.

“Don’t be too loud up there!”

But with his bad ears, he doesn’t hear her.

God, you needed this shower so badly. It's been a rough day, to say the least, and it’s finally time to get the relaxation you deserve. You got saddled with an extra patrol shift because two of the usual guys had a last-minute change of assignment, and it turned a typical day into an unbelievably exhausting one.

But tonight you got lucky. There was no one around to use up all of the hot water besides Ellie, who’s been glued to the TV all day, and you miraculously got home before Joel. So tonight, you get to enjoy the expensive bottle of shampoo you found at some fancy store in some fancy mall last month, and let yourself forget for a while that there’s fucking fungus monsters out there eating people.

That is—until someone knocks on the door and ends your perfect evening before it begins. Now you’ve got soap in your eyes, and you’re slightly worried because Ellie either needs something from the bathroom or the house is on fire. There’s never an in-between with her.

“Ellie? Everything okay?” you call out, really hoping it’s not the latter.

The voice that responds is muffled and decidedly much deeper than Ellie’s, and you’re momentarily taken off guard before you realize it’s not a burglar. It’s Joel—of course, it’s Joel. He probably got off his shift late and wants to clean up, and now you feel bad for making him wait and using up all the hot water.

You can’t really hear what he’s saying over the shower, so you slide the curtain open to poke your head out. “What? Sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

He tries to answer you again, or at least you think he does, but you still can’t make him out, so you tell him to come inside. The door only opens a crack, but it's so quick that there's no time to duck behind the curtain before Joel's face appears and you're both staring at each other blankly.

“…Hi,” you breathe out, praying it’s just your head and not the rest of your body peeking out. “So, um, what were you saying?”

He looks a little embarrassed and it’s adorable, but the thought only crosses your mind for a split second before you notice the rest of him. He’s—there’s really no nice way to say this, but he looks revolting.

There’s dirt everywhere. Matted in his hair, under his fingernails, all over his clothes. It looks like he’s been rolling around on the ground all day, and honestly, maybe he has. He’s also got…gross, is that a chunk of…? Nope. It looks like someone exploded in his face, and he needs a shower. Badly.

The only problem is you’re covered head-to-toe in soap, and you’re pretty sure you’ve only got about 15 minutes of hot water left.

He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “Sorry to barge in on ya,” he mumbles, looking pointedly away from you. “I came up here to see if you wouldn’t mind pausin’ your shower for a bit, but I, uh…can see that’s gonna be a little difficult.”

You look down at yourself and, yeah, he’s right. You’re dripping water and soap all over the floor. Getting out now would be a pain in the ass, but he also really needs to get in.

“No, no. It’s totally fine! It makes way more sense for me to sit around soapy than for you to, um, stand around like that,” you reason. It’s his turn to look down at himself, and he grimaces. “Just turn around for a sec and we can swap.”

He nods, still looking sheepish, but grateful.

You duck back into the shower to shut the water off and gather up your toiletries to make room for his. You’ve already shoved half of your stuff to one side before you realize it was probably just a waste of time because there was already plenty of space—and that's when it dawns on you.

This stall is pretty big—as far as showers go, anyway. There's no reason you can't both fit in here at the same time. It's also not like he's never seen you naked before. You joined up with Joel and Ellie long before running water was in the picture, so you've had your fair share of awkward bathing encounters. Really, it's just a matter of whether or not he'll go for it.

You pop your head back out, taking a second to admire those strong, broad shoulders of his before getting his attention. Damn, he's a real catch. Hot and respectful. But seriously, he's so disgusting right now and it would be a shame to allow that to continue.

"Hey, Joel," you start, and he glances back carefully over his shoulder. You hesitate for a beat before continuing, “So, hear me out—what if we just…if we both showered…at the same time…”

He looks confused, and you realize how badly you botched that entire sentence. Okay, so talking around it didn't work. You take a deep breath to steady yourself before trying again.

"Just—just get in with me," you say softly. "We can shower together."

His brow furrows, eyes unreadable. He looks like he might be thinking it over, but his silence isn't exactly the most encouraging reaction in the world. Subconsciously, you hold your breath while you wait for an answer.

There’s no way he’s going to go for this, is there? It’s Joel. He can barely look at you in a tank top without blushing, let alone wet and naked. You’re not even sure why you bothered asking. It was clearly a dumb—

“Yeah, guess that makes sense,” he nods, turning back to you fully, and you swear he’s looking at you differently. That's…not what you were expecting. Not that you're complaining in the slightest. He's not even trying to hide his eagerness, and you're starting to think maybe he was waiting for you to ask all along.

