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flowerywoso · 3 months ago

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the babysitter || irene paredes x reader

Summary: You've had a thing for Irene ever since you started babysitting for her. When she comes home after a night out with the team, you realize that your feelings might not be as one-sided as you thought they were. Pairing: Irene Paredes x Reader Words: 3,992 Warnings: 🔞, smut with plot Notes: I haven't written anything in quite awhile (I honestly wasn't planning on writing ever again but here we are), so this might be a little rough! Please don't hesitate to let me know (politely, please!) if you notice any horrible grammatical errors or notes to myself that I somehow forgot to take out. Do not post my works on Ao3. And I am horrible at titles.

You peek your head into the room once more, carefully easing the door open and, just as quickly, shut, once you determine that the toddler is definitely still asleep. It’s a habit you adopted after your friends began to have their own children, and one you’ve maintained for the kids you babysit. Tiptoeing back down the hallway, making sure to keep your footfalls as quiet as you can, you plop back down on the sofa, settling into the corner and taking a sip of your sparkling water, grabbing your novel and flipping it back open as you wait for the boy’s mother to return home.

It’s not that much later, only long enough for you to finish a single chapter of your book, before you hear the sound of the front door opening and closing, announcing Irene’s return from the Barcelona squad’s night out. You don’t get up from the couch, merely setting your novel aside and uncrossing your legs, letting one dangle off the cushions.

She enters the room quietly, the low heels she’d left the apartment in abandoned on the mat by the front door so they don’t click on the wood floors, and when you look up you can see the flush on her face. You're not sure if it's the result of the chilly evening air or of her night out, but either way it's enough to make you swallow around a lump in your throat. The top and pants she'd left the house in are just as enticing now as they were several hours ago, and you wonder as she walks further into the apartment how you manage to stay sane around her.

“Hola,” she says quietly, setting her purse down in the center of the coffee table and taking a seat beside you on the sofa, sighing in relief as she relaxes into the cushions after a long night out. Your heart, as it so often does in the presence of the older woman, skips a beat as she comes nearer to you.

“How was everything?”

“All good,” you reply, beginning to recount your evening with Mateo. As always, the toddler had been easy, listening to you as well as one could expect a two-year-old to, and had fallen asleep on the sofa halfway through an episode of Bluey, only stirring briefly when you carried him to bed.

“He ate most of his dinner,” you relay with a smile, shaking your head at the memory of how the toddler had wrinkled his nose at the "yucky green" you'd provided for him, far more enthusiastic about the special treat that was the chicken nuggets unearthed from the freezer. “We had a bit of a struggle with the veggies, but other than that he was a perfect angel, like always.”

Your words bring a smile to the older woman’s face, and you can’t help but stop in your tracks for a moment, transfixed by the way her lips perk upwards, faint lines around her eyes becoming visible. You’ve seen her take an extra minute in the bathroom more than once after you arrive in the evenings, trying to conceal the bags beneath her eyes or the smile lines beginning to form at the corners, but you think that each and every part of her face is a work of art.

You had no idea, when you first started babysitting for her, just how quickly your feelings for the older woman would grow. In the stolen moments at the beginning and end of the nights, before one of you walks out the door, you've learned more and more about Irene Paredes the person, not just the footballer, and something about her kept drawing you further and further in. You couldn't pinpoint it exactly, but you knew that you wanted her.

“Did you have a good night?”

Irene shrugs, shaking her head with a fond smile as she tells you about the Barcelona squad’s night out. She had mostly stayed on the sidelines alongside the other older players, keeping an eye on the girls closer to your own age as they enjoyed themselves, but Pina and Cata had managed to coax her and Alexia into having a drink and dance before she had excused herself.

The thought of Irene on the dance floor makes your heart pound, imagination beginning to run wild.

You’ve never been to Manuela’s, but from the way you’ve heard Irene describe it, there's absolutely no shortage of beautiful women. You know from the bits of information she’s given you that the Barcelona girls normally stick with one another, even while they’re out, but you’ve never been able to help yourself from wondering if any of the beautiful girls who frequent the club have tempted her enough that she’s taken one of them to her bed.

It's that thought, the unpleasant idea of her tangled between the sheets with a nameless, faceless girl from the club that makes your chest hurt. Before you fully notice what you're doing, you open your mouth and begin to speak, some jumbled mixture of thoughts spilling from between your traitorous lips.

"I mean if... If you ever wanted to stay out later... If someone..."

You trail off, clamping your lips shut as you realize just how inappropriate what you're implying is. You cringe, cursing yourself as you watch for her reaction, wait for her to get up off the couch and hand you your bags, let you know that now might be a good time for you to go home.

But she doesn't. Instead, all the older woman does is fix you with a questioning gaze, seemingly losing herself in thought for a moment.

She’s seated closer to you than she normally would be, than she ever has been before, and for a moment you wonder if she can hear your heart as it pounds in your chest, speeding up as she enters your space. You aren’t sure if it’s your imagination, the way her eyes seem to have fixed on you, tracing the details of your flushing face, eyes following your bottom lip as you nervously run your teeth over it.

“No,” she says at last. “None of the girls there have ever been who I wanted.”

Something about the word there catches your attention as it leaves her mouth, and you're certain that you must be losing your mind. Because there's no way, no way in the world that she wants you the way you want her.

The older woman reaches out and brushes a stray strand of hair behind your ear, and you’re fairly certain that you’ve stopped breathing. Her hand pauses by your left cheek, which you're absolutely certain is flushing redder than the cap on her cherry flavored chapstick.

And suddenly, before you can even fully process the fact that her soft but strong hands are cupping your scarlet cheeks, the older woman is leaning forward and pressing her lips to yours.

You must have imagined this moment a thousand times, but never in your wildest dreams had you imagined it would actually come true. The older woman’s mouth is soft but insistent against your own, exploring your lips with hers, and every coherent thought you’ve ever had is a distant memory as you move with her, kissing her back.

Kissing Irene is even better than you imagined it would be - and you could fill a planner with the amount of times you’ve imagined this exact scenario. Her mouth is gentle, but there’s an edge to her kiss that contains a promise, the knowledge that she’s capable of being anything but.

When your lips finally part, after what feels like both an eternity and no time at all, you let out a little gasp, pupils blown wide as Irene stares into your eyes, both of you trying to process what has just happened. Even though she’s the one who kissed you first, Irene seems just as shocked as you are. But, behind her wide eyes is the same feeling you know she can easily spot in your own.

Desire.

“I… Fuck.”

You’re the one who leans forward this time, lips pressing against the older woman’s, the faint flavor of alcohol on her lips mixed with a hint of cherry from the chapstick you’ve seen her spread across her mouth more than once. The taste of her lips is intoxicating, and you can feel it going straight between your legs.

This kiss is deeper than the first, your arms wrapping around her strong shoulders to pull her closer, wanting to feel her body against your own. You part momentarily, gasping for air and only managing a brief breath before she’s kissing you again, every movement raising the stakes. You whine as her lips meet yours once more, hands coming to rest on your hips, pulling you closer. The older woman uses her own lips to pry yours open, her claiming tongue slipping into your mouth and beginning to explore further.

You let her take control of the kiss without protest, the arousal between your thighs intensifying exponentially with every second her body spends this close to your own.

“Fuck,” she gasps, breaking away from your lips only long enough to grunt in your ear. “Fuck, I want you so badly.”

All you can do is nod, shaking your head up and down in agreement, because you don’t think you’ve ever wanted another person this badly in your entire life.

“Irene,” you whine, pressing impossibly closer to her. “Please.”

“Can I touch you?”

You’re nodding again before the question has even fully left her lips, and the older woman’s pupils go dark with how eager she is for you. She kisses you again, her football player’s strength showing as she pushes you backward onto the sofa, hands working their way up under your shirt. She doesn’t bother with the clasp of your bra, instead slipping her hands beneath the fabric to cup your breasts. Separating her lips from yours with a low groan, Irene immediately begins tracing a path over the sensitive skin of your neck, sending a further wave of shivers up and down your spine. You moan quietly, remembering that you two aren’t alone in the apartment, but tilt your head anyway, granting her better access to your throat.

Advantage is rapidly taken, the Barcelona player letting a hint of teeth scrape across the delicate flesh of your throat as she rolls one of your nipples between her fingers, moaning quietly at the way you arch, pressing your chest further into her touch.

Your nipples aren’t normally this sensitive, but something about the way Irene rolls and tugs at them makes the two buds feel as if they’re direct links to your most sensitive spot. Her touch is magical, and all you want is more.

As if the older woman can read your mind, the hand not busy exploring your chest slides further down, slipping under your black leggings and making you gasp, bringing a hand up to muffle your own sounds as long fingers begin to rub at your pussy over your panties.

There’s far too much fabric between the two of you, and every thread feels like a cage. You need it off, need the last bits of separation between your heat and her touch gone, now.

“Off,” Irene commands and, needing the barrier gone just as badly as you do, she doesn’t wait for you to obey before she’s hooking her own fingers in the waistband of your leggings, yanking them down over your legs. Your panties are removed in the same motion, both pieces of fabric coming to rest at your ankles. You try to kick them fully off, but only manage to completely free one leg before the older woman is pushing her way between your thighs, eagerly beginning to explore your bare pussy.

Her experience is clear from the first touch of her slender fingers against your naked heat, and you can’t help but press closer, spreading your legs further to give her better access. The older woman draws in a sharp breath as she circles your clit gently with one finger, exploring, watching for your reactions, the others gathering the rapidly accumulating wetness at your entrance. Irene's touch is electric, and the older woman finds herself becoming rapidly obsessed with the way your clit seems to plead for her touch.

With two of her fingers, Irene traces the outline of your pussy, hyper aware of just how wet you are, how your hole is begging silently for her fingers inside as she continues to rub your clit.

You let your eyes fall shut, eagerly anticipating just how good it will feel when the fingers you can sense lingering just shy of your entrance finally slide home, burying themselves inside your welcoming cunt. You’re practically pulsing with it, with how badly you need her inside, need to know just how she’ll fill you, what previously unknown spots inside the tips of her long fingers will be able to brush.

“Where do you want my fingers, bebita?”

You whine, shifting your hips in an attempt to get even closer to her, to get her to slide her fingers into your throbbing heat. The digits, wet from your own slick, only withdraw further away from your needy hole, and you nearly sob with how badly you need the older woman, need her touch.

Obvious as it may be, this nonverbal expression of how desperate you are for her to take you isn’t enough to satisfy the older woman, and she rubs your inner thigh soothingly.

“Use your words, baby,” she coaxes. “Tell me where you need my fingers.”

The idea of using your words seems borderline impossible at the moment, your brain simply too overwhelmed with the reality of just how close her fingers are to slipping inside, but you can tell that you won’t get what you need until you do.

“My pussy,” you manage to whine, trying to stay as quiet as possible while pulsing with the need for her. “Please, Irene, I need your fingers in my cunt.”

Your words, base and simple as they are, are enough to get you what you need, and when Irene finally slides her fingers home, you can’t conceal the moan that tears its way free from your throat. You’re wet enough that the stretch of going from zero to two fingers inside your cunt brings nothing but pleasure, and you have to bite down on your lip to stop yourself from moaning aloud when you feel the ridges of her fingers settle against your walls, the older woman pausing for a moment to let you adjust to the feeling of her digits inside.

Irene has to swallow a wrecked noise of her own as she finally slides her fingers inside your soaking pussy, the sensation of your silky walls against her skin sending her brain into overdrive. The sound of your voice, desperation tinging your whispers as you plead for her to move, to fuck you, is absolute music to her ears, and she doesn’t hesitate to comply with the enticing request.

Her pace is slow at first as she starts to move, the older woman eagerly exploring every curve and contour of your cunt, leaking around her fingers. It’s so warm and inviting, and the older woman has no idea how she’s lasted this long without knowing what feel like inside.

Once she’s sure you’ve fully adjusted to the stretch of her digits inside of you, Irene speeds up her thrusts, curling her fingers in search of the most sensitive spots hidden inside your pretty cunt.

It’s clear when she finds what she’s looking for, because your cunt clenches down around her fingers and you squeeze your pretty eyes shut as pleasure rocks your body.

“Oh,” she says, voice a whisper that tickles your ear and makes you shudder happily. “Is that where you need me?”

You nod desperately, the entirety of your reality reduced to the sensation of her fingers against the sensitive tissue inside you, stroking it insistently as her thumb comes to brush against your swollen clit. As she fucks you with her fingers, the older woman tests out different motions on your bud with her thumb, searching for the pattern and pace to take what’s left of your breath away.

You can’t help but let out a cry as she presses a little harder, circling your needy clit at just the right angle. Irene quickly presses her lips to yours again, reminding you that you’re not alone in the apartment.

“Shh,” the older woman says, swallowing your noises with her own tongue, collecting each one. “You’ve still gotta be quiet for me, bebita.”

You nod in understanding, kissing her back desperately, bringing a hand up to tangle in her hair. You can be quiet, no matter how good it feels, you can be quiet, just so long as she doesn’t stop what she’s doing between your legs. Irene chuckles against your lips, redoubling her efforts between your legs. Her talented fingers thrust in and out of your pussy, each time hitting the spot that makes you see stars.

“That’s it, baby,” she whispers, lips right beside your ear. “That’s it, take it for me. Take it, just like that.”

You toss your head back, more than willing to comply. Every cell of your body feels like it’s on fire, and you want nothing more than for the burning to consume you completely.

Your orgasm arrives without warning, Irene’s thumb on your swollen clit combined with her talented fingers inside your cunt sending you crashing over the edge with a fury you haven’t felt in a long time. You have to bite down on your lip to keep in your sounds as your it overwhelms you, nails digging into Irene’s bare shoulders. You can feel the older woman’s smile as she kisses your neck, fingers still moving gently inside you, working you through your climax, helping you ride it for as long as you can.

You shudder, aftershocks still shaking your body as you begin to come down from your peak. She slides her fingers out and you bite down on your kiss-swollen lip to keep yourself from whining at the loss. It takes another minute before you're able to gather yourself, fully opening your eyes and taking in the sight of the gorgeous older woman above you.

Irene presses another kiss to your lips, this one gentle, and you can feel the smile on her face as you give a final shudder, sitting up and leaning into her.

"How was that, bebita?"

"Fucking perfect," you reply, unable to conceal a grin of your own as you note how flushed her face still is. Knowing that touching you has her seemingly almost as worked up as you are sends a thrill through your body and you reach for the button of her jeans, aiming to return the favor, only for the same pair of hands that had just brought you to such an incredible orgasm to push yours down, Irene’s lips brushing against your forehead.

“Don’t you worry about me, baby,” she says, and you feel your heart sink with sudden disappointment.

“Are you sure?”

Irene wraps an arm around you, pressing a kiss to the side of your head, clearly oblivious to the way your shoulders sink.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I promise. Don’t worry about me.”

You blush, wanting to protest that getting to touch her would be just about the furthest thing away from a worry- dream or fantasy come to life would be a more accurate description- but a sudden wave of shyness overcomes you, the whiplash of going from the high of your orgasm to the valley of being denied an opportunity to make Irene feel as good as she’s just made you feel making your throat close up.

“O-Oh,” you say quietly. “Okay. I just…”

You trail off, not sure what to say to that. It feels like, without meaning to or realizing what she’s done, the Barcelona defender has just tossed a bucket of ice water over you.

“I… I guess I should head home then,” you say quietly, trying not to let her hear the hurt in your voice, reaching down and pulling your leggings back up over your calves and thighs until they rest around your middle. Your panties aren’t quite soaked, for the pure fact that they had been around your ankles soon after her lips first met yours, but they’re still wet enough that putting them back on isn’t exactly comfortable.

And more than that, you don’t want to leave. Your body is still purring with the aftermath of your orgasm, the last thing you want to do right now is leave her apartment and walk the few blocks home to your own. The route between your apartment and Irene’s is one you know well, lit with plenty of streetlamps and well-frequented on a Saturday night, so any anxiety you might feel can be connected purely to leaving her after what’s just happened, without being certain where you stand.

Irene opens her mouth and you pause with your hand on the knob, waiting, hoping that she’ll say something, offer her bed to share for the night.

“Let me know when you get home safe,” she says quietly, and you can’t help the way your chest clenches with a strange sort of pain. You hadn’t really expected her to offer for you to stay, not with the amount of eyes that could be watching someone like her at any given moment, but you still can’t help but wish she had.

You nod in response to her question, clutching your bag close to your side as you shut the door behind yourself, beginning the short walk home.

...

“Fuck.”

The second the door shuts behind you, the defender wishes she could throw it open again and call you back in.

She had wanted to, especially after watching you come apart under her touch, seeing how pretty you looked as your orgasm overwhelmed you. The words had been on the tip of her tongue, but you had beaten her to it, reaching for the door handle and exiling yourself before she could even offer, and she hadn’t offered any protests.

Peeking in the door, ensuring that Mateo is still safe and sound in his bed, the Barcelona player tiptoes quietly down the hall, two doors down, and pushes her own door open and shut behind her.

As she pulls off her top, letting it fall to the floor, quickly followed by her pants and bra, Irene curses herself, pulling back the covers and slipping into the too-big bed on her own. It feels cold compared to the contrast of your warm body against her own, and her chest pangs with the regret of not asking you to stay the night.

Back in your own apartment, you slide beneath your own covers, mind racing at a million miles an hour.

No matter how your chest might ache at the fact that you’re here, alone in your own bed, the memory of the older woman’s lips on yours, of her talented fingers bringing you to orgasm right there on the sofa, of muffling your moans in her shoulder, still sends a familiar jolt of electricity between your thighs. With a soft whine, you reach for your the bedside drawer where you keep your vibrator, turning it up before pressing it against your still-swollen clit.

Blocks away, Irene is doing the same, quietly gasping out a much-needed orgasm with your name on her lips, the memory of your mouth on hers and your silken flesh beneath her fingertips sending her over the edge.

As the older woman drifts off into an uneasy slumber, the space beside her conspicuously empty, she knows that, now she's had you once, she won't ever be able to get enough.

#woso x reader #woso x y/n #woso imagine #woso fanfics #irene paredes x reader #barca femini x reader #woso smut

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goldfades · 3 months ago

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LATE-NIGHT CALLS ─── JOE BURROW

request: "I feel like Joe would always insist on calling you after every game even the late ones. Even if it’s just a sleepy, half-coherent conversation he refuses to go to bed without hearing your voice"

Joe's post-game ritual has always been the same: shake hands, hit the showers, face the press, and head home. But since the two of you started dating, he added a new step—one he never skips. No matter the hour, no matter how late the game runs or how exhausted he is from the rush of adrenaline and the strain of the field, he calls. Even if it’s the kind of late that makes your voice thick with sleep and your words slur together, he’ll still dial your number, waiting for the soft click of your sleepy “Hello?” on the other end.

You used to worry about his exhaustion, insisting he could wait until morning, but Joe’s stubbornness won out. It’s his way of winding down, he says, the easiest way to let the adrenaline taper off—to hear you, half-awake and warm under your blankets, murmuring about your day or teasing him for that one pass he wishes he’d thrown differently.

Tonight, the call comes later than usual, your phone buzzing on the nightstand as you squint at the clock—well past midnight. You know the routine by now, though. His name glows on the screen, and you don’t hesitate to answer, even if you’re barely awake yourself. Because somehow, even in those moments of barely-there conversation, there’s something grounding, something steady in the sound of his voice—low and sleepy and comfortable.

The phone buzzes again, and you let out a small sigh, rolling over in the sheets that are tangled around your legs. It’s late—way too late for anyone but him. You fumble for the phone, knocking your book off the nightstand in the process, and finally manage to answer on the last ring.

“Hey,” you say, voice thick with sleep, barely more than a mumble. Your eyes are still closed, and you can almost hear the smile in his voice before he even speaks.

“Hey,” he says, sounding tired but happy. There’s a warmth in his voice that makes you want to sink deeper into the blankets, your body relaxing even as you struggle to stay awake. You hear a faint rustling on his end of the line, the sound of him settling into whatever hotel bed or quiet corner he’s managed to find for this call.

“How’d it go?” you ask, even though you watched the whole game with half your attention, laptop open on your lap as you listened to the announcers shout his name. You already know he won. You can tell just by the way he’s breathing—steady and content, like the weight of the world isn’t pressing on his shoulders anymore.

“We got the win,” he says, and you can practically picture the satisfied grin tugging at his lips. “Defense pulled through. Felt good. Tired, though.” There’s a pause, just long enough for you to hear the creak of the bed as he stretches out, and you imagine him there, hair still damp from the shower, pillow propped against the headboard, eyes half-lidded and heavy.

“You sound tired,” you say, letting your own eyes drift shut again, his voice washing over you like a lullaby. He always sounds different after a game—softer, looser, the careful edges he keeps in place during the day falling away in the quiet of the night.

“Yeah,” he admits, a low chuckle humming in his throat. “Long night. But I’m good. Needed to call you first.” He says it like a fact, like calling you is as essential as breathing, and it makes something warm settle in your chest, even as you struggle to fight off sleep.

You know what he looks like right now—can see him so clearly it’s almost like you’re there. His face is flushed from the game, the last traces of exertion still lingering in his expression, and he’s got that soft, worn-out smile you only see when he’s alone with you. He’s probably half-reclined on some too-firm hotel bed, still wearing sweats and the hoodie he threw on over his jersey. You can picture the way his hand would brush over his face, rubbing at tired eyes, his fingers trailing down to the scruff along his jaw. He’s handsome in a way that doesn’t need effort, like he forgets sometimes that anyone’s looking.

“What’d you eat?” you ask, knowing he probably hasn’t had a proper meal yet. There’s a muffled sound, and you can almost see him shrug.

“Grabbed a sandwich at the stadium,” he says. “You know, the usual. But I’m not really hungry.” His voice is softer now, like he’s already sinking into the comfort of the call, the post-game rush fading away. There’s a beat of silence where neither of you say anything, just the quiet hum of the line connecting you, stretching across the miles.

His breathing evens out, and you know he’s lying back now, probably letting his eyes drift shut the way you are, letting the night pull him under. This is the quietest part of the day, the only time where everything seems to slow down, where it’s just you and him, your voices mingling in the spaces between words.

“Did you see the game?” he asks suddenly, and there’s a hint of teasing there, like he already knows the answer. He’s always known when you’re watching—can sense it in some unspoken way, even when you’re not at the stadium, cheering him on in person. You hum, the sound halfway between agreement and a sleepy sigh.

“Of course I did,” you say. “Saw that touchdown, too. You looked good out there.”

He chuckles, the sound low and deep, a bit self-conscious but pleased. “You think so?” he asks, his tone playful but with that slight, genuine curiosity you’ve come to love—like he still isn’t sure how you see him, even after all this time.

“Always,” you reply, and it’s true. Even when he’s a mess, jersey streaked with mud, hair wild from the helmet, he’s yours. There’s something honest about him on the field, something raw that you can’t help but admire. He doesn’t play with swagger—he plays with determination, with a kind of quiet, relentless grit that makes your chest tighten with pride.

“Wish you were here,” he murmurs, and there’s a softness to the words, a longing that cuts through the distance between you. You can hear the weight of it, the way he doesn’t mean for it to sound so heavy, but it does anyway.

“Me too,” you admit, turning onto your side, pressing the phone closer to your ear. You know he’s in some hotel room halfway across the country, the curtains drawn against the city lights, the room probably too cold for comfort.

And you’re here, in your own bed, miles apart but tethered by this line, by his voice, by the quiet spaces between breaths that are filled with the things neither of you say out loud.

It’s moments like this that make the distance feel bearable, moments where the miles don’t matter because it’s just you and him, lingering in the quiet of the night, holding on to the sound of each other’s voice like a promise.

“Get some sleep, Joey,” you say softly, knowing he won’t listen, that he’ll keep talking until he’s sure you’re drifting off, that he won’t hang up until he’s heard you yawn, heard the way your voice gets softer and softer until you can’t keep your eyes open any longer.

“Not yet,” he says, voice a bit firmer now, a smile tugging at the edges. “Just a few more minutes.”

You don’t argue, just let him fill the silence with the sound of his breath, the occasional murmur about a play or a moment you’d already forgotten, listening to the way his voice dips and slows, lulling you back to the edge of sleep. It’s the sound of home, you think, this quiet, late-night ritual that belongs only to the two of you—a secret shared in the dark, a comfort that’s become as essential as the game itself.

He keeps talking, his voice a low, steady hum, and you let yourself drift, knowing he’ll be there, knowing he won’t let you go until you’ve slipped back into the warmth of your dreams, his voice still echoing in the back of your mind long after you’ve hung up.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

#nfl fic #nfl players #nfl lb #nfl football #joeyb #cincinnati bengals #joe burrow bengals #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow smut #joe burrow x you #joe burrow x oc #joe burrow x y/n #joe burrow

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jiminjamms · 4 months ago

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sex therapy :: 31. gangbangs

summary: a very self-indulgent chapter/pseudo-oneshot. **naoya’s ex-wife becomes toji’s girl. everybody wants a taste, and why not have the younger cousin watch the show?** alternatively, a gangbang with tattooed dilfs and dilf-adjacents.

chapter tags/warnings: five-some, gangbang, sex on tape, gun play (becoming a gun slut), cum play, breeding, creampies, exhibitionism, edging, degradation, praising, mentions of violence (murder, knives, guns), multiple orgasms.

word count: 5.5k

notes: happy kinktober and thank you for waiting! this started off as a concept (in my mind for a year-plus) and evolved into…a monster. too many men, too many hands, too many cocks. got lost in the sauce. despite being a smut chapter in a long fic, this update is borderline porn-without-plot. likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated. xoxo

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“I love getting gangbanged."

Naoya woke up in a dark room and to a throbbing headache.

Where…?

He looked around the unfamiliar surroundings slowly, blinking past his grogginess to register what almost looked like a crime movie’s interrogation room and groaning when the wrong angle to his head caused a sharp pain in his shoulder.

All around was an ominous and gloomy shade of gray—the walls, the ceiling, the floor, and heck even the door. How long had he been out for? Without windows, he could not take a wild guess at the time. Not to mention that the room also had no lighting, no pictures, and no décor.

Only him and this...random dinky chair he found himself tied up to.

Wait.

Tied up to?

Right. From what Naoya could last recall, he had been stopped by two men who took him out with a single strike.

In a vain attempt to set himself free, Naoya tugged at his limbs which were fastened behind him with sturdy cords. He twisted and turned, then twisted harder and turned even harder, until an unexpected voice startled him.

“You’re awake.”

Naoya went still.

