#Whirlwind Recordings

[josephtrohman]

im having a moment rn a lot about fourth of july sorry for a personal ish post but they really wrote that song for my relationship with my ex best friend fr

[britishhiphop]

Whirlwind D and Specifik - Sambuca (Live) 21/10/2024 [Video]

Another live performance of Sambuca by Whirlwind D and Specifik. This time it is from 1865, Southampton (21.10.24) where they were supporting Cappadonna (Wu Tang Clan) on his UK tour alongside Verb T, Born To Rock B Boys, Dept 9, Malek Winter and Roux Phoenix. Sambuca is taken from the brand new Whirlwind D album ‘Libra‘. Written by: Whirlwind DProduced by: SpecifikCuts by: Djar OneLive cuts…

[tonycries]

Government Hooker - T.F.

Synopsis. With the fame and glory of being an international popstar comes the inevitable threat of an overzealous stalker. You just didn’t think that it would also come with a very sexy, buff bodyguard behind your every move.

Pairing. Toji Fushiguro x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, popstar! reader, bodyguard! Toji, unprotected, brat-taming, spanking, choking, rough oral (male + female receiving), slight enemies-to-lovers, jealousy (Toji’s side), daddy kink, semi-public sex, manager! Nanami, creampie, power dynamics, dirty talk, stalking threats, TW. knife (brief), swearing.

Word count. 10.8k

A/N.  WHEWWWWWWWWW need some buff bodyguard Toji in my life. Slightly inspired by The Bodyguard. Set in the Brooklyn Babyverse.

It’s in New York that you meet Toji Fushiguro.

Pop Princess’ World Tour in Jeopardy After Stalking Threats

Dark Times for Pop Royalty: Will She Return for This Year’s Grammy Performance?

Is It Over For The International Sensation?

“Nanami, for the millionth time, do I look like I need a babysitter?” you squint at the headlines flashing across your phone screen, resisting the urge to fling it at the nearest wall. 

Sitting right in the middle of your whirlwind dressing room, you breathe in the heady air, thick with hairspray and anticipation for the upcoming shoot. Normally, you’d preen at the stylists swarming around you - but right now, their fussing only makes it all the more difficult to drive your manager dangerously close to an aneurysm.

As expected, Nanami drones out the same rehearsed response you’ve memorized word-for-word at this point. “My apologies, but with the severity of these threats, we can’t-”

“Afford to take any chances, I know I know.” Still, heart sinking, you scoff, “I understand, but 24/7 surveillance is insane. Can’t I have any-”

Bang!

To your chagrin - and perhaps Nanami’s mercy - the door flies open with a force that rattles its hinges. 

As the bustling activity in the dressing room freezes, your eyes immediately snap to the hulking figure at the door. Expression steely and vigilant, he strides in with a presence that demands attention. You can’t help but raise a brow at his audacity - and the unreal rippling of his muscles beneath that skin-tight t-shirt. 

“Sorry to interrupt, but that blue-haired freak Mojito at the front desk told me to come here.” a low rumble sweeps the room. 

Ah, this must be the one. Gesturing your stylists away, you square your shoulders - ready for a fight. “And who might you be”

“Name’s Fushiguro Toji, your new ‘babysitter’, princess.” he declares, voice gruff and unwavering over Nanami’s tired hum of “Bodyguard, he means bodyguard”. 

You narrow your eyes, studying the pure disinterest on his face. Great, just what you needed - you didn’t claw your way to the top to be scared and controlled by some loser stalker. Tilting your head defiantly, “Hmm, you don’t look like much of a bodyguard.”

Toji’s lips twitch into a sardonic smirk, gaze meeting yours with a hint of challenge, “Mhm, and you don’t act like much of a princess.”

You could almost hear the record screech to a halt. Everyone holding their breath, eyes locked on you as an agonizing beat of silence passes, half the room on the verge of fainting.

One. Two.

A startled laugh bursts from your lips. Shattering the tension in that dressing room as swiftly as the mirror in your stylist’s hand would’ve had you remained quiet a second longer. 

The audacity of this man. No one’s ever spoken to you like that before. 

Toji’s grin widens at your unexpected reaction, that sinful little scar on his lips stretching in amusement. Some small, strange part of him satisfied at passing your invisible test.

“Well, look at that, didn’t expect ya to have a sense of humor.” he comments, tone positively dripping with sarcasm, as if toying with you.

Plastering on that painfully saccharine sweet smile usually saved for nosy interviewers, you mockingly bat your lashes. “And I didn’t expect to have a babysitter breathing down my neck.” 

“Oh don’t expect me to babysit, princess. I don’t get paid nearly enough for that. According to that hardass manager of yours, my job is to keep you safe. Whether you like it or not.” 

With a dismissive wave of your hand, you turn back to your make-up artist, clearly done with this tedious conversation. “We’ll see how long that lasts. I have a knack for losing unwanted company.”

And if there’s one thing you’ve come to learn with Toji Fushiguro, it’s that you do not have a knack for losing unwanted company. Especially not him. 

Wherever you went, Toji was there first - it didn’t matter how fast you escaped, or how many hats and masks you put on. He was everywhere.

He was there when you slipped away to swap sunglasses with a passing stranger, convinced you’d outsmarted your looming bodyguard. But your triumphant laugh caught in your throat as you heard that familiar chuckle behind you - whirling around to find him sporting your ill-fitting shades with an amused glint in his eyes.

He was there during a chaotic fashion show, where you blended seamlessly amongst the flurry backstage, hoping to escape Toji’s watchful gaze. Heart pounding, making it all the way to the elevator. You’d barely let out a breath of relief before large hands intercept the closing doors. Towering figure stepping inside with a knowing grin, “Going somewhere, princess?”

Hell, he was even there when you hatched a plan to ditch him on the tarmac of the bustling airport. Making a dash for your private plane, and settling into your plush seat with smug satisfaction. Ah, at least you’ll have a few hours of peace until Tokyo without-

“Damn, first class is nice. Must be nice to be pretty and rich.” a low whistle causes you to groan inwardly (and outwardly).

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” you mutter under your breath, at the man seated right beside you. At this point, you half expected him to be keeping guard outside as you shower.

Toji was always there. Steadfast as ever, firm chest always blocking whatever escape plan you’ve concocted. In all your years in the spotlight, you’ve never felt so frustrated. The dawning realization that there was no escape matching your slowly slipping sanity as you kick off the first stop of your world tour - Tokyo.

It’s in New York that you meet Toji Fushiguro.

It’s in Tokyo that everything changes. 

Electricity crackling in the air, deafening roars of your name in your ears - you stand center stage. This was where you belonged - where you felt alive. 

Pouring your soul into your words, stage lights dance across your skin, as frantic as the adrenaline in your veins. The crowd before you was a living, breathing entity, swept away with energy and excitement.

The music swells to a crescendo as your voice carries across the arena, limelight following you spellbound.

In the intoxicating performance, you don’t notice a pair of widened green eyes doing the same, goosebumps rising along his skin. Gaze fixed on you with an intensity that rivaled the spotlight itself. A silent reverie. 

As the final notes of your song echoed through the arena you felt a rush of euphoria wash over you. Lights dimming, you draw a long breath, savoring the crackling energy onstage. A high that left you craving for more.

With a grateful smile, you bow deeply, screams and applause reverberating in your ears like thunder. 

The cheers continue to ring in your ears as you’re whisked away, backstage buzzing with excitement and anticipation over the special guests for the VIP event. Enveloped by your team, you navigate through the labyrinthine corridors of the arena.  

You catch Toji’s eye from where he flanked your right, your brow raising ever-so-slightly as if silently asking, “C’mon, didn’t I kill it out there?” 

But before you can decipher the fleeting expression on his face, the moment is shattered by a sudden commotion up front. 

“Hey, over here! Is it true there's a stalker after you? Is it to boost album sales?”

“Can you confirm the rumors that you're cozying up with Satoru from Tokyo Special Grades? The fans want answers!”

“Hey! How do you respond to critics who call you a has-been? Come on, speak up!”

You’re barely given a second to breathe before the paparazzi descend upon you like vultures. Bodies jostling urgently as rapidfire questions and incessant flashes make you see stars behind your eyes. 

Trying to block out the swarm of questions, you close your eyes amidst the dizzying chaos, trying to find some semblance of stability.

And stability finds its way in the strong arm that wraps protectively around you, pressing you close against a sculpted chest.

Toji.

“Don’ worry, princess, I’ll get you outta here.” hot breath brushing against your ear, sending shivers creeping down your spine. 

Pulled impossible close to his muscled frame, his steady heartbeat grounds you - while yours stutters as Toji’s voice cuts through the clamor like a knife. “Back off, vultures. Show some respect or I’ll make sure ya regret it.” 

Steely gaze almost provoking - as if anyone would dare challenge the imposing, almost frightening presence in the middle of the room. The paparazzi, momentarily stunned, falter in their pursuit, allowing Toji to carve a path through the chaos.

Hands still tight around you, as you’re hastily escorted away from the chaos, you steal a glance at Toji’s profile, illuminated by the harsh flashes of the cameras. Finding some intrusive little part of you that thrills at the raw intensity, cheeks flaring in response.

He’s so warm. 

You could almost cry as those gaudy VIP doors swing open, swiftly ushering you to safety. They slam shut, sealing off the cacophony outside. In the soft lounge music wafting through the air, you’re left with the nagging awareness of Toji’s body heated against yours.

Embarrassment floods through you like a tidal wave as you register the way you’re still clinging on to him. Abruptly pushing away, you take a larger step back than was probably appropriate. 

In the dimly lit room, you couldn’t make out exactly what was twinkling in Toji’s eyes as they flicker to you. But what you could see was that amused grin curling his lips as you uncharacteristically stumble over your words, “Thank you- Uh, for the way I-”

“Princess~!” Words choke in your throat as a flash of white and blue barrels into you, sending you reeling backward. Playful laughter ringing through the air. 

“S-Satoru?” you stammer, caught off guard. Before you’ve fully recovered, he’s pulling you into a bruising hug, nearly knocking you off your feet. 

“Hey there, gorgeous,” Satoru purrs, voice velvety as he leans in. “You absolutely killed it out there tonight.”

“Oh my gosh, Satoru! I haven’t seen you in forever.” A laugh escapes your lips, though the lingering warmth from Toji’s proximity still prickles at the edges of your consciousness. “What are you even doing here?”

Satoru chuckles, gaze lingering on you, “Couldn’t miss the biggest concert in Tokyo since ours, duh.” His energy was infectious, and you find yourself smiling along. “Thank you Satoru.” 

As Satoru continues to chatter animatedly about the concert, you distinctly realize that Toji has slipped into the background. Where was he? You find your eyes darting around the room in search of his familiar presence, slowly noticing the lack of Satoru’s bandmates in the process.

Your curiosity piqued, you couldn’t resist teasing him. “So, where are the rest of Tokyo Special Grades? I thought you guys were inseparable”

He shrugs it off casually, leaning down to whisper conspiratorially “Rehearsal. Don’t let ‘em know I’m here.”

As you titter at his antics, he gives you a playful nudge, eyes twinkling with mischief. “So…since the band’s away, how about you and me grab a drink together?.”

Something heavy pools in your stomach as those familiar words ring in your ears, hanging in the air - you knew all too well what he meant. 

Skin still tingling with the lingering heat of Toji’s touch, your eyes sweep the room for him one last time. Some strange part of your heart pangs when you find that those piercing green eyes, always studying you so intently, are nowhere to be found.

“Lead the way, Satoru.”

---

The world was rocking, as were Satoru’s fingers on you. Softly tracing along your collarbone, touch searing as he pushes you against the wall of your hotel room. 

Shivers run down your spine, all the way to your heated core. Breaths mingling, a desperate hunger ignites in the air as your fingers just barely graze against the buttons of his overpriced button-up. 

Tension reaching its peak, fingers hazily fumbling with those tedious buttons-

Bang!

You both startle as the door swings open, breaking the heady atmosphere inside. Dazed, you whirl your head towards the intruder standing at the door - Toji. Seems he had a penchant for dramatic entrances. 

Toji stands in the doorway, his gaze dark and unreadable. Without a word, he strides into the room, narrowed eyes flickering between you and Satoru.

“What the hell is going on here?” Toji’s voice is low and dangerous, cutting through the tense silence hanging in the air.

Satoru tries to play it cool, though you catch his easy smirk faltering slightly, “Oh? The bodyguard, right? What brings you here, my man?”

Ignoring the question - and Satoru altogether - Toji turns to you, eyes never leaving yours. “24/7 means 24/7. As your bodyguard, I can’t permit some stranger to get too close.” he asserts.

Mind still burning with lust, you feel red-hot irritation simmering beneath your skin. Fists clenching at the tone that leaves no room for argument. 

“I don’t recall signing up for a warden.” you snap, sharp and defiant. 

Toji’s expression remains impassive, but there’s a glint of determination in his eyes. “I’m not here to argue, princess. My job here is just to keep you safe, princess.” 

You scoff, shaking your head in disbelief - this was ridiculous. “Uh, newsflash, Toji. I can take care of myself just fine.”

“You little brat-”

Before the argument can escalate further, Satoru cuts in, his voice uncharacteristically calm and conciliatory. “Hey, it's okay, man. I’ll just leave,” he says, stepping away from you and raising his hands in surrender.

You shoot Satoru a look of frustration, torn between the desire for independence and for someone to fucking make you cum, and the unsettling feeling of vulnerability that Toji’s presence somehow seems to evoke. As the door slams shut - not before a playful hum of “Call me, princess~!” - a deafening silence envelopes the room. 

The room that now feels too small. Too hot. Thighs still quivering in anticipation.

Shit. 

Mind racing, you don’t catch the way Toji’s gaze softens slightly, a hint of regret flickering in his eyes. “I’m sorry, princess. But I can’t take any chances, I’m here to protect you.” 

“Enough with this ‘princess’ crap.” Running a hand through your hair, you let out an exasperated sigh, trying desperately to quell the storm of emotions swirling uncomfortably inside you. “And protect me from what? A harmless hookup?”

“From whoever is sending those threats,” Toji growls. “Until we catch them, you’re not allowed to be alone with anyone.”

Frustration reaching a boiling point, you storm up to him. “Fine, then you can stay here and watch me 25/8 for all I care. But, what are you going to do about that?” each word punctuated by a hard poke to his sculpted chest, laced with defiance - but also something raw and primal.

Green eyes darkening with intensity, you watch his jaw clench in restraint. He takes a step impossibly close, the air crackling with something you couldn’t name.

“You don’t get to play games with me, princess,” he warns, his voice low and husky, sending a shiver down your spine.

But - as always - you refuse to back down. Heart racing, mind hazy, you stand close enough that you’re toe to toe with him. A hand reaching out to grasp his large ones, manicured nails digging into the heated skin. In one, fluid motion, you place his hand in between your skirt, heated core soaking through your thin panties. 

“I’m not playing games, Toji.”

Before you can react, your back hits the wall. Surface cool on your heated skin. A brick-hard body is against yours, you could almost sink into him at how close he was pressed. 

Heat rushing to your cheeks, slick gushing to your cunt, your eyes lock with Toji’s darkened ones. He murmurs, words low and making your pussy jump in anticipation, “Didn’t expect you to be so filthy, princess.”

You lean in, lips mere inches away from his, whispering seductively. “Oh you have no idea.”

You didn’t expect those to be the words that make him snap - then again, you didn’t expect him to snap so easily either.

Toji’s eyes widen slightly, his jaw dropping open as he processes your words. He stares at you darkly for a moment, gaze traveling over your flushed cheeks, your devilish grin, and finally settling on your heaving chest.

Toji pins your wrists above your head with one hand, the other roughly tearing your skirt off your waist. Flimsy cloth hitting the carpeted floor. 

“Hey! Those are Dolce and-”

You don’t get to finish your sentence before his lips capture yours. Words catching in your throat as his tongue plunges unforgivingly into your mouth. 

Hands groping and teasing every inch of skin they could find. Kneading your breasts through your shirt, biting down hard on your bottom lip.

A desperate whine that you definitely would’ve been embarrassed about had you been in the right state of mind leaves your lips as something achingly hard grazes your core. Shit, you had an inkling but he was going to split you apart. Mindlessly wondering whether you’ll have to cancel the photoshoot tomorrow. Hips bucking for more more more-

“Patience, princess.” he murmurs, hotly against your lips. Thick fingers slipping beneath your panties - ripping them off. You gasp as the cold air hits your cunt, thighs quivering at the neat fingernail grazing your swollen folds. “You need to be taught a lesson first.”

You’re not in the mood for patience. But whatever retort gets stuck on the tip of your tongue as a long finger circles your throbbing clit. Tight, urgent little circles that inch you closer and closer to insanity. “F-faster-”

“You’ll take what I give, my lil’ slut.”

“I don’t have to listen to you.”

Ah, but alas - thank god for Toji Fushiguro being a merciful man. At least for the moment.

Pressing a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down your body, dropping to his knees with urgency of a madman. Gaze fiery fiery with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine - you were in for it. 

Licking his lips, tongue catching on that small scar by the corner, he dives nose-deep into your needy pussy. Bed mere meters away, Toji takes you right against the wall. 

His hungry gaze devours you just as greedily as the mouth on your cunt. “Ah! Hah- Oh, Toji!” you gasp, arching into his hurried yet expert tongue. Harsh, purposeful movements that send electric shocks straight to your core. 

“Not Toji, princess.” he murmurs, lips hot against your own. Urgently lapping at your juices, as if a man dying of thirst.

Something hot and sticky coils at your stomach - maybe at the way his tongue was crooking just right to tease your dripping entrance, bullying its way past your swollen folds. Or maybe at the way the realization has your slick beading out of your pulsing pussy.

“D-daddy?” you whimper, almost-experimentally. 

And apparently it was the right answer, as Toji lets out a guttural groan into your snug cunt. Nose catching against your abused clit, rubbing hurried little circles. Tongue stretching out your snug walls, pooling your juices, unforgivingly dipping in and out in and out in and-

Speeding up now, his tongue has you losing your mind in ways you didn’t even know were possible. “Hngh- faster. Fuck me like you want it, daddy.” you whine, hips grinding further into his mouth.. 

And he lets you. In your lust-addled mind you barely have time to think about this strange act of mercy - only thinking of how close you were. So close. So fucking close. Mere moments away from shattering completely. Mind filled with only Toji and his tongue and Toji-

“Didn’t think I’d be so nice to ya, did you, princess?”

Orgasm slipping through your fingers, your crash from euphoria matches that of your heart.

Ah, Toji could cream his pants at the way your face fell so adorably as he pulled away. Delicate strings of spit and slick still connecting him to your slutty pussy. 

“Toji?” you mewl, bruised lips falling into a pretty pout that made him want to throw caution to the find and stuff you full of his cock right now. But no, he had to teach his lil’ princess a thing or two about not getting everything she wants.

“Patience, princess.” With a grin, Toji warns, voice husky and sending shivers down your spine and making you grind your hips against his lips. Before you can whine in disappointment, a sharp smack! cuts through the heady air. The sound hits you before the realization that Toji hit you. 

A sharp slap against your ass, the impact shocking you briefly before arousal takes over. You yelp at the sting, eyes widening in surprise.

“Wha-”

“Count to ten, then I’ll let you cum. You need to learn a thing or two about listening, brat.”

You stare at him defiantly, your heart pounding in your chest. A silent staredown that only makes heat pool more and more desperately at your core. Deafening need, slick dripping down your legs pathetically.

“O-one.” you whisper, voice strained with frustration and barely audible.

He watches you like a predator stalking his prey, eyes never leaving your face. Smack!

His hand connects with your ass again, a low hum of appreciation at the mewl leaving your kiss-bitten lips at the pain and filthy pleasure. Your ass stinging as much as your dripping cunt.

“...two.”

Apparently approving of your obedience, he dives back in with a low growl. Burning his face between your thighs, because fuck oxygen - breathing couldn’t compare to how sweet you were on his tongue.

Lapping up your sensitive folds, scar rough against them, teasing. Edging your climax and your sanity like the merciless bastard he was. Smack! 

“Hah- ah! Two- Oh, jus’ like that-” Broken, raw moans escape your lips as he continues his torture. Ah, he loved this view. The people’s princess, so teary and falling apart because of him.

In the obscenity of it all, thick fingers stuff themselves in your cunt. The lack of preparation makes you squeeze around Toji’s tongue as they pump into your sloppy hole relentlessly. In and out in and out- 

Smack!

“Th-three- hngh-”

Purposefully missing that one spot Toji knew would have you seeing stars. You haven’t earned that yet.

Blood rushes straight to his cock as you throw your head back, letting out a strangled sob. “Daddy, let me cum. Wanna cum on your tongue. Ah-” Oh, you clever minx, knew exactly what made his leaking cock throb with need. For that you get two sharp smacks on each cheek. 

“F-four. Five.” you’re in tears at this point. Delicate little streaks down your cheeks to where Toji had his face buried in your cunt.

“Tha’s right, princess.” Toji praises, voice thick with desire and sending vibrations that make your walls clench. “Tell me how badly you need it.”

Body convulsing uncontrollably around his hot tongue, pushing you closer and closer to the edge - only to reel you back again. Denying you. Chipping away at your sanity bit by bit. A hand reaches to grab a fistful of his silky black locks, tugging needily - and you get punished accordingly. 

Smack! Smack! Smack!

“E-eight! Hngh- please.” 

“Please!” you moan, voice raw with need and desperation. Finally breaking for him - being pushed this far with anyone before. “Please, let me cum. Please please wanna cum-.” Close. You were so close that it hurt.

Ever the merciful man, he forgives this little transgression. Only continuing to cup your sore cheeks possessively, hands mapping the expanse of your heated skin.

“Please, Daddy.” you choke, a broken whisper. Now exhausted, knees weakening, it’s all you can do to not collapse on the floor, Toji’s strong hold on your hip to control you being the only thing holding you up.

Several things happen at once. You barely even feel the final two, sharp slaps - too far gone to register anything other than the rough thumb pressing on your sensitive clit. Hard. 

And then you’re cumming. 

Body convulsing and bowing into him, crying out raw moans of Toji’s name as you cream around his tongue. Your vision blurs at the edges, grip searing on Toji’s hair, tangling in the soft strands and pulling him impossibly closer to ride out your high on his pretty face. 

White-hot pleasure courses through your entire body, thighs quivering delicately around his face as you chase peak after peak. 

As the stars behind your eyes disappear into nothingness, you’re left limp and boneless, held up against the wall with a single, muscled hand.

Toji - ever the gentleman, supports you with a steady arm before you slip down the wall, valiant knees finally giving out. 

Blinking your vision back, you catch a glimpse of his achingly hard erection. Straining painfully against his trousers, a dark patch right where his thick head was. And despite your severely fucked out state, your mouth still waters.

Obviously catching your line of sight, he adjusts his uncomfortably tight pants. Steering your still-lustfully delirious self to the bed. “You were such a good girl f’me, princess. Let’s stay that way, hm?”

You blink up at him, confusion clouding your mind. Did he just compliment you? You must be mistaken. 

But as you look into his eyes, you see a genuine twinkle of fondness mixed in with the desire that makes your skin burn. A heady combination. One that makes your mind spin, even as you’re carefully placed on the soft bed. Even as he swiftly closes the door with a low whisper of “Rest now, you’ve got a busy day tomorrow.” leaving no room for argument.

Sinking into the soft mattress, a strange surge of euphoria rushes through you as you realize two things:

Nothing would ever be the same. 

It was going to be your personal challenge to make Toji Fushiguro crack. 

Heart racing, feet thumping tersely against the plush carpet, for perhaps the first time in years, Fushiguro Toji is taken aback. The heavenly sight of you falling apart underneath him searing into his brain. Something coiling uncomfortably in his stomach, rushing all the way to his throbbing dick. But, right now, the only thing he’s thinking of being to fucking find somewhere to fuck his fist to the memory.

---

Your third night in Tokyo was a whirlwind of lights and camera flashes. And yet, in the midst of it all you still escaped - this time with Toji - claiming “security talks”. Pulling him into an abandoned green room, your glossy lips capture his with searing passion. Pulling away teasingly, breathless, only once you were sure you’d kissed him silly and achingly hard. And promptly skipping away to bother your make-up artist.

Ah, yet the stubborn bastard still didn’t crack.

It’s in Melbourne where you learned that Toji was much more than just a bodyguard. Finally bothering him enough to join you out rather than shadow you for the first time. Dragging him to a tiny karaoke booth tucked away in a dimly lit corner of town, belting out your favorite tunes to him while he leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. And if you caught a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips, well, neither of you said anything. 

Your glittering heels were placed teasingly in his lap, chattering away as he drove you two back, your favorite pastime as of late. A silent dare, almost goading. His steely gaze trained on the bustling road and that one annoying blue car trying to swerve him. 

“So, Toji, in your military stint ever tried to sneak away incognito but wear a disguise so bad you end up on the front page?”

He chuckles, eyes flickering down at your feet resting comfortably on him. “Can’t say I have, but I once mistook a high-ranking officer for a recruit. Had him doing push-ups before I realized my mistake.”

You burst into laughter, sound echoing in the car. Feet brushing against him right there - just a little accident, right?

But it takes until Paris for you two to break.

In the chic confines of your favorite studio in Nanterre, the scent of freshly brewed coffee heavy in the air, you find yourself chattering away on call with Gojo Satoru. His voice crackling through the speaker amidst the glow of studio lights.

“That beat you sent is pure magic, Satoru. It’s perfect!” you hum, excitement bubbling in your voice as you bob your head to the soft music playing in the background. 

Satoru’s response is immediate, enthusiasm matching yours, “See, what did I tell ya. Can’t wait to see what you’ll come up with. You sure I get no sneak peaks for this secret lil’ project of yours?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Thought so, but anyway, how’s the City of Love been treating you, darling?” he teases.

You laugh, rolling your eyes playfully, “Please, Satoru. You know I’m too busy dodging Toji for any of that.”

Satoru chuckles knowingly on the other end of the line, “Ah yes. From what happened last time, I imagine he’s been a welcome distraction, huh? Hey, is his dick really as big as his BDE is?”

“Oh fuck off.” you scoff, heat rising to your cheeks. “And for that, I’m leaving.” 

Swiftly ending the call, you cut off Satoru’s protests. Slight embarrassment coursing through your veins at how apparently obvious you two had been. A strange pang of longing flickers in your chest as you realize you haven’t seen Toji all day - Nanami mentioned something about a security briefing for your closely upcoming Grammy performance.

You sigh at the irony of the situation - just when you thought you got that freedom you’d been yearning for so long, you find yourself wanting for that musclehead presence even more. 

Shaking your head, you turn back to your mixing console, ready to throw yourself into the music once more. Yet before you could, your phone buzzes with a new notification. A quick glance reveals that familiar contact name and a series of messages that have your cheeks flaring once more. 

Blind rat #4 🧿🧿:

You better not block me for this but is this secret project for that bodyguard? You whipped WHORE~~

LMAO JKJK IK you don’t write songs about other people.

Unless…

As that block button was tapped, it’s said that Satoru’s piercing shriek echoed across in all 23 wards of Tokyo - making the people fear an oncoming Godzilla attack.

“Damn Satoru.” you grumble, tossing your phone onto the leather sofa in the corner. “Always saying stupid thi-”

But as you turn around, your breath catches in your throat. There, standing in the doorway, is Toji. His presence filling the space, commanding attention with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine.

“Toji?” you breathe, surprise mingling with a rush of conflicting emotions. “I didn’t expect the briefing to end so soon-”

“What’s this about that brat Satoru, princess?” he murmurs, voice low and gravelly. 

He raises his head to meet your gaze, and a jolt of electricity runs through your body. Oh, those eyes. Your skin feels heated in the crackling air. “Nothing.” you reply - almost suspiciously quickly - the words tumbling out in a rush, “Just Satoru being...well, Satoru.”

Toji’s lips twitch in a semblance of a smile, a hint of amusement glinting in his eyes among that carnal look. “I see,” he murmurs, taking a step closer to you. You have half the mind to step back - but why would you ever.

“Y’know, I didn’t think you still talk with that white-haired clown.” his minty breath fans your face, darkened eyes searching yours. And you can see the question forming in them before he even asks. “You still plan on fuckin’ him when you go back to Tokyo?”

And usually you’d bristle. Usually, that hardened part of you that never takes shit would rear her head and give Toji an earful. Usually. But right now, a dangerous idea was taking root in your head. 

Heat rushing to your core at the look in his eyes that said he wanted to devour you alive, you simply tilt your head coyly. 

“So what?” A smirk playing on your lips, “Gonna do something about it, daddy? Or are you just gonna leave me all hot and bothered like you have-”

Your back hits the leather sofa before you even realize what is happening. 

Bouncing at the sheer force of his throw, you let out a yelp of surprise. Skirt riding up, legs splaying out so sinfully for him. 

The cushion dips as he looms closer, approaching you unhurriedly like a predatory closing in on its prey. A dangerous little smirk playing on your lips, you spread your legs wider, inviting him in. A carnal part of you relishing in the way his eyes can’t seem to decide between your soaked panties and the way you bite your lips so coyly.

“If you’re that desperate, then you’re gonna get it, my lil’ slut” 

He’s on top of you now, tongue hot against your neck, leaving heated, open-mouthed kisses down to your collarbone. You yelp as sharp teeth dig into the soft skin. Hands exploring every inch of you, desperate for more - and you’re no better.

Sharp nails digging into that sinfully tight t-shirt, all but tearing it to shreds. Your mouth waters as it hits the floor, Toji’s chiseled body on full display. Your eyes greedily take in every curve and dip, hands reaching out to grope the toned skin. Pulling. Teasing. Not enough time in the world to savor the Adonis that was Toji Fushiguro.

His hands were pulling up your shirt haphazardly. Bunching your panties with two fingers, pulling down down down till your cunt was bare and spread open so shamefully for him. “Shit, so wet n’ ready. This for me or that brat, huh?” he grunts cruelly, lowering himself beside you to murmur in your ear.

“Now, on your knees, princess. Be a good lil’ slut for me and don’t make me wait.”  breath hot against your ears, making you shudder so sinfully. It made him want to eat you alive.

You consider disobeying him, just to face his delicious punishment. But that predatory look in his eyes has you immediately dropping to the ground in front of him.

Your hungry gaze takes in the heavenly sight before you. Legs spread, eyes half-lidded, pants pulled down just enough so that his heavy, leaking cock bobbing enticingly in the air. 

Eyes widening, your cunt clenches in both fear and anticipation. Shit, maybe this was why he was holding back. 

He was big. Ridiculously big, and rock-hard. Furiously red with thick veins running down the side, glistening with precum.

“C’mon now, if you’re gonna act like such a slut then learn to take it like one, princess.” Saliva pools on your tongue, warm as it hits Toji’s thick tip, achingly hard. A carnal part of you relishes in the low hiss that leaves him. 

Your tongue snakes out, unable to hold yourself back any longer. Swiping at the droplets of precum pooling on his tip. The sinfully salty taste explodes on your tongue, sending shocks of pleasure right to your cunt.

You feel his intense gaze on you as your mouth wraps around his thick head, inching down slowly. Stretching your lips obscenely, filling you up in ways you never thought were possible. 

Your breath gets caught in your throat as he pulses in your throat. It was overwhelming and everything you wanted to be doing right now.

Ah, but you should’ve known by now. Should’ve realized as your teary eyes look up to meet the dangerous glint in his. 

With a feral groan, his hips thrust forward. You were too slow. 

Hardening impossibly at the way you choke and gag around him, tears springing to your eyes. Using you in a way that was so debauched. “Hah- Fuck. love it when you sing, princess, but you look better choking on my cock.”

Your nose was buried in his pubic hair now, wet with saliva and precum. His heady, masculine scent filling your senses. Toji’s thrusts were jerky, desperate. 

Grip searing on your scalp, Toji uses it as leverage as he fucks your face till his tip hits your poor, abused throat. Moving you up and down on his cock with mindless need, hips rutting with reckless abandon.

Yet, you wanted more. Needed more. More more more. You wanted to feel him deep inside you, splitting you open, making you come harder than you ever thought possible.

And you’re guessing it showed on your dazed eyes. Because a broken, dangerous laugh leaves him. His grip on your hair intensifies, pulling your head back roughly until your eyes water. “More? You want fucking more? Then prove it.” 

Toji’s thrusts increase in speed, his raspy grunts becoming louder and louder as he rams his cock deeper into your mouth, your pussy throbbing in response.

You moan around his erection, unable to form coherent sentences due to his length stretching your throat. 

Without hesitation, you reach up and grab his balls, massaging them firmly as you suck him deeper. Pressing right in between that one spot you knew would make him see stars. Pressing tight little circles. Over and over-

An appreciative groan leaving him, Toji’s thrusts become erratic. Movements growing frantic. “Fuck, Fuck, princess, you're going to be the death of me,” he curses, his voice strained.

You rub your thighs together desperately, relaxing your throat more, refusing to let go. Desperate to taste him, to experience the blissful agony of his seed painting your mouth. But when has Toji ever let you have your way? Never, that’s when.

Instead, he yanks your head back, pulling you off his cock with a rough, almost cruel motion. Your lips pop free, leaving his sensitive head exposed to the cool air. Gasping for breath, your chest heaves as you try to regain your composure.

Before you can even register what's happening, Toji pulls you into him, forcing you on your hands and knees. Large hands grasp your waist, holding you firmly in place. “Face down, ass up. You’re going to take it like a good little slut.”

Delicious goosebumps erupt down your spine. Licking a long, languid stripe down your back along them as you position yourself before him, Toji couldn’t help but huff out a dangerous laugh at your sinful gasp.

Mouth watering at your glistening cunt, clenching so pathetically around nothing, Toji pools your juices on two of his fingers. Promptly pushing them into his mouth with a lewd pop! groaning at his favorite taste. “Next time, I’m gonna eat out your pretty lil’ cunt while you suck on my cock, princess.”

“Please, daddy. Anything.”

Fingers circling your wet entrance, your words were music to Toji’s ears. Music that mingles with your needy, disappointed whine as he abruptly pulls away. But that doesn’t last too long - with low hiss, he buries his throbbing cock into your dripping cunt with almost no preparation.  

You keen at the stretch as he presses in - deliciously painful, boderling insane, and exactly what you wanted right now. Splitting you apart on his throbbing cock. 

Toji was hot and throbbing agonizingly inside you, each little bump bump bump sending white-hot pleasure down your spine.

“Ah- are- are you all the way in, daddy?” he hears you whimper, voice tinged with helpless desperation. Huffing out a laugh, Toji’s greedy gaze catches on the obscene sight of you sucking him up so sinfully below. “Not even close, princess.”

Pushing in shallow, determined little thrusts that have your hot cunt enveloping him deeper and deeper. Cock hardening impossibly at the soft ah! ah! ah! leaving your mouth each time he rams into you. If you wanted it so bad, you were going to get all of it. A hoarse groan leaves him as his heavy balls meet your twitching folds, fat tip kissing your cervix - finally bottoming out. 

Now, Toji knows he’s big - takes pride in it, in fact. But he’s never been more proud of the fact than right now, hungry gaze taking up the way your eyes widen in shock, snug walls clenching down with the struggle to accommodate him. 

“You alright, princess?” he taunts, voice thick with satisfaction as he watches your face twist with a mix of pleasure and pain. “Can’t your slutty lil’ pussy handle my cock?” Tell me, he as big as me? 

And, of course, you snap back - because you’re mouthy even when you’re whining around his thick cock. Ah, next time he’s gotta make you choke on it for longer. 

“Fuck you, daddy.” your response is a feral growl, hips desperately trying to fuck back into his. “If you’re not all talk then fuck me like you want to already.”

Smack! 

A sharp slap stinging your cheek, you groan in response as absolutely raw, carnal fucking need courses through Toji’s veins. Intoxicating him. Oh, he was going to ruin you. Grinning cruelly, he utters “Then take it. And don’t fucking complain.”

With that, he begins to move. Not easing in, ramming into you with animalistic efficiency. Your ass stinging as each thrust has his hips meeting yours brutally. Toji’s pretty sure his hips were out of control at this point, high off your teary cries of pain and pleasure. That cluttered studio heady with sex and pure, animalistic desperation.”S’good- ah! S’too much-”

Smack!

There’s no going back now. Toji fucks you in a way that makes you feel so deliciously filthy. Plunging into your heated cunt with no restraint. Thrusts positively savage. Every inch of him fills you, stretching you beyond your limits, and you love every painful second of it.

Vision blurring at the edges, you reach out a hand to grab the armrest for stability. Body jerking with each movement, his bruising grip on your hips the only thing keeping you from being fucked off the sofa.

“Who’s fucking ruining you like this?”

“You! Jus’  like that. Fucking ruin me, daddy.” Legs shaking uncontrollably, arching impossibly deeper onto his throbbing cock, you whine each time his length slides in and out of your swollen folds. “Harder…please, harder.” you plead, fucked out.

For perhaps the first time, he obliges, increasing his speed mindlessly. God, you were sure both of you were about to explode any second now. 

Fucked out of your mind, you barely register the muscled front pressing into you, abs rippling against your back. Large hands snake from your hips, leaving deep, purple marks for you to remember him by. 

Smack! 

Another handprint on your ass, as you frantically move your hips to meet Toji’s unforgiving cadence. Sensing your urgency, one of his hands finds itself on your throbbing clit, drawing methodical, harsh circles on it. Pressing just enough to have you seeing stars being your eyes. And the other - digging into your neck.

Your frantic moans choke in your throat, feeling fucking delirious off both the change in angle and the hand around your throat. Eyes flashing at the lack of air and the blood roaring in your ears - and Toji. 

“Open your mouth, princess.” he grows, voice dangerously close to your ears, cock still driving into yours with brutal precision. The intensity of the moment - electric. 

Mindlessly, you comply, tongue lolling out so lewdly. That’s when he does it - without warning, he spits into your open mouth. Once. Twice. Three times.

Steady stream of saliva slightly missing your face - on purpose, you absentmindedly realize - as it dribbles over your kiss-bitten lips and down the side of your face. A marking. 

“No one else gets to fuck you like this, princess.”

Hot on your tongue, sliding down to your throat. He tasted of such sin, it made your cunt clamp down hard.

“Now, what do good girls say?” he grits out, through clenched teeth. The absolute insanity in his voice matching the frenzy coiling inside of you.

“Thank you, daddy.”

You reach around to capture his lips with yours, nails digging into his neck hard enough to draw blood - a marking of your own. White-hot ropes of pleasure making you gasp into his lips - tender where his cock was unforgiving.

In the lewd haze of the moment you’re dimly aware of Toji’s body shuddering above you, throbbing cock twitching deeply in your pussy.