"Well, come on in, cowboy."

Joel undresses slowly, eyeing what little of you he can see greedily, and it makes your cheeks burn. It’s like he can’t look away—from your eyes and lips, your collarbone. Even the tiny droplets of water that fall from your hair. It feels more intimate than any moment you’ve ever shared with Joel, and he hasn’t even touched you. Yet, hopefully.

You’re getting impatient. He's making a show of stripping down and it's taking everything you have not to get out of the shower and rip all of his clothes off yourself. His fingers are so thick, and more and more of his tanned, weather-worn skin is exposed to you as they work to unbutton his shirt.

You’re pretty sure you’re drooling at this point, imagining those fingers sinking deep inside you before you can stop yourself. Fuck, you're pent up. And should probably have a lot more shame, but now he's unzipping his jeans, and you feel like you're about to combust.

You let out a pained noise without meaning to and he chuckles, shaking his head as he picks up the pace. "I'm comin', I'm comin'," he teases, dropping his pants to the floor. "Why don't you get the water goin' for me?"

Now you're the one having trouble looking away. Damn, who even is this guy? He’s nothing like the Joel you’ve known for years, and definitely not the Joel who stepped into this bathroom ten minutes ago. If you'd known it would go like this, you would’ve invited him to shower with you a long time ago.

He’s down to just his boxers now, and maybe it's wishful thinking, but he looks like he’s already hard. Swallowing is suddenly extremely difficult, so you shoot him one last appreciative look before doing what he asked.

You turn the water back on and it’s still pleasurably warm as it rains down onto your tense shoulders. The steady pressure soothes some of the nerves while you wait for him to join you, but you’re so caught up in the moment that you don't notice the curtain opening.

"Scoot over," he murmurs behind you, his breath fanning out over the back of your neck. He’s close, so much closer than you expected him to be. You assumed you’d be dancing around each other for at least a little while longer, but it seems like Joel knows exactly what he wants, and it’s not just the shower.

He reaches around you to grab that expensive bottle of shampoo you’ve been looking forward to, his fingers grazing your bare skin, and you shiver despite the heat of the water.

“Or you could stay right here,” he says, even closer now, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “We could help each other out—with washin’ up, I mean.”

You inhale shakily, your reply getting caught in your throat. “Y-yes—yeah, yes…we should definitely do that,” you breathe out.

He chuckles and the sound is surprisingly affectionate. It gives you hope that this won’t just be a one-time thing. That after all this time, he wants you as much as you want him.

You’re the first to initiate physical contact, reaching back to bury your fingers in his hair which, in retrospect, turns out to be a terrible idea. He’s still filthy, and your fingers get caught in tangles and dirt and…probably a lot of other nasty shit you don’t want to think about.

You snort out a laugh, turning around to face him. “I think you’re up first, handsome.”

The corners of his mouth tip up as he nods, and you can’t resist the urge to reach up and trace his bottom lip with your thumb. He kisses the pad of your finger, and you wish so badly that it was your lips.

For the second time tonight, you’re feeling incredibly impatient. You want to feel more of him, let him press you up against the wall and kiss you, touch you the way you both want him to, but it’ll have to wait.

You pluck the bottle from his hands and squeeze a huge dollop into your palm, telling him to turn around with a small smile. His eyes drop to the quirk of your lips for a moment too long before he obliges, and you’re starting to realize he’s getting impatient, too.

You reach up to thread your fingers into his graying hair and, somehow, the strands still feel soft despite everything tangled up in them. It’s going to take a decent amount of scrubbing before it’s back to its normal, fluffy state of disarray, but you’ll make it feel good for him. A little taste of what's to come.

He tips his head back as you massage in the shampoo, letting out the softest groan when your fingernails scratch along his scalp, and you have to press your thighs together to relieve the growing ache in your core. You’re not going to make it through this shower if he keeps making noises like that. But, of course, he does, and they're getting louder.

You can feel his body starting to respond to yours, too. It’s a little cruel how you’re purposely working him up, sliding a washcloth over his shoulders and across his back, letting your fingers skim teasingly over his skin as you stretch your arms around him to reach his front.

His stomach flexes under your palm, and he inhales sharply as your hardened nipples graze across his back. You continue your path down, running your fingers through the coarse hair at the base of his cock, and his hips jerk forward, seeking the friction you so desperately want to provide. He's panting, and you're both having a difficult time holding yourselves back.

Brown and red swirl in the water around your feet and down the drain, and it's enough to tell you that he's finally clean. And that you can finally touch him the way you want to.