Having zero visual stimuli sharpened Naoya’s other senses a little. He could feel the labored huffs in his breathing, hear the heavy footsteps that began in the chamber, and even taste the smoke that lingered in the hazy air.

Leering towards the door, Naoya quickly recognized his captors as they approached.

"Don’t give us that foul look, sleepyhead," the taller one whom he remembered as Eso announced as he slowly stopped in front of the scowling blonde. He had on him a wide and nefarious grin. "You had passed out for the last few hours. During that time, you could've been beaten. Or better yet, dead." He glanced up. "Right, Kechizu?"

His accomplice, who stopped on the opposite side, replied with a firm nod. From seemingly nowhere, he had pulled out a pocket knife and grazed the icy blade against Naoya's neck. "Ya feel that? I've been wanting to slit your throat, but I haven't. Lucky, lucky duck. Not everyone is this fortunate. All because our big bro Choso is being super nice to you."

Aware that a wrong move would cost him a jugular vein, Naoya listened intently. Since he worked with the other sex therapists before, he indeed recalled how his former colleague led a tightly-knit assassin ring, in which the members deemed each other 'brothers.'

Kechizu prodded Naoya again with his blade. "Big bro's the only reason you're still alive. Although, I don't know why you'd want to still be breathing now that the whole world knows you've been bumping uglies with your older cousin's ex-wife."

Eso hummed in agreement. "Well, at least for now," he began and he gestured around in vague motions, “you're already in paradise!” Then, he paused. “Well, correction. Here is where we send people to paradise. Or, more likely, hell.”

Noticing how Naoya uncharacteristically froze, the two snickered. In fact, they likely would've continued snickering if not for a shrill tone that pierced the air. The laughter stopped.

Eso's charcoal eyes flicked downwards.

"Left pocket, Kechizu."

The other man obeyed, lowering his knife (and thus giving Naoya an actual chance to breathe) before grabbing the phone from Naoya's blazer. A notification lit up the screen—a message, from you.

“She sent a video.”

Eso and Kechizu intentionally held the screen away, and their face quickly lit up with a sinister smile when they previewed the file. “Oh, yeah. Let's watch.”

“Come join us, sweetheart.”

You thought you were discreet.

Lingering at the doorway, you had been peering into the Zenin Corporation’s CEO Suite like a lost duck. This past afternoon, news about the leadership changes within Japan’s largest conglomerate had spread like wildfire across business and politics networks across the globe, announcing that Naoya Zenin had been forced to resign with Toji Fushiguro reclaiming his position as head of the company.

For the latter, you had questions—many questions. However, an inundated Toji was difficult to approach as he spent his entire afternoon in the office with his also-reinstated directors Sukuna, Geto, and Choso. From your observations, the men had been milling around the table, speaking to each other in hushed but decisive voices in conversations that must remind them of their days managing the Zenin Corporation before Naoya’s takeover.

They all appeared ridiculously handsome with their expensive custom-tailored suits that emphasized their muscular physiques and complemented their towering heights. Surrounded by legal documents and business reports, they carried themselves differently, too. More mature, organized, and serious, especially after hectic meetings with the Chairman Naobito Zenin, your COO father, and internal and external stakeholders had left etches on their calculating faces.

Now, however, Toji Fushiguro had caught sight of your quivering form at the entrance, and soon enough, all eyes turned to you. When you didn’t respond to his first invitation, the executive approached you in confident strides.

“Why do you look so shy?”

At the unanticipated attention, you averted your gaze onto the floor and tried to slink away into the hall slowly. “You all seemed occupied, and I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You're not interrupting anything," he clarified. "We have some time now.”

He tugged your wrist softly, which was all that you needed to follow him like a fawn into the room and crumble onto his lap once he sat down. Despite his dress pants, the warmth from his thighs heated your skin, and Toji nuzzled his face into your neck. His gravelly huffs sounded like all the other times you had heard him rasp, moments followed by endless endearment.

"About Naoya," the older man brought up from seemingly nowhere. You tensed at the name while Toji's cordial lips assuaged you. "Choso’s brothers are making sure he’s not going to do anything funny. We can't have him around as we are transitioning the company. As for you...knowing my cousin, he's going to keep claiming you as his property unless you get through his dense head," and his viridescent pupils flicked upward, "and the only way to do that is to show him.”

Although you didn’t know exactly what he meant, Toji hoisted you in one fluid motion onto his desk and sprawled you across the surface. He pushed your thighs apart, prompting sharp breaths that echoed in the room as onlookers raked their eyes down your figure. Some (namely, Sukuna and Geto) peered down shamelessly, while others (just Choso, really) tried to come off as cool and observed quietly. Nonetheless, the message in their perverted gazes was clear: what they wouldn't give to kiss you, bite you, and mark you right then and there.

Just as you shrank a little from the overwhelming attention, Toji reached for your phone and pressed the device firmly into your palm.

“Let’s send him a message.” Toji’s eyes locked onto yours, unflinching and sharp.

You blinked, raising an incredulous brow. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” Leaning forward, Toji offered a clear view of the ink scrolling down his neck, his exhales warm against the beading cold sweat on your forehead. “Open up the camera. Let's send Naoya Zenin a surprise.” He gently pinched you. "Like I said, that idiot wouldn't understand shit unless you slam the idea into his dumb skull.”

You hesitated, glancing down at the phone in your hand.

“A photo won't be enough, by the way. We need a video. He won't get the fucking idea unless he sees and hears the proof.” When you complied, Toji turned to the colleague closest to him. "Wanna do the honors, Suguru?"

The said man came forward eagerly, the obsidian in his eyes sparkling. "'No' is never my answer to you, sir." Given your compromising position, he had the easy option to tear your lacy panties and stuff himself into your core except he wanted to take his time.

"I heard a lot about you." His compliments were all purrs that sent hot shivers shooting through your veins. "Mind if I take a go at you, too?"

After being passed between his three other colleagues, you must admit that you had at least thought about what sex with Geto was like, too. "Please."

At the permission, the man smiled and bunched your underwear to one side. The cold air hitting your drenched cunt made you shiver, but the collective groan in the room rumbled even louder, a reminder of the many men around you. Men who were being patient for you. Men who could not stop thinking about you. Men who, because of your ex-husband, had been holding grudges against you.

Geto pulled down his boxers just until the waistband fitted snugly under his balls. His cock stood proud with precum dribbling down his length as he positioned himself in the comfy spot between your thighs. He pressed against the table until his knuckles turned white, aligning himself with your entrance.

Without extra stimulation, your saturated folds welcomed him easily and you gasped loudly at the intrusion.

"Shit, you’re soaking," Geto sighed softly as you clenched around him, swarming his veins with gratification. He tipped his head forward, his loose strands framing his face. “Tell me to stop if you’re uncomfortable, okay?” He was so sweet, so kind. You nodded and hazily recognized that this was what making love was supposed to feel like: tender, gentle, and loving. This was Suguru Geto's charm.

Before you could say more, an opportunistic Sukuna took his place above you. He moved quickly, undoing his belt and tugging hastily at his trousers, humming loudly with relief when he pulled his pants down and his massive cock sprang free. Despite being jostled by another man, you swabbed at the bubbling precum before pushing your thumb into your mouth, relishing his clean and salty tinge on your tongue.

Amused, Sukuna chuckled darkly. "What a fucking tease," he crowed, then patting your cheek. "C'mon. Open up, baby. Let me get to the back of your throat."

With little resistance, he popped your jaw open and sank his massive girth into your mouth. Gradually, you bobbed your head back and forth, letting your tongue lick every millimeter to him. He, likewise, pushed his hips forward, bringing your nose flushed against his well-trimmed patch of pink hair. He plucked the recording phone from your hands, and you sensed him tapping on the screen to focus on the erotic display where your bodies connected, your sinful lips accepting his fat cock with ease.

"You are such a good girl." Sukuna Ryomen confirmed, his movements mind-numbing as though he wanted to breed your esophagus. He wrapped a hand around your windpipe, constricting your airflow and causing you to gag. "Brat looks like a goddamn goddess sucking dick. Isn't that right, Choso?"

No response.

Curious, your pupils rolled to the side.

The assassin's the man you feared the most.

He was quiet, always guarded, his mysterious eyes pulling you in like two black holes. You could never know what he’s thinking about, although you lucidly remember his crooked obsession with 'disciplining' you.

"Hey, honey.” Geto's deft fingers suddenly gripped your chin, forcing your gaze to return to him. “Pay attention to us, m'kay?"

You hummed in response, Sukuna’s dick still bulging visibly in your throat.

"I don’t want you to lose focus," an overly aroused Suguru went on to explain. He breathed heavily. Shaking. Or maybe that was you? He clutched your love handles harshly before he pulled out and stepped to the side, making you stroke himself with your delicate hands instead. Briefly, you assumed that Geto preferred handjobs and wanted to ejaculate onto your breasts, only to get your answer when your puffy clit came into contact with the sharp coolness from…metal?

"Choso," Toji's harsh voice warned.

Brought back to your senses, you looked down to see Choso using the fluids to lubricate...his gun. You recognized the weapon, the same one you had seen in his car. The same one he would use to kill. All air in your lungs left swiftly. What the actual fuck. Sheer mortification was the only reason you didn't have the guts to do anything (because, if Choso became irritated enough, he could pull the trigger and then you would have no guts at all), and your silence only gave him a reason to continue defiling you into his personal gun slut.

He stared at his boss with an unperturbed frown. "You know I like her too much to hurt her."

A squeal tumbled past your lips when the pistol's freezing barrel pressed past your tight hole. Although you partially expected Toji to warn the weapon-wielding man again, Toji instead leaned forward in his chair, jaw resting on his fist. He could seem more concerned, but the mirthful glimmer in his emerald eyes said otherwise.

Meanwhile, Choso's piercing gaze alone made you sweaty, your forehead turned glossy with a sheen. He lazily massaged your inner walls, your warm arousal coating his cool metal before leaking onto the table, the only struggle now was how your body involuntarily twitched. To your fascination (and horror), pleasure began to build with each too-hard pass of his barrel. There were just too many sensations going on. Messy mouth deepthroating one cock, slicked hands stroking another, and sloppy cunt taking in a gun. You did your best to give everybody equal attention because you were a desperate crowd-pleaser, not wanting anyone to feel left out.

With your back arched from the table, you became increasingly frantic, demonstrating through feverish movements that all you were was their obedient little bitch. All these hands on your body, skin on your skin. You felt them all, the senses exhilarating and fascinating.

Toji sternly interrupted from seemingly nowhere. “I can tell from your movements that you want to cum, don’t you?” Maybe, but you were too overwhelmed to focus solely on your pleasure. Nothing that your therapists couldn't help with. Leaning over, Toji snaked an arm around your body to press tight circles at your engorged clit. "Be selfish for a little bit," he coaxed. "Cum for us."

His permission sent you immediately vaulting over the edge, your whole body spasming as an orgasm tore through you. Your lips parted, but you didn't scream. Your eyes shut slowly and rolled to the back of your head as every millimeter in your fragile body unraveled completely—fluttering, cramping, and shuddering.

Your ears became blessed with chorused laughter and praise.

Choso inspected your copious juices that suddenly coated his gun, a translucent thread trailing from the barrel to your now-exposed cunt. Reaching over, Sukuna wrapped his hand around Choso's forearm. He leaned into the pistol and parted his lips, swirling his tongue slowly around the barrel. His maroon eyes were half-lidded, giving him an almost lazy yet focused look as he dragged his tongue along the metal, lapping up your precious essences—the syrups rich and just a bit tangy. Drooling and sucking like a little kid with a lollipop, Sukuna didn't care that his spit trailed from the metal down to the other man's wrist and flipped the camera to selfie mode to capture the action.

Towards the end, his tongue swiped over his lips, leaving a luster from your elixir that coated his mouth. “So fuckin’ sweet.”

After another generous lick, he swished the concoction in his mouth before pinching your chin, and your mouth propped open. Pleased, he hummed when you stuck your tongue out, showcasing just how naughty you were. He drooled the spittle into your mouth, the saline taste blossoming on your taste buds, a thread of spit connecting your chin and his.

"Sharing," Sukuna chuckled darkly into your phone's microphone, "is absolutely fucking caring."

Nearby, Suguru groaned. He hurriedly clambered to the comfy space between your plush thighs, shoving a grumbling Choso aside. "I'm so fucking close."

He buried his dick into your tunnel, the veins on his cock pulsating. Call him selfish or masochistic, but as much as he wanted to reach his high, Geto denied his orgasm to stay longer inside and prevented himself from fucking bursting.

“Don't hold back, Suguru,” you urged.

Geto furrowed his brows, sweat gathering on his forehead as he tried his best to hold out. He admitted earnestly, "I don't want to give you up, baby.”

“I want you to cum,” you said, all whiny with puppy eyes. Free hand slithering down, you cupped his aching balls and gently squeezed his heavy testes. "Besides,” you glanced over at the camera, “show Naoya how you can breed me…daddy."

Sugaru’s eyes widened at the unexpected nickname that he loved so much. That’s it. He’s done for. His handsome features crumpled from an over-the-top pleasure as he gave his snapping hips one final push and pumped you full, coating your cervix white with his thick essence as he rested his head against your forehed, panting into your ear and moaning into your skin.

Pressing one last kiss on your cheekbone, he pulled himself out of your hot cunt, allowing others to have their way with you.

Sukuna got behind you eagerly. He repositioned your shaking body, his calloused hands tossing you over and leaving you panting on your hands and knees. His harsh squeeze at your sides made you squeal just as he pulled your legs apart for easier access, exposing your cute hole.

"Shit, she's making a mess, dripping onto the desk." The same desk that belonged to Naoya merely several hours ago. Adjusting your phone camera, Sukuna thumbed through your folds like they were pages in a book, scoffing at the viscous dallops that slid out. The tattoos on his wrists gleamed pitch black under the glossy mixed juices.

"Suguru's cock did you well, but this pretty lady isn't finished yet, eh? She can take more. I know she can." His hands weaved into your hair and tugged harshly. "Tell us, missy. You can handle more, correct?"

The threat in his menacing tone only suggested there was one answer. You whimpered pathetically, "Yes."

With a crooked smile, Sukuna pressed his muscular form against your back. That man was starving. After all, he had been waiting to have your pussy properly wrapped around his painful erection when he could've greedily taken you for himself first.

"Stop moving so I can angle myself correctly," Sukuna reprimanded when you wobbled on all fours.

Hardly any time was given to let you register the warning before the man plunged into your sensitive socket. He ignored your desperate wail, amazed at how he plugged you all the way. His pace started off sensual and languid. Each snug press against your battered cervix at first made you squeak, but you became too far caught up in the moment that the discomfort disappeared as promptly as the sensation came.

"Mhm," Sukuna hummed, a squelch ringing through the room each time he would bottom out. He didn't need to say anything for him to feel how wet you were, fluids trickling out from your puffy hole and creating what looked like the Nile River running down your thighs.

"Holy fuck," Choso swore to the side, his emotions a rare display.

Blissful waves rushed to your head, one after another. Arousal flooded into your tummy, your cunt twitching uncontrollably as a second climax started to sneak up on you.

Sukuna groaned—or at least attempted to groan—through the exertion of his forceful movements. How he had missed playing with you. A few trickles of sweat on his forehead glided over the ink on his forehead before dripping onto your back. He pumped himself faster, his balls smacking against your clit harder—savoring how you squirmed underneath his direct influence.

He could not resist peering down at the sacred space where your bodies connected and ensured that the camera, too, had an unobscured view. The problem was he had become so agonizingly turned on that his hold on your phone began shaking. He rasped, back straightening. “Goddamn, your cunny does me good.”

Not long after, he reached his release snarling and grunting like a dog as white ropes shot from his cock and into your uterus, with him nearly dropping your device onto your ass from his sheer ecstasy.

"No!" you protested loudly when Sukuna pulled out abruptly, hissing as your empty hole clenched around nothing. "I..." You balled your fists, thumping the desk in frustration. "I was so fucking close."

"Don't worry." The strawberry-haired man tenderly brushed away the tears by your jaw. Like he hoped to comfort you somehow. "Nothing Choso can't help with. He'll take great care of you." He looked over at the said colleague. “Isn’t that right?”

Gulping, you followed his gaze to the other man who had stopped behind you.

"You look nervous," Choso commented matter-of-factly. "Why?"

As if he didn’t already know the answer. You rolled your eyes and snorted like a true brat, indeed. "None of your business."

Besides, you had enough encounters with Choso Kamo, each incident more indecent than the last. This time, he naturally noticed your eyes drift to the gun tucked into his back pocket, the saps from earlier creating an ample moist patch on his pants.

“So, tell me, bimbo," Choso spoke again. He didn't care to announce himself as he unbuckled and pressed in, stretching you with his thickness, aided by your copious reserve containing both arousal and cum, hitting that sweet spot that he had no problem finding over and over. "Did you think I had been done with you already?"

Holding in whimpers from his repeated thrusts, you let out a soft groan.

"I can't hear you."

"Yes."

“But, do you want me?”

Silence.

“I am not going to repeat my—”

"I want you s’ badly..."

A demon must have possessed you. There was no other way to explain yourself. But those remarks were all Choso needed before he began to move impossibly fast within you. He didn’t care that he pounded into you like a beast, creating a commotion that perhaps the floor below could hear your wetness reverberate around the room.

"This is for being a fucking tease." Choso raised his hand high and then delivered an unforgiving blow against your ass. Unprepared, you yelped from the sheer force, which had been enough to leave a handprint on your unblemished cheeks.

"I didn't—!" Your attempt to defend proved futile as Choso spanked you again with little regard for your feelings.

"This is for giving me an attitude," he continued, gruff. And again. "For forgetting how to behave, shit." And again, and again, and again. For this, for that, his listed grievances going on and on and on, his punishments making you cry and squirm and wail.

Choso knew he was selfish. If his boss Toji wasn't involved, he would want nothing more than to keep you forever, making you his little gun slut and teaching you to cum all over him. He couldn’t help it. As if the roles were reversed. Like he was the inexperienced one, unaware of his partner's feelings and only caring for his pleasure. He remained relentless as he continued his abuse, the tendons along his hands and arms flexing with his efforts, like the crazed killer he was being out for blood.

The distressed expression written all over your face only made him want to go harder. He loved making it hurt, his sadistic personality entirely to blame. With every pump, his testes smacked onto your clit repeatedly, feeling him sink deeper and deeper inside.

“F-Fuck—S’ too much, Choso!” A sob wracked your trembling figure amidst his assault. In distress, you tugged at his wrists to get him to ease up on you. That didn't matter. He was too strong, especially when compared to you.

"I thought you wanted to cum."

"I do!" But you didn't think you would be able to cum like this. "This...This is too painful!"

As if he cared.

"Oh, please," Choso scoffed, even rolling his inky eyes in dismissal. "This isn't painful. You're just being dramatic. If you think this is painful...how do you think I felt, hm? Watching Geto and Sukuna take turns defiling you. Hearing you blubber their names without shame. Did you think that I—with my cock stiff in my pants—that I didn't feel pain? Listen to yourself. God, turns out you're just another selfish slut."

Scorching tears streamed down your face, and you searched around desperately.

"No one here's going to save you," Choso announced, reading right through you. He pressed his face against your earlobe, a hot puff of air fanning out across your delicate skin. "Because it's too obvious. You fucking like this, pup."

Did you?

Even if that wasn't the case, you guess you did now, the unwavering conviction in Choso's tone spurring a change of heart. It’s sick, you realized, he’s manipulating me.

Yet, sure enough, you soon started to feel lighter, giddier. Your pupils dilated from stimulation and your muscles tingled with excitement. Choso felt so good. You felt so good, and the coil from deep within your cervix compressed tighter and tighter as a pressure built from within.

"I'm close...again." This time, it's a little embarrassing to admit, especially when you were complaining like a puppy just minutes ago.

"What did I tell you, pet," Choso growled, the corners of his mouth quirked upwards in a rare grin. He made you feel glorious. Consequently, you writhed underneath his body, fully submissive under his control. You wanted nothing more than to be a pliant baby girl for him, let him use you in any way he wants. "Cum and squeeze my cock."

“Make me.”

“Oh?”

One final blow to your ass was what hurled your body over the edge.

“I—” you choked on your spit. "I'm coming!"

You shrieked the moment you felt your body disintegrate, your shoulder blades caving in as sweat fell like raindrops from your skin. Elbows giving up, your head hit the table, leaving your temples pulsing with dizziness, bliss, and pain; your eyes staring at the wood finishing; your chest rising up and down, exasperated from the intensity of your release.

And oh, your pussy squeezed Choso good. Before he could hold himself back, Choso dug his nails into your ass. "Fuck, you are incredible," was the last thing he muttered before he came as well in one long grunt, splattering your womb with his creamy semen. He made you tremble when he pulled out, releasing the mess inside and leaving you feeling oddly empty and cold. Glob after glob of cum oozed out, semen from multiple perpetrators painting over your labia, which made the surrounding men grin at the sight, knowing that you held all their seed inside.

Nothing except their breeding hole, that was what you had become. There was something they adored about labeling you as their personal whore.

Not long afterward, a warm hand took yours into his own. Toji caressed the skin of your palm before pulling you right onto his lap again. In the end, he was whom you belonged to. If anybody wanted to do anything to you, they had to talk to him first.

Toji helped you straddle him, tucking one leg onto his either side, except you were so fucked out that you didn’t know who you were or where you were from.

"C'mon, honey. Don't lose yourself just yet," he murmured gently, brushing a few free strands from your forehead. Otherwise, you would've gone limp and lost all senses completely.

Toji had been waiting for you. He considered this a sign of his maturity, allowing the younger and more impatient men to make a mess with you first. Now, though, was his turn, fair and square.

His exposed length pressed up against his abdomen with fantastic girth and length such that—despite your current state—your pupils went heart-eyed and your mouth drooled from sight alone. He loved when you made that expression, one he had seen countless times in his dreams; a guilty pleasure in reality. He chortled at your sharp gasps, finding you adorable even after being stuffed by several men.

However, just when you didn't think you could handle more, his red-flushed head brushed over your clit and jolted your veins with the familiar wave of arousal. You shifted, the sticky mess between your legs uncomfortable. In a brief moment of lucidity, you had an epiphany. With one hand resting on Toji's shoulder, you reached down with the other to spread your folds, biting your lip as you clamped down on your sensitive walls hard.

Sure enough, a generous amount of cum trickled out of your used cunt, oozing onto Toji’s cockhead and sliding down gradually to his balls.

"Holy shit."

Eyes grew wide with surprise, jaws dropped in reaction to your nasty actions. Since when did you learn to become so dirty? Flushed cheeks betrayed their interest as they continued their lustful staring. Generous was what you were, letting them ogle like schoolchildren for a few moments longer before you scooped up the slick and began to suck on your fingers. Softly, you hummed at the succulent flavors concocted by you, Suguru, Sukuna, and Choso combined.

"Next up is you."

“So fuckin’ filthy," Toji praised with utter adoration.

As you continued, you made sure not to break eye contact as you subtly rutted your sopping cunt against his tip. You coyly batted your long lashes in his direction, making sure he could feel the liquids running down his cock and the throbbing pussy that awaited him.

You smiled. "All yours, Dr. Fushiguro."

He suddenly grew smitten at how polite you could be, and using his hands as a guide, he helped you sink into him slowly. “Goddamn.” The sound that emerged from him was wholly obscene, a carnal desperation only matched by your movements, your thighs constricting his hips and your eyes rolling backward. How cozy, you discovered yourself to be, snug at his hilt. Toji had filled you all the way but a few centimeters of his cock remain, his tip already kissing against your spent uterus.

Something about knowing that his little cousin would watch this made Toji want to do everything to push deeper into you. He started by rocking your waist against a rhythm, and a near-pornographic mewl escaped your lips when his shaft ran over an especially sensitive spot, the ridges rubbing against your cavern and sending pleasure through your every limb. He hummed at the way you squealed and loved how expressive you were with your body and feelings.

His tongue laved across your shoulder before stopping over your collarbone. "You'll still go back to Naoya after this?"

"Absolutely not," you mumbled with sincerity. "I would hate myself if I did."

“Excellent,” he slurred, his spit drooling down your back from where his mouth had latched onto your neck. “That’s…exactly what I wanted to hear, baby.”

Baby. Your eyes squeezed shut, responding with a whine. Although the overstimulation was originally uncomfortable, you began to feel satisfaction cut through the soreness once again as your body prepared for one more climax. You rocked your hips in need, like an animal in heat, a sight that would certainly drive your ex-husband crazy. “F-Feels,” you paused to pant, “Feels good.”

“Fuck.” Toji gritted out, breaking through his cacophony of crude moaning and effectively searing your skin. He continued steering your body in the rhythm he learned you liked, his nails nearly piercing your skin despite their bluntness. He cupped your jaw harshly. “What are you to us, sweetheart?”

“Oh.” You laughed a little, clearly delirious, and then replied. “'M your cumdump.”

“Say that again.”

“I—”

“Louder.” The emeralds in his heavy-lidded eyes skated briefly to the phone. “I want everyone to hear.”

So, you mustered all your energy to give your final answer—and the correct answer. "I am your cum dumpster!"

Toji started saying something, chuckling maybe, but his words weren’t clear even as he tossed his head back. His breathing was deep, wet, and sexy, and he was no doubt blistering hot in his business blazer, his slicked-back hair soaked with sweat and hanging limply in front of his flushed face. His expression, on the other hand, was what got you the most; his eyes drawn shut, his brows slightly pinched, his mouth just barely parted.

He panted, raising his head to lock lips with yours, moaning into your mouth lewdly before pulling back, and admiring your fucked out expression, face heated and sweating.

“Shit, you’re too good to me,” was the last thing Toji sighed before he added to your womb with his hot cum, his grip on your body tightening as his balls twitched and lodged his precious seed into the sacred cavern. Pussy clamping down, you milked him, not willing to let a single drop go to waste, gasping when the explosive warmth made you shatter with him, leaving you hiccuping and spasming until you were just jolting and crying out from the stretched muscles in your body.

Overheated, you slumped forward. Sweat rolled uncomfortably down your back, spit smeared across your neck and shoulders and chin.

But you looked up and giggled at your latest discovery.

“I love getting gangbanged."

last chapter || next chapter

end notes: I spent way more time preparing this chapter than I expected, writing, rewriting, and editing. Adding, shortening, then adding again. (At some point, this was nearly 7K words.) This is far from perfect, but I must relinquish myself. Thank you again for reading!