“Oh, fuck! M-hah- M’cumming, better take every drop like my good lil’ slut. Fuck.” 

You flinch as he groans ragged profanities into your mouth. Tight balls squeezing painfully as he cums with a loud groan of your name. Thick, hot ropes that paint your walls white. Two large arms wrap bruisingly tight around your waist, veins popping out as he crushes you impossibly close to him. Toji’s hips not giving up their torture on your abused, awaiting cunt, pumping his seed deeper and deeper. 

Full. You feel so full. And so, so complete. 

You can feel such an obscene mix of your slick and his cum mapping down your legs every time his hips slam into yours. Dripping onto the cushion, pooling at the sofa in a way so sloppy, you knew you’d have to scour online later for a replacement.

Stomach now feeling uncomfortably inflated and hot, vision blurry, you collapse onto the cushion. The last of your strength leaving you with the orgasm that you’re sure fried your brain. You mewl at both the sensitivity and the sudden emptiness as Toji pulls out with a wet pop!

A rush of cum gushes out of you, drenching both you and the cushion below. Limp and boneless beneath him,  you let out a sigh at the heat of his release seeping into your skin.

A soft silence fills the room like a lullaby. Everything feels so heavy. So dizzying and so warm. You barely register the strong hands lifting you gently towards the direction of the bathroom. The only thing on your mind being Toji and what a privilege it was to fall asleep in someone’s arms. You wouldn’t really mind this every night…

And in the dim lighting of that heady studio, fucked to sleep and covered in sweat and his cum, Toji thinks you’ve never looked so beautiful.

His heart lurches as he realizes - in all of Paris, the one sight he wants to look at is you. His pretty popstar.

---

“For the last time. I don’t do celebrities, especially not spoiled pretty popstars.”

Undeterred, the blond man leans forward in his chair, his expression indiscernible behind those glasses. “We’re told you’re the best of the best, even from ex-military. And if money’s the issue then I’ll double- no, triple whatever you’re making right now.”

Jaw tightening, skepticism dripped from his words. “All this for some celebrity drama?” 

“Fushiguro, we’re talking big people, and even bigger money. And a girl’s life in genuine danger on top of it all,” a hint of desperation creeping into words that cut through the tense air. 

“Genuine danger, huh?”

Toji runs a hand through his hair, questioning what the fuck he got himself into by opening the door for this human definition of a stick up one’s ass. Mind racing, eyes darting around the room, they catch yours - twinkling on the glossy cover of some magazine thrown haphazardly on the table. 

Traitorously, something prickly and uncomfortable settles in his stomach as the words ring in his ears. 

Genuine danger. 

Heaving out a sigh, he narrows his eyes at the man currently studying his reaction. 

“A year. That’s it. No more, no less. I don’t care if that prima donna princess of yours begs on her knees otherwise.”

But right now, your twinkling gaze set on him, lips curved into a blinding smile as you waltz through Los Angeles International Airport - as much as you could with your entourage - some small, raw part of him thinks he wouldn’t mind staying like this for a long, long time. 

LAX was probably one of your favorite airports. Not because of its size or architecture, but because of the thrumming energy of the opportunity to come. Namely, your Grammy performance.

Eyes slightly heavy, yeah, you were cutting it close - to Nanami’s ever-graying hair at the stress.  But hey - at least no paparazzi tipped off for your unexpected arrival.

You just couldn’t resist the temptation to push your departure off for a day. Taking the extra time to wander along the Seine with Toji, talking about everything from your new dance number for next month’s Madrid show to why Nanami was a masochist for staying in this industry, all the way to Toji’s military stories that even Hollywood couldn’t dream up. 

The setting sun casting a soft glow on both of your uncanny disguises - your choice of course. A newfound understanding crackling between you two.

And right now, his presence steadfast behind yours as you weave through the bustling terminal, you feel a rush of excitement at finally performing that little project you’d been working on. 

More specifically what Toji’s reaction to it would be. Would he love it? Would he hate it? Would he realize just what that inconspicuous voice memo you bothered him into was actually for? 

But then came the real test: would he realize just who it was for?

The thought made you smirk inwardly. Imagine Toji’s face when he puts two and two together. 

Turning around, you catch Toji’s eye, a mirthful glint dancing in yours. “So, Toji, ready to witness greatness at the Grammys?” you quip, tone playful as you bump shoulders with him. Of course, the man barely budges. 

He raises an eyebrow, smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “As long as I don't have to wear a tuxedo, princess.”

“Aww, and here I was thinking we could match.” you whine. Though a chuckle leaves your lips, “And that reminds me…” you trail off as your voice drops to a conspicuous whisper.

Delighting at the playful sigh that leaves his lips as Toji leans down, allowing you to whisper words meant for only him. “You better reward me after my performance, y’know. I remember someone saying something about ‘eating me out till I cry’” 

“You won’t be getting any reward if you continue acting like such a slut, princess.” warm breath tickling your ear as he murmurs. 

“If the shoe fits.” you bat your lashes, mockingly innocent. 

“If the shoe fits then please get into the car. The driver’s here and the team are on their way.” Nanami’s no-nonsense voice rings out. Already sounding dangerously close to an impending stroke. 

“Yes, mother.” you quip, stifling your laughter as you step outside. It’s a short walk to your destination, the cool morning breeze greeting you as you head for your waiting car, just stuck behind some slightly-oddly parked blue car. 

Ah, that’s LA for you, you chuckle inwardly, walking towards it - that strangely familiar blue car. The one you’ve seen a few too many times these past few weeks in the corner of your vision. 

Strange.

Steps slightly speeding up, a cold sweat trickles down your spine. Unease prickling at the back of your mind, something tells you you’re being watched. And not in the way of paparazzi snapping a stray picture.

Subconsciously, you take a half-glance inside the car - time freezes. Heart immediately lurching into your throat at the sight.

There. 

The door swings open. 

A flash of blue hair, one foot out of that dreaded blue car - is him. You don’t know how you knew it was him. You don’t know how you knew he was there. The only thing being your eyes locked on that glinting knife in his hand. Winking mockingly at you in the morning sun. 

Gray eyes locked on yours, whirling with chilling maniacal intensity. The cool morning breeze feels icy against your skin as a primal fear claws at your insides once you realize the imminent danger.

Toji’s trained instincts kick into high gear, eyes locked with his. Positioning himself between you and the assailant, his hand reaches for the weapon concealed beneath his suit jacket. Only for them to stutter in midair as he realizes they’re still safely stored in his checked luggage. Unreachable. 

Shit. Clever bastard.

Nanami moves with a swift grace, eyes scanning the surroundings for any nearby law enforcement. 

Mahito’s lips curl into a malevolent smirk as he realizes the vulnerability, grip tightening on his knife as he takes a menacing step forward. The air so tense you found it hard to breathe.

“You.” the words ring venomously, panic surging within you. “You think you’re so high and mighty, huh?”

“Step back before you do something you regret, you freak.” Toji’s voice is steady, body poised for action. Eyes locked on every minute tremor of the knife in his hands.

His eyes wide and bloodshot, staring right into Toji - almost as if trying to look at you through him. “Little princess~” he taunts in an eerie sing-song voice. “Why did you leave me here all alone, I was lonely, y’know~ And this gorilla never left you alone, ah what a pain to follow you around. But I did it- of course, I did it for my princess.” 

Another step forward.

No one engaged with Mahito’s delirious rambles. Nanami’s hand was firm on your shoulder, whispering in your ear to get away. Now. 

But your mind was stuck on the words that cut through you like a knife - the knife that he was now slicing through the air in jagged, deranged motions. “She can’t leave. She belongs here with me.”

Before anyone can react, Mahito throws himself forward with startling speed. Glinting blade deadly through the air. You stagger backward, the world spinning in a dizzying blur of fear and desperation.

Toji springs into action with lightning speed, body lunging expertly. Hands deflecting the blade with a swift motion. Knife flashing mere millimeters away from his skin.

Yet Mahito continues struggling relentlessly. Each movement calculated and cold. Hand slashing at Toji as he ducks and weaves away, attempting to divert the attack away from you. 

The grip on your shoulder tightens, “Let’s get away now. While he’s distracted.” 

You’re being pulled away before you know it. 

Movements sluggish in the air thick with tension and fear. Your body is frozen, ice running through your veins. Nanami’s urgent hold on your shoulder moving you away. 

But your eyes remain locked on Toji.

On the way he swiftly tries to find an opening amidst the blur of movement, knife slashing away as if it were a game. You were fighting to look back now, body twisting against the one moving you away. Struggling to follow Toji’s powerful kick to Mahito’s midsection. The impact knocking the wind out of him, knife faltering. Yet rage still surging.

Hand coming down down down. Merciless metal meeting skin. Red-hot crimson flashing behind your eyes and staining the ground below Toji as he’s slashed viciously. 

It’s in New York that you meet Toji Fushiguro.

It’s in Los Angeles that you think you might lose him.

The sickening sound of metal against flesh echoing amidst the blood-curdling scream you don’t realize you let out. 

The sound making Mahito falter for the briefest millisecond, a flicker of hesitation flitting across his twisted features.

And it’s all the opening Toji needs. 

Launching himself at the man, colliding with a bone-jarring impact that has both bodies crashing to the ground. 

A deadly struggle, and despite Mahito’s fierce grappling - fueled by pure madness - he’s no match for Toji’s punishing blows. Every strike clear and calculated, pinning his flailing hands to the ground.

The screech of metal against gravel and distant footsteps ring in your ears, as Toji wrestles the knife from his hands. Glinting metal skidding away.

 For a fleeting moment, the world seems to hold its breath.

“You’re supposed to be with me.” Mahito's voice pierces through the din, voice hoarse and desperate. “I’m the one who’s been there for you ever since you stepped foot in that godforsaken agency. Me. It’s me.” he snarls. Eyes cutting into yours.

Takedown tightening, Toji pins his body tighter against the ground. “You don’t have the right to talk to her, you blue-haired freak. Be grateful we’re in broad daylight and I can’t rip you limb from limb for her.”

You release a breath you didn’t know you were holding as Toji’s strained yet still steady voice rings in your ears - in tune with the voices you’re now realizing were surrounding you. As uniform-clad figures rush into your circle of vision, you distinctly realize with a jolt that it’s over. 

Knees weakening in relief, you feel them hit the gravel. It’s all over. You feel light-headed - absolutely delirious. Vision blurring with tears and all you can see is red red red. 

Blood roaring in your ears, you miss Mahito’s shrieks as he’s restrained and escorted away. The only thing registering in your mind being the warm hand under your arm, pulling you up gently as if you were something so utterly precious. 

Toji.

“Are you okay, princess? Need me to loosen another one of that bastard’s teeth?” he rumbles slowly, slightly breathless. As you cling onto the words like a lifeline, a fresh wave of tears prick your eyes at his uncharacteristically careful tone.

“Are you okay?” you repeat, words heavy with remorse as you blink at the sight of that stark red against his t-shirt. A deep gash running along his side that left Toji vulnerable in ways you knew he would never openly admit. 

Seeing your shaken state, he lets out a sigh. Pulling you flush against his chest, careful to avoid his injury. “I’ll be fine princess.” he murmurs, quiet words strained and meant for only you, amidst the chaos in the background. You lean into his touch, reveling in the feeling of him being solid and whole and here. With you.

You think you could stay like that forever. 

Ah, but one can’t get everything they want. 

Nanami’s voice cuts through the fragile peace with his usual calm authority, “I've spoken with the authorities,” you whirl around to meet his exhausted gaze. “They’ve assured me that Mahito will be taken into custody, and measures are being put in place to prevent any future incidents.”

Eyes flitting between you and Toji, he continues, voice taking on a much softer tone. “There’s no need for you to attend the Grammys after all that happened, I understand and will contact them if you wish to stay here.” And with that, Nanami walks away to a nearby police officer, presumably to give a statement - but you knew better, grateful for the moment of privacy he’d given you two.

Right. The Grammys.

Part of you is relieved at the prospect of not having to pretend that everything is fine in front of the flashing cameras and millions of scrutinizing eyes. And the other part, well, you glance up at Toji. 

Wide eyes meeting those green ones. Unspoken questions swirling between you two like a whirlwind. Is it really over? What does that mean for us? Will you stay?

Please stay.

“I don’t want to go,”  you confess quietly, voice barely above a whisper. “I want to stay here with you, make sure you’re okay.”

Toji’s gaze softens, a hint of warmth flickering in his usually steely eyes as he brushes a stray lock of hair from your face. “My princess worries about me, hm? I’ll be fine.” he reassures, yet words weak from the pain. “Go out there and kill it.”

And in the delicate tension of it all you find it in yourself to arch your eyebrow skeptically, “Fine? You’re bleeding out, Toji. That doesn’t exactly scream ‘fine’ to me.”

“I’ve had worse, I promise. Worst case scenario I track that freak down and break his arm.”

You let out a watery laugh as Toji leans down, hot breath fanning your face. His lips brush against yours in a tender kiss. A silent reassurance. But just as quickly as it began, he pulls back with a playful bite to your lower lip.

“Now go. Blow the overpriced silk pants off of all those overrated snobs. Trust me.”

You almost bristle at his words, but that twinkle of fondness in his eyes made all your inhibitions melt away - involuntarily, of course. Throat tight, you give an affirmative nod. 

Now, Toji always did delight in catching you off guard. But right now, ignoring the fussing EMTs, watching you be hastily ushered away by your team - the words tumble out before he can stop them. 

“Oi, princess.” he calls out, voice carrying over the chaos. “I love ya.”

And as he watched you trip over nothing but thin air, a lightheaded chuckle leaves him - maybe it was the bloodloss, probably it was that adorable look on your face. “Smooth, princess.” he laughs.

As you regain your composure and flip him off, promptly being whisked away by Nanami - who looks two steps into his grave already - Toji can’t help but feel a sense of pride swell within him. “Tha’s my girl,” he mutters to himself, a rare gentle smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

---

“Ladies and gentlemen, music aficionados around the world. It is my pleasure to announce our next performance, a star who needs no introduction. Get ready to witness the talent, the charisma, and the sheer audacity of the one, the only-.”

Cameras flashing. Cheers roaring, The anticipation electric as your name echoes through the auditorium, the audience’s excitement reaching a fever pitch as you take to the stage.

“Buckle up, darlings, because this is ‘Government Hooker’!”

---

“They don’t call you pop royalty for nothing, huh? You're going to take over the charts with that one!”

“Girl, who was that sexyass voice in that song? Drop me his number if you aren’t already with him.”

“Stunning as usual, huh?”

The whirlwind of congratulations and praise envelop you back at the Grammys afterparty. Your hand throbs from being clutched so tightly, and you can’t help but smile at the adrenaline and euphoria thrumming through your veins, washing away most of what happened earlier today. Yeah, you killed it.

But as you navigate through the crowd, exchanging pleasantries and posing for photos, a nagging part of your mind keeps returning to Toji. Red, red to match your gown. He should’ve been here with you tonight. 

Nodding and smiling along at the compliments, you find yourself drifting away from the bustling center of the party. Constantly checking your phone for any updates other than Nanami’s “He’s alive.” text from a few hours ago.

Ah, there it is.

Finally reaching the exit, goosebumps erupt along your skin as you step out into the chilly night air. You’re momentarily blinded by the barrage of camera flashes from the waiting paparazzi outside. Their shouts merging into an indistinguishable cacophony. 

Yet, you push forward, determined to reach your awaiting car.

Just as you approach the curb, a sleek black Rolls-Royce pulls up beside you, tinted windows shielding the figure inside. God, you gotta remember to give Nanami a raise.

Swiftly sliding in, “Nanami you wouldn’t believe-” 

“I’d hope I don’t look anything like that walking resignation letter.” 

Your eyes widen in disbelief as you turn towards the figure seated beside you, and there he is. Toji.

All signature smirk and twinkling eyes despite the bandages wrapped tightly around his torso.

A gasp leaves as your eyes catch on them, a million thoughts running through your head at once. “Wait, what are you even doing here- You’re hurt, are you even okay- Should we call the ambulance? Those look like-”

“Woah woah, slow down princess. I’m clearly alive, hm? Why, shouldn’t your muse be there to personally pick you up?” he chuckles. “Besides, you killed it out there. That shit was playing was all that every radio was playing for the last hour.”

You can’t help but laugh at his teasing tone, relief flooding through you at the sound of his voice. “Well, you are the exception.” Reaching over and gently cupping his cheek, that small scar was rough against your thumb.

Leaning in, bathed in the soft glow of the city lights, you take in the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles, the way his hand rests protectively on your thigh.

“Thank you.” you whisper, breath hot against his lips. And though you don’t specify for what - both of you know. Both of you understand. Your lips meet his in a lingering kiss, he tastes of mint and the anticipation of something new and freeing. 

Pulling away slightly, his gaze meets yours with a rare little vulnerability. “Always, princess.” A raw second of silence.

One. Two. Before a smug smirk curls his lips, hand squeezing your thigh. “Now, I remember someone wanting to be eaten out till she cried as a reward?”

You can’t help but roll your eyes, “Oh yeah? Right here, right now?”

“Think we’ll make the front page, princess?”

“I know so.” 

It’s in New York that you meet Toji Fushiguro.

It’s right now, giggling amidst the chaos of flashing cameras and forgotten afterparties, that you think you just might love him.

A/N. Actually frothing at the mouth I want him so bad y’all. Also, reader isn’t Lady Gaga, I just think the song fit.

Reblogs so, so appreciated.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[swagging-back-to]

lol so one of my coworkers

(the shitty one who declawed her cat and refused to euthanize even when her head was literally splitting apart into a wound of cancer, and blew up at me last year when i was doing my job and bc they didnt plan an event better and is extremely misogynistic) who has been obnoxious about the one guy ever since i came back this year.

dated this guy in highschool and she thinks it was this fairytale romance bc shes highkey delusional actually. kissed him on the first "date" (it was a friemdly get together lets catch up over coffee thing) and he did not kiss back, then she starts blowing him up hardcore harassing him. calls, texts, stalking his facebook. she got mad when i said to chill. then she suggested going to his house basically unannounced and demanding to talk. i said "thats literally stalker behavior that gets people put in prison." and again she got mad at me. btw im 19. she's like 57yo.

so anyway the next week she comes in and is like "i dont wanna talk about it i gotclosure thats all I'll say". today i learned that he was rightfully furious with her when she showed up at his house (which is 2hrs away from here and she thought she cpuld use the excuse "was just passing by" after TELLING HIM SHE WPULD BE DOWN TO TALK FACE TO FACE BC HES "GHISTING" HER) and threatens to call the cops on her and tells her shes fucking insane.

and i had to actually walk away from overnearing that detail to laugh because holy shit dude

[versary]

just had a meeting with my supervisors that lasted one hour and fifteen minutes and they completely changed the order of my thesis like bro i'm presenting next week... i think the examiners will notice if the manuscript doesn't match the presentation! but i am simply a student seeking wisdom from my mentors, who am i to question them 🙏

[ladadiida]

𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐣𝐢 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 as much as you wanted to stay by his side, you couldn't bear the thought of watching him fall in love with other women while you're stuck at the kitchen washing dishes and measuring ingredients. so you dreamt of leaving, of traveling to different islands to share your lovely songs and tunes; but the more your desire to leave grows, the more sanji finds himself drowning in your warmth.

or,

you and sanji over the years, wherein five times you tried to leave him and the one time you finally did, despite his refusal to let you go.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 musician reader, 5 + 1 things, pining, unrequited love, not actually unrequited love, heavy (kind of) angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 HERE IT IS! the response to the sneak peek was crazy, and so i rushed to get this done. i only watched the live action so beware of minor mistakes if you ever saw one. english is also not my first language and you are welcome to correct me anytime for any grammatical errors. title is a lyric from the last time by taylor swift ft. gary lightbody. this fic is also posted in ao3 with its full summary and WITH A BONUS CHAPTER. enjoy reading!

𝐰𝐜 11.3k

"There you are."

Your soapy, wet hands almost dropped the ceramic plate you were currently washing in the dirty kitchen sink as soon as you heard a familiar smooth and honeyed voice. Abruptly turning off the sink so that the sound of his approaching footsteps were clear to your ears, you wiped the sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand before turning your body towards him.

He was carrying a stack of plates, a fresh batch to add to the pile you had to wash, with an obnoxious yet handsome smile plastered on his lips. You took a deep breath to calm the growing irritation at the bottom of your stomach, reminding yourself that this was your job and you only had a couple of hours to endure until you're free to lock yourself up in your bedroom. You were particularly looking forward to writing today, and the thought of finishing the lyrics to your new song tonight slightly eased your mood. Accepting your fate, you pointed to the remaining space beside the sink.

"Place it there." You told him, albeit begrudgingly as you turn on the sink again and pour more soap on the battered sponge.

You took a mental note to ask Zeff later about buying new sponges, and if you were lucky to catch him in a good mood, you'll put in a request to get the sink fixed and cleaned. Your eyes scanned over the grime and rust around the area. If you were going to spend the rest of your life washing dishes, then you might as well get a proper kitchen sink to do so.

An amused laugh fell out of the golden haired man you grew up with, surprised at your compliance to do the job you hated. The sound nearly sent your poor heart into a dizzying whirlwind of little nuisances called emotions. "What a hardworking woman."

"I could say the same to you. It seems like you have a new record today." You said while you splashed dirtied bowls with soap water, smiling at him teasingly, "Thought you would've been kicked out of the line by now."

"The old man just can't help but to accept the fact that I am a greater cook than him." He smirked, wiping a knife with a dish cloth. Trying not to roll your eyes, you shook your head at his usual display of arrogance, yet you can't help but to grin as you began to hear scratching sounds against the floors.

"Then you better get those chopped carrots ready." You replied, and when you got to finish your sentence, the doors to the kitchen swung open, revealing the head chef.

Zeff's cold and steely eyes immediately landed on the blond. He walked towards him with a fast pace despite only having one leg, his braided mustache bouncing in each step.

"Aye, aye, aye. Why haven't you started on the carrots yet, little eggplant? Can you get any slower?" He scolded, loud enough for the whole staff to hear, but none of them even flinched. You returned back to your plates and glasses, smiling softly. This was part of your routine everyday: to listen in their silly arguments.

However, before the younger chef can reply, you butted in, "Sanji fetched some of the plates for me. Since there's a lunch rush, I couldn't leave the kitchen."

Zeff let out a low hum. You couldn't even see Sanji's face, but you knew him well enough to know that he was smiling triumphantly, knowing that he won this time. After a few minutes of contemplating, the head chef clicked his tongue. "Don't defend him, little lass. But I'll let it slip this time. What are you waiting for, then? Start cutting them!"

"Yes, chef." Sanji answered in a jovial manner, placing the carrots on a chopping board.

Twisting the faucet lever so that the water flow from the sink is gentle and quiet, you then paid attention to their little banters every now and then. You brought up a wine glass and positioned it by your side to try to get a glimpse of the two most important men in your life. Through their reflection on the glass, you can see Zeff hunching over Sanji's knifework, nodding every time the vegetables were correctly sliced.

On the other hand, Sanji was unbothered by the head chef's observations and continued to cut the ingredients calmly. Some of the strands in his hair fell down on one side of his face, covering an eye, and most people would think that it was an unusual way of styling hair; yet it was one thing out of many that you loved the most about him.

You accepted it years ago.

You accepted the fact that you somehow fell in love with Sanji Vinsmoke along your weird journey of working in a sea restaurant full of former pirates and making music while at it. How the pesky feelings grew and wrapped themselves around your aching heart, you didn't know. Maybe it was when he learned to cook your favorite food and gave it to you afterwards, or the way his crystal blue eyes reminded you of snowflakes every winter.

Or maybe it was when he pulled your hair out of jealousy the moment he learned that Zeff would be taking in another child in his care, but brushed it and even braided it after the latter cleared the misunderstanding. Maybe it was when he supported you in your dreams and told you they weren't silly, maybe it was when he fought off drunk men that were trying to hit on you. Or maybe it was the way his voice would drop an octave lower whenever he asks you for a favor. The list could go on and on and you still wouldn't know the reason why. It doesn't matter anyway. You tripped, you fell, and now you're pining.

Drying off the last of the plates, you washed your own hands after and patted them dry on your skirt. You were the last one to leave the kitchen, the other staff already back in their quarters after a long, exhausting day of cooking. You fixed the signature blue bandana tied in your hair then went on your way towards the upper deck.

You weren't blessed with a talent in cooking, so you offered to do chores instead. Washing the dishes, cleaning the restaurant, and doing the laundry were few of the things you do in the Baratie. You can't say that you enjoy it, but you were beyond grateful that Zeff gave you a chance despite his opposition to let a woman work inside his restaurant.

As you were about to go to the newly laundered clothes you hung on a thin wire earlier that morning, you heard two voices speaking. You also smelled cigarette smoke wafting through the air, and you only knew one person who could be smoking at this hour. Your breath hitched in anticipation.

"You bringing a woman to your bed again, Sanji?" The other person asked playfully, but there was a hint of disbelief in his voice. You carefully took a peek so you won't accidentally reveal yourself and be accused of eavesdropping. Two people came into view with their backs facing you.

"Now, what are you talking about, Patty? I am a gentleman. I only had a nice chat with the lovely lady and escorted her back to her ship." Sanji interjected, a cigarette hanging on his lips.

Patty huffed. "I didn't know that chatting included kiss marks on jawlines."

This caused Sanji to laugh and say, "Not my fault she was charmed by my food."

"The boss man ain't gonna like it when he finds out about this."

"He's not gonna find out." Sanji assured him, wiping off the said kiss mark on his jaw. You stared at him as he did so, and you pitied the woman who planted that kiss, knowing she was just one of the many beautiful ladies Sanji had flirted with before. However, a tinge of pain in your chest said otherwise, taunting you that it was not pity you're feeling, but foul jealousy.

"Why don't you look for more decent women, eh? How about 'little lass' for a change?" Patty suddenly suggested.

It was like someone had hit your stomach with one of the metal pans in the kitchen with the way it lurched in surprise and nervousness. Your heartbeat started to quicken the longer you waited for his response, making your grip on your skirt tighter. In moments like these, you allowed yourself to hope, to wish that he saw something in you and that he finds you beautiful and lovely enough to be the person standing by his side.

But his answer made all that hope crumble down into nothing but dust.

"I don't see her that way." Sanji said after a long stretch of silence, taking a long drag from the cigarette then releasing the smoke in a single breath.

Ah.

You blinked repeatedly, trying to keep the tears from forming. It's always been like this, so why can't you get used to it? Taking a deep breath, you gulped away the knot forming in your throat and decided to leave. You can grab the clothes later.

"You're too kind for him." Someone behind you spoke, making you jump and tense up. Turning around, you saw Zeff looking at you with an unreadable emotion in his eyes and his hands on his hips, almost like he knew your secret. Of course he does. He always sees everything.

You stumbled on your words. "Sir?"

"That boy is always up to something." He began, switching his attention to Sanji. "One minute he's stubbornly immature in the kitchen, and the next he'll be a thirsty man staring at women like they're liquid booze."

Clearing your throat, you forced a smile.

"Well, he can be a lot sometimes." You agreed, remembering the days when the two of you would fight over irrelevant matters. Then you chuckled and continued, "But he's kind. He's gentle, and lovely, like a freshly made poem you keep repeating in your head. But then he's also confusing, hot-headed, and reckless. He's like the sea, isn't he? Calm yet wrapped with mystery, dangerous yet beautiful..."

You trailed off, an unbearable heat rising up your cheeks and neck once you slowly began to realize that you just ranted out your feelings to the head chef. You glanced at him with wide eyes, preparing to see a disgusted look on his face; however, Zeff didn't appear to be repulsed by your little speech. In fact, the corners of his lips were slightly quirked up.

"But I cannot swim. If I were to drown, he wouldn't save me." You quickly added, hoping to shut down the topic.

He sighed. "You will meet someone who deserves you as much as you deserve them, little lass." He simply said. He then laid his hand out, and on his palm was a little box poorly tied with a ribbon. "Here, for you."

Altnough you were a bit confused at the random gift, you accepted it and cradled the box to your chest. "I'll be okay, Zeff." You insisted, grinning cheekily. "When I become famous, I'll sing my songs here in Baratie, and people would flood the restaurant to hear my singing. And to eat your food too, of course."

The head chef nodded, relief flooding his expression. "I look forward to that." He said while awkwardly returning your smile.

That night, when you were sure that everyone in the Baratie was asleep, you opened the loose floorboard on the floors of your bedroom and grabbed the wooden box you kept hidden for a long time now. You opened the lid and began counting the Berry you saved for the past few months.

Tomorrow was the perfect day to leave.

You just can't stay here. Yes, you had a roof over your head, delicious food to eat everyday, and clean clothes to wear but you were so miserable. This wasn't the life you wanted. You wish to go out there, sing your heart out, and fall in love with someone who actually loves you back.

A knock on your door made you freeze. You held your breath as the person on the other side continued to knock a few more times. "You awake?"

Pain surged through your veins, your chest twisting in agony. Sanji.

"You didn't come down for dinner. I guess you're too tired, hmm?" He said, his muffled voice gentle, and the sound almost prompted you to stand up and open the door for him. But you dug your fingernails in your palms and resisted, because you can't just let this opportunity pass by.

You heard a brief clinking sound before Sanji spoke again, "Sweet dreams, ange."

Once his footsteps faded away, you cautiously moved towards your door and opened it as quietly as you can. There, on the floor, was a small plate with a slice of your favorite desert: angel's food cake, topped with fresh cream and strawberries.

You bent down and saw a note beside the plate. And when you got to read the contents of the note, you burst into tears and sobs that wracked down your entire body.

Happy Birthday

— S.

You ate the cake with tears silently falling down your cheeks, and that was the first time you failed to leave Sanji Vinsmoke.

⸻ • ⸻

Today was the day, and you won't allow anyone to ruin it for you.

You had saved enough Berries to travel around the world and sustain yourself for the upcoming months. Your notebook containing the lyrics of the songs you wrote laid open on top of your bed as you spent all night revising them while planning out an itinerary. Then you'll find a place to settle in, a stable job that required doing what you loved the most, and overall just be peaceful and free from pirates and chefs and pirate chefs. It was perfect.

Folded clothes surrounded you everywhere, ready to be packed in your bags. Once you finished stuffing them all in, you grabbed your treasured instrument, the one thing you couldn't live without: your guitar, which has been with you since you were a little child. It was given by your mother and you've been attached to it ever since.

It has scratches all over its wooden surface, and the strings needed some fixing occassionally, but you wouldn't trade it for the greatest treasures in the world. You ran your fingers over it, suddenly feeling like it was lacking something. Seeing the paint chipping off at the corners, you figured that it needed a little color.  You'll need lacquer, and paint if you managed to find some.

You set the guitar aside and left your bedroom to head downstairs to the kitchen. As you were about to push the doors open, a loud, angry shout made you stop in your tracks.

"I won't ever become a pathetic waiter for you!" Sanji's thunderous yells can be heard from outside. Your shoulders tensed up. It was a good thing that brunch was over and all the customers had left.

Zeff's own furious voice followed, "Leave then, for all I care! You can do anything you want, but don't you ever serve one of your shit dishes in my kitchen!"

A frown settled on your face. Their fights were a normal occurrence to you, but this one sounded more grave than usual. Crossing your arms, you stepped in closer to the entrance and hesitated whether you should go in or not. Before you could make a decision, Zeff beat you to it by pushing the doors open, rage emanating from his figure as he ignored and walked past you.

Without hesitation this time, you entered the kitchen, greeted by the sight of Sanji bowing over the counter, breathing heavily, his face covered with his hair. He didn't move an inch even as you approached him, the clacking of the heels in your boots echoing throughout the room.

Both of you were silent as you rummaged through cabinets, trying to find lacquer to cover your guitar with, while he tried his best to calm himself down after his outburst. Many cupboards later, you finally found a small can of used up lacquer, but as you started to reach for it, your hand completely stopped mid-air.

You looked over your shoulder, and found Sanji already recovered from the argument seeing that he was on the move again, preparing a cut of beef tenderloin and other ingredients he needed for tonight's dinner.

Slowly, you closed the cupboard and went closer to him. He still refused to look at you. And so you watched him place a bag of flour on the countertop, slices of cold butter, and a variety of spice bottles to season the meat with.

Sanji began to wrap twine around the beef tenderloin. You sighed, and before you could stop yourself, you grabbed a bowl and decided to help him. Your guitar can wait.

It was rare for you to cook inside the kitchen, having so little knowledge about food and how they were prepared, but you knew this recipe well. You poured two cups of flour through the sifter, followed by placing heaps of the cold butter in the mixture.

The moment you started to mix the dough for the puff pastry, Sanji quickly pointed out in a monotone voice, "You're adding too much butter."

You raised your head and glanced at him, his attention now on the meat he was searing on a skillet. You smiled, glad that he was speaking again.

"You're beginning to sound like the old man himself." You joked lightly.

His jaw clenched. "Don't compare me to that shitty geezer."

In a softer voice, you asked, "What happened?"

"The usual." He replied curtly. "Didn't approve of my dishes."

You perked up upon hearing about a dish he made himself. Sanji was talented when it comes to creating his own recipes, and sometimes, you would be the person he chooses to test them out. Every time he lets you taste them, your chest would feel warm and you wouldn't be able to sleep for days because you'll keep replaying it in your head. "What did you make this time?"

"It doesn't matter. He'll never agree to any of them."

"Maybe I can—"

"Drop it. Don't poke your nose in things you're not involved." Sanji cut you off, his hardened gaze meeting your concerned stare. You only blinked at him, straightening up.

"I see." You muttered, eyes landing on the bag of flour. You looked at him, then at the flour, then back at him. A smile began to form on your lips as a devious plan formulated itself in your brain. Sticking your hand inside the bag of flour, you took a fistful of the pillowy powder and threw it straight into his face.

Sanji jumped back, flinching and closing his eyes when some of the flour's particles managed to enter them. His jaw dropped open in surprise, hands quickly removing themselves from the skillet's handle to dust off the flour that rested on his now white hair. You tried to stifle a laugh as you watched him struggle getting the flour out.

Once he managed to clean himself, he stared straight at you and said in the calmest way possible, even if you knew deep inside that he was fuming, "What was that for?"

A high-pitched snort left your mouth. You covered it to prevent yourself from laughing.

You cleared your throat and smiled at him innocently. "Am I involved now?"

His piercing blue eyes then started to sparkle with mirth, amusement replacing the vexation previously swimming in them. He also looked to be trying to push down a smile, and that made your heart skip a beat. "You're insufferable."

He reached for the bag of flour. You squeaked and took off running, trying to escape from his attack, but he still managed to throw a small amount on you. Giggling, you ran the opposite direction to confuse him, and yet he caught up with you, throwing another round of flour. This time, it hit your cheeks, making you laugh loudly. He laughed along, pointing a finger at you because you probably looked crazy at the moment.

You tried to take the bag of flour away from him, but he just took it an as opportunity to catch your arm and grip it firmly. He pulled you into his chest, caging you completely.

With your cheeks warm and your breaths short, you tilted your head up and looked at him, noticing the way that you were both covered in flour; and not only that, you also noticed the short distance between your bodies and how your noses were almost touching. His pupils were dilated, black dominating the alluring blue shade that kept haunting your dreams. You drank in the attention he was giving you, the breathing coming out from his soft lips, and the comfortable silence that wrapped around the both of you like a safe little bubble.

"Caught you." Sanji muttered, voice deeper and huskier, making you let out a quiet sigh. His arms snaked around your waist as he leaned in closer. A million questions started to run inside your head, begging to know what this situation was and how you got into it. "Nowhere to run now, darling."

A slamming of doors shattered the secret moment you shared, and you immediately pulled away from each other. You pushed down your disappointment and hid it in the secret crevice in your heart as the two of you faced your intruder.

Zeff observed your flour-laden figures, his thick eyebrows scrunched together in irritation. He then demanded, voice seething and dripping with anger, "What in the hell are you two little brats doing?"

Sanji blurted out in defense, "Zeff, we—she was the one who started it!"

"And you went along with it!" You accused incredulously, grinning from ear-to-ear. Sanji grinned back, shaking his head and biting his lower lip.

"Oh, shut up before I stitch your mouths! Just by looking at you two, I already know that you snot-nosed shits are both at fault!" Zeff shouted, clicking his tongue at the sight of the half emptied flour. "Wasted them good flour for your childish fights. You're even worse than fatwits. Get out and clean the toilets!"

"Not the shitty toilets!" Sanji groaned, and you couldn't blame him for it. The bathroom area smelled revolting and the floors were always wet for some reason.

"I don't wanna hear complaints from you when you've dirtied my kitchen! Off you go!" Zeff dismissed, and you can't help but to laugh again when you saw Sanji pout like a little kid.

The head chef watched the two of you leave the kitchen together while giggling and exchanging fond looks. Patty, who also saw the whole situation unfold, suddenly appeared beside him, snickering, "I can already hear the wedding bells ringing."

Zeff took a deep, tired breath.

"Oh, they're ringing alright."

You cleaned and scrubbed the toilets the entire afternoon with the man you're in love with, flushing your plans down the drain and forgetting all about them, and that was the second time you failed to leave Sanji Vinsmoke.

⸻ • ⸻

You didn't know how you ended up in a ship full of pirates.

Well, maybe you knew. A little. But it wasn't supposed to be like this.

Your knuckles were beginning to turn white with how tight you were clenching them. A mix of emotions swirled around in your chest, namely confusion, impatience, and hesitation, pondering about whether you should be irritated at yourself or at Sanji.

The opportunity was there, handed to you like a steak on a golden platter, or a miracle that suddenly fell from the sky. The day you met Luffy and his strange pirate crew was the day you immediately realized that he was the key to your exit from the Baratie. He was friendly; a good pirate, according to his own words, so you figured he would allow you to tag along for a while until you find an island to get off to. You just had to ask for his permission and wait for his reply.

Luffy agreed. And you were ecstatic. You were finally going to leave Sanji Vinsmoke and your pathetic, unrequited feelings behind.

Or so you thought.

You watched in horror as he followed you when you boarded the Going Merry, also carrying a bag of his own. He said something along the lines of Luffy needing a cook for the journey to the Grand Line but you couldn't care less. You got here first. Why was he here?

So here you were, sitting in a corner, lonelier than ever and regretting your life decisions. You watched Luffy and his friends celebrate after defeating the pirate Arlong and saving Coco Village from his inhuman hold over its people, but Sanji and the beautiful orange haired Nami were nowhere in sight.

The thought of them being gone together at the same time left a bitter aftertaste on your tongue.

Nami. The first time you laid eyes on her, ethereal was the word that came up to your mind. With soft deep saffron locks that framed her small face and a wide blue eyed gaze, she would have the cruelest of men begging for mercy and affection at her feet.