Pressing yourself firmly against his back, you reach down to wrap your fingers around his cock and he feels huge in your hand, rock hard and pulsing with his racing heartbeat. You pump him a few times, giving him a firm squeeze at the base, and he keens, already leaking all over himself.

He braces a hand on your hip to steady himself as you trail open-mouthed kisses down his spine, digging his fingers in roughly when you slowly start to jerk him off in earnest.

"T-that's it, pretty girl—,” he pants heavily, eyes dropping down to watch you work him, and you twist your wrist up on the next stroke, thumbing over his head. "Keep goin', just like that."

You whimper damply against his skin at the pet name, feeling a pleasurable whoosh in your belly as your cunt drips pathetically down your thighs. The throbbing between your legs is almost unbearable, but you don't want to let him go, not when his hips are meeting your fist so fucking desperately. You wedge a hand between your bodies, slipping it lower and lower until your fingers rub against your slick folds, gathering some of the wetness to rub soothing circles into your clit.

“I got you, I got you,” you moan at the sudden relief. Your caresses start to match his thrusts, and soon he's trembling in your arms, whimpering like he'll cum any second if you let him. You rub your cheek tenderly against his back, murmuring soft, encouraging words into his heated skin.

"You're doing so, so well," you tell him, and he seizes up at the praise, chest heaving as you focus your attention closer to the tip. "You wanna cum or are you gonna wait for me? Want you to fill me up…can you do that for me?"

For a second, you think your words might've thrown him over the edge, his hips stuttering against your palm even as you slow your movements. But he's still clearly fighting the urge to cum, and that has to mean he wants to fuck you badly.

His hand shakes as it lifts to wrap around yours, guiding you down to squeeze the base of his cock to stave off his orgasm, but you're not making it easy for him. You barely notice your other hand still working your pussy, too turned on to realize you've started pumping two fingers in and out of yourself.

Joel notices, though. Something that sounds almost animalistic tears its way out of his chest as he turns on you, snatching your hand out of your cunt and slamming it against the shower wall. Your fingers are shiny and glistening with your wetness and he leans forward to suck each of them into his mouth, groaning at your taste on his tongue.

The look on his face makes it seem like you're the best meal he's ever had, and you feel a strong, sudden urge to have his tongue in your mouth so you can taste yourself. He pulls off your middle finger with an audible pop, and then you're crashing your lips into his, immediately licking into him.

God, why do you taste so good in his mouth? It's salty and heady, and really shouldn't be as hot as it is, but you can't bring yourself to care as his tongue tangles with yours. You feel two—shit, no, it’s three—of his fingers slip into you, and, holy fuck, they're so much bigger than yours. You're already so full and they feel even thicker at the base, nudging a spot that makes you see stars.

There's no way his cock is going to fit inside you…right? But the thought of him trying anyway almost makes you cum on the spot. Another wave of heat crashes through you and your walls convulse around him, pussy gushing down his fingers, and he abruptly breaks away from your lips, groaning lowly, desperately.

"Fuck, I-I need—shit, I need to fuck you, pretty girl," he twitches against you, leaking a glob of precum as he ruts into your belly. “M'gonna fill ya up real good, just like you wanted—," and you gasp, clamping down on his fingers one more time before he's pulling them out and hauling you into his arms, your legs quickly wrapping around his waist as he shoves you higher up the wall.

His hands roam your skin hungrily before eventually settling under the soft swell of your ass, holding you up as he slicks up his cock between your folds. Every time the tip catches your clit, your hips buck clean off the wall and he presses into you harder to keep you in place. You bury your face in his neck, thighs squeezing into his sides.

"S'not gonna fit," you slur, a little drunk off how good he feels between your legs. The next time his hips buck forward, the blunt head of his cock catches your entrance. "J-Joel—ngh…Joel, s'too big, you have to make it fit, please."

And that's when his patience runs out.

He sheathes himself to the hilt in one harsh thrust, growling roughly into your hair, and the stretch is mind-numbing. He stays deep, letting you adjust to the feeling of being split open, and his head drops to your shoulder. His eyes are locked on where you're joined, your pussy stretched around him almost obscenely.

"Would'ja look at that," he mumbles to himself, rocking in and out slowly as he turns his head to suck a bruise into your collarbone. You reach a hand down curiously, wanting to feel yourself around him, and your jaw drops when your fingers brush where his thickness is forcing your cunt to yield to him. "Knew you could take me…pussy feels s-so fuckin' good, like you were made for me."

You whine pathetically as the ache starts to subside and the need for him to fuck you becomes overwhelming. Pleasure blooms where he's already grazing that heavenly spot again, and you tug his head back by his hair, bringing his attention back up to you.