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wonuuism · 8 months ago

Text

puppy love - 심재윤

in which jake makes the most if his (expensive) visit to the vet.

tags: fluff, vet!reader, layla’s not overweight irl but for the sake of the plot let’s say she’s been eating a little too well;;

author’s note: idk i wrote this in like an hour bc of a sudden burst of motivation. no proofreading bc it’s 3am LOL. first fic woo!! enjoy!!!

—

jake’s worried. panicking, even.

layla’s laying down next to him in the back of the taxi, her eyes shifting around nervously. jake’s leg is bouncing up and down as anxiety courses through his veins. layla had slipped and fallen down the stairs while he was home and her sharp whining whenever she walked afterwards made him uneasy. so, he was quick to call up the nearest vet clinic and book the soonest appointment for a consultation.

he’s really, really worried though. layla’s never had any bad scares like this one, so he’s not sure what to expect. what if it’s worse than he thinks? what if they tell him layla’s broken a bone? what if layla has to go through surgery? oh god - jake thinks he might throw up.

he’s interrupted from his thoughts as the taxi driver stops the car and announces they’ve arrived. thanking the driver, jake exits the car and gulps nervously as he surveys the exterior of the clinic. it feels ominous.

a bell rings as he pushes open the door, and the girl at the front desk looks up from the computer screen. “welcome in! how may i help you?”

“uh… i have an appointment at 11:30. for layla.” jake responds.

“awesome, i see you in our calendar. please hold tight while i let the vet know you’re here.” she smiles kindly, but it does little to ease jake’s nerves. still, he manages a tight-lipped smile and curt nod in response.

—

jake watches as someone emerge from the back, looking at a clipboard in their hands. “layla?”

he stands up right away, prompting layla who had been laying by his feet to do the same. “yes, that’s us.”

you look up at the source of the voice and send him a pleasant smile. walking towards him, you reach out your hand and he shakes it, but not before quickly swiping his palm on his jeans. “nice to meet you. i’m dr. l/n, and i’ll be taking a look at layla today. how about we head inside so i can take a better look at her?”

jake nods earnestly and gently tugs on layla’s leash to have her follow him into the consultation room in the back. once inside, you ask if he could kindly place layla on the table - a request he readily complies to. you’re impressed at how little he struggled given the fact that layla is a fairly big dog. clearly, he was strong. and maybe kind of cute, too.

“so,” you begin, “what seems to be the issue?”

“she had a bit of a bad fall and she’s been limping and whining a lot since then… i’m worried she might’ve broken a bone or something like that?” jake explains as he runs his hand comfortingly through layla’s fur.

you nod as he speaks, reaching over to assess any damage. after checking her heartbeat with your stethoscope, you flex her hips, gently press on her legs, and check on her paws.

as you do so, layla’s continuously making noises of discontent. initially, you had believed that her right front leg was causing her discomfort since she’d barked sharply when you touched it. however, she’d done the same thing for every other limb you’d touched as well. smiling, you turn your attention to her owner.

“i don’t see anything wrong with layla. her legs are fine, i’d say the shock of the fall is probably what made her respond like that. us people tend to coddle our pets a lot when they get injured, and dogs especially like that attention so they exaggerate it to make it seem worse than it is.”

jake is dumbfounded. “so you’re saying layla was just being dramatic?”

you smile apologetically. “yes… i know it’s not the news you were expecting, but that’s a good thing! means she’s not injured.”

you’re right, jake supposes. but that means i brought her all the way here because she’s a drama queen?!

you note the way jake sighs heavily, and it makes you want to try and console him by making his trip to the clinic seem somewhat worthwhile with basic medical advice.

“however, i would recommend putting her on a bit of a diet. she seems to be just a little bit over the ideal weight, and that can cause unnecessary strain on her joints.” you explain and jake nods, hanging on to every word coming out of your mouth. “after all, we want layla to live a long and healthy life, don’t we?” you coo, reaching out to ruffle her neck.

jake smiles. cute.

wait, what?

he takes this chance to finally look at you. he’d been too occupied previously with worry that he hadn’t been able to actually register what you looked like. now, he can see that you are, in fact, cute. you look around his age, and he’s impressed that you’re a vet this young. you suit the scrubs, but he wonders what you’d wear outside of work.

you pull away from layla and jake snaps back to reality. he’s glad layla’s okay. still, he sternly faces her and points his index finger toward her snout. “alright missy, you’re going on a diet starting today. consider it punishment for scaring me like that.”

chuckling, you turn to face him and he mirrors your action. there’s not much left to say, so he thanks you quickly and leaves the room, closing the door behind him. you stay since you have to log layla’s information in your computer. as you’re wrapping up, you add one more thing in layla’s “additional information” section.

additional information: super cute, looks exactly like owner

—

jake silently mourns on his way back home. again, he’s glad layla’s okay. he really is. but he had to pay an extraordinarily large amount of money just to be told that she’s fine. and a little fat.

he glares at layla, who looks back at him with sparkling eyes. his heart melts at the sight, and he sighs as he pets her. jake thinks of you and the fondness in your eyes as you petted the same fur moments prior. maybe something good did come out of his visit to the vet.

suddenly, he gets an idea. he paid a lot of money for this consultation, so he could be a little greedy. as a client, he could ask for your number, right? after all, what if something truly serious happened next time? he’d rather skip the formality of booking an appointment through the website and speak directly with you instead.

so, he pulls up the clinic’s information and calls the number on their website. a girl — likely the same one who welcomed him in — answers and asks what she could do for him.

“hey, i was just at the clinic for an appointment with my dog layla. i hope this doesn’t sound weird, but do you think it would be possible to get the number of the vet who saw layla today? just in case anything happens to layla again. you know?”

jake physically cringes as he speaks. way to not sound weird.

“uhm… one moment please.” the girl responds. jake hears whispering on the other side of the call.

what he didn’t know was that you were right next to the girl on call, sorting through some paperwork before you saw your next patient.

“doctor! layla’s owner is calling and asking if he can get your number..?” your secretary whispers.

you whip your head towards her, not believing what you heard. layla’s owner? the cute, fluffy hair guy?

she looks as giddy as you feel, giggling as she raises her eyebrows suggestively. laughing at her, you give her a thumbs up and she’s quick to bring the phone to her ear again.

“hello? yes, the doctor said there’s no problem. do you have something to write with? okay. her number is…”

you smile to yourself as she recites your personal number. a bell rings throughout the clinic, notifying you of your next patient’s arrival. you greet them and lead them to your consultation room and as you close the door your phone buzzes.

unknown number: hi, this is jake. layla’s dad. thanks again for the help today. if you don’t mind, i’d like to take you out sometime?

you bite your lip to suppress your grin. quickly, you reply.

you: i’d love that. date and time?

#enhypen #jake sim #jake enhypen #jake imagine #jake fluff #jake x reader #jake scenario #enhypen jake

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star2fishmeg · 2 months ago

Note

can you please do prompt 12 with quinn hughes!

Thank you for requesting <3 - Merry Christmas!

FLUFF #12 "Just pretend to be my date."

📞 dialling…

She stared at him directly in the eye, blinking like a deer in headlights at Quinn’s pleading face. Quinn Hughes, the man she had known since childhood, stood the closest he ever had before, minty breaths fanning over cheeks, in front of her in his parent’s empty kitchen with his hands clasped over hers.

“Please, just pretend to be my date. Even if it’s for the next few hours or so, you know they ask every year, and I don’t need her doing that speed dating shit again.” He begged so quiet his voice rumbled in her ears and flushed heat up her neck, heart hammering in his chest hearing his aunt and uncle’s voices announcing their arrival from the other room. “Y/n, I swear I’ll make it up to you-”

“-Okay.” She smiled as his eyes lit up brighter, a familiar pull in her chest that tugged every time she was in the room with him, like two magnets trying to meet. They’d been through this same annual Hughes-l/n Christmas event for years, since they were kids, and every year it was always his nosey aunt who asked him if he had a girlfriend, fiancée or wife yet to which he always awkwardly had to think of some excuse.

“Quinn! There you are my superstar!” his nosey aunt’s voice rang out into the kitchen. Quinn stood up straight, arm automatically wrapping around y/n’s waist and his hand finding comfort on her hip. Something about the gesture felt alleviating, perfect, natural, y/n responding with her arm winding around his torso, palm soothing over his back for reassurance periodically. “Y/n! Oh my, you look as gorgeous as ever! Look at you both, so grown up.”

“Aha, yeah,” he forced a laugh, feeling her beady eyes flicker between himself and y/n. Y/n leant her head into him, his whole charade starting to feel less like a favour and more real with the longer they held each other.

His aunt gasped, making them both flinch and his grip tighten. She soaked in the sight, the way that even after all the years, they still fit in each other’s figures and still looked at each other the same way. They were still the kids who would sneak off to Quinn’s room, and on one occasion, had their first kisses there.

“You two!? How long? Tell me everything, I must know! Has he proposed yet? When’s the wedding? I have to write this down, am I getting a niece or nephew? Oh finally! Y/n, Quinn’s been talking about you for years and the way he looks at you, oh my-��

“Caroline, relax,” y/n smiled, heart almost stopping when his thumb rubbed her hip gently, “It’s been a year, so we’re still at the start. We’ve only just discussed living together.”

No other words were spoken, and his heart swelled, Caroline took her dramatic exit to find her husband. Quinn and y/n exhaled, bodies slumping into each other and melting into each other’s embrace, her ear pressed to his chest while her hands gave his back a reassuring rub.

“So, you’re moving in huh? At least let me take you on a date first, show you what I can offer.” He chuckled softly, pulling away to cup one of her cheeks, her eyes glistening under the bright lights as she leant into his palm and one thousand little fireworks exploded inside her chest at once.

“Talking about me for years, huh? Damn, couldn’t even tell your best friend who you had a crush on,” she joked, catching his genuine smile creep into his face with rosy cheeks, “But a date sounds nice, I’d like that.”

They basked in a pleasant silence between them, the world pausing in each other’s steady eyes until choruses of surprised voices echoed from the living room. Quickly, he slipped his phone from his pocket, using his free hand to text his brothers the situation before slotting it back, cupping both her cheeks with his hands and puffing his chest out. They had only a few minutes to figure out a story, but in hindsight, they’d been in love with each other for so long, it wouldn’t be that hard.

#≡megs1kcelly #≡qh43 #quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader

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elllisaaa · 1 year ago

Text

how seventeen would confess to you - hhu vers.

-> pairing : svt hhu × gn!reader

-> words count : 2.9k words

-> genre : svt members crushing on you, fluff

-> warnings : while make you giggle and kick your feet

-> sorry if I made any mistakes, english is not my first language.

-> reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated !

-> masterlist | svt masterlist

hhu vers. | vu vers. | pu vers.

CHOI SEUNGCHEOL - INTIMATE

cuddles, cuddles, cuddles !

once he tackled you on the couch or bed and you’re in his arms, you’re not getting up for at least an hour.

watching long shows together, and you’re forbidden from watching even one episode without him, or he’ll get so pouty.

big golden retriever energy, he’s always so smiley around you.

but also big on protecting you.

he’s the type to say “dress how you want, i can fight”, and he will definitely fight if needed.

always has an arm around you, making you feel safe in every situation

since both of you are friends since as far as you can remember, he’s like another member of your family.

i can literally picture your aunts asking you when you’re gonna marry him at every gathering lmao

with all of that, the line between friendly and romantic feelings is blurred, but cheol wished he had the courage to fully cross it.

however, everyone and their mothers knew about his big crush on you, and about yours on him.

his confession would be so domestic crying because i’m lonely.

It wasn’t uncommon for you to cross paths with Seungcheol late at night. Just like you, he often got thirsty and you always ended up staying in the kitchen until the early hours of morning, and being sleepy at the family gathering. And this time was not different. Well, it was, in fact, a bit different. You had been aboard for the past year and only got back to Korea a few weeks before, so both of you hadn’t really seen each other and you had a lot to catch up on about your lives.

“- And after that, this bitch didn’t even dare to look me in the eyes for the rest of the year ! Can you believe this ?

- I don’t like to judge people I don’t know, but she’s indeed a bitch.”

Both of you bursted out in laughter, and your heart felt warmer again. It was as if you were finally complete again. Being away from Seungcheol when he had been by your side for the majority of your life was the most difficult thing you ever had to do, and feeling him slip through your fingers as he started to respond less was horrible. He apologized so many times about how busy he was, and you knew it was not his fault, but still, you just wanted to be back home, back in his arms.

“- Yeah, she definitely is.”

You landed your head on his shoulder with a smile, and Seungcheol feared that you would hear how fast his heart was beating. He was happy for you when you announced to him that you had the opportunity to go aboard for your studies, and he was immensely proud of you. But at the same time, all he wanted to do was convince you to not go and keep you forever with him. But he was only your best friend, and he couldn’t ask you to give up on your dreams for him. But he wished he could be your boyfriend instead.

“- I have something to confess…”

You lifted your head from his shoulder, looking at him as you waited for his next words. Seungcheol eyes’ dived into yours, and he just knew. He knew that this was the right time, that the particular atmosphere surrounding the two of you would certainly never arise again. He had to do it now.

“- The day you left, I came to say goodbye at the airport, remember ?”

You nobbed. How could you not ? He had engulfed you in a big hug that made you want to stay, and left you with teary eyes as you got on your flight.

“- I never told you what I did after. I drove off to the park we always played at when we were kids, and I cried on the swings for maybe two hours because all I could think about was that you were not with me. And it felt so wrong.”

Your right hand found purchase on his cheek, forcing him to look down at you as he consciously avoided your eyes since he started to tell you his little story. But your soft smile was the only reassurance he needed.

“- It felt wrong being away from you too. I missed you so much Cheol…

- Me too…”

And just like that, you both leaned in at the same time, your lips meeting in between and suddenly, everything felt right again, as if it was where you were supposed to be - in each other arms.

“next time i’m squeezing myself in your luggage, i don’t want to spend another night without you in my arms.”

JEON WONWOO - SIMPLE

i don’t know how to explain it, but I’m sure you’ll get it when I say that this man is the definition of soft.

he’s so cozy, every one of his hugs feels like a warm cocoon (that’s why you always find an excuse to get a hug).

very good at giving advice, and a good listener, he’s always there when you need a shoulder to cry on.

you were friends with the other members at first, but slowly, you started to grow closer when he discovered how sweet and lovely you were.

the more he talked with you, the more he found himself hooked.

literally has heart eyes for you (everyone and their mothers know about his crush on you) and would drop everything if you need him.

of course, he’ll be more than happy if you agreed to play video games with him, it doesn’t matter if you’re good at it or not

it’s even better if you never played, he’ll have an excuse to make you sit on his lap while he teaches you how to use the controller.

but in the end, he’s a simple guy, and he doesn’t see the point of hiding his crush for too long, but he also wants his confession to be meaningful.

The boys had organized a big party for your birthday this year, and surprisingly, they succeeded at keeping it a secret until tonight. And the past months spent trying to perfect every little detail was worth it when they saw the big smile on your face and your teary eyes when you recognized your friends and family as you walked through the room.

And even if Wonwoo couldn’t be more happy than seeing you wander around, laughing and smiling non-stop, he felt a weight on his heart. He wanted to steal you away from all these people, have you all for himself and finally tell you how he felt about you, finally tell you how glad he was to have you in his life. But he couldn’t, and he would never do that. He was just waiting patiently for your eyes to meet in the crowd, and for you to smile brightly at him. Every time you did that, his heart beat faster.

“- Finally ! I’m so happy that everyone came, but I’m exhausted !

- I can imagine, you’ve been running around the whole night.”

You sighed dramatically as you seated yourself on the couch next to Wonwoo, resting your head on his shoulder. Like a habit, he put his arms around you, bringing you closer to him, just because you were so comfortable around each other that everyone else thought you were already dating.

“- It’s the best surprise of my life. You guys are my favorites. Thank you for doing this for me.

- You deserved it, that and all the presents we prepared for you.”

You lifted your head from his shoulder, looking at him with a sparkle of curiosity in your eyes.

“- And what’s yours Wonwoo ?”

He had planned to do it later, when everyone would have left, when he’ll have a moment alone with you. But if this wasn’t a sign that he had to do it now, he didn’t know what it was.

“- It’s not something material. It’s more… Spiritual I’ll say.

- It’s intriguing, tell me what it is.

- My heart. I’m offering you my heart, because you already have it, you did for a long time now, and I wanted to let you know, just in case you were feeling the same about me.”

Wonwoo knew how emotional you could get, but he didn’t expect you to cry from his confession. Still, he wiped your tears away, waiting for you to calm down with a soft smile on his face.

“- I feel the same, I’ve been feeling the same for so long. You have my heart too.”

“I’ll take care of it, I promise. I’ll always protect you.”

KIM MINGYU - JOYFUL

100% golden retriever energy

you would often tease him along with the members (because we all know that seventeen ultimate goal is to make fun of mingyu)

partner privilege : would not get as pouty as with his members, all it takes is a smile from you and you’re forgiven.

however, when you tease him about how being so muscular but so afraid of everything is a shame, he’ll be like a child throwing a tantrum.

pouting until you compliment him (and cannot stop blushing once you do, he’s so cute someone help me).

tries to impress you all the time by flexing his muscles, showing how strong he is.

he’s so obvious please, this boy cannot hide his love for you.

follows you everywhere like a lost puppy, just in case you need him (he’s adorable).

he feels so comfortable around you because beyond all the teasing, you’re very understanding and kind.

you’re always here to remind him how amazing he is every time he doubts himself.

and because he feels so comfortable around you, his confession would slip like it was the most natural thing ever.

Mingyu always had a tendency to show off his skills whenever you were in the same room as him. Yes, he felt an incredible ego boost when you complimented him about his muscles, but what he took real pride in was how much he was able to make you laugh. He always feared that his jokes were lame, or just not your type of humor, but every time he cracked one, you bursted into giggles. And by the way you were beaming, there was no way that you were faking it.

And he always managed to make you laugh in all types of situations, chuckling and resisting the urge of kicking his feet like a teenager everytime you hitted his shoulder playfully as you tried to contain your own giggles. Mingyu was addicted to the way your eyes were glowing with joy everytime you just smiled. However, he discovered that the easiest way to get you to laugh was to tell you all the stupid things his members did. Like now, as you were crying from how funny you found the story of Seungkwan volley ball.

“- He really only discovered it when he saw that video ?

- Yeah, really ! You should’ve seen the betrayal in his eyes, it was priceless !”

And you were laughing again, your head thrown back, tears almost spilling out of your eyes. But Mingyu wasn’t laughing anymore, too lost in his contemplation, because you were literally a work of art to him. Every single detail about you was perfect, the more he discovered, the more he wanted to be yours.

“- Your smile is so beautiful, gosh… I love you so much…”

The melody of your giggles died as soon as you registered the meaning of his words. Silence enveloped the both of you as you stared at him as if you were trying to enter his mind and find all the answers to your questions. And Mingyu was forcing himself to keep his mouth shut, and not embarrass himself further, already cursing himself in his head for being so careless.

“- Wha- What did you say ?”

Mingyu was too focused on his overthinking to notice the little grin spreading on your lips. Of course, you already knew that he had a crush on you. Of course, you had a crush on him too because who doesn’t ? And of course, it was very cute to watch him stumble over his words with red cheeks.

“- I-I said that you have a beautiful smile…

- And after that ?

- Don’t want to tell you.”

You giggled as you leaned in to peck his warm cheeks, restraining yourself from going in for his pouty lips too.

“- Well, just know that I love you so much too Gyu.”

“see, you heard it perfectly ! but i’ll tell you a hundred times if you want me to.”

CHWE HANSOL - BRIGHT

he’s so random, like one minute he could joke along with you and the other he’s asking you the most existential question possible, fully serious about it.

like we say vernon is just vernoning in the most vernon way possible.

he's very chill about pretty much everything so it's really soothing to be around him.

he's your go-to person when you want to isolate yourself from the rest of the world because you could spend evenings just watching tv and not saying a word to each other

there's also times where both of you end up talking about your lives until the early hours of the morning.

your relationship feels like it's all natural, there has never been an awkward state, only comfort.

it's like hansol had known you for years because he felt so at ease every time you were with him.

you made him feel like he was special and normal at the same time, and even if he doesn't show it often, he really appreciates it.

you two liked to stay inside so it was rare for you to go out somewhere, but it was always unexpected and when it happened.

hansol knew that you liked to be surprised, and often showed up on his days off to take you somewhere without telling you.

that's why you weren't shocked when he picked you up at 5 in the morning, on a random Sunday.

“- Can I at least choose the music ?

- Go on.”

Hansol handed you his phone which was connected to the speakers of his car, letting you put on whatever song you wanted. He owed you this with how early he forced you to get out of bed on one of your days off. But he really wanted to take you to this spot he loved. He played it off as one of his random wishes, but he planned this in his mind for a long time, not all the details, but he knew he wanted to bring you there to tell you how he felt.

He watched with a small smile on his lips as you opened the window, one of your favorite songs playing as you let the wind hit your face and make your hair fly all over your face. Hansol quickly focused on the road again, seeing that he was near your destination, he asked you to close your eyes.

“- Are we there ?

- Almost.”

The rest of the way was quiet, a comfortable silence settling between the two of you. When you finally felt that Hansol had stopped the car, you heard him go out of the driver seat to get to your side and help you get out too, ordering you to keep your eyes closed. He pushed you to take some steps forward before he finally authorized you to see what was in front of you.

“- You took me to the ocean ?”

You didn’t even turn around to look at him, too entranced by the sight in front of you. And all Hansol could do was smile when he saw how parkly your eyes were.

“- I guess that I wanted you to see the sunset.”

You were rather speechless as Hansol got a blanket out of his car, leading you to the beach for you two to watch the sunrise on the horizon. He contemplated you as you ran around, touching the water to see if it was cold or not before finally sitting down beside him, your head finding his place on his shoulder, and his arms around yours.

“- Thank you for bringing me there… It’s beautiful…

- I wanted to make it special.”

Before you could even ask him what he was talking about, Hansol leaned in, his eyes fixed on your lips, and yours on his. Basking in the warm light of the sunset, he kissed you for the first time but certainly not the last, a smile spreading on his face as he rested his forehead against yours.

“i think i could get used to this.”

-> i don't allow any copies, reposts or translations of my works.

svt taglist (fill in this to be added) :

@lil-kpopstan @hann1bee @iraisswiftie

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lemonlover1110 · 1 year ago

Text

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬

Satoru Gojo

[Chapter 18] Preparing for Vacation

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Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!Reader

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

You’re packing Ren’s bag, a bit in disbelief that you’re going on vacation with your ex-boyfriend. You feel nervous about it, wondering how it’ll play out since your relationship with Satoru isn’t the best– Maybe you shouldn’t really worry about it, he’s doing it all for his son. Perhaps he’ll pay you no mind. Hopefully he won’t pay you no mind.

He has a vacation home in the perfect tropical place, which you aren’t surprised about. You’ve heard of all the houses that the family has around the world, and you forgot about half of them. It was rare staying at a hotel when you traveled with Satoru.

“I’ll come pick you up tomorrow morning. At around five.” Satoru enters Ren’s room to help you pack. Ren is too focused on his cars to pay attention to Satoru, and Satoru eventually got bored of just being another track for his son’s toy cars. You hum in response before you go to a cabinet to pack pajamas for Ren. “Is your suitcase ready?”

“It’s almost ready.” You lie because it’s far from ready. You’ve been simply too busy and tired to come around to it. You’re still working as Satoru’s assistant since for some reason, you suddenly don’t have the heart to quit. Of course, since the truth came out, Satoru has lightened your workload. He doesn’t care if he has to do it all himself, he wants you to come home early to spend time with Ren. You almost hate yourself for not telling him the moment you saw him again… Almost.

“I can finish Ren’s suitcase while you finish packing for yourself.” Satoru says, and you suck your bottom lip between your teeth. Would that be a smart idea? Satoru is Ren’s father… But he doesn’t know everything that Ren needs for a vacation. Worst comes to worst, Satoru can buy what Ren is missing since he can certainly afford it.

“Fine.” You end up agreeing, neatly folding the pajamas you hold and putting them in the suitcase. You leave it to Satoru to pack everything else up.

You get to your room and check what you need to pack up, which is almost everything necessary. You hear your name being called, which causes you to come to a stop, “Mommy!”

“Ren!” You yell back, and you turn around to find your son at your door. He walks over to your bed and lays down, grabbing one of your fluffy blankets and throwing it over himself.

“I’m bored.” He announces. Ren can entertain himself playing with anything for hours, but the moment you’re doing something important, he’s the most bored kid in the world. It doesn’t help that you haven’t been allowing him to watch TV since he’s been misbehaving lately, which means he’s more bored than usual.

“Your dad has gotten you so many toys. Go play with them.” You tell him, but that’s not the answer Ren wants to hear. Ren wants to hear you say that he can watch TV, but you’re not saying it which makes him pout.

“Want to watch TV.” He responds which makes you sigh. It’s easier to let Satoru handle it, since he’s been telling you that he has no idea how to properly parent. The only way for him to learn is to practice.

“Satoru! Come here! Ren has a question!” You yell, and Satoru is in your room within seconds. Maybe he should’ve stood in the doorway, but since it’s his son that has a question, he doesn’t really think twice before entering your bedroom.

“What is it, honey?” Satoru looks at his son, patiently waiting for Ren to ask.

“Can I watch TV?” Ren asks, and Satoru is about to nod, but he has to look at you first.

“Since when do you ask that question? I thought your mom–” Satoru begins but you cut him off to explain why Ren is asking the question. The correct answer is no, but you know that’s how you think. Satoru is also Ren’s parent and deserves to have some authority over how Ren is raised and punished.

“Ren has been misbehaving lately. He’s been writing on walls even though he’s been scolded for it many times, and he’s been throwing tantrums to get what he wants.” You explain, and Satoru doesn’t immediately see a problem with it. Why? Because he was raised in a house where the rules were that he did whatever he wanted. No one really dared to deny him anything but he can’t do that with Ren.

“You’ve been misbehaving lately, Ren. Your mother gave you an appropriate punishment, and I’m not going to ignore it.” Satoru responds, and Ren crosses his arms as he gets up from your bed and walks back to his own bedroom. Satoru awkwardly stares before following behind, because Satoru still has to finish packing.

When Satoru walks into the room, he finds Ren sniffling in his pillow, and he swears his heart cracks at the scene. He shouldn’t walk over to Ren to comfort him… He’s surely doing it because he’s not getting his way. But he’s not strong enough to ignore his baby boy, not yet at least.

Satoru sits down on the edge of the bed, his hand running up and down his son’s back to soothe him. Satoru sighs before asking his son, “What’s wrong, Ren? You know that your actions can have consequences… And while I love you a lot, I can’t just let you do whatever you want to do.”