Unfortunately, Sanji was one of those men.

Fuck, you cursed mentally, rubbing your face with your hands to try and forget about the times he flirted with her and the moments he wouldn't stop talking about her or kept asking about her favorite food or dessert or if she's into blonds. Your already battered heart doesn't need the usual reminder that he'll never see you that way, that you weren't going to experience his sweet words and his loving gazes.

You took a sharp breath. It's okay, you tell yourself over and over again until they were buried in your heart. They'll make a great pair, Sanji the cook and Nami the thief. A strong man with an equally strong woman. Yes. That makes sense.

You'll leave soon anyway, and you'll no longer have to worry about seeing them or how they were going to end up together.

And yet you can't help but to think about the things that could've been if you were the one he was in love with instead.

You were crossing your arms and hugging yourself as the crisp afternoon air was getting chilly when a hand gripping a shot glass filled with amber liquid appeared in front of you. Looking up, you saw Luffy smiling widely at you, waving the glass encouragingly.

"Come on, just one drink! Usopp poured this for you!" The captain exclaimed heartily, obviously trying to uplift your spirits and to make you feel welcomed in his crew, even though you did nothing but to guard the Going Merry while they were fighting for their lives.

You shook your head and smiled politely. "No, I don't drink. Sorry."

Luffy's smile faltered, but he recovered quickly. He nodded, setting the glass down on top of a barrel. "Well, okay." He said, then turned to Usopp, who was currently downing a whole bottle of whiskey. "Hey, where's Nami?"

"Oh, she's with the cook," Usopp replied cheekily, wiping his mouth after drinking. There was a teasing tone in his voice as he continued, "Someone's getting a boyfriend tonight!"

With that said, you reached for the shot glass that Luffy was offering you earlier, grabbed it swiftly, and poured the whole thing down your throat. The whiskey tasted unfamiliar, and it burned and made you dizzy at first taste, but it doesn't matter; as long as it can make you forget just for a little while, you were willing to drink more of the horrible beverage.

Zoro, the green haired swordsman and the captain's first mate, stared at you as if you had lost your mind, but a tinge of concern was visibly written on his face. "Woah, slow down." He warned sternly.

"I thought you didn't drink." Was all Luffy said, blinking in confusion. You chuckled tiredly.

"Now I do."

Drink after drink, glass after glass. You lost count on how many times Usopp poured whiskey for you, or how many times Zoro shook his head in disbelief. Luffy was the same old happy-go-lucky captain throughout the disaster that was starting to brew inside you, turning your brain into mush. You can barely lift your head or your fingers as you asked for another shot in an incoherent voice. Luckily, Usopp was still able to understand you, tipping the whiskey bottle yet again towards your glass.

You started to raise the glass to your lips, eager to just get severely drunk and be over with it already. However, you suddenly felt strong fingers wrap around your wrist to stop you from drinking; and when you caught sight of a familiar silver ring with Baratie's jolly roger inlaid upon it, you didn't need to look up to know who it was.

Sanji's voice was unnervingly calm as he questioned the crew, but the slight shake in his words lets you know otherwise. "Which one of you allowed her to drink?"

"No one. She took the glass and made the decision herself." Zoro drawled, challenging the chef, "The last time I checked, waiter, you were supposed to be the one responsible for her."

Sanji ignored him and turned his attention to you. He stole the shot glass away from you, then kneeled and held your hands comfortingly, smiling. "Come on, ange. It's time for you to rest now." He said quietly, yet loud enough for only you to hear.

You stubbornly shook your head repeatedly and whined loudly. "No! Don't touch me!" You cried, prying your hands away from his, "I don't like you...!"

Zoro huffed in amusement at your declaration. Sanji glared at him for a short second before looking at you again. This time, he stood and gently placed his arms under your shoulders to raise you up. Once you were standing on your feet, he swept you up and carried you bridal style with ease. Another whine escaped your lips.

"Put me down! I want another drink, please, just one more!" You pleaded while throwing weak punches on his chest. Sanji only smiled and began to lead you towards the sleeping quarters. You continued to thrash in his arms as he walked slowly and in small steps so he wouldn't drop you.

Sanji carefully set you down on your hammock. "No drinks for you until you actually learn how to take them." He told you, tucking a stray piece of your hair behind your ear. His thumb caressed the soft skin of your cheek and rubbed it in circles, noting how fast you were heating up due to the alcohol. You pouted.

"Pretty please, Sanji...please..."

He chuckled, staring at you intensely. "Maybe some other time, ange."

You went quiet, staring back at him with half-lidded eyes. Then, you crossed your arms like a child and asked, "Why do you keep calling me that?"

Sanji raised a brow. "Call you what? Ange?"

You nodded. "I don't like it."

He began to smile, the dimples on his cheeks appearing. You briefly wondered if he'd allow you to poke and feel them. "Why?"

"I don't know what it means. Is it an insult?" You wondered aloud, your eyes widening in curiosity.

A hearty and warm laugh came out from Sanji, his eyes forming half-moons as he cackled at your words like they were the biggest joke he heard in his entire life, "Oh, my dear girl, how could I possibly insult you?" He managed to speak between laughs, "It means angel. You're an angel, to me at least. My angel."

Oh.

Your lips parted in surprise. Blinking, you simply said, "You're not Sanji."

He's not Sanji. He wouldn't call you angel; you're not even sure if he found you beautiful or attractive. You wear the same old tattered dresses that Zeff bought for you a long time ago, and you didn't even bother to style your hair or put on face powder like all the other beautiful ladies do. You look nowhere near to an angel.

But Sanji only grinned. "I assure you, I am very much Sanji. The little brat who pulled your hair when we were barely eleven years old."

Your breath hitched at the thought of him remembering one of your fond memories in your childhood. "You remembered."

"Of course I remembered." He whispered, cupping your cheek one last time before he got ready to leave. He turned on his heel and was about to walk away when you spoke.

"Are you going to see her again?" You asked, and he quickly noticed how broken your voice sounded. Sanji faced you in concern and was taken aback with how deep you were frowning. He figured that you were just drunk and women tend to be different when they were intoxicated. You were no exception to that, it seemed.

"Hm?" He hummed, prompting you to elaborate further.

Tears began to form in the corners of your eyes. You shakily mumbled, "Nami...you're going to Nami, aren't you?"

Sanji froze, an icy cold rush filling up his body. A knot formed in his throat, and it continued to tighten the longer he stared at your face. You looked so hurt—like he just destroyed your beloved guitar into pieces. Your lower lips were trembling, your eyes glistening with unshed tears. For a moment, he couldn't find the courage to answer you, feeling like he could die at any second now if he answers your question.

But the answer was simple.

"Yes." He breathed out, a sharp pain stabbing through his heart.

And it only became worse when a teardrop finally rolled down your cheek. "Why?" You rasped, and Sanji didn't know that a single word can hurt this much.

He tried to give you a reassuring smile but awfully failed to do so. He started to explain, "We were just discussing something—"

"Why not me?"

Those three words coming out of your mouth felt like a final blow to his heart. He can feel himself bleed, drained of life and soul because of you and your words alone, and he let you. He let you kill him, he let you make him swim in his own guilt and he doesn't why, why, why.

More tears fell out of your angelic eyes, staining your cheeks with wet trails, and he tried to hold himself back from wiping them off. You choked out, "Why not me, Sanji? I have been asking myself that question for the past decade, and it eats my brain every night like some kind of plague, but I let it anyway. Because why? Why can't you just recognize me and appreciate me and see me? Why can't you go to me if you want to talk about your dreams, or what dish you're planning to create? Why do you have to seek solace in other women when you have me standing by your side everyday, me who is willing to listen to you and whatever you have to say?"

Angry, red rimmed eyes glared at him. Your hair strands stuck to your skin and framed your face as sweat began to form on your forehead. Teardrops clung to your wet eyelashes and your face was drenched like you just took a swim in the ocean. You were burning with fury and rage and want, struggling to breathe properly after your little rant, and Sanji thought you couldn't be more beautiful. You were so beautiful.

"Oh but I couldn't blame you for that. She's just so beautiful, so perfect, and so strong. She could give you anything you wanted and she could be anything that I never was." You hiccuped, smiling forcibly, "But in the end...I will still love you. I will always love you. I think."

You scooted closer to him, leaning in until your faces only had a few inches apart between them. You didn't notice how his lips were slightly parted in shock, nor his eyes that were starting to glisten with his own tears. "No matter where I flee to, or where I lay my heart on, or which skies I look at—it's always you, Sanji. It's always been you."

"I had been so selfless all these years, Sanji. So please, can you pretend to like me too, just for today, before I leave?" You whispered meekly, cupping his cheeks with both of your hands. Numb and completely speechless, Sanji simply gave you a single nod as a response.

You gingerly pressed your lips against his, and he immediately tasted the saltiness of your tears. But your lips were soft, as he expected from an angel like you. And so he couldn't help himself; he closed his eyes and delicately kissed you back, repeating your name in his mind like a sacred prayer and wishing to the stars above to not let the moment end.

However, you broke the kiss by losing consciousness and falling down on your hammock, knocked out and peacefully snoring.

Sanji spaced out, not moving from his position. No. It's not that he didn't want to move—he couldn't move. He couldn't feel anything except for the drumming of his heart, knocking on his chest desperately. His lips were still tingling and his ears and neck were warming up.

He gulped, loosening the collar of his shirt to cool himself down. He needed a cigarette. And a drink.

Scrambling to get up even with his trembling legs, Sanji managed to stand properly. He avoided your sleeping figure and decided to get out of the room as soon as possible. However, when he took a step forward, his foot touched a notebook lying on the floor.

Sanji bent down and took the notebook. He flipped it open, and after reading only the first page, he finally came into a conclusion.

Heartbroken, drunk, and unaware, you dozed off the rest of the afternoon. When nightfall settled on the azure horizon and dusk fell on the rough surface of the sea, you missed the chance to walk away from the crew yet again; and that was the third time you failed to leave Sanji Vinsmoke.

⸻ • ⸻

The next morning, you woke up feeling much better with only the memory of you drinking and crying yourself to sleep and nothing else. Everything was normal, and the crew began to make plans for their next adventure during breakfast.

Everything was normal, except for Sanji, who was quiet throughout the whole discussion. And of course, just like always, you were the only one who noticed his strange behavior. You tried to catch his eyes, but he looked at everywhere except you.

When he finally met your gaze, you gave him a soft smile, hoping he would smile back and everything was fine and you were just overthinking it.

He doesn't.

⸻ • ⸻

"Are you really going to leave?"

Taking your gaze away from the heart shaped cloud you spotted on the clear blue sky, you faced the person who asked the question you were dreading for some time now. Luffy was staring curiously at you, awaiting your answer. You can't help but to smile softly at the captain, whose kindness you have yet to repay.

"I believe we already talked about this, captain." You said, recalling your short conversation last night. He kept asking you if you were really sure about your decision while his eyes darted to a certain blond haired chef every time he shoots you the question. It was strange, and you felt even more suspicious when Sanji pretended not to hear your answer and even refused to glance your way.

Luffy put his hands on his hips. "You know, you're welcome to stay and be a part of my crew."

You crossed your arms, smile growing wide. "And what, pray tell, is my role? Sing battle songs and chant your names while you swing your gummy arms at pirates?" You joked playfully.

The young captain stroked his chin in deep thought, almost like he was considering your suggestion. "That's not a bad idea."

You bursted out laughing, shaking your head in disbelief, "I'll leave first thing in the morning. I told Nami to dock at a nearby island."

"What about Sanji?" He suddenly questioned, leaving you flabbergasted for a split second. You weren't prepared to hear Sanji's name after days of not talking to him properly.

Him not speaking with you wasn't a strange occurence at all; back when you were still in the Baratie, there would be days when Sanji wouldn't bother to acknowledge your presence and would completely ignore you. This would happen whenever he was extremely busy with his cooking or he had a disagreement with Zeff.

And it seemed like this was one of those days, seeing that he had been ignoring you for about a week now. Yes, you have been keeping count. Although he doesn't appear to be angry with you, the short-lived exchanges and the abrupt cut-offs before you could say anything deeply concerned you more than it should have.

You tried to rack your brains for reasons on why he was acting like this. Maybe Nami had rejected him for the hundredth time, or Zoro kept throwing insults in his direction—or maybe his cigarette packet had ran out. Maybe his kitchen knives weren't sharp anymore and he was struggling in the kitchen.

Should you ask him? Should you go to him and demand him to tell you what's wrong?

You pressed your lips together. It sounded like the worst idea you've thought of so far. You convinced yourself that Sanji was fine and he'd be back to normal in no time; there would no need to talk to him.

"What about him?" You faltered, chuckling to ease the tension in your body.

"You care for each other." Luffy explained bluntly and matter-of-factly, "What does he think about you leaving?"

A shaky sigh made its way out of your lips. How will you tell the captain that his cook has been avoiding you like you were some kind of rotten fish these days?

"I..." You stammered, gathering the courage to lie to Luffy even if you thought it would be the gravest sin you could commit, "He...agrees. Yeah. No need to worry."

Luffy grinned, but it didn't look normal at all. You winced in embarrassment. He knew that you were lying and was totally unconvinced.

Luckily, he didn't voice it out. He only nodded and said, "Great! Oh, I have an idea! Why don't you sing for us before we part ways? Think of it as a farewell party for the crew."

Hearing the pure and genuine excitement dripping from his voice, you couldn't turn him down. It was a good idea too, and now that you thought about it, you haven't performed for them yet. "Sure." You agreed, shrugging.

He raised his fist up in the air and cheered. You smiled, watching as he shouted for his crewmates' names to come down and listen to you sing. You prepared yourself for an impromptu performance, making sure that your guitar was properly tuned and your voice was clear enough to give you the best version of your singing. Sitting on top of a barrel, you faced your audience of four, all their eager eyes watching your every move.

As you struck the first chord to your song, you tried hard not to think that Sanji wasn't there to watch you sing the song you secretly dedicate to him.

In the kitchen, Sanji busied himself by plating the food that he'll serve to his fellow crew mates for dinner. He grabbed a large plate and placed the chicken drumsticks that his captain favored, but Luffy wasn't the one in his mind when he cooked those. Looking at the food, he wondered if you would love them too.

He shook his thoughts off and took the plate with him outside. Approaching the crew, his steps slowed down when he heard a familiar singing voice and a melodic tune of a guitar.

Sanji almost dropped the plate.

It was you. Of course it was you, you were the only one he knew who had a voice like that. It was you, and you were singing with a lovely smile painted on your sweet lips, the very same lips that touched his a few days ago, resulting in him not getting a wink of sleep every night. The beam of the sunset right behind you colored your hair in the different shades of the sky as the dulcet-filled notes you made echoed throughout the vast sea. For a moment, he was worried that you were going to attract ferocious sea beasts with your angelic voice and steal you away from him.

He could hear his blood pound in his ears the longer he observed you from afar. You looked happy. Happier than you were when you stayed with him and Zeff. His chest tightened, knowing that you leaving and go on adventures on your own was probably the best decision you could make, even if that means leaving him too.

You were finishing up your song by the time you saw Sanji standing behind Usopp, silently listening. He met your gaze, and for the first time ever, you couldn't read his mind. His expression was blank as you stared at each other, and as you opened your mouth to say something, he cut you off.

"Dinner's ready." Sanji announced shortly, setting down the plate in front of Luffy and then walked away without saying another word.

That was your final straw. You immediately put down your guitar and followed him into the kitchen. You didn't care about how you felt Nami's watchful eyes on you as you went after him, nor how Luffy was scarfing down the dinner and was definitely going to finish it all before you could take a bite; you just chased the blond with determination oozing out of you.

You roughly pushed the door open and found Sanji washing the pans he used for cooking. He glanced at you briefly then quickly looked away after. This irritated you even more as you demanded, "Is there something bothering you?"

"You should eat before the food gets cold." He said with an empty voice.

"Sanji!"

He stiffened. You rarely raised your voice at anyone. Sighing in defeat, he dried off his hands and fully faced you.

Your eyes were sharper than his knives, cutting straight into his soul. "I've known you for a long time now, do you think I don't notice whenever you have a problem?" You glowered, taking a step closer to him, "You have a problem. What is it?"

It happened fast. His hand landed on the small of your back and pulled you to his chest, and the other was placed on top of your cheek, and in a single motion, Sanji captured your lips with his. You gasped in the kiss, your heart dropping to the soles of your feet when he tilted his face to deepen it. Your fingers tightly grasped the sleeves of his shirt for support as he passionately moved his lips against yours. A pleasant heat ran down your spine, your whole body tingling and warming up. You were simply drowning. There was no other way to describe it, and it was only caused by his fervent kisses.

Sanji pulled away, resting your forehead on top of yours, and you took it as an opportunity to breathe in air that you lost. "You are the problem." He murmured lowly, eyes darting down to your swollen lips. Confused and lightheaded, you didn't get the chance to retort.

"Ever since that night, ange, you occupy my thoughts. You gave me a taste of your lips and you didn't even remember the next day. Do you know how that feels, hm?" He said, pecking your lips once again. You made a noise in the back of your throat, turning your head sideways so he couldn't kiss you anymore, but he took your chin and hungrily connected both of your lips.

He spoke between kisses, "You torture me. Ever since I read those songs you wrote about me in that little notebook of yours, you torture me with your presence."

That was when you snapped out of your daze. With all the force you could muster, you placed your hands on his chest and pushed him away. Sanji stepped back, surprised at your reaction.

Without giving him a chance to ask you anything, you ran off and left the kitchen, slamming the door loudly so you wouldn't hear him calling your name and be tempted to go back in his arms again.

You arrived in the sleeping quarters, locking the door behind you. You were sure that the others would understand you needing your alone time. Once you made sure you were on your own, your body collapsed altogether, your back sliding down against the door as you panted heavily.

He knows, was all you could think about. He knows about the songs. He knows about your feelings.

Well, you finally got your answer to your previous question, but a more complicated one replaced it. With trembling hands, your fingers raised themselves to your lips, touching its surface. You hated the way that you still felt his warmth on top of them.

A lone tear slid down the side of your nose. He was cruel. Sanji was cruel.

You didn't come out of that room for days, refusing to talk to anyone as you gathered your scrambled throughts and pulled yourself back together, and that was the fourth time you failed to leave Sanji Vinsmoke.

⸻ • ⸻

A stack of books, most of them being a collection of maps compiled in one, rested beside you while you flipped through the pages of the one you chose among them.

Nami has been lending you her books ever since you shut yourself out from the crew. You ignored all of them and only let Nami in, hoping that she'll be able to understand you; and she did. She was a good listener. Although you weren't particularly close with each other, you trusted her and told her everything: your dreams, your problems, your feelings, and Sanji. In return, she confided in you too.

"Here. So you can finally decide on where you will go to," You recall her saying while she handed you her collection of world map books, "and to distract yourself, of course."

"You're too kind, Nami." You said in admiration. Maybe this is why Sanji was enamored with her. She was a beauty inside and out.

Nami shrugged, yet she was smiling. "Just helping a fellow woman out."

The books did take your mind off the stubborn blond haired man that was still resting inside your heart, even if it was only for a fleeting moment. You tried to search for islands that will be suitable for you to start your career, narrowing some of them down into choices, but your eyes wil always lead back to where the Baratie was stationed.

You leaned back against your chair, letting your head hit the wall with a soft thud as you released a sigh of frustration. Not only will you need to prepare yourself for a journey all alone, but you also have to talk to Sanji sooner or later, whether you like it or not. The kiss distracted you more than the books Nami gave you. You think of it in the morning and dream of it at night, and it only got worse every time you remembered that he kissed you like he loved you.

Relaxing in your seat, you closed the book and listened to the silence.

The Going Merry docked for a quick trip to a market to gather fresh ingredients for food. Sanji will be gone for the meantime and you were free to roam around the ship without his heated stare boring holes in your skin.

But the peace was ruined by rushed footsteps and Usopp breaking into the room, almost destroying the door with his brute force. You frowned, standing up on alert when you saw how nervous he looked.

"Sanji's injured!" He exclaimed, which got your brow raising, knowing that he had a long history of lying to people. However, he forcibly pulled Sanji inside, and you were greeted by the sight of a bruised man, whose lips were bleeding and cheeks were starting to yellow.

You immediately sprang into action. You took the first aid kit you packed in your bag and grabbed his arm, making him sit down on your chair.

"How did you get into a fight in just a span of ten minutes?" You asked in irritation, wetting a cloth with saltwater to wipe off the blood on his lips.

Sanji grunted, tensing up when you took a hold of his face and dabbed on his lip using the cloth. "Some petty vendor was selling overpriced onions, and they weren't even the best of quality."

You stopped for a minute, glaring at him. "So you decided to punch them instead of talking it over?"

He only huffed in reply. Pursing your lips in annoyance, you continued to treat his wounds in silence, noticing him flinching and wincing in pain whenever you compress the bruised area with ice. "Who's being petty now?" You scolded impatiently, "Stay still."

The only sound that filled the room was you hastily rummaging your kit trying to find an ointment and an awkward silence that made you want to jump into the sea and never swim back to the surface. You unscrewed the lid of the jar of ointment and scooped some with your finger, looking at Sanji as you did so. He looked back at you quietly, and you tried hard not to think about the fact that you have to touch his lips in order for you to apply it.

It seemed like he realized that too, glancing down at the dollop of ointment on top of your finger, then back to you. You just gave him a small, uneasy smile, showing him that you weren't uncomfortable even though you were, and shyly took a step forward.

As gently as you could, you spread the ointment on the wounded area on his lips, reminding yourself to not be distracted on how soft they looked.

"A busted lip because of overpriced ingredients...it almost feels like you're doing this on purpose so I wouldn't get the chance to leave you." You half-heartedly joked to lighten up the atmosphere. However, you were greeted by nothing, not even a smart comeback or a funny joke from the blond. You hesitantly observed his reaction, and saw that he was grim and serious, guilt swimming in his beryl blue eyes.

The realization began to sink in.

Oh.

You should've known from the start. Sanji was a great fighter; he wouldn't be injured in the first place. "Sanji..."

Sanji took your wrist and held on it tightly. Your breath hitched, only then realizing how much you missed his touch, his warm, gentle, and loving touch.

"Let me go." You weakly said, even though deep down, you didn't want him to.

"Tell me you're not in love with me." He said, sounding utterly desperate that it almost made you fall down to your knees, "Tell me, and I'll let you go."

When you didn't answer, he stood up and cupped your cheeks with both of his hands. He pleaded, "Look at me. Look into my eyes and tell me you don't love me."

"Please don't do this." You whispered in pain as you tearfully shook your head.

"Stay. Please, stay." Sanji begged, pressing his forehead against yours, "What can I do to make you stay? Tell me. I'll do anything. Do I need to kneel? To beg for your forgiveness? Tell me what you want. I'll do anything in my power to make you the happiest woman in all of East Blue. Just please, don't leave."

"I can't." You answered, closing your eyes, a few tears streaming down your cheeks. You hate the way he was making this so hard for you.

He only continued, "Hate me, curse me, shout at me, if you must. Anything but you leaving me. Or do you want to make me yours? Then I am letting you. Whatever you want, mon ange—my heart, my soul, my attention, they're all yours. I'm all yours."

"No..."

"The crew will be incomplete without you." Sanji insisted in anguish.

"I have dreams, Sanji. Just like you and the rest of the crew." You explained softly, placing your own hands on top of his in attempt to comfort him and relieve him from his confusion.

However, he was persistent, "You can achieve your dreams without leaving. You can stay, and I will support you in everything you do. You're better off staying with me—with us."

You said firmly, "I will not spend the rest of my life doing what I don't want."

"Even with me by your side?"

A few second pass before you finally reply, "I'd be miserable."

Pain flashed on his face, making you want to take back your own words, yet you remained strong and unyielding. Sanji took a deep breath and stepped away from you, saying, "I'd rather have you miserable here than go out there and encounter ruthless pirates."

The statement quickly irritated you, frowning at him deeply. "You think I'll have problems with pirates when I've been serving them for years?"

"Oh, darling, you wouldn't be able to say that once you've encountered worse ones, with bounties higher than you could ever imagine." He snapped, voice raising with each word.

"I can manage on my own!" You bit back frustratingly, your tears evaporating into anger.

Sanji scowled at you, impatiently running his fingers through his hair. "You can't fight!" He shouted, voice breaking in the process, and with it, your heart too. It shattered like glass and the shards landed and pierced through your lungs, rendering you breathless. Your eyes widened, mouth dropping open in shock.

Seeing your expression, he immediately snapped back to reality, regret writing itself on his face. You shook your head in disbelief and let out a humorless laugh, "Are you telling me that I'm weak?"

"I didn't say that." Sanji quickly said in a hushed manner.

"But you're implying it!" You choked, still can't believe that he doesn't trust you. He doesn't trust you enough to accomplish your dreams on your own, and that he was not confident that you'll succeed without him by your side.

You wanted to ask him about the passionate kiss you two shared, about his loving gestures that confused the hell out of you, about his fresh bruises that he received on purpose so that he can get you to stay, and why he did all of that. You needed confirmation. But the question that left you was, "What am I to you?"

Sanji stayed quiet, and your heart broke again once more. Deciding that this was the last time he breaks it, you walked away and left him alone to tend to his own injuries.

He lit up a cigarette as he listened to your fading footsteps. A single teardrop fell down from his eye the moment he placed the cigarette between his lips, and all he could think about was that you hurt more than the bruises on his cheeks.

You packed your bags and spoke with Nami, telling her that you were ready, and that was the fifth time you tried to leave Sanji Vinsmoke—and tomorrow, you'll finally succeed.

⸻ • ⸻

The sun had just risen, and the early morning breeze smelled of the ocean, the calming sound of waves filling your ears. It was one of those days when the sky was clear and the sunlight wasn't harsh but pleasantly warm on your skin, making it the perfect day to start working on a new song and strum on your guitar for the melody.

But today was different. You were standing on the first step of the ship's staircase that leads to a docking station and a wooden walkway towards an unfamiliar island that was soon to be your new home. Your fingers clenched on the strap of your bag, finding this moment to be surreal. You have tried many times to leave, and here it was, right on the palms of your hands.

"So. This is it, huh?" Your trance broke as Nami commented beside you. She was the only one to bid you farewell and watch you leave, since the others were still asleep. You thought of Sanji and how he looked like when he was sleeping, staring at his handsome features so you can memorize them and implant it in your mind. He was your first love; you didn't want to forget him.

You smiled. "Thank you, Nami." You said earnestly, "I would've liked to spend more time with you. It's tiring to speak to men sometimes, don't you think?"

She laughed. "Yeah." Then, she caged you in her arms and hugged you tightly, surprising you for a second before you laughed too and returned the hug. "Stay safe out there."

"I will."

"So you planned to leave? Without saying goodbye?" A new voice interrupted, breaking the hug you and Nami both shared. You swiveled to look behind you, and there stood Sanji, appearing to have just woken up, with the strands of his blond hair sticking up in different directions. You observed his dejected expression, the downward tilt of the corners of his lips, and the glistening of his tired eyes. You stared at his crumpled suit and his crooked necktie. Despite how messy he looked, he will always be perfect to you.

You walked forward and looked at him fondly, with your eyes full of so much love reserved for him and him only. "Thought it would hurt less." You said, raising your hands to touch his hair and brush it down, "And I was right. How can I leave now when you're standing in front of me?"

He sighed shakily as he felt your soft fingers threading through his hair. "Then don't." He whispered. You only smiled at him. He didn't smile back, but that didn't stop you from taking both of his hands and caressing his knuckles using your thumb.

"Every night, I'll look at the moon and think of you. I'll tell my stories, sing my songs, and whisper my secrets to it. Just like what you and me would do when we were little." You told him softly and endearingly, "Would you be so kind as to look at the moon too and think of me?"

Sanji's eyebrows were scrunched together in agony, muttering, "I can't make you stay, can I?"

When you didn't answer, he just nodded his head, understanding what you wanted to stay. He forced a smile and tightly squeezed your hands. "I'm sorry."

"I'm yours." You answered, placing a soft kiss on the back of his hands. After letting your lips linger on his skin for a while, you slowly let go, and with one last glance at his face, you stepped back and made your way downstairs to the docking area, leaving before you could change your mind.

Sanji watched you go. While you walked away from the Going Merry, from the crew, and from him, not once did you look back. He just watched as you went farther away and became smaller in the distance, until you blended in with the crowd and you were just another person in a sea of people. And then you were gone.

It was the sixth time you tried to leave Sanji Vinsmoke, and this time, you finally did.

⸻ • ⸻

The red velvet curtains began to draw in front of you, gently falling back down on the stage as you said your final good-byes to your audience for tonight, a bouquet of roses cradled in your arms while you blew delicate kisses towards them. You can still hear their loud cheering and clapping even as you retreated to your personal room backstage.

A middle-aged woman greeted you inside when you stepped in the room and closed the door behind you, whistling. "There she is, our talented rising star!"

You only laughed at the silly nickname, setting the bouquet of roses that one of the people gave you in tonight's show on top of your vanity table. "You exaggerate, Madam. I have only performed two shows in your beautiful theater."

The madam, who was the owner of the theater you were currently working in, shook her head in disagreement. "And those two shows are sold out!" She informed you proudly, placing her hands on your shoulders, "Let me know if you want to add more, you are welcome to perform here anytime."

"I'll think about it." You replied, smiling. The madam patted your shoulder twice before she left you alone, humming happily to herself. You huffed in amusement, fully aware that she doesn't appreciate your talents at all, but only cared for the money.

Regardless of that, you were happy. It has been a couple of years since you left the Strawhat Pirates and pursued your dreams all on your own, and you've been traveling to different islands across the seas to perform. You never had a permanent home; being a musician meant going to many places from time to time to share and spread out your music.

Yet you can't help but miss life on the sea.

You missed washing dishes on the Baratie and the late night conversations you had with Zeff. You missed Luffy and his weird antics, Usopp and his jokes, Zoro and his blunt comments, and Nami and her kindness.

You missed Sanji and everything that he was.

You stared at your reflection in the vanity mirror on your desk. Your hair was pinned neatly, you had make-up on and you were dressed fancily for your performance. Years ago, you wouldn't look like this. It was hard to believe how much you've grown and changed, but these days, you felt like you wanted your old self back. Slowly, you took the itchy pins off your hair, and cleaned your face with warm water and a cloth. You replaced your dress in a more comfortable one and went outside.

Looking up at the night sky, you saw a bright full moon with no stars in sight. It was just the moon and its beauty, illuminating the pitch black sky with its glow. You silently watched it, a smile growing on your lips as you felt a tug on your heart.

"I wonder what you're up to, Sanji." You thought aloud, cheeks heating up at the memory of your first love and his golden hair and his contagious smiles. Then, to your surprise, a voice spoke unexpectedly.

"Well, I am fortuitous to have met such a beautiful angel."

You froze. No one referred to you as angel except for one.

Sanji.

As you turned around, he was already walking towards you. And there you both were, bathing under the moonlight, with him grinning at you mischievously and you looking at him lovingly.  You didn't know how he found you, but what mattered was that he searched for you and now he was here, and he was still making your heart beat fast in your chest just like all those years ago.

How the pesky feelings stayed and wrapped themselves around your aching heart, you didn't know. But maybe it was because he was standing in front of you, and the way his next words made you run into his open arms and kiss him until you were both breathless,

"There you are, ange."

taglist part 1 @angel-luv3r @appalost @chexmixtrys @nimtano @sparklyphantom @natalieisfreeziing @reallysparklychaos @maydaylovex @johnnysactualgf @mochamei @kisumisumi @ttokyocat @mypurplewinee @rosaliinnn @nonniecannie @court-jester-stuff @detectivelucy07 @megumiif @untitledandrandom @erin-the-king @fangeekkk @nikolaevna-art @candesstuff @chaoticevilbakugo

[rockposerdotcom]

KK'S Priest Reveals Electrifying New Track 'Reap The Whirlwind' & Music Video

KK’S Priest – the iconic heavy metal amalgamation of iconic Judas Priest alum and Grammy Award winning/nominated musicians K.K. Downing (guitar) and Tim “Ripper” Owens (vocals), along with A.J. Mills (guitar), Tony Newton (bass) and Sean Elg (drums) – recently announced the upcoming release of their savage sophomore offering, ‘The Sinner Rides Again‘, out September 29, 2023 via Napalm Records. On…

[thevillainswhore]

Revenge Sweeter Than Honey

Pairing: College!Bucky Barnes x MILF!Reader

Word Count: 9.2k

Summary: When Bucky’s professor unfairly grades his college assignment, ruining his perfect GPA, he finds a way to get revenge — And doesn’t his sweet little wife look delicious?

Warnings: Bucky POV, revenge plot, age gap, older!reader, flirting, cheating, kissing, smut, mommy kink, nipple play, oral sex (fem receiving), ass play, spanking, p in v sex, recording of sex, cum play.

Author’s Note: Unbeta’d. Dividers by @saradika. Hi, lovelies! It’s been a while 🤍 This is by far not my best work, but I started it at the beginning of the year and finally finished it and decided to let it go before I convince myself not to post it.

Also, I have little to no knowledge about the education system outside of the UK, since I’m British. So please excuse any facts I may have gotten wrong, this was purely for the smut 😅

The arms of the leather chair Bucky was sitting on creaked, straining under the tense grip of his fingers. Fury coursed through every muscle of his body, boiling his blood until he was sure steam was blowing out of his ears. 

He had been sitting in his professor’s office for thirty whole minutes and not once had the man had the decency to look him in the eye and tell him a good enough reason for the C- marked on his most recent assignment. Thinking about it, he wasn’t even sure if his professor had ever made eye contact with him before; certain that he wouldn’t be able to recognise him if he ever looked at him. 

Bucky was a straight A student, working towards the perfect GPA to graduate with full honors and claim the job of his dreams. And yet, the second since his professor had licked his finger and slapped the stack of papers — stained with a ring of coffee that wasn’t there when he handed it in — on Bucky’s desk, his whole world had been turned upside down. 

He remembered his frenzy, the whirlwind of erratically flicking through each page and trying to find a single comment or suggestion that could help explain the low grade. But there was nothing. Only a forbidden red-inked C- that had taunted him ever since. 

Immediately, Bucky had booked an office session, since his professor was strict on the rules of when and where to discuss anything other than current class material. There must have been a mistake he reasoned with himself in the beginning — maybe a mix up with another student or maybe his professor had missed a chunk of his work because surely that godforsaken C- wasn’t right. 

However, Bucky soon came to realise in the thirty long minutes of his office session, that it wasn’t a mistake. In fact, it was the most generous grade received of the whole class. 

“Sir.” He attempted once again to get through to his professor. “With all due respect, I worked extremely hard on his assignment. Every variable is valid, I ran through each test multiple times to gain an accurate representation. My method has been executed perfectly.” He swallowed the dryness in his throat. “I can’t understand why I’ve been graded so low.” 

Dr Parker couldn’t have seemed less interested if he tried, the keys of his computer clicking away aimlessly as his brown eyes were glued to the screen. “For the last time, if you don’t understand what is wrong with your assignment, then I can’t help you.” 

Bucky discreetly gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut in frustration. The logic his professor spewed made absolutely no sense. He took a calming breath before he responded. “I’m not sure I can understand what exactly is wrong with my work if there’s no feedback to go off, Sir.”  

Dr Parker sighed, seemingly fed up with the conversation. “It's not for me to serve you on a silver platter. If you want a mentor who gives you a free ride or has to hold your hand through a grade then it seems like college isn’t the place for you, James.”

The material of the chair almost ripped where Bucky’s nails began to furiously dig in. He never wanted a hand to hold or a free ride during his time in college; the bare minimum he expected was to at least have some kind of evaluation or support that offered more than a lousy grade that wasn’t fair. 

Out of options, he desperately pleaded with his professor once again. “Sir, all I’m asking for is a reason for my grade being low. My GPA has been perfect all year and this assignment has made it take a huge hit. Please understand.”

Still, Dr Parker continued uselessly typing away without looking at him. “There’s nothing I can do for you, Mr Barnes.”

Bucky’s words came out jumbled as he jumped to offer an alternative. “What about— What if I did something for extra credit! You know? Just for— to boost my GPA back up?”

“That won’t be necessary.”  

Bucky was at the end of his tether and his throat began to tighten. “Please, Sir—I need—“ 

“What you need to do is move on from this assignment and work harder on the next one.” Dr Parker interrupted him coldly as he suddenly stood, packing his papers into his satchel. “My office hours are over and I have somewhere to be, so if you wouldn’t mind shutting the door behind you when you leave that would be great. Goodbye.” With that, his professor walked around the desk and out of the door without a second glance. 

Tears sprung to Bucky’s eyes while he sat there, staring mindlessly at the now empty chair behind the desk in front of him. He forced the lump building in his chest down, never having felt so defeated in his life. Throughout his years of education, he had sacrificed, placed everything that wasn’t important on the back burner; holidays, parties, normal friendships, just to put his future career first and for what? For one complete asshole to decide he didn’t care enough about his job or students to fuck him over? 

He shot out of his seat and paced over the carpeted floor. All of his dedication to his studies had been pointless — the thought burned through his mind and wounded him. All his life he had worked hard and this is how he had been repaid. The soles of his shoes thudded heavily until he came to a stop, running his hands down his face in despair. 

When Bucky opened his eyes, he blinked until his blurred vision became clear, finding himself in front of the floor to ceiling bookcase that panned over the length of the full wall. Sighing at a complete loss on what to do, his eye flitted over the polished ornaments in front of him.

As he trailed over the neatly placed trophies and certificates, a scoff left his mouth — bitter and venomous. Every one of the awarded achievements built his resentment even more. The pretentiousness was aggravating. 

He was about to walk away, go for a stroll with some fresh air to try and cool himself down and think properly. But just as he was going to leave, his eagle eye caught a small wooden picture frame shoved to the very back corner of the shelf, hardly noticeable with everything else taking front and center and ultimately hiding it. 

Bucky glanced over his shoulder, making sure his professor had really left before stepping forward. His nosiness had gotten the better of him and now his interest was peaked. Careful not to knock over any ornaments, he plucked out the frame and blew off the dust that had accumulated over the picture for god knows how long. 

To his surprise, it was a photograph of Dr Parker, many years younger and dressed in a tuxedo. Next to him, a stunning woman with the biggest smile on her face, dressed in an ivory, white dress. 

Bucky’s eyes flew wide open while his jaw unhinged in shock. 

Dr Parker had a wife?

Now that he thought about it, his professor did wear a gold band around his finger; one that the sun caught during a lecture one time and blinded Bucky enough to choke while he was drinking his coffee. 