Everything pauses, just for a moment. You kiss his lips delicately, so much more delicate than he's about to be with your body but, right now, you need him to know that it's more than this for you. More than the sex and the physical intimacy. And the way he kisses you back reassures you beyond a doubt that it's more than this for him, too.

Then, your patience runs out.

"Joel, move."

And suddenly, he's spearing up into that spot deep inside you with reckless abandon, bouncing you on his cock, and you're not entirely sure, but you might actually be screaming.

Your head lolls back, thudding dully against the wall, and he ducks down to wrap his lips around your nipple, tongue circling the nub as he continues you work you up and down his shaft. The sound your pussy's making around him should be humiliating, but it only spurs him on, the wet squelching echoing loudly over the running water.

"Hear that? That's all you, baby. So fuckin' wet, look at that," and he's watching himself again in awe as he fucks in and out of you. You follow his gaze and, holy shit, he's not kidding. You're absolutely soaking him. "You look so good like this, so goddamn pretty stretched around my cock."

You still haven't completely acclimated to how thick he is, not sure you ever actually will, and the syrupy-sweet pain of him has you clawing at his back. You use the wall as leverage, arching just enough so you can actively meet his thrusts, and the new angle sends you reeling.

"Feels so…full, so full," you gasp, your back inching higher up the wall with the force of his thrusts. "K-keep going…there, Joel, there."

It's not just that one spot he's hitting anymore—fuck, it feels like he's everywhere. The ridge of his cock is rubbing your walls just right and every other thrust fucks deep enough to graze your cervix. You sob at the onslaught of overpowering pleasure, burying your hands in his hair to tether yourself as your brain begins to fizzle.

Just a little more, you only need a little bit more. You can feel the lower half of your body locking down and, as if he can sense exactly what you need, he grinds his cock in as deep as it'll go.

"That's it, baby. C'mon, give it to me," he grits against your throat. "Squeezin' me so fuckin' tight, you're almost there."

The coarse hairs at the base of his cock scrape roughly and a little painfully against your swollen clit as you rock against him, but the slide is still so slick and raw that your thighs begin to quake around his waist, and it's—fuck, it's so…so…

"M'gonna fucking cum—gonna…oh fuck, fuck, Joel," your lips part around what you pray is a silent scream and your body goes rigid, cunt spasming violently around him.

He chokes out a moan as you clamp down impossibly tighter on his cock. "Fuckin' hell, there we go," he rasps out shakily as he fucks you into the wall blindingly hard, letting you ride him through your orgasm.

"So, s-so good. Feels so fuckin' good," he's starting to mumble to himself deliriously, squeezing your ass hard enough to bruise. You whimper helplessly as his thrusts get sloppier and more desperate, "Gonna fill you up 'til it's leakin' out…c-can I, pretty girl? Please…bet you'd look so fuckin' good with my cum spillin' out of you—"

Before you can even answer, you feel him throb and then his entire body stills, his cock visibly pulsing as he empties into you. He moans his way through it, his head dropping to your shoulder again to watch himself pump you full of cum just like he said he would.

If you thought you felt full before, it's nothing compared to how you feel right now. He's still so deep, twitching pathetically inside you as he lifts his head to nose at the underside of your jaw. He presses a soft kiss there and you sigh, wrapping your arms and legs around him tighter.

"Christ, Joel, where did that come from?" you rasp out. He chuckles, and his whole body shakes with it, jostling his hips into your sensitive clit. Your pussy flutters around him and his breath hitches, fingers digging into the softness of your thighs. He still hasn't pulled out and you have a feeling he doesn't want to.

"Been waitin' a long time for that," he murmurs, meeting your eyes. You smile softly, and your lips command his attention. "Waited a long time for you."

So full of surprises tonight. You’ve traveled with him for years, settled down with your kid, but you never expected this. For him to finally feel the same way you do, to fuck you like that. You’re suddenly extremely thankful he came home in dire need of a shower.

You run your hands up his chest, settling one on his shoulder and burying the other in his hair. The dirt, the grime—it's all gone now, replaced by your release and the sweat of your exertion. He smells so good, just like your fancy shampoo. Just like home.

You lean in to kiss him deeply and he melts into you, his lips soft and warm against yours. When you part, you're met with that look again. The one he gave you after you asked him to shower with you, and that he hasn't stopped giving you since. Like he's observing you, contemplating you.

You recognize it now—it's hope.

"I've been waiting a long time for you too, Joel."

He kisses you again, holding you close as the water goes ice cold.

thanks so much for reading! 🥰