“Mommy doesn’t love me.” Ren claims, and Satoru is shocked to hear Ren say that. He had no idea how dramatic kids were. But maybe Satoru shouldn’t judge since he would’ve reacted the same way– Thing is, Satoru isn’t sure if his mother does love him.

“Your mommy does love you, that’s why you’re grounded. If she didn’t love you, she would just allow you to do all you wanted.” Satoru hopes he’s saying the right words to comfort his son. He isn’t the best at comforting people though, so he’s not sure if that’s going to work. Ren sits up from his bed, crossing his arms.

“It’s not because of that.” Ren will shift the attention. It’s mainly because you’re not allowing him to do whatever he wants. But of course he does feel a bit neglected lately because for the past year you’ve been so busy.

“Then why is it, buddy? So I can talk to your mommy about it.” Satoru says, and Ren debates if he wants to speak about it. Should he voice his thoughts? Is that smart?

“Mommy is never home, and when she is, she’s too tired to do anything.” Ren shares, making Satoru purse his lips together. He knows it’s not something that you can control, but maybe that’ll change in the near future.

“She’s never home because she’s making sure that you have everything you need and could possibly want. It’s not because she doesn’t love you, it’s because she loves you so much.” Satoru defends you. It’s obviously something that’s difficult for Ren to understand, after all, he’s only four (though he keeps reminding everyone that his fifth birthday is coming up). “Don’t ever say that your mommy doesn’t love you, Ren. She would do just about anything for you.”

“Okay…” Ren answers, hesitantly nodding in agreement.

“Now go give your mommy a big hug, okay? And an apology too. She just wants the best for you.” Satoru tells his son, and Ren gets up from the bed, walking out and running to your room.

It’s fair to say that you’re shocked when you see Ren running your way with his arms wide open. You crouch down to receive his hug. Ren kisses your cheek before he mutters out an apology, “I’m sorry, mommy.”

“Have you learned your lesson, Ren?” You ask and he hums in response, which makes you continue, “What is the lesson?”

“Um…” He begins, unsure as to what the lesson is. You try not to laugh.

“I have rules for a reason, Ren. When I tell you something, it’s for your own good.” You tell him, and he nods. “Now what’s the lesson?”

“To listen to you and follow the rules.” Ren responds, and you smile at him before kissing his cheek.

“Promise you won’t ever misbehave like that again.” You put out your pinky, and he intertwines his own with yours. Ren takes pinky promises very seriously, so you doubt he’ll break it. “Alright, you can watch thirty minutes of TV, but you’re still punished tomorrow and the day after that.”

“Okay. Thank you, mommy.” Ren says before running out of your room, and you stand up. You catch a glimpse of Satoru near the doorway and you signal him to come inside. When Satoru is inside, you smile at him.

“Thank you.” You tell him, going back to packing up your suitcase. Satoru decides that he’s going to try and help you when he doesn’t know what you need.

“It’s my job. We can’t have a disrespectful and entitled child.” Satoru replies, and you’re about to make a joke about it, but you bite your tongue knowing that it isn’t wise. You end up patting his back.

You don’t really pay attention to Satoru, not until your peripheral vision catches his sudden change in color. His face is burning red when he opens a drawer that he isn’t supposed to open.

“Oh that’s– Not mine.” You’re completely embarrassed. You shouldn’t be, it’s just Satoru. You have a literal child together, and that didn’t magically happen. But your relationship with him has clearly changed. “The toys are… My friend’s.”

“Yeah… They’re your friend’s.” Satoru ends up chuckling, closing the top drawer. “You don’t have to lie to me. I know better than anyone that you have certain needs.”

“Satoru, shut up. You’re making it worse.” Your face is hot. “Matter of fact, go watch TV with Ren.”

“Fine, but don’t say I didn’t try to help you!” Satoru walks out of the room, and you lay down on your bed, grabbing your pillow and screaming into it.

It’s hard for you to wake up the next morning, but luckily your child doesn’t have an issue waking up. He knows that you’re going on a trip with his father, and he’s beyond excited. He’s finally getting on a plane though, and not just any plane but a private one (although he doesn’t know that detail). It’s nice to have someone that’s so energetic when all you want to do is sleep.

Satoru waits in his car for the two of you, sending the chauffeur up to help with your luggage. Throughout the whole car ride, Ren enthusiastically talks, knowing that he’ll be going to the beach soon. It’s a fifty minute drive to the airport, and he nearly drives you insane, but you have to remind yourself that he’s simply excited.

“I call dibs for Ren as my seat buddy.” Satoru says when the chauffeur opens the door for him. Satoru gets Ren out of his booster seat, and practically runs to the entrance of the plane. You slowly follow behind them. You can’t really complain about Satoru stealing Ren for the plane ride because while you love your son, this morning he’s too energetic for you to handle.

You take a seat far away from them, deciding that you’ll take a nap during the plane ride. You barely slept last night so you certainly need the energy for when you land. But Ren doesn’t see that logic, he just wants his mother close to him, so when you take a seat far away from the pair, Ren leaves his seat and goes to you. He grabs your hand and tries to pull you up, “There’s a better seat.”

You almost groan before standing up, but you follow him. You take a seat across from the pair, putting in headphones. Before you can put on some music, Satoru says, “Do you really want to try to fall asleep now? Before takeoff?”

“Fine, I’ll stay awake for now.” You answer. You begin to listen to Ren talk, simply staring at him as your eyes grow heavy. You’re not sure how much time passes but Satoru certainly does, a frown overtaking his face.

“Why is it taking so fucking long?” Satoru asks, and you glare at him for his language. He realizes and quickly says, “Sorry, Ren.”

Satoru stands up with the intent of asking a staff member but just as he begins to walk, he realizes the reason why it’s taking so long. He crosses his arms, a sigh escaping his lips. “What do you need, Sayo?”

“Just wanted to accompany my dear husband on his business trip. I need a vacation too, you know?” Sayo responds, already fully in vacation mode. She pokes her head to the side, since Satoru blocks her view. She calls out your name and waves at you, and panic begins to settle in your body. She moves Satoru to the side to take a seat next to you, and that’s when she sees Ren.

“Satoru!” Sayo looks at her husband, although she raises her voice but not of anger… But of excitement? “You didn’t tell me you were bringing your son along!”

#[changes]#gojo saturo #satoru gojo #gojou satoru x you #jjk satoru #gojou satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jjk gojo #gojo angst #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru #jujutsu gojo #gojo x reader #gojo fanfic

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dat-town · 1 month ago

Text

another social casualty

Characters: golden boy!Jaehyun & loner!female reader

Setting & genre: hurt/comfort, coming of age, high school au

Summary: One fears not being lovable, the other fears losing people. Two lonely souls find each other.

Warnings: mentions of academic, parental and peer pressure, loneliness, nosebleed, past friendship fallout, abandonment issues (MC’s father left), anxiety, medication, crying, the romance is very slow burn, it’s more like finding safe haven in each other?

Words: 8.8k

Author’s note: title from the 5SOS song, though i listened to a whole lot of Keshi and Conan Gray while writing this. heavily inspired by Jaehyun’s crazy academic background and how he said he was in a dark place before joining KOZ, i can’t find the entire list of his school activities but here and here are some. header pic of Jaehyun is from starry-eyed

@restlessmaknae you chose this as the one you would be most interested in from my list, so i hope it doesn’t disappoint!

i did not expect to finish this before 2024 ends but here it is. wishing all my readers a 2025 spent with joy, in health, happy new year! <3

→ BEFORE

Myung Jaehyun is a people pleaser.

You can tell because you used to be the same. Not anymore. Still, you can’t look away because it’s like watching a train wreck. Terrible because you can see the cracks in his personality but intriguing at the same time. Just how much a person can mold their own material to make them fit into pre-shaped places? How can they make themselves smaller if there’s not enough space for them? It’s rush hour metro effect: one can always bend and push and press enough to squeeze inside, to turn into something they are not. This is how you become part of the machine.

You have been there. Now you prefer to be an observer. Now you don’t fake laughs over things you don’t find funny just to not hurt somebody else’s feelings. Now you rather sit alone at the canteen during lunch hour instead of pretending to be somebody you’re not just to be welcomed at a popular table. Now you prefer to be invisible rather than seen and judged. Ghosts have it better off in high schools.

Myung Jaehyun doesn’t seem to know that yet.

The first time you really saw Jaehyun, the principal called him in front of the lined up classes during the school year starting ceremony and pinned a badge with the title ‘school president’ onto his uniform. You looked up from the creases of the back of your classmate’s white shirt in front of you to see a boy on the podium as rigid as the pole with the Korean flag. His dress jacket was perfectly ironed, necktie tucked in, no wrinkles in his entire attire. Not even a piece of hair was out of place. He stood there, in front of the entire school, tall and proud, as an example just like the principal called him while listing all his achievements. He was not only a straight A student, a member of the student council and the vice president of the Economics and Business Management club but he also proved his worth as part of the football team and representing the school in various regional writing competitions. The list went on and on, Principal Lee was really emphasizing just how much he wanted to have more students like him, dedicated and hard-working ones, at the school, but you tuned out everything after the first few sentences. Myung Jaehyun caught your attention not because of the way the silver badge shone on his chest or the way he kept his eyes strictly on one point ahead, mouth pressed in a firm line, but rather because of the way his fingers twitched by his sides. When you looked closer, you could tell he was picking at the skin around his nail, a nervous habit. Everything about him was proper and perfect except that.

Ever since then it hasn’t been hard to notice him. Although you don’t share a class, with all his clubs and one too many responsibilities he is kind of everywhere. He’s announcing details about the upcoming annual trip on the school radio, he’s on the top of the list that’s pinned in the school hall about the midterm results, he’s holding a trophy in a photograph for the vitrine in the hallways that lead up to the school gym.

It’s not like you’re watching him. There’s nothing weird or stalkerish in it. You’re not even like the girls who whisper scream his name when he walks by and wonder if they should ask him out. You just notice him and observe. You keep looking for flaws in his picture perfect demeanor. You look for signs that there’s a human beneath that machine he seems to be. You just watch him from a distance and you’re content with that.

Until he notices you too.

→ SEPTEMBER

It happens on a Friday evening, early in the new term, long after the last classes ended, so the school library is pretty empty. You don’t like crowds, so you prefer to visit when most students have already retreated. This way you can also avoid running into people you don’t want to meet. You greet the tired librarian by the door with a bow and with your bag hanging from your shoulder, you head straight towards the Literature section because of an essay you have to write. It isn’t due for a week more but you don’t like to leave things to the last minute purely because of the stress that rushing brings. You trace the spines of the books with your fingertip as you walk past them, searching for a specific author and when you find it, you grab it from the shelf. You press it to your chest and slip out on the other side of the aisle, ready to head back towards the librarian’s desk when you hear a sniffle. You look up, towards the source of the sound and see him.

Myung Jaehyun is sitting at one of the tables in the back, hunched over text books. He wipes his nose with the back of his hand and it comes back red. It’s vivid like a blaring warning sign and your gut twists as the school president scrambles to hold off his nosebleed before it would get everywhere. His movements seem frantic, almost panicked as he fumbles with the zipper of his backpack but he freezes in spot when he notices you watching. With two fingers pressing his nose, blood splotches on the sleeve of his immaculate white shirt, he stares at you wide eyed, just as frozen in place as you are.

You’re startled. The moment your eyes meet, you feel his gaze burn. You cast your eyes down and take a step backwards, ready to leave and pretend nothing happened. Because nothing did. But then you halt, thinking better off it. You swiftly reach into the front pocket of your bag and take out a small packet of tissues and a piece of chocolate you always keep with yourself in case your blood sugar dipped. You can feel Myung Jaehyun’s eyes on you the entire time you walk up to his desk. Realistically speaking it doesn’t take more than a few seconds, it is six steps at max but it feels longer with his scalding attention on you. You’re not used to being watched, you’re a wallflower after all.

You put the tissues and chocolate down on the table and turn around to leave. You don’t wait for the boy’s reaction. You don’t even look at him. You don’t stop when he calls after you. You leave as quickly as you came. Blend back into the shadows where you like to be.

Myung Jaehyun doesn’t let you though.

Next week when you leave your classroom on Tuesday, he’s out in the corridor in front of the door, waiting. For you. There’s not much guessing about it since you are the last one in the class, everybody else having somewhere to run off and here you are, taking your time. You only falter for a moment when you step over the threshold and take in the sight of the school president in all his glory. Then you look down onto the laminated floor and turn down the corridor.

Jaehyun pushes himself away from the window frame he has been leaning against so far and catches up to you fast.

“Wait,” he calls after you, his voice is an echo of the sound he made back in the library.

Thinking back on it twists your gut uncomfortably as you remember the blood and how the boy looked at you like he never received kindness from a stranger. Much to your dislike, you slow your steps and eventually come to a halt when you realize you can’t just brush off the boy’s presence, so you decide it’s better to get over with. You look up at him questioningly, nails digging into the straps of your backpack as you wait.

“Can we talk?” Jaehyun asks, polite like anytime you heard him talk and he looks relieved that he doesn’t have to chase you down. His tie is a little crooked today but other than that there’s nothing out of place about him. Although from this close you see the dark circles under his eyes and can’t help but wonder how much he slept last night and the night before that. He has always had the best score but it didn’t stop him from running himself thin last week if the nosebleed is anything to go by.

“If you’re worried about what happened in the library, don’t. I won’t tell anybody,” you shrug because why would you? He certainly isn’t the first senior who drives himself over his own breaking point. You had heard stories about hospital IV dip visits, students fainting after handing in their papers and ‘vitamins’ passed around before exam week. The stakes are high. The competition to get into a Seoul university, especially a SKY one is cutthroat and you know that the school president aims for that. Everybody expects him to do so. With his list of achievements and history of high scores, it sounds viable. But at what price?

“It’s not that,” Myung Jaehyun protests but despite his words his shoulders visibly go slack with relief. You can tell that he cares a lot about his reputation and it sure would have left a stain if people knew that the all so perfect school president was human too, bleeding from academic pressure right on his homework. You grimace at the thought.

“You don’t owe me anything either,” you clarify because you never expected anything in return for being a decent human being and you don’t know what else he could possibly want.

“But…”

“Really. Just forget it,” you sigh, tired of arguing already. The boy looks conflicted under his wavy fringe, almost like a puppy before schooling his expression and clearing his throat.

“Thanks anyway,” he says before stepping out of your way, so you can keep going and you do. You move on with your life, watching from the sidelines as he receives praise for his participation in a regional essay contest and when the football team returns with another hard earned win.

Days pass in a blur. Like they always did. Just another day to get through. Just another week. Just another term. Gosh, you can’t wait for high school to end. You have had enough of seeing these people.

On Monday you make eye contact with Mijoo when you come out of a stall in the girls’ bathroom and she’s in front of the mirror fixing her already perfect makeup. She used to not do that, care too much about her appearance, not before she befriended Kim Soyeon. Now you awkwardly hold eye contact for one, two, three seconds and then she looks away. You’re the one who walks away just like you did before but it doesn’t make it easier. There’s something hollow and painful in your chest, still missing something you once had.

Three days later your mother asks you about school while you help clean the tables at the café. She asks about the midterms and if you’re still friends with ‘that ponytail girl’. The reminder feels like a slap and your throat closes up.

On Friday you skip out on lunch hour and spend it lying on the bench in the yard, staring at the sky. You’re caught like that when it starts to rain. You watch it through spread fingers as the first raindrops fall then close your eyes and smile. You have always loved the rain and even though it’s impractical to get soaked in the middle of the school day, you can always change into your PE clothes, you reason.

But then the rain stops. You can’t feel the cold drops on you even though you hear the rhythmic sound of them hitting the ground and you pry your eyes open only to see Myung Jaehyun standing above you with an umbrella held over you. You shoot up into a sitting position quickly, then stand up and smooth down your uniform. Not necessarily because you’re embarrassed but because you hate being a burden to others and while you didn’t ask for his help, based on his persistence from last time you know he wouldn’t have just left no matter what you told him. Hell, he even moves to shrug off his jacket before you stop him.

“It’s okay. I have a change of clothes inside,” you explain but there’s no arguing with the school president about walking you inside. You can tell he wants to ask you something but you don’t give him a chance to. Once you are between four walls, you mutter out a polite thanks and then head to your classroom.

→ OCTOBER

On another Friday evening, Myung Jaehyun asks if he can sit at your table in the near empty library. You don’t understand what he’s getting at, so you just shrug, still focused on your homework. When you steal a glance at the boy on the other side of the table, you see him go over pages of ink writing, highlighting certain parts. There’s torn and nipped skin around his thumb nail. You turn back to your workbook before he could notice that you were looking.

“Are you coming to the school trip?” The boy asks when half an hour later you start packing your bag. The question surprises you because he shouldn’t care. He doesn’t even know you.

“No,” you answer curtly, not going into details. He doesn’t need to know that you’ve always been a homebody and you don’t enjoy social interactions, especially not school-related ones. But Jaehyun is stubborn and curious a bit too much.

“Why not?” He asks and you sigh.

“It’s not really my scene. I don’t want to spend more time around my classmates than I have to,” you shrug nonchalantly but there must be something in your voice that gives you away because the boy furrows his brows in worry.

“Did something happen?”

“No,” you lie or well, not really. Technically, nothing really happened regarding the trip. But if things were like they were a year ago, you would be excited about going with Mijoo. Things just change, people too. It’s not necessarily a bad thing.

“You’re always alone,” Jaehyun says in a quiet voice in the library’s dead still silence. He says it like it was something you should be sad about. A part of you wants to question whether he had been stalking you to notice that but that would have been rich coming from you who had been watching him from afar all along, so you decide against it.

“Yes. I prefer that way,” you tell him instead and it’s true. Better alone than with fake friends. Yet, the boy can’t even seem to fathom the idea.

“You can’t mean that,” he mutters with widened eyes and it leaves you with something bitter in your gut.

Can’t you? Just because a pretty boy runs himself thin to get everybody’s appreciation, can’t you want some peace of mind alone?

“Not everybody needs constant validation,” you snap at him and it comes out harsher than intended. You can see the hurt mirrored in Jaehyun’s eyes but you don’t let yourself linger on it as you hoist your bag up to your shoulder. “Don’t make me your charity case.”

“I don’t… I’m not…”

The always so eloquent Myung Jaehyun seems speechless now but you don’t wait for him to figure out what he wants to deny more, whether he can at all. You leave him there at the table. You’re good at that: leaving. Better be the one doing it than being the one left behind.

It’s been four years since you last saw your father. A part of you misses him, or at least the idea of a reliable father. At first you had been angry at your mother for giving him an ultimatum but then realized that at the end of the day, it wasn’t her fault. It was your father who chose his gambling addiction over you. So maybe you were better off without him.

It was around that time too when you realized that being left short on money limited your future opportunities. Not that you ever dreamed about going abroad or attending the best schools in the country. You didn’t even know what you wanted to do with your life and it sounded stupid, spending so much money on education just because everybody else was doing it around you. You started helping out your mom at the café then too, so she wouldn’t have to hire another part-timer and even though now, when things are better, your mother tries to convince you from time to time to go to after school studies instead of wiping tables and washing dishes, you don’t mind doing it. You can choose the melody coming from the old retro music box, help her come up with decoration ideas for holiday seasons and taste test new baked goods. You also take your role as her social media manager very seriously, posting aesthetic photos on Instagram periodically. It’s a simple life, a comfortable one and you’re content with it.

Your homeroom teacher not so much.

He called you into the teachers’ office to talk and you already knew why. It made it a bit easier to brace yourself for the impact of his words. Him asking about the reasons why you didn’t apply to any university. He doesn’t accept your answer and your satisfaction easily, he pushes relentlessly, telling you that you would regret it one day but you know it’s not about your future, it’s about the school’s yearly statistics. You tune out most of his speech, focusing on a loose thread of his worn knitted sweater, of the low hum of the coffee machine in the back and the printer coughing up papers. Then a familiar voice reaches your ear and you glance over the cubicle wall to see Myung Jaehyun with a punch of papers in his arm. His homeroom teacher pats him on the shoulder, proud, and for a moment you wonder how the boy feels about it.

“Y/N! Are you even listening?” Your own teacher chides and you avert your gaze back to the man but in your peripheral view, you can see the school president turn towards you just when Mr Hong clicks his tongue in annoyance. “It’s always the ones without fathers. They lack discipline.”

His words burn you deeper than expected. Him blaming something like this on your lack of father, on your mother’s loving care and hard work essentially. It makes you clench your hands in fists by your sides until you’re dismissed with a resigned promise to think about it.

When you finally leave the teachers’ office, Jaehyun waits outside. His eyes are gentle and a little sad but not pitying as he asks:

“Are you okay?”

“I will be,” you nod because it’s not a big thing, you will get over it. Jaehyun doesn’t press and you’re grateful for that.

You don’t know when it happens and how. Letting down your guard around Myung Jaehyun of all people. It happens gradually like the trees changing their green leaves to more colourful attire. You’re very different: he cares too much about his grades and image and you care too little. He has all these big ambitions and you have none. He basks in glory in front of the school and you let out a sigh of relief when you can get over a day without anybody talking to you.

You have never stopped looking at Jaehyun though. You see him in the corridor, tall and proud and confident. You see him celebrated for his achievements on the school podium and even in the canteen surrounded by all his so-called friends and admirers. The difference is that lately he has been looking back. His gaze meets yours in the busy canteen when you sit at a table with strangers like you usually do if there’s no empty table. Your eyes meet in the hall when you arrive two minutes before the bell rings and he’s on gate duty. He never talks to you, never approaches you and it makes it easier to relax in his company, knowing that he wouldn’t bring unwanted attention to you.

He finds you in the almost empty library though, sits at your table in silence and minding his own business. He doesn’t bring up the trip again and you don’t call him out on his unusual behaviour either. You just exist in the same space, without judgement, without expectations. It’s actually quite nice.

It gives you the push to go up to him too when you see him alone at your usual table in the library on a Thursday late afternoon. As you get closer you see a brochure for Seoul National University open in front of him and that he’s reading a book about writing personal statements and study plans for college applications.

“So SNU?” You ask quietly enough not to startle him as you slip into the seat across from him.

Jaehyun looks up, his hair a bit messy, probably from running his hand through it more than usual but you like this look on him. Not being oh so perfect makes him seem more approachable.

“Yeah. What about you?” He inquires, trying to make a conversation probably because you didn’t hear the beginning of your conversation with your homeroom teacher back in the teachers’ office. You used to be nervous when people asked such loaded questions, afraid of disappointing them but once you accepted that their opinion didn’t matter more than yours, it all became easier.

“Oh, I won’t go to university.”

“What? Why?” The school president’s eyes widen in surprise as if he couldn’t even imagine that and maybe he can’t. With the competitive job market of Korea, people are made to feel like they worth nothing without a degree but you never dreamed of a white collared job, so you don’t care about that. There are many respectable ways to live without pursuing higher education.

“I don’t need a university degree to help out at my mom’s café,” you explain matter-of-factly and then out of curiosity you look up at Jaehyun, the boy who picks on his skin and works hard until he gets nosebleed, who is always number one and the teachers’ favourite yet never really smiles. “Why? Is it really you who wants to go to SNU?”

“Of course it’s me! Who else would it be?” Jaehyun’s voice pitches higher than usual, his tone defensive. You quirk a brow, not deeming necessary to answer. It could be his parents, his teachers, the society. He must realize it too because he cast his eyes down and his fingers twitch nervously over the papers in front of him.

After a few minutes of silent shuffling around, his phone buzzes and he curses under his breath, hastily packing his bag.

“I have practice. Sorry,” he apologises, which must be a force of habit because it’s not like you agreed to hang out, nor it’s like he should be sorry for leaving early.

You just nod at him, thinking of the pressure he must have on him with all these responsibilities of which you barely see a fraction. And if you take a detour to pass by the football field on your way out of school, it’s only for you to know. You can’t help it, you get too curious for your own good sometimes and you wonder how the school president is when he plays. It’s easy to spot him when you stop to watch a bit. It’s just practice but you can see how hard he tries, how he pushes his own limits. Running and running until he can’t. He doesn’t seem to do anything half-heartedly. He’s like a flame, burning bright, but you wonder just how long could his passion last before he burns out.

“You know, for somebody who doesn't plan on going to university, you’re here a lot,” Jaehyun mentions one time after he opens his Ethics book. There’s a question hidden in his statement but you don’t mind it as much as you thought you would.

“My mom doesn’t let me help out on school days and I like it here better than in the empty house,” you admit because no matter how much you like being alone, an empty, cold house has a different feel. This way your mom also has the illusion that you have friends to hang out or study with after school and doesn’t worry about you that much. Half of the time you don’t even do homework, just grab a book and read.

Jaehyun hums and stays quiet for a while but you can tell he lingers, he hasn’t flipped a page in the book in front of him for ages. You wait patiently for him to speak up, for his gaze guiding to your features again, tentatively this time.

“Do you… really don’t mind being alone? Aren’t you like… afraid of not having anybody in your life? Of being lonely?” He questions and you aren’t sure what happened that prompted him to ask about that but you would be the last person to judge him after voicing out fears so human.

“I’m more afraid of losing myself while trying to make myself digestible for others and I don’t like the idea of people leaving. It’s easier to avoid that if you don’t get attached,” you answer the best you can without sharing too many details, too many scars of your past. It already feels a bit too much, a bit too personal. You aren’t exactly friends after all. He’s just a boy who sometimes sits at your table. It’s not like you would see each other after graduation, it’s safe.

“Digestible?” Jaehyun mumbles, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Everybody does it. They pretend to be somebody they aren’t, so others would like them,” you explain but the boy shakes his head, not exactly in disagreement though.

“You make it sound so bad. But what’s so wrong about only showing your better sides to other people?”

You don’t answer right away. Just look into Jaehyun’s eyes, letting your gaze linger over his dark circles and the bitten ends of his nails. You sigh, quietly.

“Isn’t it tiring? Being in somebody else’s skin just to be liked?”

Jaehyun could argue that it’s still his skin, that it’s just a better version of himself and you would let him. If he wanted to hide his flaws and imperfections, he has every right and you wouldn’t tell him not to do it because you know how scary it’s to bare yourself in front of somebody else and it’s not like you’re not hiding parts of yourself, it’s just easier to not have anybody around you close enough to see them.