Studying the photo some more, Bucky only focused on the woman, one with kind eyes, pretty lips and a body to kill for; silhouetted in a gown that complimented her figure amazingly. He was utterly blown away. 

The picture was at least ten years old, he summarised. His professor looked way younger than he did now, with frown lines and dark circles underneath his eyes. But he couldn’t get over how beautiful his wife was and how the hell he had managed to snag her with his douchebag personality. His mind ran a million miles per hour. 

For all Bucky knew, you could have been just like your husband; just as dull and just as unbearable. It was only rational, because no one in their right mind would willingly be with a man like that. 

He stared at you through the glass and tilted his head in thought, until the cogs started to turn. What if? he asked himself. What if he got his comeuppance somehow? 

As soon as the thought presented itself, he batted it away, shaking his head and placing the photo frame back in its place. 

But as he stood the frame upon the shelf, his hand stayed with it, unable to let go of the nagging idea that had now taken root in his mind. 

What if you were his perfect route for revenge? 

Looking out towards the window of the office, the setting sun beamed in. Bucky followed the streams of light that shined through, one landing on another photograph, larger in size of a chocolate haired boy with bright eyes. While he resembled Dr Parker, the boy’s eyes were all yours, kind and filled with light. The kid looked around the same age as himself, in a lab coat that had the same emblem as Bucky’s college. 

A plan began to quickly form in his mind, each piece and detail intricately connected together to create the most beautiful retribution. The biggest fuck you to his professor for screwing him over. 

Bucky sheathed his hands into his front pockets, running his tongue over his teeth with the most evil grin on his face. Dr Parker was going to get what he rightfully deserved. 

Vengeance.

Having met up after their last classes of the day, Bucky followed Peter into his home when he opened the door, the droolworthy aroma of a home cooked meal slinking into his senses and making his stomach grumble. 

It was now routine for him to come round to the Parker residence every week on a Friday afternoon. Once you found out your son had a new friend at college, you had extended the invitation to Bucky as Peter had recited. And of course, it would be rude of him to refuse. 

The execution of his plan had come together seamlessly, almost too perfectly. It was just his luck that a clumsy Peter Parker happened to bump into Bucky on campus in a rush to his next class, spilling his coffee onto the ground and offering to buy him a new one. 

Since then, he had made it his mission to become closer to Peter and soon enough, it was the night of his first dinner with you. 

Before that first meeting, he had drilled it into his head that his scheme of revenge was strictly business; to get in and out and call it a day. But that went down the drain when he rounded the corner to the kitchen to introduce himself and he choked on his words when you spun around on your heels. 

Bucky still remembered that moment, the first time he laid eyes on you in the cutest sundress, decorated with daisies that hugged your waist sinfully. The way your tits practically spilled out the damn thing stuck with him too. 

You were a vision, a sight for sore eyes — the photograph in his professor’s office did not do you justice even with ten years added on. Then, as soon as you bounced over to him and pulled him into a hug that made his dick hard, his initial intentions went out the window. He was a goner and he knew one time wouldn’t be enough of you.

However, when it came down to dinner, Bucky was admittedly nervous. It wasn’t only just meeting you in the flesh and having his expectations blown out of the water that threw him off balance, the inevitable of seeing his professor outside of college worried him. His plan for revenge could have fallen through as soon as he met him. They almost did. If that would have been the case, Bucky wasn’t sure what his next steps would be.  

But when he sat down at the dining table, his professor had only just noticed another guest in his home. Bucky remembered the slight sweat of his palms, the dryness of his throat as your husband looked at him over his newspaper and cocked his head; a familiarity brewing between them. Those couple of seconds lasted longer than he cared for. Then, unexpectedly, Dr Parker brushed him off and went straight back to reading his paper — evidently deeming Bucky unrecognisable and only a new friend of his son’s.  

That memory still offended him slightly. There wasn’t a hint of recognition, even though he had fucked Bucky’s chances of attaining his dream career. 

Snapping out of his memory, Bucky quickly shook his jacket off, taking care to hang it neatly on the coat rack and made a beeline to the kitchen. 

“Dude. I know you like my mom’s cooking but damn.” Peter shook his head with laughter but Bucky ignored him in favour of something of much higher importance. 

Stepping into the kitchen, he immediately found you balancing on your tiptoes, trying to reach the spice rack on the highest shelf. The skirt of your dress inched up your thighs and he couldn’t help but stare unabashedly at a sneak peak of your white g-string. 

Clearing his throat, Bucky held out his arms wide and acted casual with a wide smile. “Where’s my favourite girl?” 

His heart jumped as you snapped your head around, grinning wide once you saw who it was. “Bucky!” you cheerfully sang. “Hi, sweetie. I’m so happy you made it.” 

You have no idea how happy I am to see you too, he groaned internally. “What do you take me for? Like I would ever miss your cookin’, Mrs Parker,” he teased aloud. 

Raising an eyebrow playfully, you cocked your hip and crossed your arms over each other. “What have I told you about that, hm? Call me Honey, sweetheart. All my friends do.” 

Bucky held his arms up to placate you. “Forgive me. Your food is too damn good to pass up, Honey.” 

You rolled your eyes lightheartedly and turned back around to try and pluck the thyme from the top shelf. “You and that charm, boy. You’re gonna be the death of some poor college girl one day.” 

Noticing your struggle, Bucky took the opportunity to come up behind you and reach over your head. His lips perfectly aligned with your ear and so with a sly hand to your waist, he grabbed the jar of herbs and placed them onto the counter in front of you while he whispered, “What if I’m not into college girls?” 

Bucky heard the sharp inhale you tried so hard to smother, but it was useless with the proximity between you. It was instinct to then squeeze your hip, listening for your sweet whimper he lived to be the cause of. 

The moment lasted only a couple seconds longer until Peter called out for you from the hallway. “Hi, Mom. We’re home if you hadn’t already noticed.” 

Breaking away from Bucky sharply, you held a shaky hand to your chest. “H-Hey P, how was your week?” 

Small incidents as such repeated themselves every week. You and Bucky would find yourselves — or he would create them — in intimate, dangerous positions that wouldn’t be explainable to your son or your husband should they ever catch you. 

Which only made the game all the more exciting for him.

“Mom,” Peter whined while he walked into the kitchen. “Can you please not call me that when I have friends around?” 

Bucky held his laughter behind his hand when you passed your son by, pinching his cheek and putting on a baby voice. “Oh, but you’re just so cute!” 

However, that smile was soon wiped away from his face when the front door opened, immediately slamming shut with a loud bang. “I’m home, Honey,” your husband yelled. 

Your name on another man’s lips left a sour taste in Bucky’s mouth. He had come to learn that your nickname was born from your old college roommate who had affectionately bestowed it upon you after your love of baking dessert treats. 

The story was adorable, one he had soaked in with all the details you offered him. But your husband and his boring, monotonous tone turned even the sweetest name into something unpleasant. 

With his keen eye, Bucky had spotted the fake smile you plastered on your face to greet your husband, even when he walked straight past you without a hug or a kiss and into his usual chair at the dining table. 

“Glad your home safe, love,” you quickly offered him a half assed hello and headed back towards the kitchen to grab the meat out of the oven. 

“Hey.” Bucky shot forward before you could grab the handle and slid the oven mitts laying on the counter onto his hands. “I got this, don’t worry about it.” 

You paused to look at him like he had grown another head. “Bucky, I've done this a million times. I’m perfectly capable.” 

“I know you are, beautiful.” He didn’t miss the way your lips parted from his compliment, reserved for your moments alone. “Doesn’t mean you should have to. Lemme do it, please.” 

It didn’t take much for you to relent, already flustered enough to give in to him. Stepping aside, you made room for Bucky to take the dish out of the oven and place it on the worktop. 

“Smells fuckin’ delicious, Honey.” You gently swatted his arm for his colourful language, but he couldn’t help test the waters as he stared directly into your eyes. “Hopefully tastes as good as she looks.” 

What he didn’t expect was for you to retort back with a quick wit. “Oh, don’t worry about that. She’s as juicy as they get.” 

These interactions were just considered harmless flirting to you. Bucky knew you had no idea that he went home and fucked his fist, replaying these exact moments in his head. He licked his lips with a groan. “I bet she is.” 

“Where the hell is this damn food, woman? I’m eating away here!” your husband barked from the dining table. 

Bucky gritted his teeth while he watched you bow your head in embarrassment. “Just plating up now. It won’t be much longer, dear!” 

Turning back to Bucky, you smiled apologetically. “Sorry about that, he gets a little grumpy when he’s hungry.” 

He couldn’t believe you were apologising for that son of a bitch, though this was a regular occurrence by now; excusing your husband’s wrongdoings even if you were ashamed of it. 

Placing his hand over yours, Bucky told you firmly, “Don’t think for one second that you have to apologise to me, Honey.” The next words he grumbled under his breath. “Especially never on behalf of that fucker.”

Your free hand smoothed over the skirt of your dress, a nervous habit of yours when you were upset. 

Bucky recognised your unease and took initiative to derail the conversation. “What do you need me to take?” he asked while rolling the sleeves of his shirt up. 

You looked at him then, quick to protest and shake your head. “No, sweetheart. You’ve done enough, honestly. Go sit down and—”

“Honey.” Bucky held your hand, rubbing his thumb over your skin. “Just tell me what to do and I’ll help you. I’m all yours.”

Sighing defeatedly, you nodded your head to the foil covered dishes on top of the counter. “The vegetables and mashed potatoes could do with taking to the table.” 

Bucky grinned wide, all teeth and brought your hand up to place a kiss to the back of it. “Good girl.” 

A shudder ran down your spine that he didn’t miss, the hitch of your breath that blew the front strands of his hair giving you away. With a wink, he backed away to grab the dishes, piling them in his arms, along with a couple extra to take to the dining table. 

Soon enough, a full roast dinner was set out, steaming hot and ready to be eaten. 

Peter was already sitting on the chair by his Dad’s side, speaking animatedly about his recent discoveries on his science assignment for class. You always sat opposite your husband, which meant the only free seat that Bucky could take was opposite Peter and next to you. 

Not that he was complaining. 

He steadily pulled the chair out and sat down. It wasn’t exactly a coincidence that he brushed against you, not when he shuffled his chair as close as possible to you without raising suspicion. “Everything looks incredible,” he whispered as he leaned into you. 

The grip you had on your cutlery faltered. Bucky reveled in your bashfulness, always competing with himself to see how much he could make you squirm. So he smirked when you gulped, peeking at him from the corner of your eye. “T-Thank you, Bucky.” 

Your son‘s voice brought you out of your flustered state “—So I was right, Dad! My results actually confirmed my hypothesis.”

You cleared your throat and chimed in cheerfully when your husband only answered with an uninterested hum. “That’s amazing news, P!” With a stern tone, you addressed your husband this time. “Aren’t you proud of him, love?”  

But instead of congratulating him, your husband turned the page of his newspaper while shoveling food into his mouth. “Mhm. He did good, I guess.”

Luckily, Peter didn’t notice or bat an eye to his father. Bucky had witnessed over the few weeks he had been invited over for dinner that your son had enough support from you alone to keep his spirits uplifted. 

You decided not to bite and move on with the conversation, mouth open about to speak when your husband suddenly laid his newspaper down and spoke over you. “You know, I’ve had the worst week at work.” 

Frustrated, your fingers clenched tightly around your knife. “Oh yeah?”

Dr Parker blew out an irritating sigh. “The students this week—god—I had a flock of them at my door, complaining about their grades being too low.” 

Bucky felt the blood in his veins begin to boil. Normally he would tune out the grating voice of your husband, but he couldn’t help but listen to something that directly involved him — unknowingly to his professor. 

“I mean, I can’t help that their work isn’t up to par. What do they want me to do? Mollycoddle them?” he scoffed. “If they come crying to me for help all the time then they may as well cut their losses and drop out. They’re only wasting their own money.” 

The loud clink of your cutlery dropping against the plate cut through the tense atmosphere. “Are you serious right now?” 

“Dad,” Peter cringed, obviously uncomfortable. “You can’t say that.” 

“I’m not saying anything that’s not true.” Dr Parker shrugged. 

“It is your job to guide your students—who are paying thousands for their education by the way—and give them feedback to help them improve,” you shot back, heatedly.

Bucky’s chest puffed out in pride. Though he couldn’t outwardly say anything, he was proud of you for inadvertently defending him — even if you didn’t know it. 

Your husband’s tone turned biting towards you, however. “I’m not their babysitter, Honey.” 

But you stood your ground. “No you’re not. You’re their teacher and they look to you for guidance. It's the bare minimum your job requires.” 

A weighted silence fell over the dinner table while you and your husband glared at each other until the chime of a text cut through the awkwardness. 

Dr Parker retrieved his phone from his pocket and read his message. After a couple of seconds, he wiped his mouth with a napkin and threw it onto  his plate. “I’ve got to go back into the office. Emergency.”  

“What?” you asked in disbelief. “But you’ve only just come home.” 

“Well, unlike some, I can’t just slack off at home all day.” 

Bucky watched out of the corner of his eye as your mouth dropped open in shock at your husband’s barely hidden jab. Unrestrained anger filled his veins as he had to hold back. Though the urge to fly over the table at Dr Parker was hanging on by a thread. 

Is this what life was like at home for you? A husband who so obviously didn’t care for you while you made his life as comfortable as possible. And Peter, a son who held his tongue while he stiffly carried on eating his dinner and not defending his own mother?

Bucky looked to you as you quickly regathered yourself, blinking away the tears building over your waterline and pretending like you weren’t hurt. 

Your husband passed over his harmful statement as nonchalantly as he said it while lifting out of his seat. “Don’t wait up for me, I’ll be home late.” 

And just as rudely as he came home, he walked out, the slam of the door reverberating through the house. 

It wasn’t a minute after that when Peter also received a text. After reading the message, his eyes lit up with excitement. Bucky knew well enough what that face meant — Peter was getting lucky. “Hey mom, is it okay if I go out? Hang with my friends for the night?” 

The dinner you laboured over had already gone out the window once your husband had ruined it. Of course it didn’t bother you as much that your son wanted to leave too. “Of course, sweetie.” You stood up and collected the half empty plates from the table robotically. “Just be careful and let me know when you’re there.” 

With a dejected sigh that only Bucky noticed, you gathered the rest of the cutlery and took them to the kitchen, beginning to fill the sink to wash up. 

Peter waited until you were out of ear shot to whisper, “Dude, MJ asked me to come round tonight. I think she finally wants it!” Bucky held back a cringe. “You think it’s cool if I shoot off? You can make your own way home, right?” 

Bucky couldn’t have given a single fuck where Peter went or what he did right now. All he cared about, as he shot discreet glances of you in the kitchen washing the plates, was your wellbeing. “Sure, Parker. I can figure it out.” 

“Awesome!” Peter laughed before whipping out of his seat and running towards the door. “Catch you Monday, pal!” 

The house grew silent apart from the departing slam of the door, this time by your son. As soon as Peter was gone, Bucky instantly left his seat to join you. 

He leaned his shoulder against the archway of the kitchen. “You okay, Honey?” 

Looking towards him in surprise, your eyes held onto a last tendril of hope that someone hadn’t let you be alone. “Sweetheart, I thought you would have left with P.” 

Bucky shook his head with a fond smile, the curls at the top of his head bouncing with the movement. “Of course not. I’ve got nothing better to do with my Friday night than spend time with a gorgeous woman.” 

He caught the tightening of your lips, as though you were holding back your flustered smile. “Oh, stop that. You flatter me.” 

“I can’t help it. You make a man go weak. What can I say?” 

“Are you flirting with me?” you laughed incredulously. 

“And what if I was?” Bucky noticed the way your eyes latched onto the sight of his shirt, tightening over his arms as he crossed them over each other. “Would you like it?” 

Your eyes flicked up to his, holding his intense gaze for a few seconds before you huffed a breath and began cleaning the dishes again. “You’re cute, Bucky.” 

Bucky licked his lips and ravaged your form silhouetted in your fitted dress. “Wouldn’t exactly be the word I would use, but I’ll take it from you.” 

A rare giggle, only let out in his presence, escaped you. “Scram would you? You don’t want to be spending your Friday night with your friend’s mom, sweetie.” 

Testing the waters, Bucky let slip exactly what was on his mind. “Actually, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”  

Your hand stilled, chest rising and falling at a faster pace than before. “Oh, if only I was twenty years younger,” you chuckled quietly to yourself, not expecting for Bucky to overhear. 

Jackpot, he smirked to himself. 

Walking to the kitchen island, Bucky leaned his elbow on the counter beside you. “What would you do, Mrs Parker?” 

You jumped with a yelp, visibly surprised to have received a response so close; eyes blown wide as they flitted over Bucky’s face in panic. “E-Excuse me?” 

Bucky closed the distance between you even further. He leaned over the sink to turn the running water off. “I said,” he whispered huskily, keeping consistent eye contact with you. “What would you do if you were twenty years younger?”

“I—I um,” your breathing started to become heavy while Bucky stared shamelessly at you. “It’s just an expression, sweetie,” you laughed, shaking your head to try and brush the comment off. “I d-didn’t mean it like that—“ 

“No?” He watched carefully as your eyes darted around, trying so hard not to look at him. “How did you mean it then?” 

The spotlight Bucky was intentionally putting on you made you falter, even more so when he tucked your hair behind your ear and let his hand linger over your collarbone. 

“C’mon, tell me. I don’t bite.” A sadistic smirk adorned his face while you stared at his lips. “Unless you want me to, of course.” 

“I s-swear, Bucky.” Your voice was breathless with the heat of his stare. “There was nothing behind it, I—”

“I don’t believe you.” Bucky backed you against the sink, trapping you with his arms on each side of your waist. “I think,” he rasped, teasingly trailing his fingers up the bare skin of your arms. “That you would let me bend you over this counter right here and fuck you senseless.” 

The wind was audibly knocked from your lungs as you gasped. Words failed you, stuttering over yourself which was most amusing to Bucky.

Nonetheless, your eyes still followed him with a glaze, hooked onto every word that left his lips. “I think you’d let me take you from behind. Stuff your pretty pussy full with my fat cock.” He grabbed your hand and pressed it against the bulge in his trousers. “You feel that, huh? How good it would feel to take all a’me, pretty mama?” 

Bucky watched as your eyes fluttered and you bit your lip — the last of your reserve hanging by a thread. One more deadly blow to your empty head and you would be putty in his hands.

Any remaining distance between you disappeared as he placed wet kisses from the pulse of your neck up to the corner of your mouth. “I think—” he whispered against your lips, his next words uttered in his most seductive voice. “I think you’d let me do it. Right. Fuckin’. Now.” 

You placed your hands over the shirt on his chest to push him away; a mistake he imagined as you alternatively began bundling the material up with clenched fists. “Bucky—“ you painfully uttered with your eyes squeezed shut. You shook your head, as though that would help you. “This—this isn’t right. You’re my son’s friend and I n-need you to leave—“ 

“Look at me.” Bucky slid his hands over your neck, holding your jaw with his thumbs to tilt your head up. Slowly, your eyes squinted open and he saw the confliction clear as day in your glossy eyes, the battle you were facing in your mind. “You’re practically melting in my hands, Honey. You just gotta give in. We’ve been playin’ this game for far too long now, don’t you think?”

There was no escaping his blue eyes when you tried to look away once again and he firmly guided your gaze back to him. “None of that, now. Do as I say.” 

Your expression was tortured — torn between right and wrong, pleasure and sin. Bucky knew you were good, a dutiful housewife and loyal to a fault to a man who didn’t deserve it. 

Where had that gotten you? Whilst the revenge plan was hot on his mind — the very reason he had meticulously planned everything up to this exact moment — he wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth that he was getting something extra out of this. You.

“We shouldn’t do this,” you pleaded painfully, still with a wild spark in your eye. “We can’t do this.” 

“You know what I’m not hearing, Honey?” Bucky asked. “I’m not hearing that you don’t want to do it.” 

You shook your head frantically with wide eyes until he tightened his grip on your cheeks. “I’m gonna give you one chance to answer me.” He squeezed your cheeks until your lips puckered. “You want me to fuck you, baby?”

Desire rolled through your eyes as your thighs clenched together. Though you still tried to deny your need for him. “Bucky—”

“Ah, ah. I want an answer.” 

Bucky watched as your throat bobbed. Your nostrils flared with your harsh breaths and your breasts heaved up and down with exerted force. Seconds went by, the two of you staring at each other before you finally answered. “Yes.” 

The two of you burst into the master bedroom — the one you shared with your husband, kissing erratically while your hands fumbled through Bucky’s hair. 

He moaned deeply, pushing you against the wall, and turning feral over the feel of you as he kneaded your body. “You’re so fuckin’ hot,” he hummed against your lips. 

Your head thumped back against the wall, chest heaving while you tried to catch your breath. All of Bucky’s attention was drawn to your chest. “Has anyone ever told you you’ve got the most perfect tits?” 

Choking on your spit, you stumbled over your words, so adorably oblivious to your own attraction. “I—I didn’t realise—um, t—thank you—”

Bucky laughed, shaking his head before quickly ripping down your dress to your waist with force. Your upper body was bare, free for him to roam his rabid eyes over your naked tits.

“Bucky!” Your squeal of shock was followed by you hastily trying to cover your chest with your hands. 

But a scowling Bucky immediately ripped them away; offended you would dare try to keep them from him. “Don’t you dare fuckin’ cover yourself up, Honey.” 

He could tell it was intense for you, to be so thoroughly desired and the thought that you had never received this much attention before made him angry once again. 

“It’s been a while,” you mumbled. The mousy confession only heightened Bucky’s fury towards your pathetic husband.

Delicately, he kissed you and began to trail his lips down the slope of your neck. “Ain’t gotta worry about that. I’ll take care of you.” 

Slowly descending, Bucky laved his tongue over your peaked nipple, sucking it into his mouth and letting it go with a pop. Your breast bounced with the motion and he squeezed his dick over his trousers with a groan. “Look at you, Honey. You’re a fuckin’ goddess.” 

Bucky’s tunnel vision made whatever you said next pointless. Grabbing your tits, he buried his head in between them, relishing in your softness. He peppered his kisses across to your other nipple and swirled his tongue around the peak. 

Your legs crumbled, the sensation overwhelming for you. The thought that Bucky could get you off by just playing with your tits made his cock even harder. But he had so much more in store for you.

“Why don’t you take off your dress, baby?” he murmured into your skin. “Want you to kneel on the bed for me, alright?” 

You nodded shakily. Bucky hovered over your breasts a couple of seconds more, savouring the feel of you before stepping backwards to give you space to move. 

With a deep breath, you walked on unsteady legs towards your bed, letting your dress shimmy down your body on your way. Your back was turned to Bucky and he salaciously eyed your figure, each and every curve of your body. He internally created a map of your stretch marks and imperfections that only made him more crazed for you. 

The mattress sank down while you knelt onto it carefully. Bucky watched the arch of your back intently, the flesh of your ass rounding out from your position. 

Forget the damn reason he plotted this very moment, he was just excited to finally get a taste of you. 

Your quiet murmur sounded over Bucky’s thoughts. “I’m ready.” 

Biting his lip, he strolled forward until he came to a stop behind you. Still fully clothed, Bucky desperately singed the picture in front of him into his mind. He held so much power in that moment, and it felt like a dream that he had you bent over solely for him. 

Bucky leaned over your form, beginning to place delicate kisses down your back. He basked in the goosebumps that arose on your skin. “How the fuck are you real?” he murmured to himself. 

With a shaky sigh, you whispered, “I still don’t know about this.” 

Chuckling, Bucky finally dropped down to his knees, ignoring your reluctance to eye the flimsy piece of material covering your pussy. Hooking a finger inside your underwear, he peeled it away and held it to the side. “Oh, fuck me.” 

You squirmed in place as the cold air hit you in your most vulnerable state. Your raw scent clogged Bucky’s nose and his eyes rolled to the back of his head in bliss. “Can’t fuckin’ wait any longer, Honey. Gotta know how you taste.” 

Surging forward, Bucky buried himself between your thighs. You screamed in retaliation to the feel of his tongue snaking its way through your folds and he was sure he hadn’t heard a better sound. 

He explored every inch of your cunt, unwilling to leave the heaven you so graciously granted him. But it was the sensation of Bucky’s tongue beginning to ease its way inside your hole that made you vocal once again. 

“My husband—“ you called out, obvious to Bucky  that you were trying to clear your conscience of guilt. But he knew you couldn’t care less about him — you didn’t even mention the fucker once while you were too busy feeling sorry for your son in the kitchen and making silly excuses to not let him have his way with you. 

Landing a harsh smack to the top of your thigh, Bucky savored your squeal of shock. “Don’t act like you give a fuck about him now, Honey. Who’s the one eating your pussy this good, hm?” He ran two fingers down the middle of your folds, biting his lip at the wetness coating them. When your only answer was a moan muffled by your pillow, he spanked you again in the same place with more force. “Answer me.”

“You, Bucky!” you instantly shouted out. “You’re the one eating my pussy so good!” 

“There we go. That wasn’t so hard was it?” He eased over the marks beginning to bloom on your skin and smiled to himself. “Call me James, though. I like it better.” 

Without letting you reply, Bucky dived back in, fucking your pussy with his tongue. You reached back to hold your asscheeks open with each hand, desperate to have him go deeper into your hole. The glint from the diamond of your wedding ring caught his attention and he smirked into your cunt; the reminder that you were married only fuelled his arousal even more. 

“Fuck, baby,” he spoke into your cunt. “You really are sweet, ain’t ya? Taste fuckin’ incredible.” 

The filthy sounds of slurps and moans filled the room. Bucky was a starved beast, held back and pushed to the edge for too long and every little bit of anger and resentment that had built in his body from your husband’s treatment was taken out on you. 

It only boosted his ego when you grinded your cunt back against him too. His cock jumped with excitement with how fucking dirty you truly were. You had been locked up too, he remembered. Stuck holding back your true self for a shitty excuse of a man. 

Bucky grunted deeply before licking a wide stripe from your clit, slowly running through your pussy lips and reaching higher towards the puckered hole that twitched with anticipation. 

“Oh!” you exclaimed aloud in surprise. Bucky thought he may have gone too far, then. But once you relaxed and backed yourself into his tongue, he smiled wickedly. 

“You like that, filthy girl?” he laughed, darkly. “Should’ve known you’d be a little freak.” 

Bucky circled the tip of his tongue teasingly around your asshole, moaning at your eagerness when you tried to reach further back with your hands and drag him closer. 

“Don’t tease,” you gasped, out of breath. “Please, I want more. Gimmie more.” 

Almost immediately, Bucky complied, ripping your hands away with vigor to replace them with his. He spreaded your asscheeks wide and lapped at your tight hole. 

“Fuck yes—oh my god, James—yes!” 

The depravity was obscene and disgusting and Bucky absolutely loved it. Never had he been more turned on and he decided then and there that this wasn’t going to be a one and done deal. He wanted you to be his. 

A string of saliva connected Bucky’s mouth to your ass as he reluctantly backed away. The slick that had poured out of you smothered his chin and cheeks and Bucky happily licked his lips with a groan. “Baby, as much as I wanna keep eating your ass, I need to feel your pretty little cunt wrapped around my cock.” 

You whimpered while your pussy clenched with a need to be filled. Bucky watched your cute little hole flutter. “Put it in me,” you slurred. “Need your cock.” 

He wasted no time unfastening his jeans to pull them down enough until his dick bobbed out of its confines. Bucky caught you peeking your head around, trying to catch a glimpse of his cock, but he spanked your ass and bit his lip with amusement at your scream. “Not yet, baby. You’ll get a chance to see it when I fuck your throat later.” 

You squirmed impatiently, needy moans escaping you and Bucky couldn’t hold back any longer. Grabbing his cock, he began to push the fat head of his length inside you. 

A loud gasp tore from your throat and your pussy instantly tried to suck him in deeper. Your walls, tight and warm, hugged his dick like a vice. “You’re—oh my fucking god—how are you so big?” 

The smirk that donned Bucky’s face was lethal. He had you right where he wanted you. And yet his eye rolled back all the same, savouring the flutter of your tight hole around him. 

“This is all for you, baby,” he breathily whispered, bullying his way deeper into your pussy. “Get me so fuckin’ hard everytime I see you. Cookin’ in them pretty little dresses. Just wanna lift your skirt up and fuck you wherever I want.” 

Your moans both fell into sync as Bucky finally slid his cock all the way to the hilt. You couldn’t stop squirming and it drove him crazy. 

“You need to move,” you begged in between pants. “Please, I can’t stay still.” 

Bucky licked his teeth with desire blazing through him. “Since you asked so nicely, Honey.” 

Without the decency to ease you into it, Bucky instantly set a brutal pace. He looked down, admiring the thick coating of your juices lathering his dick and he willed himself not to blow his load so fast. He tightly closed his eyes, adjusted his stance and began to fuck you. 

You were quick to grab ahold of whatever you could, scrambling for purchase within the sheets,  but you were useless to try to stop how your head buried into the bed. The force of Bucky’s thrusts were too violent and so you surrendered to what was inevitable, letting yourself drool over the cotton.

“Bu—CKY!” your cry of surprise when he lifted his foot onto the bed, allowing him a better angle to fuck you, was music to his ears. 

“What’s’a matter, baby?” Bucky mocked. “Thought you were a big girl, huh? Can’t handle me?” 

Your reply was instant. “I can! I can, I promise, I promise!” 

“Then shut the fuck up and take it.” 

Bucky didn’t know where to look, he was spoilt for choice. To watch your eyes roll back in ecstasy? To concentrate on the shlick shlick of your soaked cunt? Ultimately, his eyes were glued to the jiggle of your ass, his hands soon following as though he was hypnotised. How it so perfectly met his hips without a falt in rhythm.

“Fuck me—this ass is heaven, baby. You been hiding it from me all this time?” 

There was no answer this time, at least not a coherent one. Bucky was instead graced with your constant squeaks and groans — a woman too invested in a physical gratification she had so sadly been starved of. 

Bucky chuckled. “Ain’t gotta answer, Honey. The sounds comin’ outta that mouth are keeping my dick happy enough.” 

He almost forgot the end goal of his proposition in the midst of the delectable feel of your cunt. With a sudden bolt of clarification as he felt a vibration against his leg, Bucky kept one hand on your hip while he reached for his phone in his pocket with the other. Keeping up the pace of his thrusts, you were clueless as he unlocked it and opened the camera app. 

“Now, Honey, I want you to really scream my name, okay? Wanna hear how good I’m makin’ you feel. Can you do that for me?”

“Uh-huh.” You nodded, dumbly. “C-Can do that for you, James.” 

He grinned wickedly and threw his head back. “Just like that. Good fuckin’ girl.” Looking back down at you through the phone screen, he hovered his finger over the record button and brought his other hand down hard on your ass. “Go on then, baby. Put on a show for me.”

If Bucky thought you were a fucking treat before, his mind was blown once you began to take the reigns of your own pleasure. Bucky hardly had to move and you still plunged yourself onto his cock with an unmatched enthusiasm to anyone else he had fucked. He could hardly keep his hand that held the phone up from shaking. The combined sounds coming from the both of you were insane. 

None of his wet dreams could compare to his reality. “You—shit—you’re killing me, Honey.” 

You must not have heard him because you decided to torture him even more by arching your back just that little bit further. 

Bucky thought he was a goner, soon to approach his end. But he couldn’t let that happen. He was far from done with you yet. 

Propping one foot up onto the bed for better leverage, he gathered his restraint and began to drive forward once more. He felt high. 

“That husband of yours ever fuck you like this, huh?” Bucky demanded. “Can he make you leak all over his dick like a fuckin’ slut?”

You violently shook your head from side to side, like the thought of your husband left a sour taste in your mouth you wanted to get rid of. “Nuh-uh,” you whimpered, popping your ass up even more to take as much as you could. “O-Only you.” 

“Tell him, baby.” Bucky noticed too late that he had slipped up, too gone off the feel of your cunt wrapped snug around his dick. But you hadn’t seemed to realise his mistake either and the thought that you were too much of a wreck from his cock to comprehend who he was talking about made him even harder. “Let him know who’s balls deep in your tight, slutty pussy.” 

“Oh, fuck—please, please—you, James, it’s you.  Please, it’s you!” 

“Atta girl,” he cooed, hoarsely. “Look at the fuckin’ mess you’re makin’ on me.”

Bucky reached down to where the two of you were connected with his free hand, sweeping the copious amount of your slick gathered in a ring around the bottom of his cock. “Here.” He leant forward, one palm up towards you with his phone still in his other hand out of your view. “Open your mouth, pretty mama.” 

You slightly turned your head with your tongue sticking out wide and eagerly sucked the juices off his hand with a long moan. 

Managing to get all of it on camera, Bucky watched as you licked between his fingers, not wasting a drop. “Holy fuck,” he grunted deeply. “You’ll really do anything I say, won’t you?” 

You bobbed your head up and down, eventually letting his fingers go, clean as a whistle. 

“What a fuckin’ filthy whore. You’re perfect for me.” 

You backed yourself onto Bucky’s cock, meeting his thrusts perfectly while the meat of your ass clapped against his toned waist. “You’re a needy little thing, ain’t you baby?” 

“Anythin’ you want,” you slurred. “Can be whatever you need.” 

“Poor mommy hasn’t been treated this good in a long time I can tell.” Bucky gripped your ass harshly with his hand, jiggling the flesh for his own satisfaction. “Women like you, need putting in their place on a daily basis. Need a good fuckin’ to keep them happy.” 

“Yes!” you agreed, firmly. “Mommy needs to be fucked like this all the time.” 

Unbelievable. Bucky didn’t even have to try to add salt into the wound. He couldn’t help the continuous conspicuous messages that he could easily pass off to you. “This is what happens when you don’t take care of your wife.”

Harsh slaps echoed in your bedroom. The two of you could only share the raw sounds that left your mouths in your haze of the thrill as the string between you pulled tighter and tighter. 

“I’m—so—close,” you murmured with all your depleted energy. 

Bucky didn’t need the confirmation when he could feel the rapid pulses of your walls that squeezed him. He knew your orgasm was clutching at its straws and he was so close himself. The blood from his head had long since made its way to his dick and his composure was swiftly deflating. 

“Want that cum,” he garbled as his mouth hung open. “I’ve been such a good boy, mommy. Give it to me, please.”

You whined loudly, like a dog in heat. But your voices became lost on each other. That didn’t stop Bucky from losing his inhibitions out loud.  

Thrust. “I’ve been such,” thrust. “A good,” thrust. “Boy.” 

The wound up ball of tension in your lower stomach exploded in a series of screams and violent shivering that overtook your whole nervous system and the very sensation brought Bucky to his defeat. 

The muscles in his legs failed him as they turned to jelly. Bucky let out the sluttiest moan he’s ever experienced in his life and all but collapsed onto your sweat slicked body. He could feel his cock shooting a constant stream of cum into your cunt with seemingly no end in sight. 

“Fuck,” he whimpered into your ear. Slowly, his conscience came back to life and the flow of his load finally came to a stop. 

The two of you laid still, only the heavy panting serving to fill the silence. After a couple of minutes, Bucky kissed your shoulder blade, before lifting himself up. He gathered the strength to gently retrieve his length from your hole that still strangled him. 

Bucky was reminded of the phone that was still recording in his hand and he quickly made sure to get the winning money shot of his load dripping out of your pulsing hole while he wholly detached himself from you. 

He was only human to push his finger into your cunt, he thought, letting himself gather himself on his own fingers. 

Flipping the camera around to himself, Bucky put his coated finger in his mouth, sucking your combined juices and humming and letting it go with a pop. He laughed, out of breath, his red cheeks and mussed hair only adding to the depravity of the video. “Y’know some people should really keep an eye on their wives. You never know what they’re up to in their spare time. Ain’t that right, Honey?” 

Bucky knew you were out of it — he watched on while you buried your head in the sheets, rubbing your thighs together as aftershocks made your body twitch. Your needy, high pitched keens bounced off the walls. “Wan’ more of your cock, James—please—need you to fuck me again.” 

He licked his lips in delight, the sight of your ass wiggling with his cum leaking out of you and your unprompted addition to the recording filling him with glee. 

“Well,” he sighed, turning back to the camera and shrugging with no remorse. “You heard the wife. Duty calls.” With a cocky wink, he ended the recording with a final farewell. “See you in class, Professor.”  

Bucky exited his camera app and quickly brought up his emails, scouring through to a saved draft and attaching the video link. After pressing send, he shut off his phone, making sure any future notifications would be silenced before throwing it to the ground with a careless thump. 

“Baby,” you whimpered, looking behind you to search for him. “What are you doing? I said I wanna be fucked again.” 

Undressing the rest of his clothes, Bucky stalked towards you, kneeling onto the bed and effortlessly flipping you over to kiss you deeply to share your combined tastes. “Don’t worry, mommy,” he breathed into your mouth. “I’ll take care of you now.” 

Meanwhile at his college, a new email popped up on Dr Parker’s computer screen, shrouding the dark office with a white glow in the late night. With an exhausted huff, he looked up from grading papers — all of them marked with a C or lower — and squinted his eyes at the bright screen. 

New Email from James Buchanan Barnes

He rolled his eyes with a sigh. The name was familiar as he thought back to the day the kid almost cried in his office, complaining about his poorly-graded assignment and his GPA; Dr Parker had gossiped with Professor Stark in his department on his dinner break, recounting the annoying way this particular student had whined like a baby. Though he couldn’t quite remember how James looked, unable to place him among the hundreds of pupils he taught.

Amused curiosity ran through him, wondering what his student had to moan about this time and so with a sadistic smirk, he clicked on the link, waiting until his message came up. 

Though that smirk was quickly replaced with a frown when the email finally loaded with an attachment. 

They say revenge is a dish best served cold. But I like mine warm, tight and sweet.

Just like Honey. 

[scottiexmariee]

Hiii 💜 can I request LAD short for the boys with a reader who gets arrested (for something stupid) and calls the boy to bail her out? Please and thank you!!

How the boys would react to you getting arrested <3

Characters: Xavier x Reader | Zayne x Reader | Rafayel x Reader | Sylus x Reader |

Word Count: 1.4k

Masterlist

Warnings: Slight violence mention

“This is a free call from Linkon City Corrections Facility from inmate: (Y/N). To accept this call, please press 1.” 

☆Xav would definitely come get you ASAP

☆This man trusts your judgement and knows you wouldn't end up in jail without a good reason, so he wouldn't even question you until you're safely in his arms

☆ He'd get there in record time so you didn't have to sit too long

When Xavier answered his phone at 2am, he hadn’t even looked at the screen to see who was calling. He knew you were out with your friends tonight, so he was already by the phone waiting for you to let him know you’d made it home safe. However, he expected your voice on the other end of the line, not a robot telling him that you were currently calling from Linkon City jail. 