→ NOVEMBER

CSAT exams are approaching fast: students get busier, teachers try to squeeze in just one more type of question in their classes and you can tell that everybody’s nerves are fizzled. One would think that the school president with his consistently high scores is calm and prepared but you know Jaehyun better than to believe that facade. Still, you don’t expect to catch him on a call with his mother when you leave the football field’s bleachers. These days the school library is full of people day and night, too busy, too stressful, so you prefer killing time on the white painted benches as long as the weather’s not too cold. You don’t mean to eavesdrop, you just halt in your steps when you hear Jaehyun’s voice, unsure of what to do.

“Everything’s okay, mom. Yeah, you don’t have to worry, I’m doing fine.”

His voice is cheerful but you can tell that it’s fake. You can hear him let out a deep breath when he lowers the phone in his hand. He isn’t fine. He has been running himself paper thin. Barely eating, barely sleeping. His hands tremble as he takes the pills. Whether it’s supplements or medicine for stress you never asked. He says it’s only until the CSAT is over. He says it like it’s natural, like it’s a rite of passage everybody goes through.

When you step out of the wall’s cover and Jaehyun sees you, he momentarily tenses before relaxing. You have already seen him in moments of weakness, he knows he doesn’t have to pretend in front of you.

He walks you to the bus stop before going back to squeeze in one more hour of studying before his body would give up on him. You think about stopping him, about telling him not to overdo it but you know that he’s smart enough to know he’s burning the candle on both ends and it could end badly. It also feels unfair of you to tell him to stop when you could never understand his ambitions, so it’s easy for you to say so. So instead of arguing about principles, or trying to stop him knowing it’s useless, you push a bottle of C-vitamin rich juice drink into his hands next morning when you meet by the school gates. It’s you saying that he isn’t alone without saying it. Because the thing is, he never was alone, not physically. But one can be lonely even when dozens of people surround them.

The day of exams is a nerve wracking one, even for you, who doesn’t care about it much because your future doesn’t depend on these scores. You can’t even fathom the pressure and how it feels for those who base their dreams on this one day. Your head is hurting from being in the stuffy classroom solving Maths problems and answering questions about paragraphs from classics all day but instead of heading straight home, you watch as students file out of the school in batches and then one by one. When Jaehyun steps outside of the building, he seems deep in thought and his hands are full of exam papers he’s still reading through. He doesn’t even notice you at first, not until you pull on the sleeve of his jacket. When your eyes meet, you realize that he looks beyond tired and anxious. It breaks your heart a little.

“How do you feel?” You ask carefully, taking the exam papers from his hands and folding them neatly, ready to be packed away.

“I thought I would be relieved that it’s finally over but I keep going back re-thinking my answers, wondering what if I messed it up,” the school president sighs deeply, a shaky little sound and he looks so worried with furrowed forehead and nervously tapping fingers that you have this urge to wrap him in a warm blanket and make sure he can be without worries just a bit.

“There’s nothing you can do about it now though. Maybe you should focus on something else,” you suggest, gently as you hand him back the papers and the boy nods, his fingers brushing yours as he takes it back.

“Yeah, you’re right. The regional football championship is on the corner and I need to write an essay for the school paper. Then there’s…”

“No, I meant…” You cut his anxious rambling off a little frustratedly but when you have Jaehyun’s deep brown eyes on you, curious and confused, you suddenly feel awkwardness sweep into your bones at your silly little idea. Nevertheless, you push through it. “If you’re free this weekend, would you come with me somewhere?”

“Sure. Where are we going?” The boy doesn’t even hesitate even though he does sound a bit doubtful for which you don’t blame him. It’s the first time you initiate any kind of planned program when it’s actually you who claims she just wants to be alone and doesn’t want to get close to anybody.

“You’ll see. I swear I’m not kidnapping you,” you clear your throat, a bit nervous now that Jaehyun’s full attention is on you so unabashedly.

“Very reassuring,” he laughs but it’s a little forced sound, the weight of the day still pulling him down, exhaustion slowly wearing him down. So after agreeing on the details like the meeting location and exact time, you usher him to go home and get some sleep.

You tell yourself it doesn’t mean anything. It’s not even a friendly thing, it’s just a thing. A fun thing because you have never seen Jaehyun do anything just for fun. Almost like if it doesn’t count towards his final evaluation in life achievements, it wouldn’t make sense to do so. Or as if he wouldn’t deserve it, which is just sad. So you plan to take his mind off the CSAT results that should come out in a week or two and make sure that he relaxes a bit even if just for a few hours.

You meet up near the metro station and while you show the way, it’s admittedly a bit awkward at first, since neither of you is used to small talk between you. Luckily, the theatre where you bought tickets to a contemporary comedy isn’t far and Jaehyun’s reaction is positively taken aback when you lead him to the entrance.

“Do you like it?” You inquire tentatively, trying to assess his reaction but it’s not easy Jaehyun looks more dumbfounded than anything.

“Yeah, but… how did you know?” He blinks at you a little awed.

“You’re applying to SNU’s Literature and Theatre department. It wasn’t that big of a guess that you appreciate theatre plays,” you shrug, trying to play it off coolly as you line up for ticket inspection.

Since it’s a smaller, more local theatre you don’t look that out of place even though you’re definitely one of the youngests in the audience. Luckily, the play is as funny as the reviews claimed it to be, so you have a good time and from the looks of it, Jaehyun too. It’s the first time you see him smile, really smile without forcing it, and you wonder why he’s hiding it. It’s a beautiful thing.

When the play ends, the boy insists on treating you to dessert as a celebration for getting over with the exams in exchange for the theatre ticket and sitting in the warm, already winter-decorated place, munching on brownie, the remaining awkwardness melts away. For the first time you don’t talk about school-related or heavy matters but rather things like your favourite season, sweet cravings in the colder weather, books you read and your families. It’s new and unfamiliar, a little scary because you can tell you’re getting attached but it’s nice and you decide to focus on that. You let Jaehyun walk you home because it’s late and dark, he reasons and there’s no arguing with him.

“See you at school,” he bids his goodbye when you arrive at the building where you live just above your mother’s cozy little café.

“Yeah. Take care,” you smile shyly and you can see a slow grin make its way to Jaehyun’s lips too. It looks genuine, just how he looks at ease as if some weight was lifted from his shoulders. It’s a good look on him.

→ DECEMBER

Frost is already decorating your window in the mornings when the CSAT results are delivered. Students are buzzing with anticipation and nerves. Once the scores are out, everybody’s guessing whether it will be enough for their first pick or they should scramble for extra points somehow. Most people accept their results eventually and get ready for the holidays instead. You know that Jaehyun did well enough to be hopeful, though you know better than to congratulate too early because SKY universities have much more complex acceptable criteria than other public universities. Not to mention, you know that even with great CSAT scores and good GPA, the competition for scholarships starts even before universities would notify the students about acceptance.

When you see Mijoo cry her eyes out in the girls’ bathroom, her mascara running down her pretty cheeks, something heavy settles in your chest. You haven’t talked in a year and you avoided each other after you got into that argument about how you wanted to live your lives but it would have felt wrong to just walk out without a word. For the sake of your happy memories before the fallout, you could still try to comfort her if she needed it.

“Are you okay?” You ask quietly, fully ready to be sneered at and sent away but your former best friend looks up at you with red rimmed eyes and relief.

“I will survive,” she lets out a shuddering exhale, her voice breaking between syllables. “My points are not good enough for a scholarship at Hankuk, so even if I do get in, I can’t enroll. We don’t have that kind of money. Soyeon and the others dropped me the moment they found out.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper and you mean it because even though you never wanted to go to university, you know how important it’s for Mijoo. More important than your friendship. And even though you have already warned her about what kind of person Soyeon is with her rich family and nicely paved future when they first started hanging out after hagwon, you don’t remind Mijoo that you told her so.

“No. I’m sorry,” she mutters and forces a hopeful smile looking at you. Slowly, you reciprocate it as you help her up. There is clearly something broken between you and it certainly can’t be fixed from one day to another but maybe it’s worth trying.

When Jaehyun asked about your winter break plans, you didn’t think he would make a visit at your mom’s café where you are now working most days. Usually it’s not you who interacts with customers, your mother and the part-timer handle it, so you’re quite surprised when Donghyun pokes his head into the kitchen and tells you that somebody is looking for you.

You’re confused but wipe your soapy hands and go outside only to see Jaehyun at one of the tables shyly waving at you. He wears a cute beanie that has snowflakes melting over the knitwear and his cheeks are tinted pink from the cold. But most importantly, he looks well rested.

“Hey,” you greet him when you reach his table and you can practically feel your mother’s curious gaze on you. “Donghyun said you were looking for me?”

“Uh, hi, yes. Actually I just asked if you were here but he said you would get you, so…” Jaehyun trails off with a casual shrug. “I hope it’s not weird that I’m here. I don’t want to be a bother.”

You hastily shake your head no.

“No! It’s okay, really. I hope you like it here,” you say and brush a piece of hair behind your ear a bit self-consciously. You love your mother’s place with your whole heart, so sharing it with him even if unintentionally feels a bit like sharing a part of yourself. But you don’t mind, you realize, not if it’s him.

“I do. Your mom makes a killer hot choco,” Jaehyun smiles softly and his compliment sounds so sincere, you can’t help but smile too.

“She will be delighted to hear that,” you note as you sneak a look at the boy’s mug which definitely has more marshmallows than the standard. You turn to look at the woman behind the counter but she just waves you off, not so subtly telling you to keep your friend company, the dirty dishes can wait.

So you end up sitting down by Jaehyun’s table, talking about how he spent Christmas with his family, visiting relatives in the countryside and bickering with his older brother while you tell him about your cozy Disney movie nights and eating too much of your mother’s holiday butter cake. It’s when Jaehyun leaves and you glance at his empty spot that you realize you would miss him after graduation and joke’s on you, really, because you were the one to first approach him. You should have known better if you weren’t ready for the consequences.

→ JANUARY

The days leading up to graduation are a rollercoaster of emotion.

“So what’s with you and the school president?” Mijoo asks playfully on one of the last days of school when you’re eating together in the canteen and she catches sight of the boy with other football players as she follows your line of sight.

“Nothing,” you claim, bewildered, quickly averting your eyes back to your food, scrambling to find some excuse but Mijoo doesn’t even listen.

“Yeah, sure. I know your mother’s café is good but he’s practically a regular now,” she huffs and you start regretting that you told her that. “And don’t tell me it’s because he’s tutoring your part-timer during his shifts.”

You close your mouth without saying anything because you were just about to bring up how Jaehyun and Donghyun seem to get along, the school president helping out the junior student with his English.

“Not to mention, you went to his last football match and you don’t even like sports,” Mijoo continues and yeah, that’s on you. You even dragged her along (not that she needed much of a convincing) because you didn’t want to go alone, to be so out of your element and the girl was just happy to spend time with you again.

“I was just… curious,” you mumble, poking your tofu cubes with your chopsticks on your plate.

Seeing Jaehyun on the field was like seeing a different side of him. You know thanks to his stories that he liked football since he was a kid and he appreciates the teamwork aspect of the sport but watching him play during a match felt special. Sure, he still looked focused and determined, a bit uptight like he did when it came to his academics but after the winning goal point, being huddled by his teammates, he looked so proud. It’s a look he never allows himself when it comes to his individual success because he’s too hard on himself, as if he didn’t deserve it, as if he still should have done better. So you’re glad that you went, that you could see him genuinely be happy with his team over the win. Still, you slipped away without congratulating him, letting the school crowd surround him because he was supposed to be in the center of the attention and you wanted no part of that. You didn’t think Jaehyun noticed you, not until he shyly asked how you liked the game the next time you met.

“You know,” Mijoo speaks up thoughtfully, humming against her utensils before putting them down the metal tray and looking you in the eyes. “It’s okay to let people close. Even if it doesn’t last forever, wouldn’t that be still better than wondering about the what ifs?”

For the longest time you thought that no, it wouldn’t but you glance at Jaehyun and how he shines brighter than the Sun but hides so many moonlit parts of himself that you’re privileged to know and you think that maybe, just maybe it’s okay to let yourself be vulnerable with some people.

The last day of school brings so much snow that the entire school yard is covered in cloud-like white and even the teachers give up preaching about life lessons after lunch hour. A bunch of eighteen year olds run to the field as if you were still kids and it’s that moment when it dawns on you that maybe it’s really the last time you can be freely child-like without adult responsibilities would weigh you down. Maybe that’s why you don’t protest that much when Jaehyun finds you and drags you outside to join the fierce snowball battle. For once, you don’t care about the looks you might get, you don’t care about potentially being put in the center of attention just by being with him, you don’t care about what it means to your future and you have never felt lighter.

You have snow in your hair, cold sweeping into your bones through your soaked shoes and your cheeks still hurt from laughing when later Jaehyun suggests going to your mom’s for hot chocolate to warm up. You agree easily and follow him inside to get your stuff. You shake snow off your coat, trying to warm up your cold-bitten hands by rubbing them together when you notice that Jaehyun abruptly stopped beside you.

Confused, you turn back to look at him just to see him stare down at his phone, his smile long lost from his face. You’re not sure whether it’s your place to even ask what happened, not when Jaehyun finally meets your eyes and he looks like he just saw a ghost. All pale and eyes glossy.

“They…” He starts but his voice breaks before he could get the sentence out. “They rejected me.”

“What?” You ask, dumbfounded. You watch as a drop of snow slides down Jaehyun’s face, leaving a tear-like trace behind on his flushed face and your heart aches before you can really process what’s going on.

“SNU. I just got the rejection email,” the boy mutters and lets out a way too forced laughter. He reaches to his messy locks with trembling fingers, scattering snow everywhere as he takes a shaky breath and starts walking up and down anxiously.

You just stand there, frozen, your heart sinking at the sight of him. There’s frustration and disbelief and bitterness as a scoff scratches his throat. You can see him fighting tears, not wanting to fall apart, not here, not in front of you, maybe not ever.

It was his dream, getting into SNU, and everybody told him he could do it, that for him it would be easy and while it’s flattering, people’s trust in his abilities, it still put him on pedestal, under such pressure that it almost broke him and now you can see him being crushed down from the same weight.

You don’t know what makes you do that, from where you take the courage but suddenly you stand in front of him, stopping him in his pacing, and take his shaking hand in yours.

“How… how will I tell my parents? What‒” Jaehyun gasps for air and you can feel him squeeze your hand for support as he struggles to fill his lungs with oxygen. “What do I… do now? I don’t… I didn’t…”

“Shh,” you slide a hand over his nape, massaging the tight muscles there in a weak attempt to calm him down before he could drive himself into hyperventilation. He’s so tense from the sheer effort to not break down, tear drops clinging to his eyelashes, blurring his vision. “Just let go. It’s okay.”

“No,” Jaehyun pushes back, stubborn but he’s clinging to your hand like a lifeline.

“It is. It’s just me,” you insist because you don’t judge, not for this, never for something like this. “I’m here.”

That’s all it takes for Jaehyun to give in and his tears start falling. You can feel when tension leaves his body and he all but crashes into you, his broader form slumping against you with his forehead on your shoulder, crying into your neck. You put a hand over his back, rubbing soothing patterns against his spine.

You don’t know how long you stay there. You wait until Jaehyun’s quiet sobs die down and his breathing slowly normalizes, until he pulls away enough to look into your own teary eyes. You know you couldn’t say anything to calm the mess in his head because you can’t quite understand how much this lost opportunity means for him, so you don’t tell him frivolous things like how it’s not the end of the world.

“You will be okay,” you whisper, quiet and sacred like a wish. “You don’t have to figure out how, not right now.”

A week later you graduate.

Myung Jaehyun stands on the podium in front of the lines of students and seated parents. He has a pledge of honors students on his suit and a bouquet of flowers in hands, an offer from another still prestigious university in his inbox and his parents, proud, in the crowd. His speech makes you feel nostalgic and when your eyes meet, a small smile appears on his lips, imperfect but happy, so pretty. You watch him and feel yourself smile too. Maybe it’s not actually that bad; being seen.

→ AFTER

Contrary to what you expected, Jaehyun stays as a permanent fixture in your days even after graduation. He hangs out at the café, sometimes stays even after closing, helping you put the chairs onto the tables and watching you learn how to make coffee and latte art. Sometimes you go to theatre plays or to the cinema, he invites you out to help him buy a present for his mother and then buys you hotteok as thanks.

Then university starts and he gets busier but you can tell that he doesn’t let school work bury him under like it did in high school. It’s good for him, starting fresh in a place where nobody knows him and his perfect student reputation. It’s less pressure on him and he can form genuine friendships without the fear that he’s approached only because of his influence as school president or his diligent note taking.

“I met this guy in Sociology class and he just asked if I wanted to be friends out of the blue. He invited me to hang out with him and his friends over the weekend. It was so random but it felt nice,” he says one day, leaning against the mop in his hands. You hum, letting him know that you’re listening even while cleaning the countertop. Apparently he and Sungho bonded over football, so they made plans to play one of these days.

“That’s good. You love football,” you note lightheartedly when you move to take the mop from him, checking if he missed any spots but of course he didn’t.

“Yeah,” Jaehyun hums, fixing his hair now that his hands are free and he turns after you when you walk farther to put the cleaning tools away. “I wanted to ask if maybe you wanna come along? To watch?”

You freeze, avoiding looking at the boy. You do want to watch him play but being with strangers isn’t really something you’re comfortable with, even if he’s there, even if he says they’re cool. Jaehyun knows you enough though and he can tell you hesitate, so he adds:

“You can bring Mijoo too if you want. And I’m thinking of inviting Donghyun too because Sungho also has younger friends.”

Okay, that doesn’t sound so bad. At least you would know people other than Jaehyun too. Maybe it would be fun.

“I will think about it,” you promise and Jaehyun beams almost as if you already said yes. He’s humming along to the music from the radio while you make sure everything is ready for closing. These days your mother lets you do so a few days a week just as she’s more comfortable with the idea of actually employing you.

Once the lights are switched off and the door is closed, Jaehyun walks you to the staircase leading to the upper floors where you live and for some reason he looks nervous standing in front of you. You lift your hand to wave him goodbye and tell him to take care on his way home like always but he beats you to it with a rushed out question.

“Do you wanna go to the movies this Friday after your shift?”

“Yeah, sure,” you reply easily, without hesitation because it’s him, just him, and you’re comfortable with him even if he sometimes makes your heart beat irregularly. Like right now when he blinks, all puppy-like and licks his dry lips to clarify.

“I mean… like a date?”

“Oh,” you mumble and feel air punched out of your chest as you process the information along with the unsure tilt of Jaehyun’s words. He really does look nervous. You make him nervous.

“Sorry, I didn’t want to make things weird between us but sometimes it already feels like we’re dating and I have to stop myself from holding your hand or… khm, so like I just wanted to put it out there,” he stops his own rambling, eyes darting everywhere before finally settling on you, his words filling you with warmth. “That I like you.”

“Okay,” you let out a long exhale, fingers fidgeting with the hem of your light cardigan, then clear your throat. “What… what are we watching?”

“Wait, is that a yes? To the date?” Jaehyun asks with widened eyes and a grin so wide you can’t help but chuckle fondly.

“Yeah,” you nod shyly, pink painting your cheeks under the yellow hue of the lights. “And you can hold my hand.”

You were fine alone but if it’s Jaehyun, you don’t mind taking risks.

Spin-off: hold my hand, my love

#boynextdoor x reader #bnd x reader #boynextdoor imagines #myung jaehyun x reader #bnd jaehyun x reader #boynextdoor angst #stories

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buckylovinglokivariant · 6 months ago

Text

Casual >> Johnny Storm

pairing: johnny storm x popstar!reader (no use of y/n)

word count: 3.7k+

summary: Johnny always meant to keep it casual with you but unfortunately for him, he wasn't so good at sticking to his word this time.

warnings: angst, johnny being his asshole self, hopeful ending

a/n: big thanks to my beta reader, mati! love you so much. her idea for a summary was "manwhore fucks around and finds out" which i thought deserved an honorable mention. this fic was inspired by my (believe it or not) first watch of fantastic four so enjoy and don't forget to reblog!

read part 2 here!

Johnny did not want to be here. Not here as in at a concert, Johnny loved concerts. Loud music, hot girls pressed right up against him as they either tried to flirt with him or get closer to the stage (both were fine by him), and lots of recognition from giggly blonde things that liked to cling to him in photo-ops. All that stuff was fine by him, truly. What he did mind was that it was your concert he was at. He hadn’t spoken to you in months, not that his sister or Reed or Ben knew that. To them, you just weren’t around the Baxter Building as much because you’d been on tour. But the truth Johnny had been avoiding since you blocked his number was going to be difficult to ignore when he was watching you sing your heart out for the next two hours.

Susan had been raving about this concert since before the tour had even been announced to the public. You’d told her about it yourself, offering up four tickets for the whole fantastic Reed-Storm-Grimm family to go. It was a few weeks before you and Johnny fought so you were still around their home all the time, hanging out with Johnny or even just with his sister or on occasion, even Reed or Ben. Johnny watched from across the room as you confessed to his sister how much you would miss spending time with them while you were on tour, so they just had to come and see you perform when you were back in New York. The tickets were special, you’d said–they would give them wristbands and let them backstage to see you after the show. Susan had been thrilled. Johnny, not so much.

You’d been going out for months out of the public eye, at Johnny’s behest. “It’s just casual anyway so what does it matter?” he always insisted. He knew it bothered you whenever he said it but stupidly, selfishly he kept saying it anyway. When it all blew up in his face, Johnny really hoped his sister would forget about the tickets altogether. Boy, was he wrong. And he’d insisted to his family for months that you were just friends so he couldn’t exactly use the excuse that you’d broken up, now could he?

It wasn’t until you were nearing the end of your set that your eyes found Johnny’s and you both froze. Thankfully you were between numbers so you were able to get your bearings quickly and continue thanking the crowd for their enthusiasm, but when you caught his eye a second time very much on purpose before holding your pointer finger up to the audience and then strutting upstage to talk to your band, Johnny’s stomach turned to lead. When you turned back around, you were looking at anyone but him.

“So the band and I were talking and we really want to thank you for being such a fantastic audience tonight. I mean, obviously I can stand up here and say ‘thank you’ a hundred times but I really don’t feel like that’s enough, you know? So to thank you, we wanted to give you guys a fun surprise. How does that sound?”

Everyone except Johnny squealed with excitement.

“I’ve been working on a new song the last few months while touring. And if it’s okay with you, I’d really like to sing it for you live for the very first time right now. Is that okay with you?”

If not for the sudden feeling of cotton in his ears, Johnny would have had to cover them with his hands with how loud the audience around him screamed. When you next locked eyes with him, you were smirking into the mic. Johnny gulped.

“This song is called ‘Casual.’”

Oh shit.

My friends call me a loser / 'Cause I'm still hanging around / I've heard so many rumors / That I'm just a girl that you bang on your couch

I thought you thought of me better / Someone you couldn't lose / You said, "We're not together" / So now when we kiss, I have anger issues

ELEVEN MONTHS AGO:

If you asked Johnny, he wouldn’t have been able to tell you what the gala was for. It was probably some fundraiser for charity or other that Reed organized so they could stay relevant, but Johnny had been to enough of them to know he wouldn’t be the one talking about anything of substance anyway, so he’d long since stopped paying attention. Normally these sorts of things were boring. The people with real money were the old, boring white collars with no personality aside from their wine and boat-in-a-bottle collections. Fortunately for Johnny though, this particular event seemed to be much more laid-back–younger crowds, louder music, shittier alcohol. And if there was a party, Johnny always had to be at the center of it. So there he was on a Friday night, getting drunk off his ass and grinding to the music with New York’s young elite.

He couldn’t tell you why you in particular stood out to him. There probably was a reason at some point but he was much too drunk at the time for it to stick in his mind for long. All he knows is that one moment he was standing at the bar and the next, he was downing the rest of Ben’s drink (ignoring the consequent protests), handing him back the glass, and making his way over to you. You were standing on the outskirts of the room, surrounded by similarly young and attractive girls who were chatting your ear off (or maybe it was the other way around). He wordlessly sidled up next to you, slipping an arm easily around your waist. You turned your head just enough to side-eye him, but you reluctantly allowed the gesture.

“Do I know you?” You asked stand-offishly.

“Nope,” he popped the ‘p’ obnoxiously, “but you will. Can I talk to you for a minute?”

You looked over to your friends for approval and while they looked as suspicious as you, they generally shrugged in acquiescence.

“I don’t see why not.”

You looked him up and down appraisingly, handing off your drink to the girl next to you and allowing him to lead you across the room to a hidden corner.

“So? What did you so urgently need to pull me aside for?” You crossed your arms, stepping just out of his reach.

“Why so suspicious?” He raised his hands in surrender. “I just wanted to ask where you got that dress from.”

You cocked an eyebrow and he watched you search his face for an ulterior motive. Apparently finding none, you replied: “It’s Armani.”

“Armani?” He repeated, raising his eyebrows with intrigue. “Damn. It’s beautiful.”

You waited impatiently for the punchline.

“Would look better on my floor though,” he winked.

“There it is,” you rolled your eyes, unimpressed, before turning back toward your friends.

“Hey, come on!” He stepped in front of you, stretching his hands out to stop you. “Don’t be like that. Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

“If you want to sleep with me, Johnny Storm, you’re going to have to try harder than that.”

“Full name!” He smirked, pleased. “I wasn’t sure you knew who I was for a second there.”

“I could spot your hot head from a mile away, Storm. And if I couldn’t, the terrible pickup line would have given you away.”

“Ouch,” he jokingly clutched at his chest. “Go figure. What’s your name, sweetheart?”

You leaned to the side to peek at your friends over his shoulder before sighing and giving him your name.

“Oh, shit. Like the singer?”

You nodded your head slowly, mockingly.

“Well damn, I really did hit the jackpot, didn’t I?”

“You know who I am?” You questioned him, not expecting him to enjoy your style of music.

“Duh, my sister won’t stop playing your music,” he tried to deflect onto Susan.

“And you know that because…?” You pushed.

He froze before awkwardly moving to rub at the back of his neck. “Because I… maybe… have listened to a few songs myself.”

“So the Johnny Storm is a fan,” you nodded, pleased with the revelation. “I’ll be sure to tell my publicist.”

“How about a deal?”

He took a risk and stepped toward you. You let him, though you pinched your eyebrows with skepticism.

“Go on.”

“You can tell your publicist whatever you want as long as you let me take you out of this place.”

You watched his cocky resolve flicker behind his eyes as you walked toward him, not stopping until your chest was pressed fully against his. You craned your neck to press your mouth right up against his ear.

“Only if you let me take you out of that suit afterwards.”

You’d be lying if you tried to pretend that was the last and only time you saw him. As much as you tried to resist (which admittedly wasn’t much), you continued seeing him. It was purely physical at first, him calling you at ridiculous times at night to fulfill a need or vice versa. But eventually, you found yourself seeking him out for reasons other than the physical. You craved his company so you’d invite him over for dinner or a movie, just in the privacy of your own apartment. When you finally visited the Baxter Building, it was only on the condition that you would be in-and-out and no one would see you. He’d been successful in sneaking you up to his room without anyone seeing. It was the getting you out that failed.

“Johnny, dinner!” A woman’s voice called and Johnny jolted away from your lips.

“Shit,” he muttered. “I gotta go.”

You blinked a couple of times, struggling to pull yourself out of the floaty headspace you always fell into when kissing Johnny.

“What?”

“You gotta go,” he grabbed your hand, pulling you up off the bed. “Come on, I’ll sneak you back out.”

You snatched your purse up off the floor as Johnny tugged you toward the bedroom door, opening it to make sure the coast was clear before dragging you quietly toward the front elevator. He’d just pressed the call button when the same female voice from before called out.

“Johnny, what are you doing over there?” The voice got louder as footsteps approached and Johnny shoved your hand away, covering his face with a groan. “I just told you that dinner was–.”

A beautiful blonde woman who bore some resemblance to Johnny turned the corner and did a double take when she saw you.

“Oh my god, you’re–!”

“Yes, hi, guilty as charged,” you giggled nervously. “It’s lovely to meet you.”

You stepped forward, outstretching a hand for her to shake.

“So you’re the girl Johnny’s been sneaking out to see!” She shook your hand with enthusiasm. “It’s so lovely to meet you! Please, you have to stay for dinner. I’ll have Ben set out an extra place for you.”

“We’re not together,” Johnny butted in, shattering the moment.

“What?” The blonde woman turned to face him, confusion glimmering across her face as you burned red with shame.

“We’re not together,” he reiterated. “Whatever you’re thinking… we’re just friends.”

“Oh,” she gasped, turning back to you. “Well, um, you’re still welcome to stay.”

“I would love to stay,” you smiled at her, embarrassment still burning at the back of your throat.

And as she pulled you away, you couldn’t help but turn around and glare daggers at Johnny before rounding the corner.

You said, "Baby, no attachment" / But we're / Knee deep in the passenger seat, and you're eating me out / Is it casual now? / Two weeks, and your mom invites me to her house on Long Beach / Is it casual now?

I know what you tell your friends / It's casual, if it's casual now / Then, baby, get me off again / If it's casual, it's casual now

TEN-AND-A-HALF MONTHS AGO:

You were in his car, one of the many but you couldn’t say which one this one was. It was dark when he picked you up in it and now you were god-knows-where, the passenger seat fully reclined as you laid half on top of him on it. You were tracing random patterns on his bare chest when he spoke.

“I’m gonna be away for a while.”

You stopped tracing.

“What?”

“She’s got a house on Long Beach,” he elaborated vaguely.

“Your mom?” It was a shot in the dark. You’d never spoken about his home life, nor yours. You didn’t do much speaking when you were together so you only knew about the people you’d met when you had dinner at the Baxter Building. He paused at your question, though you didn’t know why.

“My sister," he clarified. "She’s going up for a few weeks and me and her fiancé are going with her.”

“That sounds fun,” you remarked offhandedly.

“Yeah,” he snorts and you eye him, confused at what was so funny. “They told me to invite you, actually.”

You couldn't help the smile that crept onto your face.

“Johnny, I would love to–.”

“I told them you were busy.”

And then the smile was gone.

“Oh.”

It was silent for a moment, neither of you moving, both of you hardly breathing.

“Do you want me to take you home?”

“Not yet.”

You leaned up and kissed him again, drowning out the emotional turmoil that was rapidly threatening to consume your thoughts.

Dumb love, I love being stupid / Dream of us in a year / Maybe we'd have an apartment / And you'd show me off to your friends at the pier

TEN MONTHS AGO:

You hadn’t seen or heard from Johnny in a couple of weeks. Sure, he said he would be gone for a few weeks but you knew he had your number, which meant was a choice not to call you, not an inability to. Maybe you were just being stupid. You’d only been going out for a month, after all. And even calling it “going out” was a stretch. You had to face the truth at some point–you were just one of his conquests. He probably wasn’t even in Long Beach. He probably just needed an excuse to stop seeing you.

But as much as you tried to convince yourself of your idiocy, you couldn’t help but imagine having a life with him. You could get an apartment together or even just move into the Baxter Building with him. Either way, you wouldn’t mind. Maybe you could even have both and switch between them whenever you felt like it. Maybe next time he’d bring you to the Long Beach house and show you off to his family and whatever friends he probably had there.

Stop it, you scolded yourself. You’re being delusional. You have to move on.

That was when he knocked on your apartment door.

I know, "Baby, no attachment" / But we're / Knee deep in the passenger seat and you're eating me out / Is it casual now? / Two weeks and your mom invites me to her house on Long Beach / Is it casual now? / I know what you tell your friends / It's casual, if it's casual now / Then baby, get me off again / If it's casual, oh, oh, oh

It's hard being casual / When my favorite bra lives in your dresser / And it's hard being casual / When I'm on the phone talking down your sister

SIX MONTHS AGO:

“Please tell me he’s not with you,” Susan begged you over the phone. “Or that he is! Honestly, at this point I don’t know which is worse.”

Johnny watched you with amusement from where he was sprawled out across your sheets, naked as the day he was born. He definitely either saw Susan’s name pop up on your screen or heard her voice from across the room. Either way, he knew exactly who had called you and why.

“Uh… I’m not sure how to answer that question.”

You put a finger to your lips, making sure Johnny stayed quiet, before putting her on speaker.

“Well, if Johnny just so happens to be there, would you please remind him that we have a very public, very live television appearance that he’s supposed to attend which starts in twenty minutes.”

You caught Johnny’s eye and inwardly swore when you saw the sudden panic enveloping his face. He leapt out of bed, reaching for his own phone, and started whispering a chant of curse words when he saw what time it was. You threw your phone on your bed, ignoring Susan’s questions about what the noise was, and began throwing Johnny’s clothes from the floor at him. As he dressed himself, you began searching through your wardrobe for an outfit of your own that wouldn’t make it obvious from the wrinkles what you had been up to just before rushing to the studio.

“Um, yeah, I don’t know where he is, Susan. So sorry. But if I happen to see him or um, am able to get him on the phone, I’ll make sure to let him know.”

“Oh, god, I’m going to kill him the next time I see him. I swear, I’m going to take his phone away for a month!”

“You can’t do that, I’m an adult!” Johnny retorted absentmindedly as he fastened his belt before freezing.

“Jonathan Lowell Spencer Storm!” Susan bellowed from the other end of the phone.

“Damn it, Johnny!” You cursed him out as you desperately searched your wardrobe for your favorite bra.

“It’s in my dresser,” he reminded you, picking the phone up from your bed and handing it to you. “I’ll go. You stay here.”

“Johnny–,” you began to protest.

“I’ll get there faster if I flame on by myself anyway. I’ll see you later.”

He kissed your cheek before running out the door.

“Five minutes or I’m kicking your ass, Johnny!” Susan called after him.

“Susan, I am so sorry," you apologized on his behalf. "We lost track of time–.”

She just sighed.

“It’s not your fault. My brother is… not the most responsible person in the world, to say the least.”

You snorted.

“To say the least, yeah.”

“Okay, he’s a total blockhead.”

“You can say that again,” you rolled your eyes affectionately.

“But I love him,” Susan added. “And so do you, if I’m reading it correctly.”

“What!” You screeched. “No, I don’t. That’s ridiculous. I would never… Johnny’s…”

“He feels the same way about you, if it helps.”

“No, he doesn’t,” you replied honestly. “And even if he did, he would never admit it so I’ll take what I can get.”

“Hey–.”

“It’s fine, Susan. Have a good interview. I look forward to seeing it.”

You hung up.

And I try to be the chill girl / That holds her tongue and gives you space / I try to be the chill girl / But honestly, I'm not

THREE MONTHS AGO:

“I can’t do this anymore, Johnny.”

Johnny couldn’t tell you what had started the argument. To be perfectly honest, he’d thought the night had been going really well. He’d taken you to a fancy restaurant to celebrate right before you left for your big tour. You were in a secluded booth in the corner where no one would recognize you or even see you and… oh.

“Do what?” He blinked, forcing the lighthearted smile to remain on his face.

“Do this,” You gestured to the restaurant around you. “Going out on dates and pretending like everything is fine.”

“I thought everything was fine,” Johnny protested.

“It’s not, Johnny!” You smacked your hands on the table causing the silverware to clank together. “It never has been!”

“Tell me how you really feel,” he grumbled under his breath.

“Johnny, you can’t just… introduce me to your family, and kiss me, and take me on dates for months and then pretend like there’s nothing there. Like there’s nothing between us. I can’t… I can’t go on tour for six months wondering how you feel about me–if you think about me, if you’re waiting for me, if you’ll even want me when I come back.”

“I told you at the beginning, baby. I’m a no-attachment kind of guy.”

“Well, it doesn’t feel very no-attachment, Johnny!” You snapped at him and his jaw snapped shut. “Look, I try to be the chill girl that holds her tongue and gives you space when you need it but honestly? I’m not. I’m not like that, Johnny. I love you, and if you don’t love me back then I think we’re done.”

“You think we’re done?”

“That’s all you have to say? After all that?”

Well, Johnny never claimed not to be an asshole. And he certainly never did things halfway.

“Well I don’t love you, so if that’s how you feel then maybe you should just go.”

You sat there, panting, choking back the tears you refused to let him see if he was going to treat you like that after everything you’d been through over the last eight months.

“Go to hell, Johnny Storm.”

You grabbed your coat and purse and ran out of the restaurant. That was the last time he saw you.

Knee deep in the passenger seat, and you're eating me out / Two weeks, and your mom invites me to her Long Beach house / I know what you tell your friends / Baby, get me off again

I fucked you in the bathroom when we went to dinner / Your parents at the table, you wonder why I'm bitter / Bragging to your friends, I get off when you hit it / I hate to tell the truth, but I'm sorry, dude, you didn't / I hate that I let this drag on so long, now I hate myself / Hate that I let this drag on so long, you can go to hell

PRESENT:

It was the last thing you’d said to him. “Go to hell.” He deserved it, in all honesty. It was true that he’d never been one for attachment. Meeting you, sleeping with you, continuing to see you even when he knew it was a bad idea, it was all the biggest mistake he’d ever made. But he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about you since you walked out on him, and seeing you up there onstage just cemented it–it was also the best mistake he’d ever made. And as he looked down at the wristband adorning his wrist, he made a vow to himself: He was going to fix things with you. No matter what it took.

#johnny storm #human torch #fantastic four #fantastic 4 #mcu #marvel #johnny storm x reader #johnny storm x you #johnny storm fanfiction #johnny storm fic #the human torch #the fantastic four #susan storm #deadpool and wolverine #chris evans characters #chris evans #chris evans x reader #Spotify

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wosoragebaiter69 · 1 year ago

Text

forgotten about you

barça femeni x teen!reader

request: here

A/N: i just know alexia turned off the tv during the game 😭

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You wake up, today is what could be described as a neutral day but it’s still your birthday nonetheless. You didn’t want to leave your bed, but you had to. Your family never really celebrated your birthday, only really caring about your brother and his dreams.

Even if it wasn’t the best day for you, a small part of your mind hoped that someone would wish you a happy birthday, at least Alexia anyways. It’s not like you told them though, the Barça instagram page would probably announce it.

You go through your regular movements of the day, traffic is light and you make it just in time.

Walking through, the admin wishes you a happy birthday, you smile lightly saying thanks and continuing to walk into the change room. However when you’re there it’s the same as any old day, it breaks your heart a little but you wouldn’t tell anyone that.

You’re quieter than usual walking to your cubby, it isn’t much of a change considering you’ve been one of the quieter ones since you joined barca, preferring to only be loud late at night when blasting music in your car.

It’s when even Alexia comes in and doesn’t say Happy Birthday that you feel even more hurt than before, out of everyone who would know, you’d just hoped she would. It’s not her fault though, you didn’t tell anyone. Why would she?

Training seems to be a blur, you miss the looks your older teammates give you at certain points. You’ve essentially become someone with no emotions which has somehow made you have a great session. Which in all honesty did not mend your shattering heart, no matter the praises the coaches had given you.

You make an effort to miss everyone after training and head straight home, you didn’t shower and just got up and left ignoring your confused teammates. No matter how much of an introvert you were, you’d always make time to say goodbye. It was a sign to everyone else that something had happened.

You make way to your car and drive off straight away, inevitably you end up sobbing halfway through. Unable to keep your emotions inside.

- - - - -

In the locker room, when you were gone there was silence. A pondering in the air of sorts. Mapi breaks it.

“Is she ok? She’s usually quiet but this… she’d at least say something.” Her statement lingers in the air, no one knowing what to say.

“Oh shit.” The unmistakable voice of Lucy Bronze cuts through the tension.

“Qué?” Many voices say at once. Lucy turns her phone around and shows the birthday announcement from the Barcelona Instagram page.

“How did we not know? Why didn’t she say anything?” Alexia sounds heartbroken, she cares for you deeply and to miss something so important is heartbreaking.

“I’m not sure.” Ingrid’s voice cracks and it looks like she’s about to cry.

Alexia is quick to regain her composure.

“Ok, we messed up. But, we can make this right. In the time I go to her house, talk and get her to come out, you all should do something. Plan a party and we’ll be there in like 1-2 hours. Got it?” The girls nod, seemingly ready to organise something not too big but enough to make up for what they didn’t know.

“Ingrid do you want to come with me?” The captain asks the Norwegian who nods, saying farewell to her girlfriend and teammates. You were very close with her, she took you under her wing a lot and you looked up to her.

- - - - -

You’re crying on your couch when there’s a knock on the door, thinking it’s preachers you ignore it, hoping they’ll leave. Only, the noise gets louder so you wipe your tears and trudge slowly toward the door.

Upon opening, Alexia and Ingrid immediately wrap you in a bone-crushing hug.

“What’s this for?” You say, you thought they’d forgotten about you.

“Don’t act like you don’t know, we’re sorry we didn’t know it was your birthday. We’ll make it up to you.” At Alexia’s words you start crying again.

“No Ale, it’s fine. I shouldn’t have expected anything. I didn’t tell you guys.” You say, feeling slightly bad.

“Elskling, no matter what we should’ve known, were your teammates and we didn’t even do any digging to find it. We made no effort before when we should have. Don’t ever feel like you should dismiss it. It obviously means something.” At her rant, you seem to understand her words as they compute in your mind.

“We did bring you something though nena. One from me and one from Mapi and Ingrid. Then we are going for a drive, ok?” You nod gratefully and get ready for what the two are giving you.

“Here you go.” Ingrid is first, she gives you two small boxes. You open the first one and it’s the Miss Dior perfume you’ve wanted for ages but haven’t ended up getting because you were too busy.

“I- thanks Ingrid.” You beam, she smiles softly back and points to the other one, you open it up carefully revealing a Dior charms bracelet. Your mouth opens wide.

“This is… thank you so much!” You place it down wrapping Ingrid in a hug.

“I’m glad you like it, I heard you said Dior was your favourite designer so I just figured.” It seems your broken heart from before was sealing up because she remembered something you’d told her weeks ago.

Alexia watches the interaction, smiling and happy to see you happy. Not the shell of a person you were at training because they forgot.

Luckily for her and Ingrid, there was a mall on the way to your house with many shops which would definitely satisfy what they needed to get you.

After speaking to Ingrid, you turn to Alexia who is also grinning and hands you a box.

“Aquí.”

You unwrap it, it’s quite big and heavy. When seeing the contents your eyes widen.

“Is this…” She nods her head, smirking. It’s a PS5, Alexia had been pretty strict on no video game consoles considering she wanted you to have a healthy sleep schedule.

“I didn’t think you’d ever allow it- Thank you Ale.” You bring her into a hug before unwrapping it fully and staring at the three things you had received in awe.

“Come on, get dressed we have places to be.” Alexia pulls you from your staring, you get dressed pretty quickly and you’re out of the house in 15 minutes.

- - - - -

You arrived at Patri’s house a little later and walked inside. The rest of the team were there, balloons everywhere and most importantly a cake with 19 on it being brought over by Frido.

Everyone’s singing and your face heats up at all the attention, feeling warm because of the love you’re receiving at the current moment.

When the singing dies down the Swede whispers to you softly.

“Make a good wish kid, it’ll be great.” You nod blowing out the candles and get given a knife to cut down the middle. It’s a pretty plain cake, but if you’re going to be honest you always loved when cakes weren’t so detailed.

The rest of the evening went by in bliss, people apologising and overall having a great time. Yes, they might’ve forgotten. But, they knew their mistake and made this the best birthday you’d ever had.

—————————————————————————

Finally wrote this.. I took too long to write it i’m sorry anon

can you tell what designer i like? (miss dior smells so good i feel rich when wearing it)

anyways i literally need to stop eating original kebab, like it’s so good and taking too much of my money PLEASE

#woso #woso x reader #woso community #woso fanfics #barca femeni #barcelona femeni #barcelona femeni x reader #barca femeni x reader

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rhiannonsknife · 21 days ago

Text

— BUT I’M A CHEERLEADER (part 4)

— summary: the party at lottie’s & its aftermath.

— warnings: friends to lovers. lots of fluff. the highly anticipated nsfw content. mdni. (this takes place in their last year of school. all characters in this are 18+!!)

the ‘post game hangout’ at lottie’s is in full swing by the time you and nat arrive in her car.

you half expect it to be a repeat of cheer squad gatherings: loud music, sharp glances, and judgment lurking behind every corner. but as soon as you step into lottie’s house -a massive place, bigger than any party you’ve been to before- it becomes clear this is a completely different world from what you’re used to.

it’s also much more of a party than just a ‘hangout’, but neither of you minds.

“lottie really knows how to throw a party, huh?” you say, glancing around. nat grins, giving you a playful side-eye. “she’s got the biggest house, so she kinda has to,”

the sound of music and muffled laughter spills from inside as you approach, punctuated by the occasional cheer or shout from someone already a few drinks deep.

“we don’t do small, cheerleader!”

“i can see that,” your eyes sweep over the pristine lawn and the line of cars already parked in the long driveway. nat gestures towards the door. “ready?”

you nod, even though you can feel the nerves bubbling up inside you. it’s not the party itself that unsettles you, it’s the fact that you’re walking in with nat. for all the teasing from the yellowjackets earlier, the lines between what you feel and what you’re allowed to feel still seem blurry and fragile.

the inside of lottie’s house is just as impressive as the exterior already gave away: the foyer opens into a sprawling living room that’s packed with people lingering in groups, red plastic cups in hand, the atmosphere buzzing.

nat nudges you with her elbow while you’re still busy taking it all in. “come on,” she says. “let’s find the others!”

just like that, you let her lead you through the crowd. there’s no weight of curious stares and whispered commentary you expected and nobody minds as you two make your way through the living room. when you finally reach the kitchen, it’s no surprise to see van perched on the kitchen island, a bottle of something strong-looking in her hand, while taissa leans against the counter next to where van’s legs are dangling, caught up in a conversation with jackie.

“hey, look who decided to show up!” van calls out, waving at you both.

nat rolls her eyes. “you just saw us on the field an hour ago,”

“yeah, but this is different,” she teases, hopping down from the counter to greet you. “field nat is all serious and intense. party nat’s a lot more fun. and hey-“ she leans in conspiratorially toward you “she’s even more fun when you’re around!”

nat shakes her head, but you can see the faintest hint of color creeping up her neck. “i’m grabbing drinks!” she announces to the group, shooting you a quick glance before disappearing toward the living room.

you’re left standing awkwardly near the doorway until jackie waves you over to join them. “c’mon, don’t just stand there!”

you hesitate but ultimately follow her lead, perching on the edge of the counter while van leans in, her grin mischievous.

“sooo…” she begins, drawing out the word. “how long’s this been a thing?”

you blink, caught off guard. “what?”

“when did you and nat figure this thing out?” taissa chimes in.

“i don’t- there’s no- what thing?”

jackie gives a soft laugh. “come on, don’t play dumb! nat’s been acting like a completely different person lately. more focused, less grumpy. it’s cute, really!”

tai leans in, her voice low but teasing. “it’s pretty obvious. she’s been head over heels for you since, what? the arcade?”

your cheeks heat as you stammer, “we’re not- she hasn’t- there’s nothing going on!”

jackie exchanges a knowing look with the two. “if you say so,” she mumbles teasingly over the edge of her cup.

van, on the other hand, doesn’t let up. “c’mon, it’s fine! we’re just saying it’s nice to see her like this! she’s, i dunno… softer? it’s not a bad thing!”

you laugh awkwardly, unsure how to respond. before you get the chance to tell them that there really isn’t anything going on, nat returns, drinks in hand. the others exchange more looks as she strides over.

“there we go,” she says, handing you a cup, her fingers brushing yours briefly in the process. even as you take it from her, your mind is still reeling from what van, jackie and taissa just said. nat, head over heels for you?

“so,” she asks. “what did i miss? what are you guys talking about?”

“nothing,” van says innocently, her grin suggesting otherwise.

“right…” nat says, slowly lifting her cup to her lips.

the conversation shifts after that, the others diving into lighthearted banter about the game, but your mind lingers on what they said.

you glance down at nat once, catching her watching you out of the corner of her eye. she quickly looks away, taking a sip from her drink, but the small, almost shy smile that follows makes your pulse quicken.

all throughout the conversation, you’re hyper-aware of nat’s presence below you, standing close enough to where you’re perched upon the kitchen counter for you to smell the faint scent of her cologne and feel the warmth that radiates off her even though she’s not quite touching you.

the others are deep in their talk, laughing about some ridiculous inside joke that you don’t quite understand but can’t help smiling at. you feel lighter than you have in weeks, lighter than you ever did amongst the cheerleaders, like you’re finally where you belong.

still, your gaze keeps drifting back to nat, the reason why you’re here to begin with, why you get to belong like that.

it’s the shift of the music in the background, a louder, more fast paced song, snaps you out of your thoughts. a few people filter onto the makeshift dance floor that lottie has cleared in the living room, swaying awkwardly at first before finding a rhythm as a larger group gathers.

you glance back at nat as an idea begins to take shape.

“do you wanna dance?” you ask, your voice quieter than you intended but still enough to catch only her attention. nat freezes mid-sip, her eyes widening slightly as she looks at you like you’ve just suggested something completely outrageous. “dance?”

your nod, grinning despite the nerves. “yeah, you know…where you move around to music. it’s kind of a thing people do at parties?”

her lips twitch into a smirk and she sets her drink down on the counter. “i know what dancing is, smartass. i just don’t…do it!”

“why not? scared you’ll look stupid?”

she scoffs, crossing her arms. “i don’t look stupid. just don’t like it. it’s not my thing,”

“come on!” you plead, now drawing the attention of the others as well. “just one dance! for fun? for me!”

for a moment, nat looks like she’s about to argue again, her brow furrowing as if she’s searching for an excuse. but then her eyes meet yours, and whatever she sees there makes her hesitate.

“show us how it’s done scatorccio!” van interrupts her train of thought, already urging her forward.

“fine,” nat mutters, pushing herself away from the counter, then waiting for you to hop off after. “but, i swear to god, if i step on your toes, it’s on you!”

you laugh, grabbing her hand before she can change her mind. “deal,”

you don’t need to turn your head to feel the eyes of all three girls on you as you make your way across the room.

leading her to the dance floor, you notice the way her hand lingers in yours, her grip firm, like she’s still not sure what to do with herself. the two of you find a spot near the edge, the lights dim and the music low, and you turn to face her with a grin.

“see? not so bad, right?”

“you haven’t even started yet!”

you turn so your back is to her front, already swaying to the rhythm of the song. nat hesitates for a beat before resting her hands awkwardly on your waist. it’s stiff and a little awkward at first, but the warmth of her touch sends a pleasant shiver through your body.

“relax,” you tease, moving against her. “you’re not being graded on this!”

she huffs out a laugh, her shoulders loosening just a bit. “easy for you to say. you’re probably great at this! you’re a cheerleader!”

the two of you settle into an easy rhythm, and while nat is still clearly out of her comfort zone, she starts to relax, her movements becoming less stilted. you can still feel the eyes of her teammates watching from the kitchen, but for once, you don’t care who sees. it’s just you and nat.

at one point, she leans in just a little closer. her voice is low and her fingers hook around the belt loops of your jeans as she murmurs, “this isn’t terrible,”

you laugh, your heart skipping at the new proximity. “told you so!”

the music flows seamlessly from one track to the next yet nat doesn’t leave the dance floor after the first song like you half expected her to. instead, she stays, her presence warm behind you, her fingers gentle on your waist.

even as the upbeat tempo shifts to something a little slower, you’re quick to tug her hand, keeping her on the floor so she won’t flee from you.

“not letting me off that easy, are you?”

instead of replying, nat spins you gently, making you laugh as you end up face to face, more suited for a slow dance like this. instinctively, you drape your arms over her shoulders and lace your fingers behind her back.

nat’s body seems much more relaxed now, her grip on your waist softer, her movements less self-conscious. you’re still swaying together, but there’s something gentler about it now, something intimate, with the soft glow of the lights playing across her features.

at this point, you’re hyper-aware of her hands on you and how close she’s standing. so close her hair brushes your cheek when she tilts her head, so close you can feel the shudder in her breath, sending a shiver down your spine that you hope she doesn’t notice.

“you’re getting the hang of it,” you mumble.

“don’t push it. this is already way more than just one dance,”

“it’s called making up for lost time,” you counter. “you’re doing great!”

nat snorts, shaking her head. “dont lie! i’m terrible at this!”

without hesitation, you tighten your grip on the back of her neck, pulling her gaze back to yours. “nat,” you say softly, catching her attention. “nat, seriously, you’re really not,” you insist, meeting her eyes.

the room seems to shrink as the two of you sway to the slower rhythm. the din of conversation and laughter fades into the background, leaving just the soft hum of music and the warmth of her presence in front of you. you glance up at her through your lashes, heart racing at how close she is. her gaze flickers down to meet your eyes, then drops lower, to your mouth, and for a moment, the world feels like it tilts on its axis.

the song begins to fade, and before either of you can move, someone takes over the stereo. the slow melody is abruptly replaced by an upbeat, fast-paced track that jolts you back to reality.

nat groans dramatically, stepping back with a shake of her head. “that’s my cue to get off this death trap!”

you laugh, reluctantly letting her slip away. if it wasn’t already, the party is in full swing now, with people around you shouting and singing along to the lyrics.

you follow nat, intending to tease her about her endurance, but something else catches your eye as she brushes her hand over her face: the faint smudge of black along her lower lash line, where the eyeliner she always wears has started to smear.