Xavier blinked rapidly, trying to make sure he’d heard the automated message correctly. The message repeated itself when no button was pushed, confirming that he had definitely not been mistaken.

Xavier immediately pressed 1, listening to another spiel from the robot before the call finally connected. His shoes were on before he even heard your voice.

“(Y/N)?” 

“Xavier,” You began, “I promise I’ll explain everything but I need you to come pick me up. Please.” 

He’d already been planning on it, but the pleading tone in your voice would have had him folding regardless. 

“I’m coming,” He assured you, already halfway out the door.

On the other end of the call, you breathed out a sigh of relief. “I owe you my life,”

The second you get released from custody, he's giving you a hug and telling you to discuss it when you're ready.

When he found out that the reason you were arrested was for clocking a man square in the jaw for being unable to keep his hands to himself, he almost took a turn in a jail cell for the night.

"Xavier, it's okay," You insisted, cupping his face with your hands. "I already took care of it. Can we please just go home?"

"I can assure you it will be handled twice if I see him anywhere,"

❅Zayne definitely comes to get you, but he’s not even gonna pretend that he isn��t a little irritated 

❅Imagine working a grueling 16 hour shift as a surgeon, and when you finally sink down into your couch, ready to relax, your phone rings and it’s a a call from jail

❅because that is zayne’s reality and he is STRESSED 

❅#ringring #helpiminjail 

❅He’d cool off on the drive there, but you’re definitely still getting scolded (absolutely a ‘make better choices’ talk)

❅definitely shows up with heavy ‘disappointed but not surprised’ vibes

You'd gotten arrested for the dumbest thing on the planet.

While out on a walk, your Hunter's Watch notified you of a nearby metaflux fluctation, so you sprang into action without second thought.

You located the Wanderer pretty quickly and gave a good chase, even hopping a fence to put and end to it before it caused any severe damage. Unfortunately for you, the fence you'd hopped just so happened to belong to a private government building. You were very swiftly apprehended and loaded into the police car. The officers refused to hear any of your excuses, charging you with Criminal Trespassing.

You were not going to spend the night in jail over this, so you called the only person you thought might still be awake.

Zayne.

Zayne who, unfortunately, had just gotten home from a horrendously long shift not even an hour before your call came. When the Caller ID popped up for Linkon City Jail, his stomach twisted uncomfortably, already having a pretty good idea of who could potentially be calling him of all people. Initially, he was a whirlwind of frustration and annoyance. Not to mention stressed. His lovely partner, currently sitting in jail like a criminal. He'd leave right away, and most of his frustration would dissipate on the drive to come collect you.

Zayne greeted you with crossed arms and a deadpan expression, waiting until the pair of you got in the car before demanding an explanation. After you explained, his frustration was no longer directed at you, but more so at the absurdity of the situation.

Once you two were parked at his house, Zayne cupped the side of your face in one hand, gently resting his forehead against yours in a much needed gesture of affection.

"Please just try to be a little more careful," He said, his tone surprisingly soft. "I'm going to get grey hairs by the time I'm 30 if I have to keep collecting you from jail,"

❀ let’s be honest Rafayel is probably the reason you’re in jail anyway 

❀ probably trespassing to get a material for rare paint or something 

❀ he’d be mad at you because how are you supposed to protect him (miss bodyguard) if you’re getting arrested?

You felt your jaw tick as your name was finally called for your one free phone call. Of course, you were going to call Rafayel and make bailing you out his problem, since it was his fault you were here anyway. "If you aren't doing anything, I have a quest for you, Miss Bodyguard,"

"I'm out of a custom color for this painting. It's in a suuuper easy spot. You can do it, right?"

Unfortunately for you, Rafayel had failed to mention that his stupid 'custom paint color' was located in an area that was restricted to the public. Maybe he didn't even know. It was hard to tell with him. Either way, you'd gotten busted trespassing and whisked away in a police car.

When Rafayel's voice connected on the other end of the line, he was already running his mouth before you could say anything.

"'Getting materials for my paint' doesn't exactly sound similar to 'end up in jail.' How did you get them confused?"

"You're not a very good bodyguard. How are you supposed to protect me if you can't even dodge the police?"

"Wait. Why are you even in jail? Don't tell me you like...punched a baby or something,"

When he finally shut up for long enough for you to explain yourself, he laughed the second you finished talking.

"Really? That's it?"

"It's not funny, Rafayel. Come get me out of here!"

"Oh, relaaax. I'll be there in 20," Turns out, that plot of land actually belonged to Rafayel. He'd bought it when he realized he could get specific (rare) paint colors from the resources. The police, however, weren't aware that he'd send anyone other than himself to get anything from there, so when they just so happened to see you as they passed by, you really didn't stand a chance.

Rafayel was absolutely not going to let you live it down, either.

Now, in addition to your 'Miss Bodyguard' nickname, you had a less appealing one.

'Miss Criminal.'

⟡ Sylus is genuinely amused when he gets the call

⟡ "You don't typically hear of kittens allowing themselves to be caught,"

⟡ He knows you had a damn good reason for whatever you did

⟡ He'd come get you and lowkey bully you about it on the way home

⟡ any trace of you being in jail mysteriously disappears from the system less than 24 hours later 

Sylus almost didn't answer the phone call.

When the unsaved number popped up on his screen, he instinctively reached to dismiss it. He didn't give his personal cell number out often, so he was well aware of who had this number. There wasn't a single person worth his time that would realistically be calling from an unsaved number.

However, a split second later he realized that he hadn't heard from you for a bit longer than usual.

He cracked a grin the second the robot started speaking, informing him that he was receiving a call from his incarcerated lover.

When the line connected, he spoke first.

"Having a good time, sweetie?"

You could hear the smirk in his voice through the phone, which only added to your annoyance. "Sylus. Please come pick me up,"

"Of course,"

When he arrived to retrieve you, he learned that it was an assault charge. You'd beat up a man nearly twice your size, apparently, and a witness had described you as a menace.

As the two of you exited the building, he looped an arm around your shoulders, asking the only question he cared to ask: "Did he deserve it?"

"Absolutely," You responded. "I'd do it again, actually,"

He chuckled, shaking his head with a fondness reserved for only you. He knew that you were the type to stand on business, and he loved that about you. He was honestly a little proud, even.

"Let's not make this a habit, though." He said, gently tugging your motorcycle helmet over your head. "Stick with me more. You wouldn't have gotten caught,"

[kaiser1ns]

#. KISS KISS FALL IN LOVE

featuring 𝘄𝗶𝗻𝗱𝗯𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗸𝗲𝗿 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 ıllı. umemiya hajime, sakura haruka, suo hayato, kaji ren, togame jo, takiishi chika, endo yamato

fluff. since when did you dream of a first kiss with the boy you like. and the chance finally came, but not everything turned out as imagined.

up to 500-600 words per scenario, i tried my best, sorry i'm still trying to describe romantic scenes womp womp, like and subscribe!

UMEMIYA HAJIME

You are so in love with this man that you can't get enough. Literally, you can't get enough of the way he is so oblivious to the hints you drop every single day. He is laughing yet again at something, surrounded by Furin first years and Hiragi at Kotoha's cafe. The desire to smack him on the head and tell him he is so stupid grows faster than the vegetables in his garden. Only Kotoha seems to notice your gloomy mood — you haven't touched the food she prepared, and it makes her worry.

"I'm going to give up if he doesn't do something soon," you tell your best friend, your voice tinged with frustration.

She pats your hand reassuringly. "It'll be okay. Don't mind Hajime's antics. Boys take time to develop, you know."

You thank her and finish your food, but you still want to go home. Being in his presence feels draining right now. You quietly say goodbye to Kotoha and immediately leave, while she wonders what she can do to help you out.

You aren't far away when you hear running footsteps behind you and the voice you knew all too well. "Y/N, wait for me, please!" It's Umemiya, running worriedly towards you. You turn to face him as he pants from the exertion. "Kotoha said you wanted to talk about something with me. Is that why you left?"

Oh my, this girl. How dare she does this to you? You didn't want to tell him, you were supposed to be mad at him. "It seems that I have forgotten what I was going to say," you murmur, turning on your heel to walk away again. But he hugs you from behind, his grip strong and tight, your back against his chest.

"You wanted to have your first kiss, right?" There it goes, your best friend spilled everything to her brother. "I've noticed everything you did to indicate your wants and needs. I was just waiting for the right moment, when we aren't with people, like this ..."

He lets you go, turning you around and kissing you. His eyes are closed, but yours widen in surprise. The feeling of his lips on yours and his hands on your back makes you relax. You're a blushing mess, a whirlwind of butterflies and emotions coursing through you. Hands find their way to his chest, feeling his heartbeat race as fast as yours.

When he finally pulls away, his eyes meet yours, filled with a tenderness you've longed to see. "I'm sorry it took me so long," he murmurs, his voice soft and sincere. You smile, your heart swelling with the butterflies going there instead. "You better make it up for all the waiting."

He chuckles, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "I guess I am a bit dense, huh?" You laugh, the sound light and genuine, laying your head on his chest and hearing his heartbeat once again as he hugged you "Just a bit."

As he walks you to your home, hand in hand, you can't help but think about Kotoha and how she played Cupid, knowing exactly what you needed, even when you didn’t.

SAKURA HARUKA

You’ve heard it all before, the endless litany of self-deprecation and doubt that spills from Sakurs’s lips like a broken record. It’s a familiar routine by now, his recounting of how he doesn’t deserve kindness or acceptance, how your sweetness to him feels misplaced. His voice wavers with each confession, half-hoping you’ll agree and half-fearing you’ll walk away.

“I don’t get why you’re so nice to me,” he says for the umpteenth time, eyes downcast. “I don’t deserve it.” Your eye twitches. You’ve had enough. The words repeat in your head, grating on your nerves. You care about him deeply, but his lack of self-worth is starting to drive you insane. He’s strong, capable, a fighter in every sense of the word—except when it comes to himself.

“Oh my god, Sakura, stop with this bullshit,” you snap, sharper than you intended. He blinks, taken aback. “Hah!?”

“Stop talking about yourself like that. It’s so frustrating. ‘I don’t deserve this, I don’t deserve that.’” You mimic his tone, letting your irritation seep through. His eyes narrow, anger mixing with confusion. "Huh!?" He clenches his fists, the familiar motion of cracking his knuckles following. It’s a gesture meant to intimidate, but you’ve seen it too many times to be scared. “Shut up before I make you,” you threaten.

He meets your gaze gaze, unflinching. “Make me then. Let your fists do the talking.”

That’s it. The breaking point. You stand up abruptly, closing the distance between you. He braces himself, expecting a fight. You can see the conflict in his eyes, torn between his instinct to fight and his deep-seated fear of hurting you. Instead, you grab his face with both hands and pull him into a kiss. It’s sudden, forceful, and completely unexpected. His body tenses up, then melts against you, stunned into silence.

When you pull back, his face is a shade of red you didn’t think was possible to achieve. He’s a mess of incoherent sounds, his mind clearly struggling to process what just happened. “W-what… Huh!?”

“You shouldn’t talk so much crap,” you say calmly, sitting back down. “It’ll lead you to problems.”

He stands there, dazed and silent, a stark contrast to his usual self. You relish the quiet, the absence of his self-doubt hanging in the air. Finally, a moment of peace. Sakura haven't said a word all day, lost in his thoughts. You watch him out of the corner of your eye, hoping that your impulsive act has left an impression, that maybe he’ll start to see himself the way you see him.

SUO HAYATO

The boy himself, the living legend of making people accept his requests with his teasing smile, is sitting next to you. His beautiful dark brown eyes make you melt like chocolate left out in the hot sun. Suo Hayato, the enigma from the neighboring school, is here in your living room, surrounded by your scattered chemistry notes. You begged him for help with your homework, and in his usual style, he agreed with a condition. You, expecting another teacake request, readily agreed.

The two of you sit on the floor, papers spread out across the table. Hayato explains the properties of alkaline metals and their reactions. His hand occasionally brushes against yours, sending a jolt through your system each time. He notices your reactions, the subtle glances you steal, the way you tense and relax. He is enjoying himself, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

“And that’s all. I’m sure you’ll ace the test, L/N-san,” he concludes with a smile.

A few days later, you find yourself beaming as you show him your test. Maximum points. You’re the only student with a perfect score, and Hayato knows it. His smile widens, and his eyes gleam with satisfaction.

“I knew you’d do it. But don’t you forget something?” he prompts.

Ah, yes, his reward. “No, I didn’t forget, Suo-kun.” You reach into your bag and pull out a box of homemade teacakes. “Here, just the way you like them.” He takes the box, smiling with one eye closed, the other hidden beneath his signature eyepatch. “Oh, thank you very much. So kind as always.” he pauses “But I wanted something sweeter.”

Confused, you stand there trying to figure out what he means. Wasn’t he on a diet? Perhaps you should brew him some tea. He chuckles, observing you and most possibly reading your thoughts.

“Don’t worry, I don’t want freshly brewed tea.” His voice is soft, but there's an edge to it. How does he always know what you’re thinking? Does he know you wanted to kiss him while you studied? His perceptiveness is both thrilling and intimidating.

“So what do you want?” you ask, your voice barely a whisper. He closes the distance between you in a heartbeat. “You.”

Before you can process his words, his lips are on yours, warm and insistent. Your bag slips from your shoulder, landing with a soft thud. The kiss is everything you imagined and more, a perfect blend of surprise and inevitability. You feel the chemistry, the undeniable connection between element Suo and element Y/N, strong and unbreakable.

You pull away, still in shock, as he steps back. His hands are behind his back, holding the box of teacakes, but his eyes are fixed on you. He turns to leave, but glances back over his shoulder.

“I’ll be waiting for more chemistry tests to help you out,” he says, a promise in his voice. And you know, without a doubt, that his request will always be met.

KAJI REN

You had always admired the way Kaji Ren seemed to be in his own world, headphones clamped over his ears and a strawberry lollipop lazily balanced between his lips. He was lost in thought, probably wondering about you, always worried—if you needed help, how your day went, if there was someone he needed to deal with for you. His obliviousness gave you the perfect opportunity. You appeared in front of him and, snatching the lollipop from his mouth, putting it in your own.

"What the—" His initial reaction was irritation, a typical Kaji Ren tantrum brewing, until he saw you standing there, and that devilish look in your eyes. You were still in your school uniform, like you always are when he waits to walk you home.

"Oh, strawberry one. My favorite." You teased, a smile tugging at your lips. He scoffed, too tired to engage in your banter, as started walking behind you, when you suddenly stopped. Before he could react, you snatched his headphones and dashed off.

You were fast, but Kaji was faster. In a heartbeat, he caught up, slamming you gently against the nearest wall, his arms caging you in. You looked up at him, a devilish grin on your face.

"Now, what, Ren?" you taunted, breathless.

For a moment, he just stared, as if trying to figure out his next move. Then, in a move that surprised both of you, he grabbed the lollipop from your mouth and tossed it on the ground. His lips crashed onto yours with a hunger and urgency that sent the butterflies right into your stomach. He kissed you like he’d been starving for it, tasting the sweet strawberry flavor that lingered on your lips.

You kissed back with equal hunger, your hands tangling in his hair. Time seemed to stand still as you both poured everything into that kiss. When he finally pulled back, both of you were breathing heavily, as you stared at the blonde boy.

"Do you want to try an apple flavor next time?" you asked, a teasing once again.

"Shut up," he muttered, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush. He snatched his headphones back and started walking again, but you weren’t ready to let go just yet. You ran up to him and slipped your hand into his. For a moment, you thought he might pull away, but instead, he squeezed your hand tightly.

TOGAME JO

You never go into Shishitoren territory without Togame. He’s your personal bodyguard, a very fine one at that, and he insists on accompanying you every time. Texting him is a lost cause—he never responds. At least, that’s what he wants you to believe, even though your texts are the only ones he ever reads. So, you always call to tell him you are under the bridge, waiting for him.

Tonight, the two of you are wandering down a bustling street, searching for a pub to settle in. The crowd is big at this time of the night, and Togame keeps his hand firmly on your waist, ensuring you stay close. Despite him wanting to keep you close and safe, you are always slipping away, and it drives him crazy.

You meander through, your curiosity piqued by a very interesting shop window. Something inside catches your eye, and you pause to admire it. Meanwhile, he is frantic, scanning the crowd for any sign of you. When he finally spots you, relief floods his body, quickly replaced by an angry expression. The Shishitoren vice-capitain makes a note to buy the item for you tomorrow, but now is not the time. He strides over and grabs your hand, pulling you towards a quieter, more secluded area.

“What if something happened to you? Do you know how much I’d regret that?” His usual slow, measured speech is now rapid and laced with frustration.

You look down, guilt washing over you. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

He sighs heavily, his expression softening as he sees your sad face. Gently, he tilts your chin up, his fingers brushing away the few tears that have escaped. “Don’t cry now, pretty girl.”

Before you can respond, he leans in, his lips meeting yours in a kiss. You hadn’t expected your first kiss to happen like this, in a quiet, dimly lit alley, but it’s with Togame Jo, and that’s all that matters.

His hands cradle your face, thumbs tracing soothing patterns on your skin. You close your eyes, relaxing in his touch, your heart pounding in your chest. It is soft, tender, and unhurried. There’s no rush, no urgency—just the two of you in this moment. His lips are warm, and he takes his time, savoring the feel of you, as butterflies made their way to your stomach. When he finally pulls away, you’re both breathless, faces mere inches apart.

He presses his forehead against yours, a small smile playing making its way, reassuring you that everything was fine, “Just... don’t do that again, okay?”

You nod, still dazed from the kiss. He entwines his fingers with yours, leading you back to the crowded street, but this time, his grip is gentler, more safe. The bustling city seems a little less overwhelming with him by your side, and you can’t help but smile, stealing glances at him, your heart fluttering with every step. Togame catches your eye and squeezes your hand, his own smile growing wider.

TAKIISHI CHIKA

He showed up at your house, knocking on the window as you sighed, getting up from your bed. You, of course, let him in, seeing how he was again stained with blood that was not his. It was the same every time: he came to you so you could patch him up, fix him, give him a shower, change of clothes and a place to sleep in. You never ask questions, and he never offers explanations. Tonight is no different as you sit in his lap, bandaging his face and hands.

You're not a couple; you're not anything. It’s complicated. There are unspoken words between you, a delicate balance that neither of you dares to disrupt. As you sit on his lap and clean his face, you find yourself closer than before. His yellow eyes, intense and piercing, lock onto yours, heart races, each beat echoing in your ears. You’re getting closer, inch by inch. Hesitation grips you, your breath caught in your throat.

"Don't move." Just as you think of pulling away, his hand moves behind your head, gently but firmly pushing you forward. Your lips meet his in a soft, tentative kiss. It’s surprising, the gentleness of it, especially coming from someone as fiery and unpredictable as Chika. The kiss is brief, a fleeting moment that feels that for once you were something. When it ends, you pull back slightly, searching his eyes for any hint of what this meant to him. But his expression is the same as every day. And then you are back to becoming nothing.

For you, it meant everything. It’s a confirmation of the connection you’ve always felt but never acknowledged. But what did it mean for him? You're not sure, and you don't dare to ask. Not now. Maybe not ever. You take a deep breath, steadying yourself. You can think about this later. Right now, he still needs you. You focus on his injuries, cleaning and bandaging.

Chika watches you work, his eyes never leaving your face. You can feel the weight of his gaze, and it only makes you more aware of your own feelings. But you don’t let it distract you. You finish bandaging his hands and move to check for any other injuries, your fingers brushing against his skin, meanwhile, he gently caresses your thighs with his thumbs leaving a trail of warmth in their wake.

When you’re done, you lean back, surveying your work. He looks a bit better now, though still battered and bruised. You meet his eyes again, and this time there’s something different there. Something softer, more vulnerable — a golden hue reflects the dim light, adding a warm, almost ethereal quality to the sun.

“There all done,” you say quietly, unable to trust your voice to say more. You stand up, as you don't want to leave his embrace but you have to clean up the supplies scattered around and prepare a bath. As you move around the room to get him new clothes you can feel his eyes on you, following your every move. You wonder if he’s thinking about the kiss, about what it meant. You wonder if he feels the same confusion, the same longing, the same love.

ENDO YAMATO

The wind lifting strands of his dark hair and whipping them around his face. He’s talking about something, his tattooed hands tracing patterns in the air. But you’re not listening. You’re caught up in the way his lips move, the curve of his smile, the glimmering in his eyes.

"...and Takiishi was there, you know? Doing that thing he always does," Endo continues, oblivious to your silent longing. Takiishi Chika. Again. You frown, a little annoyed now. Why does he always have to bring up Chika?

"Endo," you say, softly at first, hoping to catch his attention. He doesn’t notice.

"Takiishi’s just so unpredictable. I never know what he’s going to do next."

"Endo," you repeat, louder this time. Still, he’s lost in his own world, his words tumbling out like the wind itself, unstoppable and carefree.

"And then, Takiishi—"

"Endo!" You say it sharply, frustration bubbling up inside you. He finally pauses, blinking at you in surprise. You take a step closer, your heart pounding in your chest. You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks, before he can say anything, you reach up and grab his collar, pulling him down to your height. His eyes widen in shock, but you don’t give him time to react. You press your lips to his, silencing him in the most effective way you know.

Feeling his lips against yours, the taste of his breath mingling with your own. It’s not perfect. It’s rushed and a little clumsy, your noses bump awkwardly, and you can feel him tense. But it’s real. It’s happening. And it’s better than any dream.

When you finally pull away, he’s staring at you, confusing and amusing gaze. His hands, still raised from his gesticulations, hover in the air, uncertain.

"Ah," he says, a slow smile spreading across his face. "I’m not good at judging people, am I?" You laugh, knowing how he chooses people and how his expectations are later contradicted, that right now is happening with you, "No," you agree, your voice soft. "You’re really not."

He rubs the back of his neck, looking sheepish. "Sorry. I guess I was talking too much."

"A little," you admit, your heart still racing. "But it’s okay."

He steps closer, his hand brushing against yours, indicating his motives. "Can I try again?" he asks, his voice quieter now, the playful edge gone. You nod, your breath hitching in your throat. "Please."

This time, when he kisses you, it’s slower, more deliberate. His hand cups your cheek, his thumb brushing gently against your skin as you live your dream.

©2024 kaiser1ns do not copy, repost or modify my work

[sashaisready]

Starting Over: Chapter 2 - Broken

Mob!Bucky x Female Reader

Series Masterlist

When Bucky throws you out of the house for a betrayal and won't listen to your side of the story, you know the only way out is through - it's time to start over. Maybe this was never going to be your happy ending.

I'm sorry, part 2 got a little out of hand in length so I've decided to split it up into different chapters! There should only be one more part after this (maybe??!) Hope you enjoy! This is more of Bucky's POV and gives some more insight into what happened. Thanks for all your engagement with this series, as always comments and reblogs are appreciated! Unfortunately I no longer use taglists.

💔

Your phone sat on Bucky’s desk as he stared at it blankly. He wasn’t really sure what he expected, maybe that you’d call it, or it would magically reveal some sort of answers to the many questions he had. But it didn’t. It just laid there, about as useful as a rock. A ‘babe, how are you?! we need to hang out soon!’ notification from Natasha had lit up the screen an hour or so before, but otherwise it just continued to sit silently – an insulting prompt that mocked him with your absence, the clock on the screen taunting him with how late it had become.

He'd had a glance at the checking and credit card accounts he’d set up for you, but they hadn’t been touched. In fact, nothing had been touched. None of your clothes had moved, your toiletries remained in the bathroom. You hadn’t even appeared to have taken any shoes with you. Natasha’s casual check-in text suggested your friends were unaware of what had happened. You’d just…vanished. A ghost in the night.

He felt nauseous, his gut churning. He’d tried to find the CCTV footage of you leaving, but the image was grainy – he could hardly make you out. The cameras had been acting up lately, he needed Steve to get them fixed. He kept thinking about you wandering out into the night by yourself, no money, no plan, how he’d forced you out into the cold. The one person he swore to protect, to keep safe.

His guilt was eating him alive.

But then he thought of the recording. Your voice so clear, laughing with the fed – mocking Bucky, calling him names and sneering at his gullibility. He could hardly believe it all at first. Not you? Not his doll, who had opened him up to love in ways he could have never imagined. Surely it couldn’t have been you, who had uprooted his life for the better, who had hit him like a whirlwind, changing his very being forever in all the best ways?

But he’d checked in with Banner who ran the tech and had confirmed you had been there. Your phone had pinged the cell tower in that exact spot they’d tracked the meeting point to. They’d even found a CCTV clip of you getting in a strange car that day, despite telling Bucky you were having Wanda over for a girl’s night. The audio was delivered by his own men, verified by their informant. The evidence was overwhelming.

‘It was so easy’ you had giggled cruelly on the clip, the words burned into his memory, ‘I just fluttered my eyelashes a few times and he was asking me to move in after a few weeks. I barely lifted a finger yet he swallowed everything I gave him and asked for more. Now I know how his whole operation works…but I need more time on the Stark deal. Just give me a bit longer and I’ll have that one-armed pussy spill everything after a few more ‘I love yous’ and dirty fucks. I promise...’

Of course he’d seen red. How could he not? He’d always been hot-tempered (passionate, his mother used to say), and the recording had destroyed his entire world in a matter of seconds. Aside from the betrayal, the pain, he felt humiliated. He’d finally been vulnerable with someone, shared intimacy in ways he’d never experienced with another person – only to find out it was all a lie. A trick. A joke. It affirmed his biggest fear – that he had been correct to build those walls, to protect himself from anyone who would use his feelings against him. Love could be exploited as a weakness, and he’d turned up to the fight unarmed.

In his mind, he’d not thrown you out – not sweet, beautiful you. Not you who held him close in your sleep and nuzzled into his chest, not you who traced his scars with her fingers and encouraged him to take off his prosthetic when you were intimate if he wished to. Not you, who stayed up late on his birthday just to present him with a homemade cake when he came home after an exhausting meeting – insisting he blew out the candles. Did she ever even exist? He’d always joked you were too good to be true. Now he’d accidentally manifested that into reality.

No. He’d thrown out her. The woman who had been gathering intel on him since the moment the two of you had met. The woman who exchanged kisses for information. The woman who had laughed about all of this as she gleefully ratted on him, delighting in her prowess over the foolish, lovesick mob boss she’d so easily toppled. The woman who’d callously worn the mask of someone who loved him. She was thrown out of his house, out of his embrace.

Unfortunately, the two versions of you were one and the same.

But at least he knew better, now. He’d go back to casual sex and pretty girls hanging off his arm. Easy. Fun. Uncomplicated. The walls would go back up and they wouldn’t come down again. Deep down he’d always known that men like him weren’t meant to be loved, that they weren’t worthy of genuine affection. Not all voids could be filled. People like you, or at least who he thought you were, were not for him. They deserved better. You’d always deserved better. He’d had a brief taste of happiness, but that was all he deserved. The universe would continue to punish him for his many bad deeds.

The only thing left to do was finally go to bed, but a solemn knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts. He could tell it was Steve. 

“Steve?” he called, checking his watch. It was late, he’d assumed his second in command had already gone home.

Steve entered looking sullen. He was tensely holding his phone, and someone appeared to be on FaceTime with him. He cautiously extended it to his long-time friend.

“I’m sorry, Buck”, he said gravely.

“Steve..what?” Bucky asked as he gingerly took the phone from him. Sam looked back at him from the small screen, his solemn expression mirroring Steve’s.

“Bucky…I’m sorry,” Sam said quietly in that same tone, filling Bucky with a sinking dread.

Something was very wrong here.

“What is it?” He fired angrily at Sam, “just spit it out…”

Sam flipped the camera around to face what looked like a heap of old rags on the ground. He appeared to be in a parking garage, surrounded by nothing but concrete and darkness. It was hard to make anything out.

“What am I looking at here?” Bucky squinted at the camera as he tried to focus the image. Steve silently observed over his shoulder.

“Tell him what you just told us,” came the sound of Sam’s furious voice off-camera.

Bucky watched with confusion at the screen as Sam's boot suddenly kicked out at the heap, and the heap moved.

And then he clicked.

The ‘heap’ was a man.

The man groaned and cried out as Bucky realised the ‘rags’ were ripped, bloody clothes. He rolled over in obvious pain as Sam manoeuvred the camera to get a better look. As the man turned over, Bucky recognised his face. 

It was one of his own. 

“Rumlow?” Bucky asked with confusion. 

Behind him, Steve moved closer and leaned forward to watch the screen. “Just watch, Buck” he said sombrely.  

Rumlow looked up at the phone, blearily staring into the lens as he squinted at the phone light. His face was bruised and bloodied. Someone had given him a good going over. 

“It was me. Alright? I did it,” Rumlow groaned.

“Did what?” Bucky sneered, still not entirely clear on where this was going – but already feeling his anger mounting.

Rumlow sighed heavily and Sam gave him another swift kick to the ribs to encourage him to continue. 

He moaned out in pain and closed his eyes. “Aaargh. Alright…I did it! I did it okay! I made the recording!” he spat.

Bucky’s eyes darkened as comprehension of the situation unfolding began to take hold. His fist tightened around the phone screen. “Which recording…Rumlow?” He asked, his voice sinisterly calm. 

Rumlow paused and spat a wad of blood onto the floor. Bucky recognised the look of fear building in the man’s eyes, he’d seen it many times before. Rumlow was stalling to delay the inevitable.

“Tell me!!” Bucky roared at the phone, holding it so tightly in his fist that the screen might crack.

He watched Rumlow wince as he turned away from the screen, dropping his head in defeat.

“Of your girl…talking to the police…it wasn’t her-uh-it wasn’t even real. I used AI. From…from recordings of her voice from old security footage…I’m sorry…I just-”

But Bucky was eerily composed. Rumlow took his silence as the cue to continue.

“I hacked into the security system and planted the clip of her getting in the car. And I stole her phone for a few hours when she was at the house with a friend, planting it at the meeting point then driving back with it. She didn’t even notice it was gone…I’m sorry I…”

Bucky cleared his throat. He tapped a single contemplative finger over his lips as his eyes glazed over.

“Sam?” he asked, his voice void of emotion. 

Sam flipped the camera back to face himself. He looked grimly into the lens. “I’m sorry Buck…we had no idea…I caught him on the phone with the feds about the shipment – he thought I’d already left and-”

“Keep him warm,” Bucky interrupted, his voice cold like ice, “I have more urgent matters to attend to first, but I will deal with him”.

Sam merely nodded. Just as he cut the call, Bucky heard Rumlow wail and beg in the background. He’d be doing a lot more of that soon.

In a sudden fog of anger, Bucky pelted his phone hard against the wall. He roared with rage, lobbing his scotch glass at the window – shattering both. He flipped his desk, the chair, the bookcase – leaving a tsunami of destruction in his wake. Steve merely watched on, patiently. He knew Bucky needed to vent whichever way he could.

Eventually Bucky slowed, panting with exertion as he took a second to try and slick back his hair, now unkempt and messy from his outburst. He pulled back his shoulders as he attempted to regain his composure.

“We’ll find her, Buck”, Steve told him unwaveringly. “She can’t have gone far on foot. Then you can explain everything and apologise”.

Bucky shook his head as he ran his hands through his hair. Toeing the pile of debris that now cluttered his office floor he sighed heavily. “She told me she didn’t do it, Steve. And I didn’t believe her…”

“The recording was very convincing,” Steve clamped a sympathetic hand onto Bucky’s shoulder, “it sounded just like her – and had all of us fooled. Not to mention the phone location evidence…the CCTV of her leaving…before I came up here, Sam told me that this AI is brand new tech, far more advanced and convincing than what the masses have access to…”

Bucky bleakly shook his head, “Doesn’t matter. She’s my girlfriend and I’m supposed to trust her. Believe her. When I heard her voice on that recording I just…”, he trailed off sadly, “…it tapped into my worst fears…”

Steve nodded sagely. “Let’s just find her first, and you can talk to her. And then we can deal with Rumlow”.

Bucky grimaced, “I knew he was a risk to take on…with our shared history in HYDRA’s organisation…but I never thought…”

“Let’s just find her for now,” Steve repeated, always calm in a crisis. He pulled out his phone, making calls to various members of their group, sending out texts and kicking off various communication chains. In mere minutes, they’d have entire squads of their men scouring the area with a fine-tooth comb.

Bucky stood amongst the wreckage – the room’s physical ruins a glaring reminder that this wasn’t the only mess he’d made tonight. He pulled his own phone from his jacket pocket, opening his photo album as the pings and buzzes from Steve’s device filled the room. He flicked through the pictures of you: your face cheesily grinning at the camera, your lips sweetly planted on his cheek, a candid shot of you cooking in the kitchen – caught off-guard, your mouth a small ‘o’ of surprise. You’d asked him to delete it as you thought you looked dumb, but he insisted he keep as he like the way your eyes sparkled in it. It was one of his favourites. Looking at the pictures helped him calm down, his breath evening as he remembered what was important here. He ran a finger over the image of your face, “I’m sorry, doll” he whispered, “I promise I’ll do anything I can to fix this…”

A couple of miles away, you slept deeply in the tear-stained hotel sheets – completely unaware of the organised efforts to track you down. You didn’t dream, you didn’t stir, you just slept - grateful to give yourself over to oblivion.

💔

There had only been a few places you could have gone on foot.

Bucky’s men had worked quickly despite the late hour. The local police force, already firmly in Bucky’s pocket, loaned him a few law enforcement bodies to assist with the search, no questions asked – as was standard. Sheriff Bodecker always played ball. They collected the CCTV from local businesses, doorbell cam footage from local residents (who weren’t particularly happy to be woken to do so, but didn’t have much choice), swept the area on foot and in vehicles. It was faintly possible you had hitchhiked and thumbed a ride into the city, but Bucky knew this wasn’t likely, so they put that option on the backburner – although it hadn’t been entirely ruled out.

The gas station staff hadn’t seen you, but their CCTV did catch a blurred figure passing in the road opposite the camera. A faint outline of your route started to emerge as the puzzle pieces came together. Eventually, Bucky was sent the security footage of you checking into the Holiday Inn. His heart pulled as he watched you looking lost at the reception desk – your eyes round like saucers as you produced crumpled dollar bills, head turning left to right as you surveyed your drab surroundings. He could only imagine how lost you must’ve felt, how hurt and betrayed. Exiled by the man you loved, you trusted, and having to hunker down in a shitty roadside hotel. Part of him was impressed by your ability to pick yourself up and keep going even in the toughest circumstances – it was one of the many reasons he loved you. But mainly, he was ashamed. Ashamed that he’d pushed you to this, that he’d failed you in so many ways.

Bucky inhaled deeply as he closed the hotel clip on his phone, nodding to his driver and stepping into the dark SUV.

I’m on my way, doll.

[51voices]

The Game of Dangerous Desires

Itzy's Shin Yuna and Hwang Yeji x Male reader

Part 2 of A Dragons Deal with the Princess

Previously

Yeji swallowed hard, her mouth dry, heart pounding as she stood there, torn between protecting her relationship and the fear gnawing at her insides. The pill bottle seemed to mock her, a constant reminder of the impossible choice that weighed on her heart.

And then, in the silence of the room, Yeji made her choice. Without another word, she stepped forward and reached for the bottle sealing her fate.

-----

The princess had a smug smile on her face as Yeji angrily took the bottle from her hand. Popping a pill into her mouth, she grabbed a nearby water bottle to wash it down, the bitterness matching the taste of her regret.

“So what’s your plan? Seduce him? He would never cheat on me,” Yeji spat, her voice shaking with anger and fear.

“Oh, unnie.” Yuna's tone dripped with amusement, her confidence unnerving. “Do you really think I haven’t thought it through? I don’t want to spoil the surprise, but just be ready. A week from now.” Yuna winked, adding, “Keep your phone close, I’ll send the details soon.”

“What’s stopping me from telling him everything?” Yeji countered, desperation lacing her words. “If he knows what you’re planning, he’ll avoid you.”

Yuna pulled out her phone, her eyes gleaming wickedly as she hit play on a voice recording. Yeji’s breath caught in her throat as the unmistakable sounds of her own moans filled the air.

"Nnngh... Y/N... It feels strange... I'm stuffed so full of you..."  

"A-Ah! There! Please Y/N, right there—Ffuuuck!"  

"Yeji, you take my cock so well, baby. Your pussy feels incredible. You like this, don’t you?"  

"Yes, yes, I love it! It's so good, don’t stop!"

Yeji’s heart sank. The vivid memory of last night’s passion replayed through the speakers. She could hear every thump, every breathy gasp as if reliving it all over again.

“You... you were here the whole time?” Yeji stammered, horrified.

“I heard it all, every moan… every word...every... single... thrust,” Yuna said slowly, stepping closer with a predatory gleam in her eyes.

Yeji felt trapped, crushed under the weight of her own helplessness as Yuna finally gestured for her to leave. Feeling sick, Yeji stumbled out of the room, her heart twisting painfully. Would Y/N really fall for Yuna? Could he be seduced so easily? Her thoughts raced as she returned to her room, her gaze falling on Y/N’s sleeping form, clutching the pillow where she had lain just hours before.

Her stomach churned at the thought of him in Yuna’s hands, the image of them together too much to bear. What if Yuna was right? What if he did choose her, lured by her confidence and experience? What if she wasn’t enough?

Later, the girls gathered around the dining table, chatting casually as they ate breakfast. Yeji sat in silence, her mind a whirlwind, barely able to stomach the food in front of her. Yuna, sitting beside her, wore a smug grin, the tension thick in the air between the eldest and the youngest..

“Yeji unnie, what did you do yesterday? You never mentioned it,” Chaeryeong asked innocently, mid-slurp of her ramen.

Yuna's eyes sparkled as she leaned in. “Yeah, unnie, what did you get up to?” Her voice was laced with teasing, her power in the situation almost tangible.

Before Yeji could respond, the door to her room opened, and Y/N stepped out, looking fresh from a shower. To the others, it seemed like a regular morning after a sleepover, but the truth hung heavy between Yeji and Yuna.

“Oh, Y/N, you're here! Want to join us?” Lia said cheerfully, ever kind to him because Yeji constantly gushed about happy he makes her.

Y/N smiled politely and took a seat in the empty spot at the table. To his left was Ryujin, and to his right, Chaeryeong. Across from him sat Yeji, with Lia and Yuna sandwiching her. As the conversation swirled around him, Y/N quietly ate his cereal, but something soon caught his attention. He felt something soft brushing against his leg—a light caress. He smirked to himself, recalling the passionate night he’d had with Yeji. 

Is she really still in the mood?