“wait,” you stop her just before she reaches the comfort of the kitchen the other yellowjackets seem to have claimed. “your eyeliner’s all smudged!”

“what?” nat frowns, her hand flying up to touch her cheekbone, wiping at her eye in an attempt to fix it. “are you serious?”

“stop,” you chuckle, reaching out to still her hand. “you’re only gonna make it worse! come on!”

“i can do it myself,” she protests, though she doesn’t pull away.

you tug her down the hallway, weaving through the crowd toward where you assume the bathroom is. even though she grumbles something under her breath about not caring how she looks, she doesn’t let go of your hand.

you close the door behind you, and nat stands just inside, her posture uncertain.

“sit,” you order, pointing to the closed toilet seat. “i’ll take care of it.”

she blinks before sitting down, knees pressed together, her hands resting awkwardly in her lap.

nat watches you, tracing every movement you make as you open your purse and pull out the small makeup bag. “do you really carry all that around with you?” she asks, her gaze meeting yours in the reflection of your mirror.

“hey! it’s for emergency touch-ups! comes in handy now, doesn’t it?” you laugh. “i could also leave you to look like a raccoon, if you want?”

nat huffs, shaking her head. “fine, fine. just get it over with.”

you turn around and step in, your knees brushing lightly against her legs. carefully, you move your fingers, steadying the eyeliner pencil.

“don’t make it weird,” she mutters.

you lift her chin gently to get a better angle, brushing her cheek with the pads of your fingers. “i’m not, i promise,”

nat doesn’t flinch when you trace her waterline, her eyes looking up as she stays still, her breath catching just a little as you work. there’s an undeniable pull now, an electric charge that shoots up your spine every time you glance at her.

you try to focus on the task, try to steady your hands, but it’s hard to concentrate when nat is so close. your heart beats louder than the soft scratch of the pencil on her skin.

“almost done,” you murmur.

when you finish, you lower the pencil and meet her touched-up eyes. they're wide as they turn to meet yours, her lips slightly parted. you don’t step back like you probably should. you don’t even remove your hands from her cheeks, where they still sit firmly.

there’s only the two of you and that undeniable pull. you’ve tried pushing it away, you’ve tried ignoring it. you’re tired of pretending like it’s not there.

you inhale deeply, your fingers tightening on her face and nat’s eyes fall to your lips. this time, it’s not a stolen glance either. it’s there, right in front of you, with neither of you bothering to hide it.

you’re about to close the space between you, when the door suddenly bursts open with a loud bang.

“guys!” van’s voice bursts through, full of energy and excitement. “you’re not gonna believe this, but-“ she stops mid-sentence when she sees you two, the scene frozen in place. for a beat, all three of you stand there, the room suddenly feeling much too small. van blinks a couple of times, clearly processing the intimate scene she’s interrupted, then grins from ear to ear.

“randy lost a bet and is jumping in the pool fully clothed!“ she announces. “but i guess you guys are…busy in there. i’ll leave you to it”

she’s already turning on her heel again, clearly not wanting to miss out on it. “remember to use protection kids!” she calls as she rushes down the hall. “don’t want any surprise bets on the way!”

you pull away just slightly, your heart still thudding loudly in your chest.

“uh, yeah,” nat says, clearing her throat, the moment slipping away from you. “we’ll be out in a minute!”

the second the door clicks shut, you and nat both exhale, as if you’d been holding your breath this entire time.

“i-“ nat starts but, for once, she doesn’t seem to know what to say.

“uh- i guess we should-“ you gesture over to where van had gone.

“yeah. yeah, definitely.”

you both stand in silence for another moment. for one last second, you think she might reach for you again. but she doesn’t. instead, nat takes a step back toward the door.

“wouldn’t want to miss out on that,” she says with a slight, uncertain grin, trying to shake off the awkwardness.

randy, true to his words, does make the fully-dressed dive into lottie’s pool, which earns him laughter and applause from the spectators surrounding the scene. the water splashes high as he emerges, dripping wet and grinning like a madman.

you don't catch half of it, too preoccupied with watching nat from across the yard, laughing with the rest of her teammates. you should have kissed that smiling mouth when you had the chance.

by the time the party begins to wind down hours later, only a few yellowjackets remain. the energy in the living room is mellowed but still full of warmth. van and taissa are the last women standing, still swaying to the beat of some toto song that's playing from the stereo. on the couch, shauna and jackie are curled up together, their heads close, their low murmurs barely audible over the fading music.

you stand near nat, a comfortable silence between you two as you observe the scene.

“guess it’s time to go,” nat says quietly, fiddling with the carabiner on her jeans as she searches for her keys. “lottie!” she calls, catching her attention from where she's chatting with laura lee -the only one of the group who’s still completely sober.

nat untangles the keys and holds them up. “i’ll leave the car here for the night, alright? just move it if it’s in the way!” she explains, setting them down on the table.

“you two heading out?”

“yeah, just walking home,” you tell lottie, nudging nat with your elbow.

“alright,” she hums, waving goodbye. “good night,”

“night!” you both call out to the group before turning to leave.

the cool night air is refreshing after hours in the suffocating warmth of lottie’s place and the streets seem quieter, the house fading in the distance as you walk side by side.

her hand brushes against yours every now and then, but neither of you makes a move just yet. the streetlights flicker above, casting soft golden light on the pavement ahead. you don’t speak right away, both of you settling into a comfortable silence as you walk.

the distance to your house is surprisingly short, but every step feels like it lasts a little longer than it should, like neither of you is ready for the night to end. it’s strange how just walking with nat feels like it could stretch into infinity, and you’d be content with that.

when you do reach the front porch, you stop, hand resting on the railing. nat lingers at the bottom of the stairs behind you, her own hands shoved in her pockets, not in any hurry to leave. you turn to face her, your pulse quickening in the stillness of the night.

finally, you find your voice: “thanks for tonight, nat,” you say. “i…i had a great time!”

for a beat you stand there, frozen in place, wondering if there’s more you’re supposed to say. your eyes meet hers again. you could say goodbye. you could walk inside, end the night, and pretend like there’s nothing more to it. but the moment feels too big, too full of things unsaid for you to walk away from it.

you turn fully to face her, your heart racing just a little. before you can second-guess yourself, you stumble down the stairs and grab the collar of her jacket. nat doesn’t have time to react, her eyes widening just as you pull her toward you, and in one swift motion, you press your lips to hers like you’ve been dying to all night.

everything pauses. the kiss is unexpected, quick, and electric. a mix of everything unspoken between you two. all the tension that’s built up over the weeks, all the doubts and fears, dissolve in that single, raw moment. nat’s body goes still, as if neither of you can quite process what’s happening.

then, almost as if waking up, she finally responds, her hands gently cupping your face. her lips move against yours with a softness that you hadn’t expected from nat: she’s slow at first, cautious as if she’s waiting for you to change your mind. but you pull her in closer, deepening the kiss without thinking.

the moment shatters only when you hear the faint sound of a car driving by down the street. you both jump apart then, but not far enough to break the connection. breath comes a little quicker now as you stand there on the porch, eyes locked, saying nothing.

the car drives by, leaving you invisible in the shadows of your house.

a beat.

you don't even register jumping back into motion, but suddenly, you're both stumbling back toward the door, lips locked again, hands moving instinctively, pulling each other closer. your heart beats faster with every step, every touch. you can't get enough of her.

you reach the lock, fingers fumbling with the key for a moment before it finally turns, letting you slip inside. the door closes quietly behind you, carefully pulled to avoid a sound. inside, it is quiet and dark, the house hiding you as you stand there, just breathing. nat’s forehead rests against yours, both of you too lost in the moment to speak, but the tension is still there, palpable.

nat breaks the silence first, her voice low, barely a whisper. "are we...doing this?"

you smile, your thumb brushing across her jaw as you pull her back into another kiss, slow and deliberate, like you're both savoring every second of it. you don't pull away at all this time. instead, you guide her to your room, the distance from the door to your bed feeling like miles.

you stumble against furniture and walls on the way there, giggling into each other’s mouths as you try to find your way.

when you finally make it to your room, you're both panting heavily, your hands still holding onto each other as if afraid one of you will slip away if you let go.

all the past weeks have come down to this.

nat leans down to kiss you again, even slower this time, her hands coming to rest on your waist, her fingers warm through the fabric of your clothes. you press yourself against her, and the kiss deepens, more urgent now, as though you both can't help yourselves anymore.

“we have-“ you murmur against her lips between kisses. “-to be quiet!”

nat smiles softly, nodding, her mouth brushing against your ear as she murmurs, "i think we can manage,”

you grin in relief. carefully, you make your way to the bed. the only sound is the soft rustle of clothes being discarded, and then the warmth of her hands against your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

“i’ve never-“ you begin as you toss nat’s leather jacket over your chair. your teeth dig into your lower lip nervously, both because you’re admitting this to her and because you know what’s still to come.

“hey,” nat nudges your chin so you’re looking back up at her. her hands reach for your cheeks, the cold metal of her rings pressing against your skin. “it’s okay. you’re okay”

you nod on a shaky exhale and nat’s smile softens, mirroring your expression.

“we don’t have to-” she starts, but you're already cutting her off.

“no!” the word comes out too eager, too rushed, and you feel your face heat. “no. i want to!”

no matter how appreciative you are of her patience and assurance, you do feel ready. you had been the minute she’d first kissed you under the porch light (perhaps even long before that), when her chapped lips started moving against yours slowly.

nat nods once, her tongue darting out to wet her lips, and your eyes fall to her mouth, helplessly transfixed. “okay” she says quietly. “okay...”

she's on you in seconds, her lips capturing yours again, her weight pressing against you until your back hits the mattress.

your arms wrap around her shoulders, pulling her impossibly closer, and she hums into your mouth, the sound vibrating against your lips. nat’s fingers skim your sides, slipping beneath the hem of your shirt, her nails dragging lightly over your skin. goosebumps rise in their wake, and you shiver involuntarily when her rings brush your bare side.

nat pulls back, her lips grazing yours as she grins. “cold?”

“a little,” you admit, breathlessly.

nat's teasing smirk only grows as she sits back on her knees, perched over your legs. her hand rests flat against your lower abdomen, just above where your shirt has ridden up, while the other ghosts over your ribs.

you reach for the one pressing against you, your thumbs circling her wrist to pull it in. you hold her hand up between you, examining the metal bands on each finger for a brief moment before leaning forward. one by one, you kiss the tips of her fingers, your lips hovering over the cool metal as you move lower.

above you, nat sucks in a sharp breath.

you glance up, and her wide, surprised eyes meet yours.

your finger brushes over her knuckles as you tug one ring free, then another. nat’s gaze follows every movement, and when you press another gentle kiss to her now-bare fingers, a tremor runs through her. you set the rings down on your bedside table and turn back up to look at nat.

the tension between you hums like a live wire, but it's not overwhelming. it's something else entirely, something that feels right.

nat swallows hard, her lips twitching upward. “better?” she asks.

“yeah,” you rasp. “way better.”

you sit up to meet her halfway this time, giving her room to peel your shirt off and toss it aside. it lands on the floor by the side of your bed softly, leaving you in a plain black bra. still, her eyes rake over your chest both hungrily and with an adoration that’s softer than anything you’ve ever seen playing out on nat’s features.

“you’re so-“ she says, her fingers twitching like she’s resisting the urge to reach out. once again, you take nat’s hand in yours and guide it to cup your breast. you both exhale simultaneously, adjusting to the new sensation. she must feel your hardened nipples through the fabric, judging by the way her gaze drops and she bites her lip.

experimentally, nat’s thumb flicks the pebbled nipple, instantly drawing a shuddered moan from you.

“nat, off,” you manage, head lulling back already.

thankfully, she complies: nat reaches around your back and smoothly unhooks the clasps. while holding the eye contact, she pulls the fabric off, exposing your bare chest to the chilly night air. she discards it carefully, letting it join the growing pile of clothes on the floor.

“you too!” you urge, fingers impatiently reaching for nat’s tank top. she smiles but helps you get it off and throws it aside, revealing the red bra she’s wearing underneath. the sight takes your breath away, and you’re stunned into silence. unlike nat, you can’t help yourself but blatantly stare.

“you’re so pretty,” you finally whisper, leaning in to kiss the swell of her breasts that spill from the bra.

nat’s now bare fingers tangle in your hair as she guides you, letting you have this. you mouth at the fabric eagerly, yet before you can pull it down, nat pushes you back into the sheets.

you don’t feel exposed like you thought you would in this position, even though you evidently are: with your hair sprawled out around your head on the pillows, your nipples hard and on full display, and your chest heaving rapidly. you can feel the wet patch in your underwear.

nat leans over you and begins kissing down the expanse of your upper body. her mouth trails down the valley between your breasts, leaving the faintest marks in the places where she sucks on your skin just a little harder.

“so pretty,” nat mumbles absentmindedly, her calloused fingertips roaming your sides. they fall to your pants next. with both eyes closed and your head thrown back into the plushy pillows, you nod.

“please,” you whisper into the space between you. a space that’s yours and nat’s only. “please!”

“i got you, cheerleader,” nat says teasingly. you blink an eye open to see her staring down at you. her hands spring into action, skilled fingers unbuttoning your jeans before unzipping them and peeling them off your legs. you kick them down the edge of the bed, leaving you completely bare except for the thin, soaked fabric of your underwear. nat must see the stain on the fabric from where she’s sitting between your knees.

her palms press flat against your legs, brushing up their length until they land on the flesh of your inner thighs and nudge them apart. if she hadn’t seen your arousal before, the pleased smile on her face when her eyes land on your crotch speaks volumes.

“holy shit,” she mutters, her voice husky and low.

you want her, you realize, more than you’ve ever wanted anything else before. you want her fingers, her mouth, whatever nat is willing to give you. you tremble with the force of allowing yourself to feel this kind of want, to let it take over you without any attempts or reasons to oppress it.

“nat,”

her eyes flick up and her fingers instinctively reach for the waistline of your panties, a silent question hanging between you.

“yes!” you nod. “yes please!”

instead of taking them off right away like you had expected, nat begins kissing up your inner thighs, occasionally letting her tongue dart out to lick over your skin.

“can i…?” she husks when her nose practically nudges the crotch of your underwear.

too impatient to deprive yourself of it any longer, you hook your fingers into the hemline yourself and push them down past your knees.

nat smiles up at you softly before she lets her eyes drop to your naked form. you can feel all the places where your wetness is sticking to your thighs, the air making you hyper-aware of all the wet spots.

“god,” she groans, her fingers running through her bleach blonde hair. “look at you…” she brings her other hand up to gently spread you open and take in the sight of your body bare before her.

you spread your legs a little wider for her, gasping when nat’s thumb brushes your clit for the first time. your soft moan makes her crawl up your body, her lips meeting yours in a searing kiss to hush you, her fingers gliding through your arousal.

“nat,” you moan against her mouth. “nat, inside.”

thankfully, nat understands. your body tenses when she slides them into you with a soft moan of her own, then immediately relaxes when she smiles against your lips. you feel yourself fluttering around her as you take nat in greedily.

“good?” she breathes, motionless until you nod erratically. that’s when she begins to move.

immediately, she’s drawing obscenely wet noises from between your thighs that echo from the walls around you. you gasp at one particular good thrust against your walls, her fingers curling against a spot that causes your eyes to roll back in your head.

you moan as your head falls back against the pillows and your mouth hangs open against nat’s. you cling to her body breathlessly, reaching around her back as her fingers work themselves deeper into you.

“mhm, i know,” nat gently whispers, “i know, that’s it, i got you,”

all her praise goes straight to your cunt, sending another wave of pleasure surging through your body. your hand finds hers through the haze and you lace your fingers together. you need to feel her, need to know that she’s still there.

“you take my fingers so well,” she praises, each word accompanied by another thrust. you nod once again, her voice sending you spiraling and gushing more arousal all over her fingers.

“i’m gonna put my mouth on you now, is that okay?” she asks.

“yeah!” you instantly assure, eyes turning to the ceiling above, mentally bracing yourself for the sensation of her lips and tongue on your pussy. “yeah, please!”

she doesn’t kiss your body as thoroughly this time for the sake of reaching her destination faster: only brushes her lips over your stomach briefly before getting comfortable between your spread legs.

your hands curl up in her hair tightly in anticipation and nat hums in response before her mouth closes around your clit and sucks. nothing could’ve ever prepared you for the actual feeling of nat scatorccio's mouth.

you can see her eyes through her sweaty bangs, catch the way they roll back in head at the first taste of you.

“oh, nat!” you moan, louder than you should, but neither of you cares. you arch your back off the soft sheets, grinding yourself against nat’s broad tongue until you feel your stomach coiling and tightening in pleasure. there’s an unrelenting tension building up there, one that’s just waiting to snap. she lets you chase your orgasm, allows you to move however you please.

“are you close?” nat murmurs against you, her fingers sliding back into your cunt so suddenly you shudder. it seems harder for her to thrust into you now, with your walls tightening around the digits.

“i think so” you manage breathlessly.

nat, spurred out by this, doubles her efforts and dives right back in, flicking your clit with her tongue and curling her fingers against your g-spot. it’s so much. it’s not nearly enough. it’s perfect.

nat sends you over the edge in mere seconds.

“that’s it,” you hear her praising.

with a cry of nat's name, you cum against the feeling of her mouth and fingers. you can still sense her voice talking you through it, but it feels distant with the pleasure rushing through your veins.

her hand squeezes yours through the orgasm, grounding you as you tremble with pleasure. not once does she take her eyes off you as you ride out the waves of your height.

only when your body stops shaking, nat pulls out, clearly not wanting to push you to a point of overstimulation. someday, you think to yourself, you might ask her to. but not tonight. tonight you want to enjoy the new experience with her and the tenderness of nat’s touch.

the next time you open your heavy lidded eyes, nat is lingering above you. she’s watching you recover through wide, curious eyes.

“hi,” she whispers when she notices.

“hi,” you chuckle, still breathless.

“was that…” nat trails off, biting her lips. “okay?”

instead of a verbal response, you cup her cheeks and crane your neck to gently kiss her lips. you can taste yourself on them and have to fight back the urge to lick your arousal from nat’s mouth.

“more than okay,” you whisper then.

you’re spinning her around before you know it, kissing nat with newfound determination as you press her into the mattress.

there’s a long night ahead of you.

the room is dim now, the only light coming from the soft glow of the streetlight outside. nat is perched on the windowsill, the cool night air blowing in through the open window. she exhales smoke, the grey tendrils curling lazily in the air before disappearing into the darkness, and you watch her.

“can i ask you something?” nat’s voice is soft, her eyes lingering on the street outside.

you nod, drawing your legs closer to your chest you as you sit beside her. “of course,”

she turns to you, a hint of vulnerability in her eyes. “what does this…what does it all mean for us? i mean, after everything with your ex, i want to be sure, you know? i don’t want you to feel like you have to rush into anything or that i’m, like, pressuring you,”

you can tell nat is trying to be careful for your sake, but it’s obvious her mind is already on what’s next. you want to reassure her, to let her know this is what you want, something that feels right in a way nothing ever did with your ex.

“nat,” you begin “it’s okay. i do want this. i want you. i’m not going anywhere!”

she blinks at you, her gaze softening as the words settle between you two. she takes a slow drag from her cigarette, letting the smoke drift out of her mouth with a sigh. then, she sets it aside on the sill, her fingers tracing a light path along the window frame.

“i just want to make sure I’m doing this right,” she murmurs. “i mean, i kinda jumped into it with you. and, look, i’ve never really been one for...all of this, you know? i want to take my time with you. show you that i want this!”

your eyes widen just slightly, a smile tugging at your lips. “you want to take your time with me?”

nat looks away for a second, clearly flustered. “i know, i know. it sounds fucking ridiculous, but…yeah. i do. i’ve never really done this right with anyone before, and i want us to take this slow!” she glances back at you. “not because i don’t want you! god, i do! it's cause i really do want to…swoon you properly”

you laugh, a light sound, your heart swelling with affection. “you’re really something, you know that?”

“a hopeless romantic,” she jokes, but you can tell there’s none of her usual sarcasm behind it.

you pull nat a little closer, your fingers brushing against her hand. “i’d love that,” you whisper, meeting her eyes. “i’d love for you to…” you grin, making a vague gesture. “swoon me”

before she can say anything else, you kiss her. it’s slow, sweet, the kind of kiss that feels like it could go on forever if you wanted it to. eventually, you do have to pull away to catch your breath.

“i’m not going anywhere either,” you assure. “take all the time you need, nat. i’m right here!”

she grins, a little sheepish but undeniably happy, and leans in to kiss you again, this time with more certainty, more trust.

“deal,” she murmurs. “but, for the record, i do want to be your girlfriend. if that’s…something you want, too?”

just when you thought this evening couldn’t get any better...

“yeah” you confirm, smiling so widely your cheeks ache from it. “that is something i want,”

weeks later…

the air is warm, bordering on too hot, a hint of summer heat creeping into the car despite the ac as the engine hums quietly. the smell of fresh grass and the distant sound of chatter from the graduation ceremony echo outside, but inside, it’s just the two of you.

you and nat are in the backseat, both of you in your graduation gowns, caps discarded carelessly on the passenger seat. the gowns, those stiff, awkward, and uncomfortable outfits, are crumpled around your bodies as you make out.

your girlfriend’s lips are warm against your own, her hand tangled in your hair as she urges you against herself. her laughter vibrates against your mouth, and you break the kiss just enough to look at her, eyes practically sparkling with mischief.

“we’re going to be late,” nat murmurs between soft kisses down your neck, her voice teasing. “they’ll be looking for us, and then we’ll be arrested for public indecency!”

you laugh, a soft, breathless noise that blends with the hum of the engine, and shake your head. “who cares?” you press your lips against hers again. “i’d rather be here with you!”

nat grins, a little breathless herself now. “yeah, me too.” she leans in again, but pulls back just as quickly, glancing at the clock on the dashboard. “we’re literally getting our diplomas in, like, 10 minutes. and we’re in the back of my car, making out. that doesn’t exactly scream ‘responsible graduates,’ does it?”

you both burst into laughter, the sound of it filling the space of her car. “let’s just skip the ceremony and do this all day,” you tease, your fingers brushing over her gown, feeling the fabric slide beneath your touch.

nat laughs again, pulling away to look at you with that same fond, playful expression she always has when she’s teasing you. “we could,” she says, “but i think the others might kill us!”

you chuckle, then glance out the window briefly. the ceremony is happening just outside the school, with enough room for all your classmates to gather for one final moment together.

you know this is it: this is a chapter closing. but for now, it doesn’t matter. all that matters is this moment. with nat and the heat of summer beginning to settle in around you.

her fingers brush your cheek, pulling your focus back to her. “we should really get out there,” she says, though there’s no real urgency in her tone. it’s clear that she wants to stay here with you just as much as you do too.

“i know,” you reply softly. then, after a pause, you add: “in a second!”

“in a second,” nat parrots, her voice full of affection. “just a few more minutes…then we can go face the world together, as graduates, yeah?”

you nod, your heart racing as her tongue briefly slips past your lips, deepening the kiss. her hand cups your cheek and her thumb brushes your skin, the free one creeping up beneath your gown, pushing your bra up and…

suddenly, there’s a loud knock on the window.

you both freeze, breaking apart so fast that nat accidentally bumps her head against the roof of the car. “shit!” she mutters, rubbing the back of her head as you whip your gaze toward the window.

outside, van is standing with a huge grin, tapping the glass with her knuckles. the rest of the team is waiting right behind her, all of them smirking knowingly.

“hey, lovebirds!” she calls, loud enough to make sure you both hear through the glass. she leans down so her face is level with the window, cupping her hands to block out the glare of the sun. “you two realize we can see you, right?” she says. “pretty sure the rest of the parking lot can too!”

nat groans, dragging a hand over her face while you stifle a laugh. she opens the door and climbs out, glaring half-heartedly at van. “ever heard of knocking quietly?” she grumbles.

“oh, i did,” van replies, her grin widening. “you just didn’t notice. wonder why…”

nat flips her off, more playful than anything. “you’re so annoying!”

“yeah, yeah.” van waves her off, completely unbothered. “let’s go, casanova!”

you climb out after nat, smoothing your gown and trying not to blush too hard under the knowing smirks of the yellowjackets gathered around.

jackie and shauna have their arms looped casually around each other as they exchange a look. “about time,” jackie says. “thought we’d have to drag you two out ourselves!”

nat snorts. “i don’t think either of you could’ve managed that!”

“don’t tempt us,” shauna fires back with a grin. “we’ve wrestled worse!”

“anyway,” taissa cuts in, grinning as she straightens the yellow sash draped over her blue gown. “can we get moving before we miss the ceremony?”

nat mutters something under her breath as she adjusts her own gown. you glance down, realizing the fabric is slightly askew where it had bunched up in the car.

“here, let me-” you step in closer, smoothing out the material over her shoulder and down her arm. your hands linger a second longer than necessary, and when you look up, nat’s gaze is soft.

van groans loudly, dragging out the sound and snapping you out of it. “oh my god, you two. we get it! you’re gross and in love! can we please go now?”

nat ignores her this time, grabbing your hand and intertwining your fingers together under the loose fabric of the gown sleeves as she tugs you toward the others.

by the time you reach the staging area, you've all settled into an easy hum of excitement. parents and relatives of your classmates chatter nearby, camera flashes going off as the graduates start lining up.

nat pulls you aside, letting the others shuffle ahead for a moment.

“everything okay?” you ask, your voice low.

she hesitates, glancing at the bustling staging area where the rest of the yellowjackets have gathered. then her eyes return to yours. “yeah, it’s just…this is it, huh?”

you tilt your head, smiling softly. “graduation?”