The touch on his leg grew more insistent, sliding higher. He glanced at Yeji, a knowing smile on his lips, assuming she was teasing him. She was good at keeping a straight face—it was almost like she wasn’t doing anything at all. The sensation pressed harder against his crotch, and his heart skipped a beat, his mind flashing back to their intimate moments.

Y/N’s eyes darted downward but something felt… off. Yeji hadn’t painted her toenails that morning, had she? His pulse quickened when he realized the angle of the foot wasn’t right—it wasn’t coming directly from Yeji, but from beside her. His gaze snapped to Yuna, and in that moment, she locked eyes with him. A sly smirk tugged at the corners of her lips, and she winked.

Panic surged through him. He choked on his cereal, coughing and swatting the foot away from him under the table. Yeji immediately looked at him with concern, clueless as to what had just happened, while Yuna leaned back casually, enjoying the chaos she had caused.

Y/N quickly finished his meal, wiping his mouth and muttering a quick thank you to the girls before grabbing Yeji’s hand. “Can you come with me for a second?” he asked, trying to mask his unease with a forced smile. The girls giggled, teasing Yeji about how much Y/N needed her by his side.

But once they were alone in Yeji’s room, the playful atmosphere vanished. “Uh, I don’t know how to say this, but… I think Yuna was flirting with me just now. Like, under the table,” he said, his voice low, trying to make sense of the situation.

Yeji’s stomach dropped. Yuna had promised one week. What is she doing? Her phone buzzed in her hand. Trembling, she opened the message.

Yeji stared at the text from Yuna, her stomach churning. The first of many demands, and Y/N was already sensing something. Panic surged through her, her mind spinning as she read 

Rule 1: Y/N will not know about anything. You have to play the dumb girlfriend card. 

She swallowed hard, her heart thudding painfully in her chest. "Yuna... flirting with you?" she repeated, her voice trembling slightly before she forced herself to laugh, a shaky, hollow sound. "Babe, you’re overthinking it. Yuna would never do that! She’s like a little sister to me, and she adores you—but, like, in a friendly way."

Y/N’s brow furrowed, and the skepticism on his face made Yeji’s chest tighten even more. His eyes searched hers, confused, questioning. He didn’t believe her. She could feel it. And why would he? She was lying to him. The man she loved more than anything, the one she had given everything to last night, and now... now she had to deceive him.

"But her foot—" Y/N began, his voice trailing off.

Yeji’s pulse quickened. She couldn’t let him finish that thought. If he doubted her now, everything would fall apart. "It was probably an accident," she cut in quickly, forcing a smile that felt foreign on her lips. She reached out, grasping his arm, squeezing it as if trying to ground herself. "You know how playful she is. She was probably just stretching or moving around, and it felt weird, that’s all."

Her words sounded hollow to her own ears, but she pushed on, hoping he wouldn’t see through her act. Her heart felt like it was being torn apart with every lie she spoke. This was Y/N—the man who trusted her, the man who held her after making love to her for the first time. And here she was, lying to his face.

Y/N hesitated, his eyes narrowing slightly, his confusion deepening. Yeji’s chest constricted painfully. She couldn’t let him keep thinking about it. She had to make him believe.

"Come on," she coaxed, her voice softening as she leaned into him, pressing her forehead against his, trying to hide the tears welling up in her eyes. "You’re just tired from last night, right? I wore you out." She forced a giggle, the sound unnatural, like it didn’t belong to her at all. Her insides were twisting into knots, the guilt nearly choking her, but she had to keep going.

Y/N didn’t respond immediately, his gaze still distant, replaying the events in his mind. Yeji’s heart raced. She hated this. She hated lying to him. It felt like poison in her veins, the weight of Yuna’s control over her crushing her spirit.

"Maybe I’m just being paranoid..." he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck, though doubt still lingered in his eyes.

Yeji clung to that small sliver of doubt and seized it. "Exactly!" she chimed, trying to infuse her voice with lightness even though her insides felt like they were crumbling. She pulled him close, wrapping her arms around his neck as she fought to keep her hands from trembling. "You’ve got nothing to worry about. I know you. You’d never let something like that happen, and Yuna isn’t that kind of person."

She kissed him then, desperate to erase the lingering suspicion. It was a soft, lingering kiss, but it tasted like betrayal to her. Every second of it filled her with more guilt. "Let’s just forget about it, okay? I trust you, and you trust me, right?" Her voice cracked slightly on the last word, but she prayed he wouldn’t notice.

Y/N paused for a moment longer, the weight of her words settling in. He looked into her eyes, searching for truth. Yeji’s heart pounded, her breath caught in her throat as she waited.

"Yeah…" he finally said, sighing deeply. "I trust you."

Yeji smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Relief washed over her, but it was tinged with a sickening feeling that lodged in her chest like a stone. She had done it—she had successfully gaslit him, just as Yuna had demanded. But as Y/N wrapped his arms around her and held her close, all she could think about was how wrong it felt. How every lie had driven a wedge between them, one she couldn’t undo.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible. Her words were meant for him, but they felt more like an apology, a plea for forgiveness she didn’t deserve.

"I love you," Y/N murmured back, his voice warm, comforting, everything she longed for. He held her tighter, but all Yeji could feel was the guilt gnawing at her, eating away at the foundation of their love.

"I love you too," she whispered, her voice shaking. Tears stung the corners of her eyes as she rested her head on his chest, her heart breaking under the weight of her betrayal. Yuna’s game had only just begun, and Yeji was already drowning in it.

-----

Yuna was one step closer to what she had been craving for. Her desires had become an obsession, and she knew exactly how to get what she wanted. Yuna had texted Yeji to make sure Y/N came over more often. Yeji, feeling trapped, reluctantly agreed, mentioning it to Y/N as, of course he agreed, more time with his girlfriend is always better.

At the same time, Yuna's twisted game began to evolve. The ruleset had been finished. She texted Yeji the updates:

Rule 2: "Tell Y/N not to cum until the day. No sex, no masturbation. I need him pent up."

Rule 3: "When D-Day comes, seduce him at his place. Make him agree to wear a blindfold and get tied to the bed. I don't care how you do it"

Rule 4: "Once he's bound, let me in. You can’t interfere, no matter what happens."

Rule 5: "Sit in the corner and watch. Don’t make a sound. You need to suffer like I did, you need to feel what I felt that night when I heard you two.

As the countdown to the dreaded day had started every moment seemed to stretch out painfully for Yeji. The tension in the air was almost tangible as Yuna's subtle advances grew bolder, and Y/N's once-solid relationship with Yeji was slowly being strained. It all began innocently, but by the end of the week, nothing would be the same.

On Day One, everything seemed relatively normal, but Y/N noticed a slight shift in the dynamic. After Yeji’s dance practice, Yuna appeared at the studio, casually walking in like she had every right to be there. At first, it felt natural—after all, Yuna and Yeji were close, and Y/N had hung out with both of them countless times. 

But something felt different that day. Yuna lingered by the mirrors longer than usual, her eyes always seeming to find Y/N when she thought he wasn’t looking. After practice, Y/N was about to leave when Yuna suddenly offered him a hug. He hesitated for a moment—this wasn’t something they did often—but figured it was harmless. When Yuna’s arms wrapped around him, it felt just a little too tight, a little too long. He could feel her breath against his neck, and for a moment, he thought he felt her hand brush lower down his back than it should have.

He pulled away, awkwardly laughing it off. “You’re extra friendly today,” he said, trying to sound casual. Yuna just smiled, a mysterious glint in her eyes, as Yeji approached with her gym bag.

Yeji noticed the interaction but said nothing, offering Y/N a kiss goodbye before he left. That night, as Y/N lay in bed, he couldn’t shake the strange feeling that Yuna’s hug hadn’t been as innocent as it seemed. He pushed the thought aside, though, convinced he was reading too much into things.

-----

Day Two started much the same, with Y/N sitting in the corner of the practice room, sipping his water while the girls rehearsed. But again something was different this time. Yuna made more frequent eye contact with him during practice, catching his attention every time she moved. When a break was called, Yuna made her way straight toward him.

“Y/N, what do you think of the choreography? Am I hitting all the beats?” Yuna asked sweetly, standing close enough that her presence felt overbearing.

Y/N shuffled uncomfortably. “Yeah, it looks great. You’re really talented.”

Yuna smiled in a way that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Thanks. I’ve been working hard on it. Maybe I’ll show you the routine up close sometime.”

Later as practice ended, Y/N was getting ready to leave when Yuna popped up beside him, her hand resting on his arm. “Leaving so soon? Why don’t you hang out with us a bit?” she asked, her fingers lingering on his skin. Y/N tensed up, feeling the unease rise within him.

“Nah, I’ve got stuff to do,” he replied, gently pulling away. 

“Come on, don’t be boring,” Yuna teased, her voice lower. She stepped closer, her arm brushing against his. Y/N shifted uncomfortably, glancing around for Yeji, who was deep in conversation with the choreographer. He quickly came up with an excuse and left with a hurry.

That night, Y/N mentioned the encounter to Yeji. “Yuna’s been acting... different lately,” he said, scratching the back of his head. “It’s like she’s always around, and I don’t know—it’s weird.”

Yeji chuckled, waving it off. “Yuna? She’s always been like that. She’s just friendly.” Her smile was reassuring, but Y/N couldn’t shake the discomfort settling in his chest.

-----

Day Three saw Yuna growing bolder. This time, she didn’t just accidently show up to Y/N and Yejis, alone time; she actively inserted herself into Y/N’s space. While Yeji practiced to herself during a break, Yuna stuck to Y/N like glue, sitting close to him on the benches and making playful comments about how hard the girls were working. She laughed easily, leaning into him every chance she got.

When Y/N tried to create some distance, she found subtle ways to close it. If he moved to the other end of the bench, Yuna would “casually” scoot over too, laughing about how cramped the space was. She even brushed her hand over his thigh at one point, and Y/N felt his entire body tense. He shifted uncomfortably, trying to ignore the way Yuna’s fingers lingered for just a beat too long.

When practice ended and it was time to leave, Yuna insisted on walking out with him. “I’ll walk you to your car,” she said, almost like it wasn’t a questionable act. Y/N didn’t know how to decline without being rude, so he agreed. As they reached his car, Yuna smiled, her eyes locked on his. “You’re fun to hang out with, Y/N,” she said, her tone soft but laced with something deeper. She stepped closer, leaning in for another hug. This time, Y/N stiffened, feeling her body press against his in a way that Yuna planned to make him feel every inch of her chest.

He mumbled a quick goodbye and got into his car, watching as Yuna waved, her eyes never leaving him. 

That night, Y/N brought it up to Yeji again. “Seriously, I think Yuna’s acting weird. She’s... I don’t know. She’s touchy and not like a touchy friend.”

But once again, Yeji brushed it off, her expression unreadable. “You’re overthinking it, babe. Yuna’s always been like that.”

But Y/N wasn’t so sure anymore.

-----

On Day Four Yuna started texting Y/N throughout the day. It wasn’t unusual for them to message occasionally mainly for updates on Yeji but the frequency of her texts had increased dramatically. She sent a casual “How’s your day?” messages that quickly turned into flirty comments. “You looked really good today 😉,” one text read. Y/N stared at his phone, feeling his stomach drop.

He tried to ignore the texts, replying with short answers and hoping she’d get the hint, but Yuna was persistent. He showed up at the dorms again, and this time Yuna made no effort to hide her intentions. She sat close to Y/N, her body pressed against his as they watched a movie with Yeji. Every time Y/N shifted to create space, Yuna closed the gap, her thigh brushing against his.

Y/N could feel his pulse quickening, the discomfort growing with every passing second. He glanced at Yeji, hoping she’d say something, but she remained quiet, her eyes fixed on the screen.

When Y/N finally got up to leave, Yuna followed him to the door, smiling sweetly. “Leaving already? Stay a little longer,” she said, her voice dripping with false innocence. She leaned in, her hand grazing his arm as she whispered, “We could have fun.”

Y/N’s heart raced. He forced a chuckle, pulling away. “I really have to go,” he muttered, practically bolting out the door.

He couldn’t sleep. The tension between him and Yeji was growing, and Yuna’s actions were getting bolder by the day. Something was seriously wrong, but Y/N felt trapped, unsure of how to handle the situation.

-----

By Day Five, Y/N was on edge. The week had felt like a slow descent into madness, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that something terrible was about to happen. Yuna’s behavior had escalated—now she was constantly touching him, finding excuses to stand close, and making suggestive comments that left Y/N feeling more uncomfortable than ever.

He tried talking to Yeji again, hoping for some clarity, but she remained dismissive. “Yuna’s just being Yuna,” she said, her tone flat. “You’re making a big deal out of nothing.”

But Y/N knew it wasn’t nothing. The strain in his relationship with Yeji was palpable, and every time he tried to address it, she deflected, leaving Y/N feeling more isolated than ever.

That afternoon Y/N was once again in the practice room, watching as ITZY rehearsed. His eyes wandered over to Yuna, and he noticed something different—she was wearing revealing clothing, far more daring than her usual practice attire. It was nothing like what she typically wore around the group. As she stood in front of the mirror, she caught sight of Y/N behind her, their eyes meeting through the reflection.

Without breaking eye contact, Yuna began to stretch. She bent over slowly letting get a good look of her plump cheeks then spreading her legs wide doing the splits as she dropped to the floor, her ass recoiling from the impact, all while keeping her gaze locked on Y/N. Her expression was unreadable, but the deliberate nature of her actions was clear. He followed her eyes as she started to survey his body, eventually locking onto his crotch. Y/N’s pulse quickened as he shifted uncomfortably, feeling the tension build in the room.

---

By Day Six, Y/N couldn’t take it anymore. The entire week had been a slow, torturous buildup to something he couldn’t quite put into words. That evening, after another tense interaction with Yuna, Y/N finally snapped. He confronted Yeji, his voice tight with frustration.

“I don’t know what’s going on with Yuna, but this has to stop,” he said, pacing the room. “I’ve tried to ignore it, I’ve tried to talk to you about it, but you keep brushing it off. how could you, my girlfriend be so okay with someone actively trying to steal me away from you.?”

Yeji sighed, rubbing her temples. “Y/N, you’re blowing this out of proportion.”

“I’m not!” Y/N’s voice was louder than he intended, his emotions spilling over. “She’s been all over me, and you’re acting like it’s no big deal. What’s going on, Yeji? Why won’t you just talk to me?”

Yeji’s eyes flickered with something—guilt? shame?—but she quickly masked it. “Look, I’ll talk to her, okay? Just... let it go for now.”

But Y/N couldn’t just let it go. The tension between him and Yeji felt like a ticking time bomb, and he had no idea how to defuse it.

-----

Finally, on Day Seven, the dreaded day arrived. The countdown had reached its end, and everything was set in motion. Y/N, exhausted from the emotional toll of the week, hadn’t seen Yuna all day, which gave him a false sense of security. He hoped maybe the worst had passed. When Yeji arrived at his home, the tension between them was palpable, hanging heavy in the air like a storm about to break. 

She kissed him softly, a lingering touch that held more sadness than passion. Y/N could feel her hesitation, as if she were holding something back. 

“I’m so sorry,” Yeji whispered, her voice trembling, filled with remorse and guilt. She looked down, unable to meet his eyes, her hands fidgeting nervously. “I’ve let things get out of control, and I don’t know how to fix it… but I just want us to be okay again.”

Y/N stared at her, his heart aching. He wanted to believe her, to trust that everything could go back to normal, but the unease from the past week was still gnawing at him. He let out a heavy sigh, nodding slowly. 

“Yeah… me too,” he said softly, though doubt flickered in his chest.

Yeji offered a small smile, trying to mask the anxiety she felt. “Let’s try something new tonight, okay?”

Yeji had been unusually insistent throughout the evening, her demeanor shifting between light teasing and something more serious. When she suggested that they use the guest bedroom for the night, her tone carried a weight that caught Y/N off guard. Still, he agreed, hoping that maybe this was her way of trying to bridge the gap between them, to reignite something that had felt distant recently.

As they moved through the hallway toward the room, Y/N couldn’t help but notice the tension in Yeji's posture. Her heart pounded in her chest, but she did her best to play it off as casual curiosity.

"I saw something online the other day..." she said, her voice soft yet steady as she led him inside. “I thought we could try it out.”

Before Y/N could respond, Yeji produced a blindfold and a length of rope from behind her back, her hands trembling slightly as she handed them over. Her eyes flickered with both nervousness and excitement. Y/N raised an eyebrow, caught off guard by the gesture, but something in her gaze held him in place, intrigued.

“You want me to tie you up?” Y/N asked with a chuckle, his suspicion softening as he saw it as a playful suggestion.

But Yeji shook her head, “No, I want to try it on you.”

Y/N hesitated for a moment but nodded. “Okay... if that’s what you want, but you know, you don't have to do this for me to accept your apology”

“I know, this is just a little extra”

They started to undress, the atmosphere filled with an odd mix of tension and desire. Yeji, aching for his touch but bound by the rules Yuna had set, felt a pit in her stomach. She tied his limbs to the four corners of the bed, securing each one tightly. Y/N laughed lightly, feeling the unfamiliar sensation of restraint.

“I'm not used to this... But if you’re into it, I’ll give it a shot,” he said, trying to ease the growing tension between them.

Yeji tied the final knot, making sure no one, not even Y/N can get out as Yuna had instructed. She stepped back, looking at Y/N—vulnerable and exposed. Her heart twisted with guilt, but she reminded herself of the plan.playfully leaning to his ear she whispered, “I'll be back”, she then left the bedroom, her footsteps heavy as she walked toward the front door.

There, Yuna stood waiting, her face lit with an eager smile. Everything had fallen into place. The prize she had been craving was just a few steps away.

Yuna entered the house with a confident stride, walking straight into the guest room, her eyes fixed on Y/N, he was blindfolded and restrained on the bed as she wanted, unaware of what was about to unfold. Yuna crept into the room, her eyes greedily drinking in the sight of his vulnerable form. A wicked grin spread across her face as she approached the bed, licking her lips in anticipation.

"Yeji?" Y/N called out, mistaking Yuna's presence for his girlfriend's return. "You're back already? That was quick."

Yuna didn't respond, too focused on her prize. She knelt on the bed, her fingers lightly tracing along his skin, causing Y/N to shiver. Slowly, she lowered her head, taking half him into her mouth, her tongue swirling around him expertly, as her jaw was stretching. Y/N let out a soft groan.

"Oh wow... Yeji, that feels... so good," he murmured, tilting his head back against the pillow. "Where did you learn this?"

Yeji's heart clenched at his words. Of course, he doesn't recognize my touch, she thought bitterly. I've never given him a proper blowjob, and now Yuna is stealing that experience from me. Yuna however, smirked, knowing Y/N was already hooked on the sensation of her mouth on him.

Y/N, sensitive from the week of build-up, felt himself nearing the edge from the veteran moves that his "girlfriend" was doing. "I'm close," he muttered, unaware of the real situation.

Yuna paused, smirking as she denied him release, his limbs tugging at the ropes. She wasn't going to let him waste all that build-up just anywhere. No, she wanted every last drop to stuff her to the brim.

Straddling him, she positioned herself over his hardness, locking eyes with Yeji, who sat paralyzed in the corner. Slowly, Yuna lowered herself onto him, inch by inch, letting out an unexpected squeal as he filled her completely.

The sheer size of him made her body wince, even though she was experienced. Y/N was a different beast, for the first time since she lost her virginity, she could feel some pain in her core. She glanced down, marveling at the way he stretched her to the limit, his outline visible against her stomach. This moment, this conquest, had been all she could think about since that day in the car and now, Y/N was hers.

The maknae locked eyes with her leader, seeing a mixture of rage and heartbreak in Yeji's gaze as she began to move. One of the people Yeji trusted most was now claiming what should have been hers alone. The sounds of their bodies moving together filled the room, while Yeji sat there, helpless, forced to watch the person she loved being taken by someone else.

Yuna couldn't believe it. Finally, she had gotten her chance with this monster and she was determined to make the most of it. Fuck, he's reaching places I never knew was possible, she thought, running her hands along his chest. Yuna stared at Yeji over in the corner, smirking at the sheer agony and betrayal she saw reflected back at her. The knowledge that she was stealing something precious, something that belonged to Yeji alone, for some reason fueled her desire.

Y/N groaned beneath her, his fingers digging into the bed as he bucked up instinctively. "Yeji... you feel so good baby, let me touch you," he murmured, lost in the haze of pleasure.

Yeji felt like she had been punched in the gut. Even now, even as Yuna took him for herself, Y/N's words proved that his heart still belongs entirely to her.

Yuna began to move faster, rolling her hips in a sensual rhythm. The wet sounds of their coupling filled the room, along with Y/N's increasingly desperate moans. Each plunge of his length into her soaked core brought Yuna closer to the edge, but she gritted her teeth, determined not to let go until she had milked him dry.

Yuna gave her all to riding her new toy, she could feel every vein pulsing against her stomach, assuming that was an indication of his upcoming release, she sped up some more needing to take his seed into her.

A sheen of sweat formed on Yuna's forehead as she continued grinding her hips. Unaware that Y/N hadn’t fully entered her yet, two more inches remained unclaimed. Suddenly, he thrust upward, catching her off guard. The unexpected depth sent a shock through her body, causing her to unravel completely. She thought she had taken all of him, but that final plunge pushed her past her limit, making her tremble as she surrendered to the intense wave.

Yeji watched as her group mate quivered on top of her boyfriend, her legs shaking just likes Yeji's during the first night, but he wasn't done yet, Y/N feeling the quivers on his cock and wanted to bring more pleasure to his lover, he kept pushing his hips higher and higher causing Yuna to release his cock from her pussy before screaming and squirting uncontrollably all over his chest and blindfolded face.

She stared at his damp body, completely stunned. The overwhelming pleasure had taken her to an uncharted place, leaving her body trembling. Yet, the princess refused to give up until she reached her goal. Slowly, she grasped his cock again. Once eager, she now gazed at it with a flicker of fear, hesitating before slipping it in once more.

Yuna's heart raced as she rode Y/N with wild abandon, her desperation growing with each passing second. She needed him to fill her, to claim her completely. But no matter how hard she bounced, how tight she clenched around him, he remained frustratingly hard.

"Why...won't...you...cum...already?" she panted, her words broken between thrusts. She was too far gone to care about her voice being heard, too consumed by her own need.

Glancing at Yeji, Yuna's eyes widened as she saw her unnie's calm smile. It was the complete opposite of her own frantic energy. Yeji's eyes never left hers, a knowing glint in their dark depths.

Yuna's mind spun, trying to make sense of Yeji's behavior. Why is she happy? Hadn't they been fighting? Were she and Y/N on the brink of breaking up? How could Yeji be so unbothered?

Before she could unravel the mystery, a hand landed on her shoulder. Yeji's fingers brushed lightly over her skin, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Yuna shivered at the intimate touch, her hips stuttering in their relentless rhythm.

"Keep going, Yuna," Yeji purred, her voice soft but laced with mocking amusement. "You're almost there."

Fear flickered in Yuna's chest as Yeji leaned in close, her breath ghosting over Yuna's ear. "Did you really think you were pulling the strings this whole time?" she whispered, her tone dark and dripping with mirth.

"Uh-I-I" Yuna stammered as her mind raced, trying to process Yeji's words. What? But this was my plan, my carefully laid trap to snare Y/N. He is now mine, wasn't he?

Yeji chuckled, sending a shiver down Yuna's spine as her grip tightened on Yuna's shoulders. "That's your problem, Yuna. You always say you want something, but you can never handle it," she teased, her voice laced with challenge. "How about I give you a chance?"

With her hand firmly gripping Yuna’s shoulders, Yeji used her body weight to slam Yuna down, pressing her flush against Y/N's thighs. Yuna's cries now mirrored the screams she had once recorded on her phone—except while Yeji’s were laced with pleasure, Yuna’s were filled with pain. Y/N hadn’t even moved yet, and already, tears were beginning to form in Yuna’s eyes.

Yuna’s stomach twisted, her confidence faltering as Yeji’s words settled in. She looked down at Y/N, her breath catching when she saw that the ropes that had appeared to bind him were now lying discarded on the bed. His hands weren’t tied. He had never been restrained.

Y/N’s eyes, no longer blindfolded, met hers, dark and unflinching. The realization crashed down on her like a wave. She had been played from the beginning.

“You... you knew?” Yuna whispered, her voice trembling.

Yeji chuckled softly, her lips brushing Yuna’s ear. “Of course he knew, He’s mine Yuna. He’s always been mine.”

Yuna’s body tensed as Y/N’s hands suddenly gripped her hips. His hold was firm but passive, waiting for direction. It wasn’t Y/N who was in control—it was Yeji.

“Let her feel it baby.” Yeji commanded softly, her voice as smooth as silk. “Show her exactly what she thought she wanted.”

Without hesitation, Y/N obeyed, swiftly flipping the youngest onto the bed, positioning her on her hands and knees. A loud slap echoed as Yeji’s hand connected with her cheeks, just as Y/N thrust into Yuna with brutal force. The impact made her gasp, clutching the sheets for support. But Yeji wasn’t satisfied. She commanded Y/N to grab Yuna’s arms and use them as leverage to pull her deeper onto him. Now, with Y/N holding her arms, Yuna's fingers clawed desperately at the air, searching for anything to hold onto. His movements were relentless, and any control she had earlier dissolved completely, leaving her powerless to keep up with the unyielding pace he set.

“No... wait...” Yuna whimpered, her voice strained, but Y/N didn’t stop. His hands gripped her tighter, driving into her relentlessly, his cock filling her over and over, pushing her closer to a breaking point. The soft rhythm she had started was gone, replaced by his harsh, unforgiving pace.

Yeji made her way in front of her maknae, watching with a cold, satisfied gaze. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” she asked, her voice dripping with condescension. “You wanted to have him for yourself. Well, now you have him.”

Yuna’s mind spiraled as Y/N’s thrusts grew harder, faster. Her body responded instinctively, the pain pushing away the little pleasure that was mixing in a dizzying blur, her mind was screaming in defeat. This wasn’t what she had wanted. Not like this.

“I can’t—” Yuna tried to speak, her voice cracking as her body trembled with overstimulation.

“You’ll cum again, and again” Yeji interrupted, her tone sharp and commanding. “And you’ll keep cumming until I say you’re done.”

Yuna’s breath came in ragged gasps, her body betraying her as the pleasure built within, fast and uncontrollable. She couldn’t stop it—couldn’t stop herself from reacting. Her muscles tensed, her breath catching in her throat as Y/N’s unrelenting thrusts pushed her closer and closer to the edge.

Consequently, she shattered. Her body convulsed as an orgasm tore through her, her inner walls clenching around Y/N’s cock as she cried out, the sound desperate and ragged.

"ahh ahh UNNIE please it hurts, I cant take it anymore!" tears were starting to fall from the youngest's eyes.

Y/N didn’t stop though, His pace remained steady, thrusting into her even as she shuddered through her release, the pleasure replaced by pain as her overstimulated body struggled to keep up.

Yeji smiled, her hand moving to Yuna’s chin, forcing her to look at her. “Again,” she said simply, her eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. “You’re not done.” She then gave a quick hard slap to Yuna's chest. The sound reverberated through the room. Yeji smiled as everything was coming full circle.

Yuna’s body jerked with every thrust, her mind lost in the overwhelming mix of sensations. Another orgasm built within her, even more intense than the last, but this time it was different. This time, it felt like too much—like her body was about to break.

Y/N’s hands tightened on her wrists, his breath growing ragged as his own release neared. Yuna could feel him pulsing inside her, his cock twitching as he struggled to hold back. But just as he was about to spill inside her, Yeji’s hand shot out, pressing firmly against Y/N’s abdomen.

“No,” she said sharply, her voice leaving no room for argument. “Not yet I'm still not done with her.”

Y/N groaned, his entire body trembling as he fought against the urge to finish. His cock remained hard, still thrusting into Yuna with agonizing precision, but he obeyed, holding back despite the unbearable tension and pain building within him.

Yuna whimpered, tears spilling down her cheeks as her body neared the edge again. She couldn’t take any more—couldn’t handle the relentless assault on her senses. But her body refused to listen, and with one particularly brutal thrust to that one spot she had always hoped someone would hit. It was game over, she came again, her body convulsing violently as her vision blurred, white-hot pleasure tearing through her.

Y/N followed soon after with one last deep thrust, but instead of what Yuna had been hoping for, he pulled out at the final moment. A guttural groan escaped him as he climaxed all over her body, his release coating her skin rather than filling her as she had been working towards. Yuna lay there, breathless and trembling, her body aching from the intensity. She was spent, and all she could do was lie there, too far gone to even voice her apology.

Yeji observed with quiet satisfaction, her own emotions stirred by the scene before her. Yuna, gasping for air, her face streaked with tears. But Yeji wasn't finished yet. She leaned down, gently flipping Yuna onto her back, her fingers tracing along Yuna’s cheek with an unsettling, almost mocking tenderness, as if savoring the control she held.

“You’ll remember this, Yuna,” Yeji whispered, her voice soft but icy. “You’ll remember that you mean nothing to him. That no matter what you do, no matter how hard you try… I’m the leader, and I’ll always have control. Over everything. Even you.”

Yuna sobbed weakly, her body trembling uncontrollably as Yeji finally stepped back, her gaze still filled with cruel satisfaction.

"You're done now," Yeji said calmly, brushing her hands off as if discarding Yuna along with the rest of the moment. She took a step back, eyes still trained on Yuna, who lay gasping for air, utterly broken.

Yuna’s chest heaved with exhaustion, her vision blurred with tears. The room seemed to spin, but all she could feel was the dull ache coursing through her body—the result of the punishment she had endured, the humiliation crashing over her in waves. Her hands clutched the bed sheets beneath her as though they were the only solid thing keeping her tethered to reality.

Yeji gave a final glance at Yuna’s trembling form before turning her gaze to Y/N. “Let’s go,” she said, her voice no longer cruel, but flat—emotionless.

Y/N, still reeling from the intensity of his release, nodded silently. He rose from Yuna's limp body and began dressing, his movements slow and methodical, as if trying to shrug off the weight of what had just happened. He didn’t glance back at her—not once.

Together, Yeji and Y/N left the room without another word, leaving Yuna behind—still sprawled out on the bed, her body shuddering with sobs. The door clicked shut behind them, and the oppressive tension that had filled the air inside the room finally dissipated.

The hallway was silent, the faint sounds of Yuna’s sobs muffled through the walls. Yeji and Y/N walked down the corridor, side by side, their footsteps echoing softly in the quiet. The moment they turned the corner, and the door was out of sight, Yeji stopped in her tracks. She let out a deep breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding. The strong, composed mask she had worn in front of Yuna crumbled in an instant.

Her shoulders slumped slightly, and her hands trembled as she pressed them to her face. “God, that was harder than I thought it would be…” she whispered, her voice filled with exhaustion and the weight of what had just transpired.

Y/N turned to her, his brow furrowed with concern. He hadn’t spoken much during the entire ordeal, following Yeji’s instructions to the letter, but now that it was over, the guilt in his eyes was palpable.

“I didn’t want to do that,” Y/N muttered, his voice low and filled with regret. “I didn’t want to touch her like that, Yeji. It didn’t feel right.” He rubbed the back of his neck, looking down at the floor as if ashamed. “I was wishing it was you the whole time.”

Yeji’s eyes softened as she looked up at him. She could see the guilt etched into every line of his face. This wasn’t easy for him, but he had done it for her. She had asked him to, and despite how much it weighed on him, he had agreed because he trusted her.

She stepped closer to him, reaching out to place a gentle hand on his arm. “I know,” she said quietly. “I know you didn’t want to, and I’m sorry I had to ask you to go through with it. But I needed to show her that she can’t just walk in and take what’s ours.”

Her voice wavered slightly, the strength she had shown earlier cracking around the edges. “I needed to protect us. To show her that there are consequences. If we let it happen, she would take you again and again, I know her”

Y/N let out a shaky breath, lifting his hand to cover hers where it rested on his arm. His fingers were warm, and for the first time since they had left the room, some of the tension seemed to ease from his posture. “I get it,” he said, his voice still laced with guilt, “but it still didn’t feel right.”

Yeji swallowed, her own eyes starting to glisten with the weight of what she had done. She hadn’t enjoyed it, even though she had appeared so strong and in control. It had hurt her more than she wanted to admit, but she had felt like there was no other way to protect their relationship from someone like Yuna—someone who had been ready to steal Y/N away.

“It wasn’t easy for me either,” she admitted softly, her hand tightening around his. “I had to act like it didn’t affect me, like it didn’t hurt, but the whole time…” She took a shaky breath. “I hated it.”

Y/N looked at her, the compassion in his eyes breaking through the cold distance that had settled between them during the ordeal. He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly against his chest. Yeji let herself fall into him, burying her face in the crook of his neck, and for a moment, they stood there in the quiet hallway, clinging to each other as if trying to rid themselves of the lingering shadows of what had just happened.

“I’m sorry I made you go through that,” Yeji whispered, her voice muffled against his chest. “But thank you... thank you for helping me.”

Y/N ran his fingers through her hair, comforting her as her body shook slightly in his arms. “I’d do anything for you, Yeji,” he said softly. “Even that.” He kissed the top of her head gently, letting out a deep breath. “I’m just glad it’s over.”

Yeji nodded, pulling back slightly to look up at him, her eyes still wet with unshed tears. “It’s over now,” she whispered. “And we don’t have to deal with her anymore. She won’t come between us again.”

Y/N nodded in agreement, his hand cupping her cheek tenderly. “We’re okay,” he assured her, his voice filled with quiet strength. “We’ve got each other.”

Yeji smiled faintly, leaning into his touch. “We always have,” she whispered, the weight of the ordeal slowly lifting as they stood together, finding comfort in each other’s presence. The strong façade she had worn was gone now, replaced by the vulnerability she only allowed herself to show in front of Y/N.

They stood in the hallway for a few moments longer, just holding each other, breathing in the quiet now that the storm had passed. Finally, Yeji pulled away, wiping her eyes and steadying herself.

“Come on,” she said softly, her voice regaining a bit of its strength. “Let’s get some air.”

Y/N nodded, wrapping his arm around her shoulders as they walked away from the room, leaving Yuna behind, broken and defeated. The two of them stepped into the fresh air outside, away from the suffocating atmosphere that had filled the house, and as they walked side by side, they knew they had survived something together—something neither of them had wanted, but something they had needed to go through to protect what they had.

And now, it was just them again.

Epilogue: A New Awakening

The soft twilight spilled into the house as Y/N and Yeji returned from catching some fresh air. Drained from the day’s events, Y/N decided it was time to call it a night.

“I’ll meet you there. I’m a little thirsty, so I’ll just grab some water,” Yeji said, her voice tired. She smiled softly, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead before watching him disappear into his room. Once he was gone, Yeji exhaled a deep sigh, taking a long sip of ice-cold water before heading upstairs. But instead of going directly to the bedroom where Y/N was, she found herself pausing outside the guest room just a few doors down.

Standing in the dim light, Yeji felt a rush of unfamiliar emotions. What had always been subtle feelings she could ignore now churned inside her, pulling her in different directions. The playful teasing from Yuna earlier had stirred something in her—a boldness that both excited and confused her. It wasn’t just about mischief anymore; it felt like she was discovering something new about herself, a part she hadn’t fully understood until now.

As she lingered in the hallway, she bit her lip. Should I tell him? The thought nagged at her. Y/N had always been the one she shared everything with, but this was different. Would it even make sense to explain? Would he understand? A quiet sigh left her lips as she weighed the options, torn between wanting to let him in and fearing how he might see her afterward.

After a moment, Yeji shook her head, deciding to leave that conversation for another day—another version of herself to handle later. With that, she quietly slipped into the guest room.

Inside, the atmosphere was charged with a sense of anticipation. Yeji’s earlier hesitation gave way to a feeling of control, something thrilling. The wand vibrator she had swiped earlier rested in her hoodie pocket, ready for what she had planned. A mischievous smile played on her lips as she imagined how the night would unfold. This wasn’t just a playful act of revenge—it was about Yeji stepping into a version of herself she was only beginning to explore.

She approached Yuna, who was still peacefully asleep, her movements slow and deliberate. With calculated precision, Yeji tied Yuna’s wrists and ankles to the bedposts, leaving her spread-eagle and completely at her mercy. Yuna remained blissfully unaware as Yeji secured the vibrator tightly against her, ensuring it was perfectly positioned for what was about to come.

When Yeji flicked the switch, the soft hum filled the room. Almost instantly, Yuna’s body twitched, the unexpected sensation jolting her awake. Her eyes fluttered open in confusion, her gaze slowly registering the restraints holding her in place.

“U-Unnie? I thought we were done…” Yuna mumbled groggily, her voice shaky as she tried to comprehend the situation.

Yeji leaned in close, her voice low and teasing. “You might be... but I’m not.”

Yuna’s confusion quickly turned into panic as she tugged against the restraints, her breathing growing erratic. “Please... Unnie, stop... it hurts,” she whimpered, her voice trembling with fear.

But Yeji simply smiled, savoring the sight of Yuna helpless and pleading beneath her. The power of the moment surged through her, fueling her excitement. She took a step back, watching as Yuna squirmed in vain against her bonds, her soft cries filling the room.

“Unnie... please don’t leave me like this,” Yuna begged, her voice filled with desperation. “I'll be good, just stop… please... Unnie... Unnie....Unnie! ” her plea progressively getting louder and louder.

Yeji paused at the doorway, casting one last look at Yuna, bound and vulnerable. The sight sent a rush of dark satisfaction through her. Without a word, she slipped out of the room, leaving Yuna trapped in her helpless state.

As Yeji walked down the hallway, Yuna’s muffled cries echoed faintly behind her, growing softer with each step. The sound of Yuna’s pleas was like a quiet, haunting melody that clung to Yeji’s mind, sending a shiver of satisfaction down her spine.

She quietly slid into bed beside Y/N, his sleepy form instinctively wrapping around her in a warm embrace. The contrast between his gentle touch and the lingering thrill of what she had just done made her feel more alive, more in control. She nestled into his chest, letting his warmth soothe her as she closed her eyes.

But even as she drifted off to sleep, the faint sound of Yuna’s helpless pleas stayed with her, a soft reminder of the power she had wielded tonight. It was something new, something thrilling, and in that moment, Yeji realized she had truly stepped into a side of herself she hadn’t known before.

she had awakened.

[mxstellatayte]

pretty please: chapter one.

pretty please masterlist.

chapter one warnings: lewis lowkey being a sugar daddy, (sex spoilers after this,) legal use of alcohol, consensual sex!!!, lewis is really good at dirty talking lol, lewis has a big dick haha, oral sex (m and f receiving,) multiple orgasms (f receiving,) belly bulge, praise (m and f receiving,) lewis hamilton aftercare king

chapter one word count: 5.3k (3k words of porn tho don't worry)

taglist: @pear-1206 @vivi-81 @irishmanwhore

join my taglist here!

you made me an offer i can't refuse

thursday, 23 may, 2019

you push out a shaky breath, smoothing out the invisible wrinkles in your outfit one last time before stepping out of your hotel room. today is the day you've been both dreading and looking forward to for the past two weeks- the day you interview the one and only lewis hamilton at the monaco grand prix media day.

when you'd been offered the opportunity for a one-on-one interview with one of the most iconic faces in both the fashion and motorsports world, you thought you were dreaming. turns out that the journalist who had originally been assigned to the project had a family emergency and needed time off of work, so the chance to lead the project was yours and yours alone. of course, once you realized that you were not dreaming, you accepted. despite your preparation, you're still terrified. you have ten questions at the ready in your small notebook that you've read over and attempted to memorize approximately twelve times each hour for the past three days, but the practice does nothing to soothe your anxiety.

"fuck it," you say to yourself, inspecting your makeup one last time before slipping your feet into your signature shoes- platform high top converse. once on the streets of monaco, you hail a cab to take you to the circuit, your black and purple media badge secure in your purse. your stomach is twisting with anxiety the whole way there, and when you pay the driver and step out of the cab, it only increases tenfold.

you're about to interview lewis hamilton. no big deal.

yeah.

not a big deal at all.

the next hour and a half is a whirlwind of meeting with lewis' manager to getting your questions checked over to getting a tour of the media center to seeing the recording booth where you're going to be interviewing the driver. it's a nice room, but it's separate from the rest of the media areas, so you assume it's likely not normally for recording podcasts.

"how long do i have before the interview?" you ask, turning to lewis' pr manager.

"about twenty minutes, but lewis is going to be here in ten for soundcheck. make yourself comfortable for now, can i get you anything? water, tea, coffee?"

"a cup of tea would be lovely, thank you." you smile and nod, sitting down inside the booth on the plush couch. in a feeble attempt to quell your nerves, you take your mini notebook out of your bag and go over the questions for the umpteenth time today, but the words on the page blur together as you try to squish down the stirring in your stomach.

"here's the tea for you," someone says, and you're expecting it to be the manager you'd spoken to, but when you look up, you're met with an unfairly beautiful face. oh. okay. this is happening. you're casually accepting a cup of tea from five-time world champion lewis hamilton. the man you're about to interview.

no big deal.

the interview goes by without any hiccups, and, before you know it, your hour in the booth is up, and you say your on-camera goodbyes before they stop recording. as you're about to leave, though, lewis gently touches your upper arm and asks to speak to you for a moment-

only if you don't have something to rush to, of course- and your heart leaps into your throat. had you said something wrong or hit a sensitive nerve with one of your questions?

"i want to thank you. not a lot of reporters are able to ask questions beyond the simple 'how do you plan on winning this weekend' and 'what changes are you going to make based on mistakes made at the previous race,' so i applaud you. your questions were really different from what i was expecting, and your interview style is really unique. i enjoyed talking to you." he extends his hand and you shake it firmly, your chest feeling like it might just explode with pride.

"thank you, mr. hamilton. i'm incredibly grateful for the opportunity to speak with you, and i'm looking forward to any i may have in the future." the driver beams, and you can't help but notice the way his eyes crinkle at the corners. it's annoyingly pretty.

"i won't have any of this 'mr. hamilton' nonsense. call me lewis. after talking to you for an hour, i can tell that you're very knowledgeable when it comes to both motor sports and fashion, which is really impressive. and i look forward to speaking with you in the future, too." the two of you chat for a few more minutes before he's summoned once more, and you bid your goodbyes.

a few minutes later, as you're trying to calm down your heart rate so that you can maintain some small semblance of composure before returning to the outside world, one of your long-time friends from college approaches you from behind, and, in her standard fashion, scares the shit out of you.

"boo."

you shriek, your previous efforts to stabilize your heart rate now entirely in vain. "christ, amelia! do you have to sneak up on me everywhere?"

"absolutely. i also have something to tell you something." your eyebrows furrow as she almost instantly moves on from the fact that she nearly scared you half to death mere seconds ago, but you almost fully pass away by choking on your saliva two seconds later. "you've got it really down bad for him, and you're not subtle about it. at all."

after you're done recovering from yet another near-death experience, you punch her left arm. hard. "you are so lucky i don't have a weapon right now." amelia laughs, her head thrown back and her shoulders bouncing with delight.

"awe, come on." she smiles at you, her eyes glittering in their signature way, signaling that she's about to drag you into a potentially messy and new situation. "you know that the rules state very clearly that there's a zero-tolerance policy for physical or verbal harassment."

i got it bad for you, so baby

thursday, 28 november, 2019.

it's your third time interviewing lewis in the 2019 season, and since you first spoke to him at the monaco grand prix, things have changed for both of you. following the success of your interview with him at the monaco grand prix and the article you wrote to go along with it, you'd been promoted from your previous position as fashion field journalist to the lofty title of fashion and sports researcher and journalist. as soon as lewis hears the news, he's sure to congratulate you, this time at one of the biggest spectacles in motorsports: the abu dhabi grand prix. you can't help but beam with pride when he mentions your new title, thanking him again for his time, and remembering to call him by his first name despite how strange it feels.

"i should be congratulating you on something, as well, six-time world champion," you grin, happy as your friendly banter with lewis seems to fall into place. your first time meeting him, you were so terrified of saying something wrong that you didn't let yourself really let go and show your personality. the second time, in mexico, you were able to relax a little bit more and even crack a few jokes. today, you're all smiles and even got breakfast with him before the scheduled meeting time. one anxiety you'd voiced was that the same paparazzi that you've worked with in the past don't take photos of you with the driver and sell them to the media, which would undoubtedly start a pr disaster for both of you.

"if you'd rather have breakfast in the paddock, i can have that set up," he'd offered, and, once again, who would you be to decline such a kind offer?

so here you find yourself, enjoying an expertly brewed italian iced coffee and two perfectly crumbly strawberry scones, sitting across from the reigning world champion of motorsport.

you know, standard thursdays.

"one thing i don't think i've mentioned before," lewis begins, setting down his cup of tea, "is how much i admire that you try to find the human behind the driver."

your eyebrows furrow. "i don't think i follow."

"i now realize my wording is really weird. let me fix that." you laugh, taking another bite of your scone. "you don't exclusively ask questions about driving. you dig into our hobbies and interests outside of the paddock. in my experience, the way you balance questions for both motorsports and fashion is fascinating."

"it's all part of the job. i wouldn't be where i am without interesting questions, would i?" lewis smiles, shaking his head.

"i doubt it, but you are pretty damn smart. i bet you'd find a way to make it here one way or another."

"i'm flattered."

the conversation continues easily as the two of you finish your breakfast, then, as you begin to prepare yourself to stand and leave, he stops you. "actually, there's one last thing i wanted to do before we went on camera."

your head tilts in confusion as you set your signature lipstick back in your bag, a deep red balm that you've used since you started working at vogue. it's become your trademark product, and almost everyone in the office knows exactly which one you use. "do i need to be worried, lewis?"

"no, not at all! it's this," he says, and your eyebrows rise in complete and utter shock when he pulls out a small box wrapped in white paper and a crimson bow wrapped around it all. "i wanted to get you a gift as a way of saying thank you for all the curveball questions you've thrown at me this year." your hands shake as you take the box from him, and you already know exactly which brand it is. cartier. sure, you've written pieces about their timeless looks and elegant aesthetics, and owning a piece of their jewelry has always been a dream of yours, but it's always been just that: a dream.

"lewis, i can't accept this. i- i'm honestly at a loss for words. seriously, no." you can't help but flush at how he's looking at you, those annoyingly beautiful eyes of his and the stupidly perfect crow's feet that only show up when he really smiles- when he smiles the way he is now. gods, amelia was right. you really are down bad for the driver.

"please, just open it up. if you don't like it, i'll take it back and you can choose something you prefer." he nudges the box towards you once more, and the crisp wax seal that sits on top of the paper is incredibly enticing.

"are you serious?" a part of you wants to think that this is some sick joke, that there's cameras on you and it's all going up on one of those prank channels on youtube. a much, much bigger part of you believes lewis, though. that is the part of you that takes the box between your shaking hands, carefully pops open the wax seal, nimbly unties the beautiful ribbon, and gently unfolds the pure white paper. when you finally open the box, you gasp, tears threatening to well in your eyes. "lewis..."

"do you like it?" his voice sounds anxious and hopeful, and you can't help but realize how much thought he'd put into this gift. when you'd invited him into your office to review some photos that were to go into an article in the next vogue issue a few months prior, he'd seen the vision board on your wall and asked about it. bashfully, you had explained to him that it was a silly idea you had when you graduated from uni with your friends- each of you made one, cutting and pasting photos from pinterest, magazines, newspapers, and anything you could find, assembling your dreams in a mishmash of colors and ideas. one of your dreams on the board had been to own this exact necklace- the cartier juste un clou necklace in white gold. the fourteen diamonds set in the precious metal glitter back at you, and you can't help but smile.

"i love it, lewis. thank you so much." he visibly relaxes, his shoulders loosening and the crease between his eyebrows disappearing.

"i'm glad. here, turn around. let me put it on you?" you happily oblige, lifting your hair out of the way after you stand so that he can fasten the delicate clasp over your spine.

it's safe to say that both his and your fans noticed the necklace hanging between your collarbones, sitting just below the star necklace you wear daily on top of your dark grey high-collared shirt. you try your best not to look at the comments on the videos of your interviews, but amelia had shown you one that day after the unedited interview went up online.

"are they dating or something? i can't get over how lewis looks at her."

sunday, 1 december, 2019

after the race, lewis crossing the line not only in p1, more than 16 seconds ahead of the rest of the grid, but with the fastest lap, as well, you're sure to congratulate him on your social media accounts and in person in the pit lane. "lewis!" his head turns at the sound of your voice, and he sees you moving as quickly as you can down the pit lane, neon green paddock pass hanging from your neck alongside the black and purple media pass. your signature converse and light wash jeans complete your outfit, and his heart swells with joy when he sees that you're still wearing the necklace he gave you.

"hey! i'm glad they let you down here after the race. i was a bit worried i'd have to wring a security guard's neck to get you down here."

"aw, you'd do that for little old me?"

"i'd do just about anything for the most interesting reporter in the paddock," he replies, ever so cocky and so annoyingly pretty. seriously, was he a saint or something in his past life? it feels painfully unfair that he was blessed with such perfect looks and charm. it makes your stomach twist with a flirty giddiness you haven't felt since you were a teenager. it's exciting. "are you coming to the after party?"

"i don't know if i'll be able to. i have a lot to do in the next few days and i honestly don't know if i'm going to be able to take a break on the plane back to london. i'll probably be sitting in my seat going over notes and writing up an article or answering an obscene amount of emails."

"please? just one night? i'll buy your drinks." he bats his eyes at you, and it really shouldn't make you fold as easily as it does, but here you are, sitting in his mercedes and driving to a probably very heinously overpriced club.

a girl needs to be a passenger princess every now and then, right?

when you arrive at the club, you have to force your lips to stay closed so that your jaw doesn't drop in shock and awe. paparazzi swarm you as soon as you step out of the car and lewis hands the keys to the valet, and for a moment, you're convinced this is some sort of sick and twisted fever dream as microphones are shoved in your direction and cameras flash quickly enough to make you glad you don't have photosensitive epilepsy. when lewis' hand rests on the small of your back and he smiles brightly at you, though, you're reassured that this is very much real.

"after you." you smile back at him, your own anxiety lessening just a tiny bit now that you know that he's right there by you.

pretty please, come on over and ruin my life

how did you end up here?

you'll blame it on the alcohol.

either way, lewis' lips feel amazing on yours, and you waddle slightly as he backs you up to the bed in his extravagant hotel room. "need this off," he mutters, hands searching under your shirt and gripping at your waist. your brain is a foggy mess of lust, alcohol, and a lot more lust, and as quickly as you can, you pull back from the kiss (much to lewis' dismay,) tug your shirt out of your waistband and yank it over your head, tossing it somewhere to your right. almost immediately, strong arms wrap back around your torso and you're caged in, and every single one of your senses is flooded with lewis, lewis, lewis. his skin is hot underneath where your hands lay, your right on his cheek and your left clutching the side of his neck as if letting go would result in falling off the face of the earth.

his kisses are messy, desperate, and wet. his tongue glides along your own and you moan wantonly, the noise only further spurring on his efforts. as you lay back against the bed, lewis kisses his way down your chest (when did your bra come off?), lavishing each of your breasts with his tongue and hands. one hand works over your flesh, kneading and pinching while his tongue licks over your right nipple, gently biting and sucking and smirking when you moan once again, switching to the other side. "lewis, oh my god-" you interrupt yourself with an embarrassingly loud whine, your back arching as deft fingers pop open the button on your jeans, unzip the fly, and slip into your panties.

"fuck, darling, so wet for me already," lewis groans, his head buried into your neck as he bites gently at the sensitive skin there. "i'm gonna have to get a taste before i fuck you."

"yes, oh my god, please," you whine, the mere thought of the driver between your thighs making another rush of butterflies flood your lower tummy. you almost laugh when you realize that you still have your converse on and he's struggling with the laces, so you lift yourself up off of the bed and shoo his hands away, instead expertly undoing the white laces in less than ten seconds and kicking them off your feet, leaning back onto your elbows as they hit the ground with a muffled thump. "you are way too overdressed."

sure, you've seen photos of lewis shirtless before, but it doesn't compare to seeing it in person and up close, and...

fuck.

he's beautiful.

"that's not fair."

"what?" lewis laughs, crawling back over you after you both pull your pants off and toss them to the side, and your breath briefly catches in your throat as the scent of his cologne overwhelms your senses.

"you aren't allowed to be nice and hot. it doesn't work like that." lewis laughs, leaning down to press another kiss to your lips that intoxicates you more than any of the high proof alcohols you've drank in the past few hours.

"well, i guess i'm a rule breaker, then." he shuffles you up the bed so that your head rests on the plush pillows, sighing in relief when you think he's finally going to fuck you, but you gasp when he slides his way back down to your thighs, pulls them apart with his hands, and settles between them. "fuck."

"lewis, please. need you."

"what do you need, baby?" he teases as his hands begin stroking up and down your thighs. you're about to respond, but you cut yourself off with a cry when his fingers gently stroke up your panty-covered slit, the sensitivity making your back arch and your hands grip the sheets tightly.

"fucking hell, i... i need you to eat me out."

"i thought you'd never ask." his fingers tug at the waistband of your panties and you lift your hips slightly, just enough for him to slide them off of your legs and add them to the growing pile of clothing on the floor. without wasting a second, he dives into your cunt, tongue dragging along your slit from your entrance all the way up to your clit, and you both moan in unison. his hands grab at the meat of your ass, pulling your hips closer to his face, and you yelp, but it's quickly cut off with another moan as lewis' tongue prods at your entrance, hot and insistent.

"mmgh, lewis, fuck, so good." you barely have any control over your own mouth as lewis eats you out, his tongue expertly lapping up every part of your cunt as if it's the best meal he's ever tasted. he quickly figures out what makes you twitch and moan and focuses on that, his nose bumping against your clit as his jaw hinges open and he swallows you whole. his hands tightly grip your ass, the pads of his fingers digging into the skin and definitely leaving some form of marks to appear later in the night, but that's the least of your concerns when you have the world champion of motorsport between your legs. the moans that tumble past your lips echo off of the bare walls of the lavish hotel room, but not a single noise you make is embellished in the slightest- he's just making you feel that good. the coil in your tummy builds and builds, but your brain has been reduced to mush from pleasure, so you have to resort to scrabbling your hands at whatever you can grab, your fingers ultimately tugging at his neat braids. lewis thankfully gets the hint and only increases his efforts, his left hand moving from your ass to gently push two fingers into your entrance, and, when he curls them upwards, perfectly hitting your g-spot, you nearly sob, your orgasm hitting you a lot sooner than you had anticipated. "oh, lewis, don't stop, please. feels so good, baby, fuck."

lewis helps you ride out the aftershocks of your orgasm, pulling his fingers out of you and pressing a tender kiss to your hipbone before climbing back up to you and connecting your lips in yet another messy kiss, and you groan when you can taste your cum on his tongue. when lewis' boxer-covered erection grinds against your sensitive clit, your mouth falls open in a gasp, letting him take the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth and run against yours. when you kiss him, it feels like you've stepped through the gates of heaven and you're kissing an angel. you suck greedily on lewis' tongue and he moans in response, making you smile into the kiss.

lewis pulls back momentarily and you pout, but the sight before you is absolutely beautiful. his skin glows with a thin sheen of sweat and his lips and chin are covered in a mix of your cum and spit. it's gorgeous. "are you okay with this?"

"more than okay," you grin, leaning up to peck his lips quickly. "it's fantastic."

"in that case, i'd love to fuck you properly..." at his words and the feeling of his lips ghosting down the side of your neck, pressing feather-light kisses along the sensitive skin, you shiver, your hands coming to rest on the sides of his torso. "if you'll have me, of course."

"please do." with another smile, lewis pushes himself up and off the bed, returning promptly with a condom in his hand. you bite your lip and watch eagerly as he pulls down his boxers, and...

fuck.

you're fucked.

"seriously, lewis? are you kidding?" your head falls back with an exasperated laugh, your shoulders shaking as you realize: of course he's big. if he's nice and attractive, then it's almost a guarantee that he's going to have a big dick. "you really just have it all, don't you?" the mattress dips, and you raise your head again, looking back at him as he crawls towards you, almost catlike in his motions.

"i could say the same for you. beautiful, kind, intelligent, an absolutely killer ass..." you scoff and roll your eyes, trying to come up with a cocky response, but your brain short circuits when you feel lewis begin to push the head of his cock into you. "oh, fuck."

"lewis, oh my god," you keen, your hands reaching up and finding purchase on his broad shoulders for stability. his left hand holds your waist while his right grips at your hip, the tightness of his hold almost painful... almost.

"baby, you're so tight. taking me so well. 's like you were made for me." you're pretty sure the words spilling from lewis' mouth are just mindless, sex-brain-induced babbles, but either way, it makes your pussy throb around him, and you both groan in pleasure when his hips finally meet yours. he looks down at you and almost chokes- you look absolutely stunning. your eyes are screwed shut, your lips parted as breathy moans sneak their way past them, and your hair is splayed around your head like a halo.

when you finally manage to pry your eyes open and steady your breathing, lewis is gazing down at you, and you can't help but pull him down for yet another kiss. how many times have you kissed him tonight?

not enough, you decide.

between soft and slow kisses, you breathe out the words that lewis has been praying you'll say: "you can move, lew." when he does, slowly pulling out most of the way before pushing back in, the drag of his cock against your walls makes you shudder, your nails digging into his shoulders and undoubtedly leaving crescent-moon shaped divots in the skin. "oh... oh, fuck, baby."

"you like that, baby? you like having my cock inside of you?"

all you can muster in response is a meek "mhmm," but that isn't enough for him. he grabs your face, forcing you to look at him, and halts his steady thrusts, making you whine.

"use your words. i know you can- you showed me this morning."

"yes!" you sob. "yes, i love feeling you fill me up. i love it, lewis. it feels so good. feels perfect."

"there you go. i knew you could do it." his words make you moan even louder as he resumes his thrusts, this time at a much faster pace. "fuck, look at that. taking me so well... i can even see it. gimme your hand, baby. feel it yourself." he places your left hand low on your stomach, just between your hipbones, and... oh.

oh.

you can feel his dick filling you up under your hand.

"lewis, oh my god!" your moans only increase in volume with his own when he presses down onto the bulge in your tummy with his hand, changing how deeply you feel him, and it sends you hurtling towards your second orgasm of the night embarrassingly fast. "fuck, fuck, lewis, don't stop. feels so good, baby, just like that, yes!" your own hand sneaks around his wrist and rubs circles around your clit, which makes you clench around him, which in turn throws you into your orgasm. "lewis, 'm cumming, 'm cumming, ah!"

"just like that, baby, cum for me. so perfect. so, so perfect." lewis talks and fucks you through your orgasm, his own fingers taking over when yours falter on your clit. when the end of your orgasm trails off, you try to catch your breath, but when your post-orgasmic clarity dawns on you, you realize that lewis didn't cum.

"oh, fuck, lewis... let me suck you off. you didn't cum."

"are you sure? i'm-" he cuts himself off with a grunt, his hips stuttering as he slows his thrusts so as to not hurt you in your oversensitive state, but when you nod, your bottom lip pinched seductively between your teeth, he gives in. "alright, yeah. yeah." he pulls out of you and you roll over, shuffling your way down the bed until you're settled between his legs, your arms resting on his upper thighs.

"you're so pretty, lewis. so, so pretty." if it was a bit brighter in the room, you would've seen the way lewis' mouth ticks open and his dick twitches at your praise, but the singular bedside lamp is barely enough to light the room. instead of noticing, you gently peel the condom off of his cock and toss it in the trash can underneath the bedside table, then settle back between lewis' legs and let a fat drop of saliva leak onto his cock.

"fuck, if you keep saying things like that i'm not gonna last long," lewis groans, his head thrown back into the pillows.

"oh, you don't want to hear me call you pretty? you don't want me to say that you're one of the most beautiful people i've ever laid eyes on, and that i've waited months to be here just to tell you that?" your hand begins lazily stroking his hard cock as you continue rambling shamelessly, your mind a sex-addled haze that you have nearly no control over. after watching in awe as a pearly bead of precum swells at the head of lewis' cock, you decide that enough is enough and that you have to taste him. your tongue falls out of your mouth, the flat of it brushing up the bottom of his dick until you reach the tip, and then you secure your lips around it, and fuck, if having the taste of lewis' cum on your tongue isn't enough to make your eyes flutter shut for a moment, you don't know what is.

lewis' hand finds itself in your hair, pulling gently as you begin to bob your head along the length of his dick, and you can't help but feel pride bloom in your chest when his hips begin bucking up to meet your mouth and hand, shoving the tip so far back you swear the back of your throat might be slightly bruised in the morning. you moan shamelessly as he does so, letting him fuck your mouth as he pleases until he cums, warm ropes of sticky fluid filling your mouth as he spills into you. pulling off, you swallow part of his load and clean what little remains off of his softening cock with gentle kitten licks, smiling faintly as he whimpers quietly at the oversensitivity. after crawling up to the head of the bed and pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, lewis' eyes search yours before dipping down to your mouth. you're a bit confused as his left hand comes up to your face, thinking he's going to kiss you again, but instead, his thumb swipes against the corner of your mouth and pries past your lips, a silent order that you obey willingly. you'd missed one tiny drop of his cum on your cheek. his thumb pops out of your mouth momentarily and you collapse down next to him, the exhaustion of the jam-packed day finally catching up to you.

"i'm gonna go grab a towel to clean you up, yeah?" you nod sleepily, a quiet hum escaping your body. "you're staying here tonight. i won't stand for letting you out of my bed for the next twelve hours." this time, if a question mark could be a sound, that's the noise you make. lewis understands you, though. "we'll take my jet. don't worry about your fight." another content sound from you.

by the time lewis returns to the bed, warm damp washcloth in hand, you're asleep, and he can't help but tuck the strands of hair out of your face after he cleans up your swollen cunt and tucks you into the soft bedding, joining you shortly thereafter.

yeah.

he's fucked.

[shdysders]

if only

pairing: tara carpenter & reader

summary: if only tara would’ve chosen you for you, and not for who you were like.

word count: 3.2k

You knew it was normal for people to turn to alcohol after experiencing trauma.

The way it numbed the pain, dulled the sharp edges of haunting memories—it was something you had seen before, something you understood. After everything Tara had been through, it was the least you expected.

The massacre in Woodsboro had left her with more than just physical scars.

The betrayal of someone she had once loved—Amber, who turned out to be Ghostface—was a wound that cut deeper than any knife.

It wasn't just the shock of Amber's true identity, but the fact that Tara was the one who had to pull the trigger, killing the person she thought she knew in order to save her sister.

The memories of that night were like a broken record, stuck on replay.

Every time Tara closed her eyes, she was back in that room, her hands shaking as she held the gun, her heart pounding in her ears.

She would hold you tighter during those moments, as if the strength of her embrace could keep the nightmares at bay.

The way she kissed you harder, more desperately, or questioned where you were every time you left the room—these were her ways of keeping you close, of making sure she wouldn't lose you too.

You had known Tara all her life.

Growing up together, you'd always been close, but after everything that happened in Woodsboro, something had shifted between you.

It started small—extra moments of closeness, lingering touches that lasted just a little too long, her leaning on you more than ever before.

The change was subtle at first, but undeniable. When she started seeking you out not just for comfort but for something deeper, you couldn't bring yourself to resist. The truth was, you had started to feel something more for Tara too.

But as the days went by, you couldn't ignore the creeping doubt. That maybe you were just another distraction for Tara, another way to keep the darkness at bay.

Yet, whenever that doubt arose, she would somehow sense it, her arms wrapping around you tighter, her voice low and reassuring, even without you needing to say a word. That unspoken understanding only seemed to confirm your thoughts.

After the move from Woodsboro to New York, you had hoped that a change of scenery might help her start to heal.

But you weren't sure if it had made a difference. If anything, the bustling city seemed to give her more ways to bury her grief.

Tara threw herself into the whirlwind of college life, attending every party she could find, which in New York meant there was always something going on.

Every weekend, without fail, she was out late, coming home blackout drunk more often than not.

You were the first to notice the change in her. The way her hands trembled slightly when she thought no one was looking, the dark circles under her eyes from sleepless nights, and the way she buried herself in the noise and chaos of those parties—anything to keep from facing what was inside.

She would beg you to come with her to these parties, holding your hand a little too tightly as if fearing you might slip away in the crowd.

On nights when you had to study or work at your extra job, she would assure you she was fine to go alone.

But that assurance never lasted, always ending with you getting a call in the early hours to come and get her, to carry her back home when she was too far gone to stand on her own.

And tonight was no different.

You had been studying late into the night, the quiet hum of the city outside your window doing little to keep you company as you poured over your textbooks. The words on the pages blurred together as exhaustion settled in, but your mind wouldn't let you rest.

The quiet of your apartment seemed more restless than usual, and no matter how many times you turned over, sleep eluded you. You were used to going to bed alone on nights like this, used to Tara being out and about, so it wasn't her absence that kept you awake. Still, something nagged at the edge of your consciousness, keeping you from drifting off.

Finally, just as you felt yourself slipping into sleep, your phone buzzed on the nightstand, the screen lighting up the room. Groggily, you reached for it, squinting at the brightness.

It was Chad. Your heart sank a little as you answered, knowing that a call from him at this hour could only mean one thing. Yet you didnt hesitate before answering

"She's asking for you," Chad said quietly, his voice gentle but insistent. "She's... she's pretty far gone, and she won't leave until you come."

You rubbed a hand over your face, trying to shake off the fog of near-sleep. "Where are you?" you asked, already pulling on your clothes.

He gave you the address of some off-campus apartment, the kind of place that always seemed to be hosting a party. With a sigh, you grabbed your keys and headed out into the night.

The streets were empty as you drove, the glow of the city lights casting long shadows across the pavement.

You knew the route by heart now, having made similar drives more times than you wanted to count.

As you pulled up to the address Chad had given you, you spotted him standing by the curb, holding Tara up as she swayed on unsteady feet.

She was dressed as a pirate, her costume in disarray, her hat missing, and her eyeliner smudged. Her head lolled slightly as Chad helped her toward your car, her feet dragging along the pavement.

"Thanks for coming," Chad said quietly as he eased her down into the front seat. He lingered for a moment before adding, "I don't know how many she's had tonight."

You nodded, trying to muster a tired smile. "Thanks, Chad. I'll take it from here."

He gave you a sympathetic look before stepping back. "Be careful," he said, the concern clear in his voice.

Once Chad closed the door, you turned to Tara.

She was slumped against the seat, her eyes half-lidded as she stared out the window, lost in whatever haze the alcohol had put her in.

For a moment, you considered trying to talk to her, to get her to see reason, but you knew better. This wasn't the time for deep conversations, not when she was like this.

As you started the car and began driving, you couldn't help but break the silence. "Tara, you can't keep doing this. This needs to stop."

You didn't know how much longer you could stand by and watch her destroy herself.

She blinked slowly, turning to look at you with bleary eyes. For a moment, she just stared, as if trying to process what you had said. Then her expression hardened, her brows knitting together in a frown.

"I don't need you telling me what to do," she muttered, her voice slurring but laced with irritation.

"Amber wouldn't have."

This was always how it went—her getting pouty and defensive, like a child refusing to be told what to do. She always brought up Amber whenever she was drunk, throwing her name out like a shield, deflecting from the real issue at hand. It hurt to hear, but you were used to it by now.

You sighed, and after a moment, you answered softly, "I know."

When you finally pulled up in front of your apartment building, getting Tara inside proved to be a struggle.

She stumbled with every step, her legs barely supporting her weight, and you had to practically carry her up the stairs.

Every time she leaned too heavily on you, you feared you both might topple over, but you held on, determined to get her inside without waking anyone.

By the time you reached your door, you were exhausted.

Tara mumbled something incoherent as you fumbled with the keys, trying to keep her upright.

Once inside, you helped her move as quietly as possible to avoid waking Sam. The last thing you needed was her storming out and seeing Tara like this, not again.

With Tara still leaning heavily on you, you guided her to her bedroom, the familiar path feeling longer than usual.

She was stumbling more than walking, and every time she nearly slipped, you tightened your grip, your patience worn thin but still holding.

You finally managed to get her into her room, her weight heavy against your side as you guided her to the bed.

The moment her legs hit the edge, she let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "You know, sometimes I think I'm just with you because it's easy," she muttered, her words slurred but cutting through you like a knife.

You winced, though you tried to hide it, focusing on helping her sit down.

The bed creaked under her as she slumped forward, her hands gripping the edge as if the room were spinning around her.

Her eyes, glazed over with a mix of alcohol and exhaustion, seemed unfocused.

"Like... you're just there, and I needed someone. Anyone."

She let out another laugh, this one quieter, more resigned. You could see the way her shoulders slumped, the fight draining out of her even as she kept talking.

Her words hurt, stabbing into you with a cruel edge, but you knew better than to take them at face value when she was like this. Still, it was hard not to feel the sting of her honesty—or what passed for honesty in her drunken state.

You stayed silent, biting your lip to keep from saying something you'd regret.

Instead, you knelt down in front of her, gently removing her shoes one by one, focusing on the small, mundane task to keep your hands from trembling.

You told yourself she didn't mean it, that she was just drunk and hurting, but the doubt was there, creeping in like a shadow.

Tara didn't stop, the alcohol loosening her tongue further. She swayed slightly, her eyes glassy but filled with something unreadable, something that made your heart twist in your chest.

"Maybe if... if things had been different, I wouldn't have picked you," she continued, her voice wavering.

Her words were slow, as though she were piercing them together as she went, each one a careful, painful blow. "It's not like you're the love of my life or anything. You were just... there."

Her gaze finally met yours, and for a moment, she seemed almost vulnerable, like she was teetering on the edge of something she couldn't pull back from.

You searched her face, looking for some sign that she didn't mean it, that this was just the alcohol talking, but all you found was the deep, gnawing ache of doubt.

Your throat felt tight as you fought back the urge to cry, the tears welling up despite your best efforts to push them down.

It was one thing to know she was drunk, that she was hurting and lashing out—but it was another to hear those words from someone you loved. To feel so disposable.

You took a shaky breath and forced yourself to focus on the moment, not the weight of her words. But the hurt lingered, a heavy presence in the room that you couldn't shake.

Still, you swallowed hard, keeping your voice steady. "Arms up. Let's get you changed."

She hesitated, her gaze lingering on you as if searching for a reaction. When she didn't get one, she huffed in frustration but lifted her arms anyway, letting you help her out of her costume and into more comfortable clothes.

You gently guided her arms into the sleeves of a soft, oversized shirt, the fabric brushing against her skin as you helped her pull it down.

Tara swayed slightly, her head lolling to one side, but you remained focused, carefully easing her out of her costume.

As you slipped her into a pair of comfy sweatpants, you noticed how she barely reacted, her eyes staring blankly at a spot on the floor.

You adjusted the waistband and made sure the pants were comfortable, avoiding any pinching or tightness.

With the costume set aside, you carefully adjusted her shirt, smoothing out the wrinkles and ensuring it fit comfortably.

You avoided meeting her gaze, you could feel her stare and how she was looking at you. Angry, like everything you did was wrong.

You helped her lay down on the bed. You adjusted the pillow behind her head and reached for the covers, but before you could pull it over her, Tara's voice broke the silence.

She looked up at you, her eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that spoke of frustration and raw emotion. There was a hardness in her gaze, as if she was challenging you with the truth she was about to reveal.

"You know I only chose you because you're like her, right?" she said, her voice laced with anger, as if saying Amber's name was an effort in itself.

You froze, your hand still hovering above the covers. Even though you already knew who she was talking about, you asked quietly, "Like who?"

Tara's eyes bore into yours, and she said sharply, "Amber."

The anger in her voice was palpable, but you could also sense regret hiding beneath her words, as if she knew how much she was about to hurt you but couldn't stop herself.

You took a deep breath, trying to mask the sting you felt in your chest. "How come?" you asked, keeping your voice as steady as you could, even though your heart was pounding.

Tara looked at you with a sharp gaze, almost inspecting your face for any hint of vulnerability.

When she didn't get the reaction she was searching for, it was as though something darkened behind her eyes, pushing her to keep going, to say worse things, as if she could force you to break.

She looked at you with unfocused eyes, her expression tight. "You look just like her when you smile," she slurred, her tone was sharper now, as if the words were meant to cut deep.

"The way your eyes crinkle up, it's like you're her twin or something."

She paused, a hint of bitterness in her tone. "And your laugh—God, it's just like hers. It gets under my skin.

As she spoke, her words seemed to drift into a bitter, almost mocking tone, as if the resemblance to Amber was a cruel joke to her. The laughter in her voice contrasted sharply with the hurt it left behind.

You stood there, feeling increasingly insecure about your smile, your laugh, and everything that had been said. The sting of her words left you questioning everything you thought you knew about how you presented yourself to her.

Her words felt like knives, each one slicing through you, but you remained still, biting back the pain. Inside, a storm of emotions raged—anger, sadness, disbelief—but you fought to keep them at bay, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of seeing you crumble.

"You're always trying to be so understanding, acting like you know exactly what I need. It's exhausting, really," Tara continued, her voice growing harsher, the alcohol pushing her to say things she might've kept hidden otherwise.

You bit your lip, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill.

Memories flashed through your mind—times you had gone out of your way to do things for her, to make her feel better or to bring a smile to her face.

You had done so much because she asked or because you hoped it would mean something to her. But now, it felt as if everything you had done was just a game or a trivial pursuit in her eyes.

When she still didn't get the reaction she wanted, Tara's voice rose, almost desperate now. "You don't matter, you know? Not like she did."

That last statement shattered something inside you. You blinked rapidly, trying to keep the tears from spilling over, but they came anyway, hot and unwelcome.

The room seemed to close in around you, her words echoing in your head.

You knew—deep down, you'd always known—that you couldn't compete with a ghost, with the memory of someone she loved so deeply.

Tara had brought Amber up countless times before, always with a mix of regret and longing that you had tried to ignore. Each mention of Amber, every story she told with a hint of nostalgia or pain, was a reminder that you were always secondary in her heart.

You remembered the times when, after a few too many drinks, Tara had let slip how Amber had been irreplaceable, how no one could ever fill that void.

You had brushed off those comments, hoping that with time, you could make her forget or at least help her heal.

But now, standing here, the truth was undeniable. You had tried so hard to be what she needed, but you could never be what she wanted most.

And yet, Tara wasn't done. Her voice grew louder, almost as if she wanted the whole world to hear her torment.

Her gaze was distant, and she started to laugh bitterly. "You have no idea how badly I want to break up with you," she slurred, her voice rising with a frustrated intensity.

Her voice grew louder, and you were starting to worry she would wake Sam up. "You look at me with all this love. And I can't handle it. It's like... I feel suffocated by how much you care, and it's not even real for me."

You swallowed hard, struggling to keep your voice steady as you tried to process the pain. "I'm sorry," you said, the words barely escaping your lips, as if saying them aloud would make the hurt even more real.

Tara's eyes were drooping now, her anger slowly dissolving into exhaustion. But before she could drift off, she mumbled, almost as if to herself, "Might as well tell you the truth... you'll probably stay anyway, right?"

Her tone was a mix of bitterness and resignation, as if she knew, deep down, that no matter how much she tried to push you away, you would still be there.

Her words stung more than anything she'd said before, and you felt your chest tighten.

You took a shaky breath, your own emotions raw, and wiped away the tears that had started to fall. Forcing a smile, even though it felt like a fragile mask, you gently pulled the covers up around her, smoothing them with careful, tender motions.

As you leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, you noticed her breathing was becoming more even, the last traces of consciousness slipping away. "Goodnight, Tara," you said quietly, your voice trembling as you tried to keep it as gentle as possible.

She murmured something incoherent, her words tired and slurry, before finally succumbing to sleep. You lingered for a moment, watching her with a heavy heart, wishing you could make her see how much you truly cared.

As you walked out of her room, the quiet of the apartment settling around you like a heavy weight, you paused at the door. The hurt from her words still fresh, you whispered to the empty space, the heavy words that she couldn't hear.

"I love you."

[minhosbitterriver]

────* ˚ ✦ CAUGHT IN THE ACT ( stray kids )

❛ The reactions of each member of Stray Kids' Hyung line when they're caught kissing you by another member.

𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐬 + gender neutral reader ೯ ( 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚����𝐨𝐧𝐬 )

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 8.0k 𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞: 32 mins

꒰ 💌 ꒱ ミ This was honestly so much fun to write! Reblogs and feedbacks are always appreciated! Requests are currently open! ── ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 )

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Getting caught kissing, established relationship for every member, let me know if I missed anything!

( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ) ( 𝐭𝐢𝐩 𝐣𝐚𝐫 )

HYUNG LINE | MAKNAE LINE

방찬 ── BANG CHAN.

You stepped into the familiar recording studio, the dim lights casting a soft glow on the walls adorned with musical equipment and notes scribbled in haste. A paper bag filled with snacks and drinks dangled from your hand, its weight a comforting reminder of your routine visits. Your smile radiates warmth as your eyes meet Chan's, who sat hunched over the mixing console. His gaze lifted, revealing a flicker of gratitude despite the heavy shadows of exhaustion under his eyes.