“no, i mean…this. us. life after this,” she says, her voice dipping quieter. “it’s all gonna change!”

your chest tightens at her words. things with you have been going well these past weeks. great even. life after graduation had been something you always purposefully avoided. you didn’t want to ruin your last weeks of this by worrying about what would come after.

now, before you can let the thought spiral, nat squeezes your hand. “not in a bad way,” she says. “i just…i want you to know, whatever happens now, wherever we end up, you’re it for me. you know that, right?”

it’s such a simple thing, the way she says it, but it hits you like the sweetest punch to the gut. you smile at her, your chest full of a warmth you can’t quite describe. “you’re it for me too, nat,”

before you can process what’s happening, the words tumble out of nat. “god, i love you!”

it’s barely above a whisper, but it’s there: raw and real and so perfectly nat. your heart skips a beat, your eyes widening as the weight of her confession sinks in.

she freezes, clearly realizing what she’s just said. “i- i mean-” she stammers, her cheeks flushing as she starts to backtrack. “you totally don’t have to say it back or anything! i just-“

“i love you too!” your voice cuts off her rambling. relief washes over her face, and she lets out a breathy laugh. “you do?” nat asks, like she’s scared she misheard.

you nod, stepping closer until the space between you is nearly nonexistent. “yeah, nat, i do”

she grins, her hands coming up to hold your face as she leans in. you kiss her back just as eagerly, forgetting for a moment that you’re supposed to be at graduation, that there’s a whole crowd of people right around the corner.

only the sound of a camera click jolts you both back to reality. you pull apart, turning to see jackie standing a few feet away with a polaroid camera in hand and a smug grin on her face.

“oh, come on!” nat groans, her hands falling from your face as jackie waves the photo in the air.

“this is going on the fridge,” she teases, holding it just out of reach.

“give it back!” you protest, laughter bubbling out of you as nat starts toward her. “come and get it!” jackie taunts, taking off toward the rest of the group.

you glance at nat, who’s already chasing after her. without thinking, you follow.

van watches the scene unfold, shaking her head with a grin. “they’re never gonna make it on time,” she says.

“totally worth it,” taissa replies, smirking as you and nat disappear into the crowd after jackie.

somewhere across the field, the cheer squad is frantically fixing their hair and makeup, their voices filled with nervous chatter. you don’t even notice. for the first time in what feels like forever, they’re the furthest thing from your mind.

the only thing you can think about is nat: her laughter, her smile, and the way her hand feels in yours as you chase after jackie.

and as you run, breathless and alive, you realize that all of this was supposed to happen. that you are exactly where you're meant to be.

— a/n: thank you all so much for reading! this was my first actual fic “series” with multiple chapters, so i hope i did a decent job covering everything 🐉 anon requested!! i appreciate your support & feedback so so much! thank you, thank you, thank you!! <3 (also the last sentence might be a chapter 1 reference…)

#˙💌 ̟ !! ─ my works #nat scatorccio #nat scatorccio x reader #nat scatorccio x female reader #nat scatorccio x fem!reader #nat scatorccio x you #yellowjackets #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets x you #yellowjackets x female reader #˙🔞 ̟ !! mdni

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slayfics · 3 months ago

Text

You make Hawks a coffee.

900 words

Keigo watched from your balcony as you sauntered around your kitchen and living room. Tending to various tasks, while scrolling idly on your phone in between.

It occurred to him this was stalking but he couldn’t bring himself to knock and announce his presence yet. Even though he was on a short schedule he lingered a few more moments watching you.

It was captivating to see you in your house clothes, being a regular citizen. It was such a contrast to the hero you were to the public.

Feeling the moment was becoming too intimate he knocked on the glass, causing you to jump and turn your attention to the balcony.

Keigo threw his hand up in a wave, his signature “Heyo,” recognizable even through the glass that muted his voice.

You slide the baloney door open allowing Keigo to come inside. Before you could even ask, he was explaining his unexpected visit.

“Didn’t mean to startle you, I just need to pop in really quick to ask your help with something,” he announced.

You looked him over still startled and confused. He wasn’t in his hero costume, just a plain white shirt and comfy joggers.

“Yeah of course, what do you need?” You asked your surprise wearing off but interest peaking.

Keigo sat down on your couch as you eyed him expectantly.

“That villain we ran into yesterday, could you tell me what he looked like?” Keigo asked.

Your head tilted in curiosity, arms crossed, “Uh yeah, but you were there, you saw him too. Is everything ok?” You replied, wondering why Keigo would need your description of the villain.

“I know, I’m just trying to make sure I have all the accurate information. Still working to track them down, so anything helps.” He explained further, gold eyes locked onto yours.

“Sure,” you agreed looking over him again. This time you noticed how exhausted he looked. Dark circles formed under his eyes, and the whites of his eyes were plagued with redness. It was plain to see he had been straining himself. “Well, the villain was pretty average-looking. I’m not surprised you’re having trouble. They had black hair, brown eyes, and an average height of probably 171cm… Oh! But they did have a scar on their nose, it looked like it had been broken before,” you recalled.

Keigo flung his face into his hands, “Why didn’t I notice that,” he called out frustrated. Running his hands over his face. The redness in his eyes grew with exasperation.

“There was a lot going on in that encounter-,” you tried to rationalize with him, but he quickly cut you off.

“I’m fast enough to observe everything in a fight, I shouldn’t have missed that detail. I could have tracked him down by now if I was more alert.” He said sternly.

“Hawks, it hasn’t even been 24 hours since that happened.” You argued.

“That’s way too long. Who knows what damage they could have done by now. Who else they could have hurt. Alright, I’m off, thanks for the help.” He said standing up from the couch.

“Wait!” You called out before he could make it back to the balcony.

“Hm?” He hummed, turning around.

“Have you been taking care of yourself?” You asked softly.

“Don’t be ridiculous I’m fine. No need to worry about me,” he said with his signature smile. But it didn’t shine the way it used to, and the stress he was under was all too apparent.

“Keigo, you need to rest.” You said more authoritatively, daring to use his first name even though he completely outranked you.

His smile vanished and his eyes squinted piercing through you, but he didn’t scold you. “I told you I’m fine.” He said dryly.

“You’re not fooling anyone. You’ve been taking on too much."

“Hey if I don’t who will. Besides, this is lightweight. Just for a few more things to finish up on and I’ll be done for the night,” he said dismissing your concern.

“You haven’t slept since that encounter yesterday, have you?” You questioned.

Keigo let out a sigh, “I’m sorry but I don’t have time for this,” he said sliding the balcony open.

“You’re pushing yourself too hard. I understand people need you, but that’s exactly why you have to take care of yourself. You can’t keep this pace up without collapsing soon,” you said following him out to the balcony, stretching out his wings and preparing to leave.

Keigo looked at the ground processing your words before speaking, “I know…,” he admitted quietly. “I promise I’ll rest after I get this villain alright? I can’t rest when there’s a job to do.”

You huffed unsatisfied with his answer, “Fine. I understand… but at least let me make you a coffee first? I can make it sweet.” You said trying to entice him.

Keigo smiled, “Alright fine. You make it hard to say no. But I got to take it to go, ok?”

“You got it, come sit down inside while I make it,” you suggested, walking back inside.

It wasn’t much, but you got Keigo to sit on the couch for a moment while you made him up a coffee in one of your tumblers. Deciding that getting the hero who moves too fast for his own good to relax for one moment was a win enough.

sinners: @unofficialsapphire @mintsbubbletea @starieqqq

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samanthacastano02 · 16 days ago

Text

Minsung - Hold My Hand Pt1 (18+)

Han Jisung x FemReader x Lee Know

Warnings: Smut, PnV, Threesome, Established relationship, Safeword used, DomLeeKnow, DomHan, SubReader, Oral (FemRec), Fingering, Cursing, Angst, Rough Sex, Unprotected sex, probably more (I wrote this after an 8 hour shift at work, so I am sorry if it’s not my best work, later this week when I have time I’m going to go back and rewrite and edit it, when I’m not exhausted)

Minsung - Hold My Hand Pt2 (18+)

MDNI 18+

Word Count: 4.5k

Summary: You unknowingly make a mistake that pisses off your boyfriends Han and Minho, but also turns them on to no end. Han can’t do anything about it at first so he leaves you to Minho, but when Han gets home, things get rougher than intended and things go wrong.

Photos not mine, credits go to photographers

I had spent the day in the studio with the boys, it was my day off and both Jisung and Minho had asked if I wanted to spend the day with them. Throughout the entire day both boys seemed to be on edge, and for the life of me I couldn’t figure out why and no matter how many times I asked them what was wrong they told me to drop it. It kept nagging me but I did what they asked and dropped it because I didn’t want to make the day even more difficult for them because it was a recording day for them. The rest of the boys also seemed to have no idea as to why both Jisung and Minho were on edge, which didn’t help my nerves. Finally they stopped for lunch and Minho grumpily stomped over to me, tossing his hoodie to me. I wasn’t cold but I figured that something about my outfit made them upset so I didn’t question him and slipped it on before following them down to the dining hall that the JYP building had.

Throughout the rest of the day I kept Minho’s hoodie on, but that still didn’t seem to make Minho or Jisung happy. I sadly couldn’t confront them until we got home because only the members of Stray Kids and their team knew about our relationship, everyone agreed that it would be best for now to keep the relationship secret until they could come up with a way to announce it where it wouldn’t cause backlash for the three of us since it was considered unconventional. When Minho had finished recording all of his lines for the day, Jisung must have either said something to him or texted him because he was pulling me up and dragging me out of the room and down to our car that we had taken this morning. As he dragged me, he didn’t let up on his pace, causing me to have to lightly jog behind him.

“Min, please slow down. I can’t keep up.” I try to tug on his hand to get him to slow down but he doesn’t slow down. He continues to walk quickly and ignores my pleas for him to slow down.

It’s a nice break for my legs once we get to the car, I can’t tell what’s wrong by looking at his face. His face is void of emotion, it’s unsettling to me because I have never seen him like this. I don’t know what I did to cause him and Jisung to get upset, but whatever it was I didn’t mean to. As he drives, his hand is on my thigh, kneading the skin not gently but also not enough that it hurts a lot. I try to put my hand on his hand, as a sign of comfort but when I look at him, he shakes his head no and I immediately know to take my hand away. He doesn’t glance over at me like he normally would, it worries me that something is seriously wrong and that this relationship is in serious jeopardy.

When we arrived at my apartment, the place the three of us had been staying so as to stay out of the eyes of the public and give the boys a break from the constant flirting and bedroom activities, he dragged me out of the car and up to my floor. The moment we got into my apartment and the door was shut he was shoving me against the door, his lips attached to mine. The kiss caught me off guard, I was expecting him to get angry and yell at me, for what I didn’t know. I decided to allow myself to indulge and deepen the kiss, I wrap my arms around his neck. I feel his hands tap my thighs, hinting that he wants me to jump. I do as he wants and jump, wrapping my legs around his waist, he pushes me against the door even more, but I know that he wont drop me.

“Min, what’s happening?” I question when he moves his kisses down to my neck.

“You think that you can get away with what you did today by playing innocent?” “But Min, I truly don’t know what I did? Whatever it was, I’m sorry.” “Lies, it’d do you best to be honest and admit that you did it on purpose.” “But I truly don’t know.”

“Am I going to have to spell it out?” “Yes, because I don’t know what happened, what I did to make you and Sungie upset.” “Wearing that perfume, and that shirt.” “What perfume and what shirt?” “The pheromone perfume we got you for your birthday and the shirt that we got you, that you agreed to only wear when you were free to use.” “What! But that shirt is black, the one I’m wearing is white? And the perfume, I was in a rush this morning. I wasn't looking. I’m sorry.” I say as he grinds his hips on me.

“No Jagi, that shirt isn’t black. It was white, with your favorite flower on it.” “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s too late for sorry now Jagi.” he says as he turns to carry me into the bedroom. I know where this is going and I don’t know whether to be scared or excited.

“Minho, I’m serious, I didn't mean to.” I say as he drops me onto the bed.

He doesn’t say anything, instead he crawls over top of me, kissing up to my lips. When his lips meet mine again, there’s that same frenzy from before but there’s also something different now that I can’t place. I decided to not dwell on it and allow myself to enjoy the feeling of his lips on mine. I know that Jisung will soon come home and I don’t know what that will do to our current dynamic.

“You decided to tease us, whether that was knowingly or unknowingly, so I’m going to deal with this. That ok, princess?” He asks as he grinds his erection on me. I don’t answer him verbally, I just nod at him.

He begins to kiss down my neck again, I can feel him grip the bottom of my shirt and tug at it. I sit up slightly so that he can tug it off. He throws it across the room, for once not even caring where it lands, he usually cares about keeping the room clean. Before I could lie back down he unhooked my bra, tugging it off as well and throwing it in the same direction as my shirt. His lips leave my neck and work down to the top of my breast, I close my eyes and allow myself to fully feel the pleasure that he is bringing me, even if it’s just kissing me. I soon feel his lips wrap around my nipple, while his other hand moves up to twist and tug on my other nipple, not wanting to ignore it. After a while, he kisses his way over to my other nipple and begins to give it the same attention. He knew that my nipples were sensitive, even just to touch. When he deems that he has given both of my nipples enough attention, he kisses his way down to the tops of my pants. He looks up at me, silently asking for permission to take them off, when I nod I expect him to just take my pants off but he takes off both my pants and my panties.

As he pulls off my panties, he leaves kisses on my thighs. He starts at my knees and kisses back up to the apex of my thighs. I expect him to tease me but he immediately licks a stripe up my clit, I didn’t expect him to immediately start eating me out. The man knew what to do and he was good at it, I was already seeing stars and he had just started. The man ate me out like a man starved, like it was his last meal, like he was desperate. One thing about Minho was that he loved to overstimulate me, and he knew the best way to do that was by eating me out and using his fingers. The pleasure that he was bringing me caused my brain to go blank, forgetting about the outside world, the reason why I was in this predicament in the first place. I feel his tongue on my clit and his right hand snake its way between my thighs while his left hand snakes its way up to my breast, squeezing it and rolling my nipple between his thumb and pointer finger. He’s being unusually soft with me, both him and Jisung are dominant, liking to be rough with me and each other. I don’t think anything of it, to focused on the pleasure that his tongue and fingers are bringing me, his fingers are hitting the perfect spot inside of me. I can feel the coil tightening, getting closer and closer to my release. He sucks my clit into his mouth harder and it sends me over the edge, I cry out his name shaking as he continues to eat me out and piston his fingers in and out of me.

He barely lets me come down before he’s picking up the pace of his hand again, he knows that once I’ve come once it’s extremely easy to make me finish again. I can feel the coil tightening again, the overstimulation becoming too much but I know that I can still handle it so I allow the pleasure to take over me again, finally after I come down from my second orgasm he gives me a slight break while he removes his clothes. I try my best to catch my breath as I take in the view of him, naked in front of me. No matter how many times I see him like this, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it. He turns towards me again and begins to crawl over me, kissing his way up to my lips, I can feel his cock pressing against me as his lips meet mine but he doesn’t push in. I know he won't until I tell him that it’s ok to do so, I wrap my legs around him and try to tug him into me but he holds steady, not until I verbally tell him that it’s ok.

“Min, please. Please, I want this.” I pleaded with him.

“Ok Jagi, but I’m not going to go easy on you.”

“I don’t want you to. Just please do something.”

With me giving him permission, he pushes into me. He groans into my ear as I let out an obscene moan, one that I didn’t actually think I could make. He slowly pushed his way into me, allowing me to adjust to him. His cock is impressive, both in length and girth, the stretch hurts so good. When he bottoms out, he sits there for a few seconds before he pulls back, pulling his cock out until just the tip was still in me. He pushes back into me roughly, pushing the air out of my lungs. I couldn’t form any coherent sentences, only broken words and moans fell from my lips. I clung to him, my arms went around his neck, his powerful thrusts rocking me and shuffling me up the bed. I was so far gone in pleasure that I didn’t hear Jisung finally come home, but I felt Minho pull his face away from my neck and look at the bedroom door.

“What number of orgasms is she on?” Jisung asked as he quickly removed his clothes, as if he knew this was what would be happening when he got home.

“Working on number three.” Minho moaned out after a particularly rough thrust

“Perfect, she stretched out good?” He asks Minho as his hand moves to my breast, playing with my nipple.

“She’s ready for you after this orgasm.” Minho moans as he continues to thrust into me, moving his head back to my neck. Sucking love bites up and down my neck, my arms tighten as I get closer.

“Perfect.”

I’m so lost in pleasure that I can’t even warn Minho when my orgasm crashes over me, I let out a guttural moan and dig my fingers into Minho's back. With my third orgasm crashing over me Minho picks up his pace and thrusts into me harder, extending my pleasure. After a few more thrusts I can feel him finish, his hot cum sending me into yet another orgasm, making it my fourth. While it wasn’t as strong as my first three it was still pleasurable and took me time to come down from. When I came down, I could feel Minho brushing my hair from my forehead, looking at me to see if I was ok. I gave him a weak smile before looking over at Jisung. As I look at Jisung, I can feel Minho pull out of me which pulls a weak whimper from me, the two boys switch places. Jisung now between my legs and Minho up by my head, I don’t even get a warning from Jisung as he thrusts into me.

“Sungie, slow down. She’s already sensitive.” Minho tries to get him to slow down a little, when he notices that he didn’t give me a chance to adjust.

“She can take it, can’t you baby?” Jisung asks as he continues to thrust hard into me, due to the overstimulation I’m already close to another orgasm. I don’t get a chance to answer him when my orgasm crashes over me, I moan out his name.

“Good fucking girl, squeezing me so tight.” Jisung says as he continues to thrust into me, tears now streaming down my cheeks from the stimulation. He wraps his hand around my throat, not tight enough to fully cut off oxygen. When he feels me stop clenching around him, he pulls out of me and flips me onto my stomach, shoving my face into the sheets and thrusting into my hard. I let out a mix between a moan and a cry.

“My good little cum slut, huh. That’s all you're good for, just a cum dump.” I don’t know what to feel about how he’s talking to me. He’s never spoken to me this way before, Minho has but never Jisung. He’s always been the softer of the two, his switch up shocking both you and Minho. Minho reaches for you, but before he can Jisung grips your hair and pulls you up.

“Come on baby, tell me. Are you my little cum slut?” He asks as he seems to thrust even harder into me, I don’t know if it’s the overstimulation or the words that he’s saying to me but I begin to cry even harder. Wondering if this is what he actually thinks about me, does he actually think that this is all I’m good for, just a cum dump, a hole to use?

“Jisung, slow down. Take it easy, you're going hard on her.” Minho tries to get Jisung to slow down but it’s like he can’t hear him, he doesn’t even respond.

“Sungie, please. Slow down.” I try, not as loud as Minho, taking a lot of energy to get the sentence out. He ignores me, seeming to thrust even harder now. I begin to panic, the moment no longer becoming pleasurable but before I can think about it I can feel my 5th orgasm crash over me.

Everything becomes too much, I can feel Minho by my head trying to be a focal point of comfort for me, pulling my attention from Jisung but it doesn’t help. I’m now in my head, thinking that maybe this is truly how Jisung actually thinks about me, that I’m nothing but a slut to him, a cum dump. It breaks me and I begin to cry even harder. I try to muster up the strength to utter my safe word but I can barely speak because I am crying so hard. I look over to Minho but his eyes are trained on Jisung, I can see the questions going through his eyes. Finally I muster up just enough energy to mutter out my safe word.

“R-r-red.” I say barely above a whisper, it’s loud enough for Minho to hear but it’s like Jisung doesn’t hear.

“Jisung, she said red.” Minho grunts out, but Jisung still doesn’t listen, I sob harder. Minho decides that he’s taking things into his own hands and pulls Jisung off himself. That seems to snap Jisung out of whatever trans he was in.

His eyes widen in shock when he finally takes in his surroundings, he looks at me, seeing me curled up in a ball by the head of the bed sobbing. Looking between Minho and I, I can see that Jisung is processing what just happened, as the tears well in his eyes realizing that if Minho hadn’t been here, things could have gone way differently. I hear a thump and turn to see Sungie on the floor, I can tell that he’s now panicking. I look at Minho and I can see he’s stuck between wanting to help me and helping Sungie, even after what happened, I don’t want Jisung to panic.

“Min, g-get me a b-blanket, a-a-and t-then help Hannie.” I make the decision for Minho.

“Are you sure, will you be ok for a few minutes until I get him calmed down?”

“Y-yes, I-I’ll b-be ok. W-we d-don’t n-need h-him p-passing out.” I hiccup as I finally stop sobbing

Minho’s POV:

I worry about leaving y/n in the bedroom, but I know she’s right. If I don’t calm Han down, he’ll panic to the point that he passes out. I grab both him and I some fresh underwear so that we aren’t sitting out in the living room naked. I grab Han and pull him into the living room, pushing him onto the couch before kneeling down in front of him and slipping on his underwear. I pull him up enough to pull them all the way up. He flops back down, crying hard while I slip my own on. I want to be angry about the fact that he didn’t listen to her safe word, and I am but there has to be a reason as to why it seemed like he couldn’t hear her.

“What the hell happened, Jisung?”

“I-I don’t know, I-I’m so sorry. I-it was like I-I wasn’t in control of m-my own body.” “Han, if I wasn’t here-” jisung cuts me off before I can finish my sentence.

“Please, I don’t even want to think about that. I could have seriously hurt her.” “I’m not going to say that you couldn’t have because you could have. Were you angry?”

“I think so? Recording didn’t go as well after you guys left and then the outfit and perfume didn’t help.” “You can’t bring home those issues, and if you do you cannot take them out in the bedroom.” “I know, god Minho she must hate me, she looked so broken.”

“I need to check on her, but I also need to make sure that you’ll be ok while I do?”

“I’ll be fine. Just please, make sure that she’s ok.” he begs me, still slightly crying

“I’ll be right back, ok?”

Han nods at me and then I get up, walking back into the bedroom. I find y/n laying where I left her under the fluffy blanket. I can see that she’s still shaking and shivering, I don’t know if she’s shaking because she’s crying or because she’s in subspace. That thought scares me so I rush over to her, I climb onto the bed and see that she’s crying. It breaks my heart that she’s crying this hard, I know she’s still scared and probably confused.

“Baby, are you ok?” I ask her softly.

“I-is he mad at me?” That question confuses me.

“Why on earth would he be mad at you?” “I-I ruined the mood.” “Love, you did not ruin the mood. And he’s not mad at you, he’s worried but not mad. He’s mad at himself for not hearing you.”

“Does he really think those things about me?” She asks as she snuggles into my side, seeking comfort in my arms

“What things, love?” “That I’m … a slut, a cum dump, a hole, good for nothing but cum.” “God no, baby. Of course he doesn’t think those things about you. He was in his head, some stuff happened at the studio and he was angry and he wrongly took it out on you. And he is so sorry for that.”

“C-could h-he come i-in here?”

“Lovie, we need to get you cleaned up.”

“Could he take a bath with me? I-I think that we b-both c-could u-use it.” “Let me go ask him, see if he’s ok with that.”

I tuck the blanket back around her, slightly surprised that she wants to be slightly intimate again. Even if it isn’t sexual, but if it’s what she wants I won’t deny her. I look back at her and can’t help but think about how adorable she looks. My heart swells with love, both for her and Han.

“Han, love. I have a question for you.” “Yea?”

“Y/nnie wants your help taking a bath while I change the sheets.” I can see his face pale.

“W-what? W-why me, after w-what just happened.” “Baby, she wants your comfort. She thinks that both of you need it. And I don’t think she’ll be ok with you saying no.” “Does she really want my help?” Before I can answer him, we both hear y/n yell from the bedroom.

“Sungie, get your ass in here and help me. Please.” We both chuckle, talk about comedic timing.

Jisung’s POV:

I hesitantly stand up, heading back into the bedroom. When I enter, I find y/n lying down wrapped in a fuzzy blanket. I can see the exhaustion in her eyes, but she looks at me and smiles slightly. Like she’s trying to reassure me that it’s ok, that she’s ok when it should be me reassuring her that it’s ok. It makes me feel guilty, I can feel tears coming back, but I quickly blink them away not wanting to cry in front of her. I slowly walk towards her, stopping just in front of her, I sit down on the bed next to her. I don’t reach out for her and she doesn’t reach out for me, there is an awkward air between us and I don’t know how to fix this. I can see that she is hesitant and I can see the lingering fear, it breaks my heart to know that I’m the one that caused this fear in her. I’m one of the people that should protect her, not hurt her and tonight I hurt her. I hesitantly reach out for her and look at her, silently asking for permission to touch her. She slowly nods at me and I gently pick her up.

“Jagi, I cannot begin to explain to you how sorry I am.” I begin as I turn to carry her into the on suite bathroom. She surprised me by burying her face into my neck, giving it a gentle kiss.

“Sungie, I know you are sorry. I forgive you but do not let it happen again.” “I promise I will never let it happen again, I never want to hurt you that way again.” I respond to her as I set her on the counter, turning to the bathtub, filling it up with warm water and a bubble bath.

She doesn’t respond, rather opting to watch as I move around the bathroom, getting everything set up for the bath. I struggle to look at her, seeing the slight shake in her body still, knowing that I am the cause of it and it’s not a good shake. In the past Minho and I have caused her to shake from pleasure, even cry from pleasure but never like this. I shake my head to clear the thoughts from my head, not wanting to dwell on what happened. Once the bath is ready, I take off my underwear and pick up y/n, stepping into the bath, lowering both of us into the warm water together. She relaxes back into my chest, humming at the warmth, it makes me smile. I don’t know how long we lay in the bath, relaxing with each other, but it’s long enough that Minho decides to come and check on us. Long enough that we realize that the bath water is no longer warm and that it’s time to get out, I gesture Minho over. He comes over with a towel for y/n, I stand up before gently lifting her up and helping Minho wrap the towel around her. Minho leads her out into the bedroom while I step out of the tub and drain it, before I follow them. When I get out into the bedroom I see that Minho is toweling y/n off, I think quickly, getting slightly possessive and run and grab one of my shirts. I bring it over for him to slip over her head once she is dry enough, when he notices who’s shirt it is, he quirked an eyebrow.

“Really?” he questions me.

“What, she needed a shirt.” I responded cheekily.

“You’re a goof, get dressed, lovie.” he taps my ass before pushing me towards the closet

I listen and rush to the closet, grabbing myself a tank top but deciding that I don’t want to wear a shirt so I grab the pair of underwear that Minho had grabbed me earlier, slipping them on before walking out of the closet. Minho doesn’t seem to question it as we all slip into bed for the night, I can tell that he turned on the heating pad for y/n even though both he and I are walking furnaces. Y/n seems to be in the in-between state of falling asleep, not quite asleep yet, but also not fully awake. She turns toward me, noticing my tattoo, and begins to lightly trace it with her finger. I don’t stop her even though it tickles, I know that it calms her, she tends to do it every night before we fall asleep. I know that things aren’t completely ok, but things will slowly get back to being ok, that trust wasn’t completely ruined. I know Minho is hesitant to allow her and I time alone again, but we can work up to that again. He looks over at us, putting his phone down and wrapping his arm around her, while resting it on my stomach rubbing small circles. He may seem stand-offish but he shows both of us that he loves us in his own ways, and we show him in our ways.

Minsung - Hold My Hand Pt2 (18+)

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