He returned your smile, a faint but genuine curve of his lips that spoke volumes about his weariness. You chose silence, understanding the unspoken need for peace in this creative sanctuary. With gentle steps, you crossed the room, your presence a soothing balm to his fatigue. Leaning down, you placed a tender kiss on his head, a simple gesture of affection that momentarily lifted the burden from his shoulders.

Reaching into the bag, you retrieved a pack of chips and a bottle, offering them to Chan with a reassuring touch. He accepted them gratefully, his fingers brushing against yours in a brief but intimate exchange. You then settled into your usual spot on the leather couch behind him, its familiar creases and scent a comfort in this shared space. With your phone in hand, you prepared to keep yourself entertained, a quiet guardian of his creative process. The studio's ambient hum and the soft rustle of snack wrappers became the soundtrack to this intimate moment, a testament to the silent support that flowed between you.

This had become your usual routine—a cherished ritual that intertwined your lives with comforting regularity. Every other day, you would find yourself here, in the sanctuary of the recording studio, offering your quiet companionship while he immersed himself in his work. Your role was not merely to be present but to eventually coax him away from his intense focus, ensuring he returned home with you for the rest he so desperately needed.

Tonight was no different. You nestled into the familiar embrace of the leather couch, your fingers idly scrolling through social media, a soft glow from your phone illuminating your face. The ambient sounds of the studio enveloped you, a symphony of creativity and dedication. The rhythmic tapping of buttons, the soft click of switches, and the occasional hum of equipment blended into a soothing background noise.

Every now and then, a sigh of frustration would escape Chan's lips, a testament to his tireless pursuit of perfection. You glanced up occasionally, observing the furrow of his brow, the determination etched in his features. His passion was palpable, filling the room with an electric energy that made your heart swell with pride and tenderness.

Despite the ambient hum and your digital distraction, you were attuned to his every move, ready to step in when the time came. The silent understanding between you both was a testament to the deep bond you shared—a bond forged in these moments of mutual support and quiet companionship. This was your routine, a beautiful dance of dedication and care, ensuring that amidst the whirlwind of his creative storm, he found a safe harbor in your presence.

Eventually, Chan wheeled around in his chair, his gaze locking onto you as you lay sprawled across the couch, indulging in a handful of sour gummies. His eyes softened, the weariness momentarily giving way to a tender appreciation for your presence. For a brief moment, he remained still, simply observing you with a small, tired smile.

Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, he lifted himself from his seat, the soft creak of the chair punctuating the silence. Each step he took toward you seemed to carry the weight of his exhaustion, yet there was a lightness in his eyes as he approached. Without warning, he let his body drape over yours, the suddenness of it eliciting a startled yelp from your lips.

His warmth enveloped you, the familiar scent of his cologne mingling with the sweet tang of the gummies you were eating. You quickly dissolved into giggles at his playful actions, your arms instinctively wrapping around his torso in a protective embrace. His presence was a comforting weight, grounding you both in this shared moment of intimacy.

The world outside the studio walls faded away, leaving just the two of you cocooned in a bubble of tranquility. You could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest against yours, a rhythmic reminder of his presence. Your fingers traced gentle patterns on his back, offering silent reassurance as he melted into your embrace. This was your sanctuary, a haven where exhaustion and stress gave way to love and connection, a beautifully ordinary moment made extraordinary by the simple act of being together.

“Break time?” you asked softly, your voice a gentle melody in the quiet room. Chan responded with a low grunt, his exhaustion evident in the simplicity of his reply. A light giggle escaped your lips, the sound a soft, comforting echo in the studio.

Reaching up, your fingers threaded through the strands of his hair, finding their way to the back of his head. With practiced ease, you began to scratch gently, your touch tender and soothing. Almost immediately, a contented hum rumbled from his chest, a sound that spoke of deep appreciation and relief.

His eyes fluttered closed, the tension in his shoulders slowly melting away under your gentle ministrations. You could feel the subtle shifts in his posture, each exhalation a testament to the comfort he found in your presence. This simple act, a small gesture of care, held a profound intimacy that words could not capture.

The room seemed to cocoon you both, the dim light casting soft shadows that danced along the walls. Each scratch of your fingers was a lullaby, a tender reminder of the bond you shared. In this moment, amidst the ambient hum of the studio and the quiet hum of his contentment, time seemed to slow, allowing you to savor the tranquility of your connection.

His breathing deepened, a silent testament to the trust he placed in you, and you continued your gentle caress, your heart swelling with affection. This was your sanctuary, a place where words were unnecessary, and the simple act of touch spoke volumes.

After a while, you were almost surprised to hear him speak. His voice broke the silence, soft and drowsy, since you had been convinced he had fallen asleep on top of you.

His breathing had slowed, and his weight had settled comfortably against you, creating a warm, enveloping cocoon. The gentle rise and fall of his chest against yours had lulled you into a tranquil state, where the world outside seemed a distant memory.

“Good day today?” he murmured, his words a tender vibration against your skin. The question carried a quiet intimacy, a bridge between the waking world and the serene bubble you both inhabited.

You blinked, the unexpectedness of his voice pulling you from your reverie. A smile curled at your lips as you looked down at him, your fingers stilling momentarily in his hair. The soft light from the studio cast a gentle glow on his face, highlighting the subtle lines of fatigue that framed his eyes.

“It was alright,” you answered with a weak shrug, your eyes remaining fixed on the ceiling. The subtle patterns in the plaster seemed to shift and dance as you reveled in the closeness between the two of you, his warmth a comforting presence against your body.

As you lay there, you felt the weight of the day begin to lift, the quiet intimacy of the moment creating a sanctuary from the world outside. The soft rise and fall of his breathing against you was a soothing rhythm, grounding you in the present.

“I mostly kept to myself today,” you continued, your voice a soft murmur in the tranquil room. “It just felt like such a long day for some reason.”

Your words hung in the air, a quiet confession that carried the weariness of the hours you had endured. Each moment of solitude, each minute that had dragged on, seemed to dissipate now in the comforting embrace of his presence.

Chan shifted, adjusting his position to place his weight on his forearms, which were now on either side of your head. This allowed him to lean back slightly, creating just enough space to gaze down at your face. The closeness of his presence, combined with the tenderness in his eyes, sent a flutter through your heart.

The dim light of the studio cast gentle shadows across his features, softening the lines of exhaustion and highlighting the quiet strength in his expression. His gaze held a mixture of empathy and understanding, a silent acknowledgment of the weariness you both shared.

“It really did feel like an unnecessarily long day for me, too,” he murmured, his voice a low, soothing rumble that resonated in the small space between you. The words carried a weight of shared experience, a bond forged through mutual understanding and silent support.

His eyes traced the contours of your face, lingering on the subtle nuances of your expression. You could feel the connection between you deepening, each unspoken thought and emotion passing effortlessly between you. His proximity, the warmth of his body, and the gentle cadence of his words created a cocoon of intimacy that enveloped you both.

As you looked up at him, you could see the flicker of vulnerability in his eyes, a mirror to your own feelings. The shared acknowledgment of the day's trials brought a sense of comfort, a reminder that you were not alone in your struggles.

The room seemed to fade into the background, the ambient sounds of the studio becoming a distant hum. All that mattered in this moment was the quiet exchange between you, a sanctuary of understanding and support. His presence, so close and so tender, was a balm to the fatigue that had weighed heavily on you both throughout the day.

You reached up, your fingers gently brushing against his cheek, a silent gesture of reassurance and affection. His eyes softened even further, and a small, grateful smile played at the corners of his lips. In this moment, the long day seemed to fade away, replaced by the warmth of your connection and the promise of shared solace.

The hand that had been tenderly scratching his hair now shifted to cup his cheek, your fingers tracing the delicate curve of his jaw. The touch was gentle, filled with a warmth that only deepened the connection between you. Chan immediately leaned into your touch, his eyes closing briefly as he savored the contact, a soft smile gracing his lips.

His skin felt warm against your palm, and you could sense the quiet gratitude in the way he pressed closer, finding comfort in the simple gesture. The room around you seemed to hold its breath, the ambient hum of the studio fading into the background as the moment stretched between you.

With a slow, deliberate movement, Chan leaned down, his breath mingling with yours in the intimate space. His eyes met yours for a fleeting second, a silent exchange of affection and understanding, before he pressed a gentle kiss onto your forehead. The contact was tender, imbued with a sweetness that made your heart swell.

As his lips brushed your skin, your eyes fluttered closed, the world around you dissolving into a haze of warmth and closeness. The kiss lingered, a silent promise of care and support that wrapped around you like a comforting embrace. You could feel the soft exhalation of his breath, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, and the unspoken words that filled the space between you.

Time seemed to slow, each second stretching into an eternity of quiet connection. Your senses were heightened, every detail of the moment imprinted in your memory—the gentle pressure of his lips, the warmth of his breath, the soothing cadence of his presence. It was a moment of pure, unadulterated intimacy, a sanctuary of love and understanding that transcended the weariness of the day.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes opened slowly, meeting yours with a gaze that spoke volumes. There was a softness there, a tenderness that mirrored your own feelings, and in that shared look, you found a renewed sense of strength and comfort. The weight of the day seemed to lift, replaced by the warmth of his presence and the promise of more moments like this, filled with love and quiet understanding.

“I missed you so much,” he murmured, his voice a gentle whisper that seemed to reverberate through the quiet studio. He tucked his head into the crook of your neck, seeking solace in the warmth and familiarity of your embrace. His breath, warm and steady, brushed against your skin, sending a shiver of tenderness down your spine.

You could feel the sincerity in his words, each syllable carrying the weight of his longing and affection. The closeness of his body against yours, the way he nestled into you as if finding his way home, spoke volumes about the depth of his feelings. It was a quiet confession, one that wrapped around your heart and made it swell with love.

“All I could do was watch the time until you finally joined me here,” he continued, his voice a soft rumble that seemed to melt into the air around you. His words painted a vivid picture of his anticipation, the minutes and hours stretching out endlessly as he waited for the moment you would walk through the door.

The imagery of his longing played in your mind, each tick of the clock echoing his silent wish for your presence. You imagined him glancing at the time, his thoughts drifting to you with each passing minute, the studio filled with the hum of his work yet missing the comforting presence that only you could bring.

Your hand moved to gently stroke his hair, your fingers weaving through the soft strands as you offered silent reassurance. The tactile connection was a balm to both your souls, a physical manifestation of the love that flowed between you. His body relaxed further into yours, the tension of the day gradually melting away as he found peace in your embrace.

The room around you seemed to fade into the background, the dim light casting gentle shadows that danced along the walls. It was as if the world had shrunk to encompass only the two of you, a cocoon of intimacy where time moved at its own pace. The rhythmic rise and fall of his breathing, the steady beat of his heart against yours, created a symphony of togetherness that filled the space with warmth and connection.

As you held him, your heart echoed his sentiments. The hours apart had felt like a lifetime, each moment tinged with the anticipation of being reunited. Now, in the quiet sanctity of the studio, you reveled in the simple joy of being close, of sharing the same breath and heartbeat. This was your haven, a place where love and longing intertwined, creating a tapestry of moments that were as beautiful as they were fleeting.

A blush crept onto your cheeks, a rosy bloom spreading warmth through your skin as his words settled in your heart. Your smile widened, a reflection of the joy and affection that welled up within you. As Chan leaned back to face you once more, his eyes met yours with a gaze that spoke of longing and love.

Without hesitation, you leaned up to capture his lips in a kiss, the movement swift and eager. The initial touch was tender, a sweet brush of connection, but almost unconsciously, you found yourself deepening the kiss. The world around you seemed to blur, the boundaries of the studio fading into insignificance as you lost yourself in the moment.

Chan responded with equal passion, his lips moving against yours in a dance of fervor and intimacy. Each kiss, each caress, was a silent declaration of the emotions that words could not fully convey. The heat of the kiss ignited a spark that spread through your veins, a fiery rush of desire and affection that left you breathless.

As your lips melded together, you could feel his fingers busying themselves, threading through your hair with gentle yet deliberate movements. The sensation sent shivers down your spine, each touch a soothing balm and an electric thrill all at once. His fingertips traced patterns along your scalp, weaving through the strands of your hair in a tender, almost reverent manner.

The kiss deepened further, your senses heightening with every passing second. You could taste the lingering sweetness of his breath, feel the warmth of his skin, and hear the faint rustle of clothing as you both shifted closer. The world outside ceased to exist, the only reality the intoxicating blend of your shared breaths and the soft hum of the studio in the background.

Time seemed to stretch, each moment expanding to hold the fullness of your connection. Your heart raced, its beat a rhythmic echo of the passion that thrummed between you. The kiss was a symphony of emotions, a harmonious blend of love, desire, and an unspoken promise of togetherness.

Just as the kiss began to deepen, an unexpected sound shattered the moment—the door creaking open with an almost comical slowness. The intrusion was abrupt, and both of you were startled from your intimate cocoon. Chan, reacting instinctively, tried to detach himself from you with haste, his sudden movement sending him rolling off the couch.

The transition was less than graceful; he landed rather harshly on the floor beside you, the impact eliciting a low groan from him. He grimaced, immediately starting to rub his lower back in an attempt to soothe the jolt of pain from the fall. The couch, once a haven of warmth and affection, now stood empty and slightly disheveled, a testament to the sudden disruption.

Your eyes shifted to the doorway, where Jisung stood frozen for a split second, his own eyes wide with shock at the scene before him. The surprise in his expression was fleeting, quickly giving way to a playful smirk. His eyebrows wiggled suggestively as he leaned casually against the doorframe, his gaze dancing with mischievous amusement.

The contrast between the intense moment you had shared and the lightheartedness of Jisung's entrance was jarring. As the initial surprise subsided, the atmosphere shifted from one of intimate connection to one of awkward hilarity. The room, now filled with the soft chuckles of Jisung and the embarrassed, lingering blush on your cheeks, felt distinctly different.

You and Chan exchanged glances, your faces flushed with a mix of embarrassment and amusement. Chan’s attempt to regain composure while still rubbing his sore back added to the scene’s comedic effect. In the midst of the disruption, the warmth of the moment seemed to dissipate, replaced by the easy camaraderie of Jisung’s teasing presence.

“I can come back later,” Jisung said, his voice carrying an unmistakable hint of playful suggestion. The words lingered in the air, charged with an amused undertone that made it clear he was fully aware of the scene he had just interrupted.

You responded with an exaggerated roll of your eyes, a playful gesture that contrasted sharply with the initial embarrassment. Your smile, though slightly flushed, held a warmth of shared amusement. The gesture was both a dismissal of the teasing and a silent acknowledgment of the lighthearted banter Jisung was introducing.

Chan, still seated on the floor, let out a soft scoff, the sound a mixture of mild frustration and reluctant humor. His expression, though slightly exasperated, softened as he met Jisung’s teasing gaze. The contrast between the seriousness of the moment and the levity Jisung brought was palpable, and Chan’s reaction spoke to the blend of embarrassment and begrudging acceptance of the interruption.

“Did you need something?” Chan inquired, his voice a mixture of curiosity and residual embarrassment as he pushed himself up from the floor. With a slight wince and a careful stretch, he made his way back to his chair, resettling into the spot he had vacated moments before.

Jisung stepped into the studio, his presence marked by the purposeful stride and the iPad clutched in his hand. He took a seat in one of the empty chairs, his movements deliberate and focused, a contrast to the playful banter that had just filled the room. The iPad, held like a cherished artifact, seemed to hum with the promise of creative endeavor.

“Yeah,” Jisung began, his tone shifting from teasing to serious. The change was palpable, and the lightness that had accompanied his entrance melted away, replaced by a more earnest demeanor. He glanced down at the device in his hands, the weight of his words evident in the subtle tension of his posture.

“I just finished writing this song,” he continued, his voice laced with a hint of frustration. “I thought I might ask you for some feedback.” His gaze met Chan’s with a mix of anticipation and concern. “I’m struggling to find the melody for it, though.”

The request hung in the air, a testament to Jisung’s dedication and the challenge he faced. The room, once charged with the intimacy of your earlier exchange, now buzzed with the promise of collaboration and the earnest pursuit of creative refinement. Chan’s expression shifted to one of thoughtful consideration, his earlier amusement giving way to the focused attention that Jisung’s request deserved.

As Chan prepared to listen, the studio seemed to take on a new energy, one of shared purpose and artistic exploration. The casual comfort of the space, with its soft lighting and the scattered remnants of your earlier moment, now became a haven for the exchange of creative ideas and constructive feedback.

이민호 ── LEE MINHO.

The only sounds that punctuated the tranquil evening were the soft clinks of ceramic and glass as they met and departed in gentle harmony. Minho's hands moved deftly in the soapy water, each dish emerging clean from the frothy embrace of the sink. He would pass the polished plates and gleaming utensils to you with practiced ease, and you would then guide them through a final rinse, the clear water cascading over them like a delicate waterfall.

This rhythmic dance of choreographed movements unfolded in a serene cocoon of silence, where each clink and splash became a soothing symphony of domestic tranquility. The dim light from the overhead fixture cast a warm, golden glow, illuminating the quiet intimacy of the moment.

You leaned closer, resting your head lightly upon Minho’s shoulder, finding solace in the gentle rise and fall of his breaths. The simple act of watching him, so absorbed in his task, filled you with a deep sense of contentment. The harmony of your shared routine seemed to weave a thread of comfort through the evening, binding you both in a quiet, unspoken connection.

Minho had prepared a sumptuous feast, each dish a testament to his culinary prowess. The table was adorned with a vibrant spread of delectable creations, each plate a masterpiece in its own right. As the meal began, the room was alive with a symphony of laughter and lively chatter, the air thick with the aroma of spices and savory delights. The members gathered around, their faces illuminated by the warm light of the overhead lamp, their voices weaving a tapestry of animated conversations.

But now, as the final morsels were savored and the last sips of wine enjoyed, a tranquil silence had settled over the room. The clamor of exuberant laughter had given way to a peaceful hush, the once-bustling table now a haven of contented quiet. The lingering scents of the meal mingled with the soft hum of satisfaction, creating an atmosphere of serene afterglow. Everyone leaned back in their chairs, basking in the lingering warmth of good food and even better company.

The plan had been simple and straightforward: you would take on the task of washing the dishes while Minho, who had diligently prepared the meal, would enjoy a well-deserved rest. Yet Minho, with his unwavering determination, had other ideas. His refusal to let you tackle the chore alone was as steadfast as it was endearing.

With a warm, insistent smile, Minho proposed that you both share the task, transforming the mundane chore into a collaborative effort. His eyes sparkled with a mix of stubbornness and affection, a look that left little room for argument. Despite your initial reluctance and the mild exasperation that accompanied it, you found yourself yielding to his gentle insistence.

The prospect of working side by side, immersed in the rhythmic clinks of plates and the soothing warmth of soapy water, began to take on a new charm. Minho’s determination to be your partner in this small yet significant task softened your resistance, allowing you to embrace the shared experience with a touch of reluctant but genuine fondness.

As Minho passed you the final cup he had washed, the delicate glass cool and smooth in your hands, he turned his attention to rinsing his own hands. The kitchen was bathed in a soft, amber glow from the overhead light, casting gentle shadows that danced across the room. He dried his hands with a kitchen towel, the fabric absorbing the last traces of moisture with a quiet efficiency.

Watching you with a tender gaze, his sharp features softened into an expression of serene affection. The contrast of his usual intensity with this gentle demeanor created a moment of profound intimacy. As you felt the lightest brush of his lips on the crown of your head, a shy smile unfurled on your lips, a silent acknowledgment of the warmth and closeness between you.

After you had finished rinsing the last cup, Minho reached out, offering you the towel he had used. The gesture, simple yet laden with care, spoke volumes of his desire to share this small, endearing ritual. His touch lingered with a quiet intimacy, as if the act of handing you the towel was another way of weaving a thread of connection into the fabric of your shared evening.

"Dinner was delicious, as always, my love," you murmured with a contented sigh, letting the kitchen towel slip from your fingers and fall gently to the floor. You moved closer, enfolding him in a tender embrace. Your arms wrapped around his lean torso, drawing him into the warmth of your affection.

Resting your chin on his chest, you tilted your head upwards to gaze at him with adoration. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your cheek provided a soothing backdrop to your heartfelt gratitude. "Thank you," you whispered softly, your voice a tender caress against the quiet of the evening. In that moment, the simple act of holding each other spoke volumes, a silent testament to the depth of your shared love and appreciation.

A playful twinkle sparkled in his eyes as he looked at you, his smile radiating warmth and affection. His fingers, gentle and reassuring, wove through your hair with a tender touch, as if savoring the moment of closeness.

"I’m glad you enjoyed the meal," he murmured, his voice a soft caress against the quiet. The sincerity of his words was mirrored in the affectionate way he stroked your hair, his touch both soothing and intimate. In that shared, tranquil moment, his gaze and gentle gestures spoke volumes about the care and joy he found in seeing you content.

What began as a fleeting, tender kiss on your cheek had swiftly transformed into a fervent embrace of lips. The gentle touch of his lips ignited a spark, leading to a passionate kiss where your tongues engaged in their well-practiced dance, exploring and intertwining with a fluid grace.

His hands cradled your face with an exquisite tenderness, as though he feared that any more pressure might shatter the delicate connection between you. The way his fingers caressed your cheeks, with such gentle reverence, conveyed a deep sense of reverence and care. Each touch seemed to convey an unspoken promise, a silent pledge to cherish and protect the fragile beauty of the moment.

“Oh—!” A sudden, startled yelp pierced the air, shattering the intimate bubble that had enveloped you and Minho. Heads whipped around in unison to find Yongbok standing at the kitchen entrance, his expression a mix of surprise and awkward hesitation.

He lingered at the threshold, caught between the decision to either step into the room or retreat to the safety of the living room. His stance, poised mid-step with uncertainty written across his face, underscored the unexpected intrusion into what had been a moment of tender privacy.

"Ah," Minho exhaled with a playful whine, his head tilting to the side as if weighed down by exaggerated exasperation. He squeezed his eyes shut, the corners of his mouth curving into a mock frown that was both endearing and dramatic.

"I can’t seem to have a moment of solitude in here," he lamented, his tone laced with a humorous undertone. The theatrics of his gesture and the melodramatic sigh added a layer of lightheartedness to the interruption, making his feigned annoyance all the more charming.

A deep blush colored Yongbok’s cheeks as he bowed his head slightly, offering a silent apology that spoke volumes. His embarrassment was palpable, yet he moved with a purposeful grace, stepping into the kitchen with a mix of shyness and determination.

He made a beeline for the freezer, his movements quick and somewhat furtive. With a swift motion, he retrieved a brand new tub of ice cream, the cool container a stark contrast to the warmth of his cheeks. As he slipped back toward the door, his voice broke through the quiet with an embarrassed yet earnest, “Sorry!” His hasty retreat, accompanied by the muffled sound of the freezer closing, left a lingering trace of his red-faced mortification.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the unfolding scene, the sound a soft ripple of amusement in the otherwise quiet room. Your hands gently rested on Minho’s biceps, feeling the subtle strength beneath his shirt as you turned to face him once more.

Minho was already gazing at you with a look that combined mischief and amusement, his eyes sparkling with a playful light that drew you in. The sight of his tender, yet mischievous expression made your heart flutter, an involuntary blush creeping across your cheeks. The warmth of your blush contrasted with the coolness of the evening, adding a delightful layer to the already enchanting moment.

“Should I escort everyone who doesn’t reside here out?” Minho mused aloud, his index finger tapping thoughtfully against his chin. The gesture was deliberate, a small ritual of contemplation as he considered the crowded scene around him.

He sighed softly, his gaze drifting towards you with a mix of longing and humor. “I’d really appreciate a moment of solitude with my lover,” he continued, his voice tinged with playful exasperation. The desire for privacy was clear in his words, a heartfelt wish for a brief respite from the throng of people that seemed to encircle you both.

Your cheeks flushed deeper at his remark, the warmth of your blush spreading as you playfully slapped his chest with a gentle, teasing motion. “No, I actually enjoy having them here,” you replied, your voice carrying a soft, affectionate tone.

Minho’s reaction was swift and dramatic—he pouted, a look of mock offense crossing his features. His expression was almost comically wounded, adding a layer of endearing charm to his demeanor. “You love them here, too,” he retorted, his voice tinged with a hint of playful reproach. “We don’t get many chances to spend time like this, surrounded by everyone we care about.” His words carried a mix of sincerity and affection, highlighting the rare and cherished moments of togetherness amidst the lively company.

Though Minho recognized the truth in your words, he couldn’t resist the dramatic flair of throwing his head back in an exaggerated display of exasperation. The gesture was both theatrical and endearing, a playful prelude to the amused smile that soon graced his lips as he turned back to face you.

With a gentle peck on your forehead, his affection was palpable and tender, a quiet gesture that spoke volumes. Minho then shifted slightly, subtly encouraging you to step back and make room for him to maneuver. Together, you both ventured back into the living room, where the lively banter of the other members filled the air. Their animated debate over which movie to watch created a backdrop of joyful chaos, adding a touch of familiar, comfortable noise to the evening’s unfolding scenes.

서창빈 ── SEO CHANGBIN.

As you stepped into the familiar confines of the gym, the echo of your footsteps reverberated through the empty space. The dim lighting cast a soft glow on the rows of pristine equipment, all neatly aligned yet untouched, giving the place an almost ethereal quality. It was a sanctuary of solitude, the usual clamor replaced by a serene silence, the gym technically closed to the public. But Changbin, with his special privileges, had always been an exception.

Changbin's eyes sparkled with curiosity as he turned to you, a playful smile dancing on his lips. "What are you going to be working on today?" he inquired, his voice gentle yet brimming with enthusiasm.

You took a moment, savoring the tranquility, before taking a swift sip from your water bottle. "Today, I’ll focus on my arms and chest," you replied, your voice steady and resolute. "But I’m starting with cardio."

Changbin nodded, his expression one of approval and understanding. Leaning in, he pressed a tender kiss onto your cheek, the warmth of his lips lingering like a delicate whisper. He then gently nudged you towards the treadmill, his touch both encouraging and affectionate. "Today's leg day for me," he declared with a soft chuckle, his eyes glinting with determination.

As you began your workout, the rhythmic hum of the treadmill filled the air, blending seamlessly with the soft rustle of your movements. The gym, though silent and still, seemed to come alive with the shared energy and quiet companionship, a testament to the unspoken bond you and Changbin cherished.

Just like that, you both found yourselves immersed in your own worlds, each movement and breath synchronizing with the rhythm of your workouts. The gym seemed to fade away, leaving only the steady cadence of your heartbeats and the pulsating energy of your exertion. 

Your large headphones enveloped your ears, cocooning you in a bubble of high-energy music. Each song, meticulously selected for its invigorating beat, propelled you forward, every stride on the treadmill matching the tempo of the powerful tunes. The music was your fuel, igniting your determination and driving you through each passing minute.

Meanwhile, Changbin was equally engrossed in his routine, his focus unwavering as he pushed through the burn of leg day. The clang of weights and the soft thud of his movements created a rhythm of their own, a testament to his dedication and strength. 

When the thirty minutes finally elapsed, you both reconvened, seeking each other's presence for a much-needed respite. Your breath came in shallow pants, the exertion evident in the slight sheen of sweat glistening on your skin. The treadmill had tested your endurance, leaving you flushed and glowing with the heat of your efforts.

Changbin, too, bore the marks of his intense workout. His face was flushed, and beads of perspiration trickled down his temples. He lifted his water bottle, tilting it back to down a generous portion of the cool liquid, the refreshing sensation bringing a momentary relief from the heat. 

As you caught your breath, the shared silence was comforting, a mutual understanding that needed no words. The gym, still hushed and serene, felt like a haven where both of you could push your limits and find solace in each other’s presence.

"I was watching you while you were running," Changbin remarked after wiping his mouth, his tone carrying a playful edge that made you smirk. His dark eyes sparkled with a mix of admiration and mischief as he continued, "You look so good, it’s not even remotely funny or fair."

You couldn't help but scoff, rolling your eyes at him, but the warmth in his gaze made it impossible to suppress the smile tugging at your lips. Stepping closer to your boyfriend, you felt a surge of affection. The scent of his cologne mingled with the fresh, clean aroma of the gym, creating an intimate bubble around you both.

In one swift motion, you captured his lips with yours, the kiss light and teasing. You giggled, delighting in the surprised look on his face as you pulled away before he had a chance to react. His pout was adorable, a mixture of mock annoyance and genuine desire.

Not one to be outdone, Changbin leaned down, closing the distance between you. His lips found yours again, this time more firmly, conveying a deeper passion and a hint of possessiveness. The kiss was a promise, a silent affirmation of his feelings, and you responded in kind, melting into the moment.

The gym, with its quiet solitude and dim lighting, faded into the background. All that mattered was the connection between you two, the electricity in the air as your lips met and parted. It was a stolen moment of tenderness and playfulness, a testament to the unique bond you shared.

As you should have expected, Changbin wasted no time in reaching up to cradle your face, his fingers tender yet firm against your skin. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver down your spine, and his intent was clear: he wanted to deepen the kiss, to lose himself in the moment with you.

The world seemed to fade away as his lips moved against yours, each touch a testament to his longing. However, before the kiss could escalate, a sudden, sharp sound shattered the tranquility. The door banged open with a loud thud, startling you both apart, your hearts pounding not just from the exertion but from the abrupt interruption.

You and Changbin turned simultaneously, eyes wide with surprise and a hint of annoyance, to find Jeongin standing by the door. His expression was a mixture of embarrassment and amusement, a sheepish smile spreading across his face as he took in the scene.

"I'm sorry," Jeongin began, raising his hands in mock surrender. "I didn't know you guys would need some time—"

He hesitated, glancing between you and Changbin, the awkwardness of the situation apparent. The silence stretched for a moment, thick with unspoken words and the remnants of the interrupted kiss.

Jeongin's smile turned a bit more genuine as he added, "I can give you five minutes to finish, though."

The jab had you cackling, the sound echoing through the gym. Changbin, however, feigned offense, playfully yelling, "Hey! I can last a hell of a lot longer than some measly five minutes!" He huffed dramatically, his pout exaggerated to drive home the point. Jeongin laughed, shaking his head slightly, amused by the spectacle.

"What are you even doing here?" Changbin asked after a beat of silence, curiosity piqued.

Jeongin cocked his head to the side, his expression almost puzzled. "You…we agreed I’d meet you here tonight to work out…" His words trailed off, the memory slowly dawning on him as he spoke.

As if struck by sudden realization, Changbin gasped theatrically, slapping his palm against his forehead. "That’s right! I’m sorry, come in." His apology was earnest, his eyes reflecting a mixture of guilt and amusement.

"Oh, I’d rather not be a third wheel, thank you very much," Jeongin teased, a playful glint in his eyes. You rolled your eyes at him, unable to suppress a smile. The banter was light-hearted, a testament to the easy camaraderie between you all.

Changbin, on the other hand, wasn't about to let his friend off the hook that easily. "Oh, no you don’t!" he called out, his voice booming through the gym. He rushed forward, grabbing Jeongin by the shirt as he attempted to leave, pulling him back into the gym with surprising strength.

Jeongin's protests were half-hearted, more amused than anything else. The scene was almost comical, the gym’s solemnity broken by your laughter and the playful antics of your friends. It was a moment of shared joy, a reminder of the bonds that held you together even in the most mundane of settings.

황현진 ── HWANG HYUNJIN.

You whine softly, your voice barely above a whisper, as you press your hand against Hyunjin's forehead to push him away. His persistence is unwavering, though, and he keeps returning with puckered lips and mischievous eyes that sparkle with playful intent. The soft glow of the television casts a warm hue over the room, illuminating his features and accentuating the twinkle in his eyes.

For quite some time now, Hyunjin had been trying to capture your lips with his own, his attempts at stealing kisses becoming increasingly daring. Yet, your focus remained steadfast on the movie playing on the screen. The film’s storyline had finally ensnared your attention, and for once, you wanted to see it through without distractions. You couldn't help but feel a bit guilty, knowing how much Hyunjin craved these intimate moments, but the timing just didn't feel right.

Besides, the living room of the apartment he shared with his roommate, Changbin, didn’t seem like the ideal setting for such affection. The thought of indulging in romantic gestures here, even with the knowledge that Changbin was away at the gym, felt unsettling. The echo of his presence lingered in the air, and the mere idea of it dulled the allure of Hyunjin's advances. The movie provided a convenient shield, a reason to resist the pull of his playful charm, as you both sat close yet worlds apart on the couch.

"Come on," Hyunjin complained, his voice tinged with a playful whine as he pouted, his lips forming a perfect, exaggerated curve. The sight of him like this, with his bottom lip jutting out and his eyes wide with mock disappointment, sent a ripple of amusement through you. Unable to suppress a giggle, you found his expression irresistibly adorable, a stark contrast to his usual confident demeanor.

"Just a little bit, and then I'll leave you alone," he pleaded, his tone a mixture of enticement and surrender. His persistence was endearing, a testament to his desire for your attention and affection. You sighed theatrically, rolling your eyes with feigned exasperation at his dramatic antics, yet a smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. Hyunjin's charm was a force to be reckoned with, and even in moments like these, he knew exactly how to push your buttons.

"The movie is almost done," you stated, glancing at the television screen and pointing with the remote in your hand. The film's climax was nearing, and you couldn't help but feel a mix of anticipation and relief. "Once the movie is done, I'm all yours — fair?" Your words hung in the air, a promise of undivided attention once the credits rolled. 

Hyunjin huffed in playful defeat, his breath escaping in a soft, theatrical exhale. With a resigned nod, he agreed, then settled himself comfortably on the couch, laying his head on your lap while his feet dangled off the armrest. The weight of his head on your thighs felt familiar and comforting. A chuckle escaped your lips as you unpaused the movie, your fingers instinctively weaving through his long, silken hair, the strands slipping like liquid gold between your fingertips.

There was something endearing about Hyunjin's behavior, how he could be so clingy and needy despite his usual claims of not being a fan of physical affection. It amused you endlessly, this dichotomy of his personality, and you couldn't help but smile at the contrast. His presence was a delightful distraction, one that added a layer of warmth and intimacy to the moment.

As the movie continued to play, you found yourself getting drawn back into the plot, though not without the occasional commentary meant to elicit laughter from Hyunjin. Your whispered remarks and shared giggles created a cozy cocoon of companionship, the outside world fading away as you reveled in the simple pleasure of being together. Each touch, each laugh, each whispered word added another stitch to the tapestry of your shared moments, weaving a bond that felt unbreakable.

When the movie finally came to an end, you barely had a moment to register the closing credits before Hyunjin practically launched himself at you, his lithe form straddling your lap with an impish grin lighting up his face. His eyes sparkled with a playful mischief, and without warning, he began to pepper your face and neck with a flurry of kisses. Each feather-light touch sent delightful shivers down your spine, and you couldn't help but giggle loudly, the sound filling the room with infectious joy.

Despite your best efforts to push him away, your attempts were half-hearted at best, your resolve weakened by the sheer delight of his affectionate onslaught. Hyunjin, ever the tease, quickly caught your wrists in his grasp, pinning them securely to his lap. His grip was firm yet gentle, and his eyes danced with laughter as he resumed his barrage of kisses. The sensation of his lips against your skin, warm and insistent, left you breathless and giddy.

You wriggled and squirmed beneath him, your laughter rising in pitch as you became a squealing, giggling mess. The room seemed to blur around you, the only clarity being the closeness of Hyunjin, the feel of his body pressed against yours, and the sound of his laughter mingling with your own. His kisses were relentless, each one a playful declaration of his affection, and no amount of squirming seemed to deter him.

In that moment, the world outside ceased to exist. There was only you and Hyunjin, caught in a whirlwind of shared laughter and tender kisses. Your attempts at defense were futile, each wriggle and squeal only serving to encourage him further. Yet, beneath the playful struggle, there was a profound sense of happiness, a blissful contentment that wrapped around you like a warm embrace.

Lost in your own bubble of joy and affection, neither of you noticed when Changbin returned from the gym. He stood silently by the doorway, his phone poised in front of his face, capturing the endearing chaos unfolding before him. His eyes twinkled with mischief as he recorded the scene, amused by the playful display of intimacy.

It was only when you turned your head and caught sight of him that a startled yelp escaped your lips. The sound jolted Hyunjin from his revelry, his expression shifting from delight to confusion. "Hey! What are you doing? Are you filming?" you asked with a mixture of surprise and annoyance. The sudden shift in your tone finally alerted Hyunjin to his roommate’s presence.

Changbin’s boisterous laughter erupted, filling the space with a rich, hearty sound. He quickly turned off his phone and shoved it into his pocket, but not before Hyunjin had leapt from your lap, his face a mix of mock outrage and concern. “That’s an invasion of privacy!” Hyunjin declared with exaggerated drama, his voice ringing through the room.

Your laughter mingled with Changbin’s as you shot Hyunjin a teasing look. “Baby, we’re in the living room. This is not a private space for you to be saying that.” Hyunjin’s face fell into a pout, his lower lip jutting out as he glanced at you. 

“Whose side are you on, huh?” he asked, a playful edge to his tone.

Changbin, clearly entertained by the bickering, shook his head with a chuckle as he turned and made his way towards his bedroom. His amusement lingered in the air, a lighthearted reminder of the everyday warmth and camaraderie that filled the apartment. The door closed softly behind him, leaving you and Hyunjin to continue your playful exchange, the echo of laughter still dancing in the room.

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[yuwuta]

please feed us some yuuji blurbs there’s a lack of him rn :(

ofc… sweetest boy all time… here’s something was was meant to be a longer project but got lost in the editing whirlwind… love him so bad... 

NEVER LOST IN TRANSLATION, BECAUSE YOU KNOW WHAT I WANT 

notes: reader is implied to be american/english-speaking, yuuta and megumi are bilingual, yuuji, bless his soul, is not. i didn’t use italics for conversations between yuuji and megumi because it would all be in japanese, but when they get mixed later in the scene, japanese is differentiated with italics. hope that’s not too confusing lololll

Honestly, Yuuji tried his best in school. Some things came easier than other, but with a bit of hard work, and help from his friends, he always managed to pull pretty good grades. But right now, his biggest regret is not taking english more seriously in high school, because it’s been about three weeks since he met you, and he’s only been able to say maybe five full sentences to you without the help of Yuuta or Megumi translating. 

He was excited when Yuuta said his friend from abroad would be coming to visit and study, but god, he didn’t expect you to be so pretty. To have such pretty eyes, and pretty lips, and pretty hair, to have the prettiest voice in the world despite him only understanding every eighteenth word you say. You’re beautiful to him, and Yuuji thinks that even if he could speak your language fluently, the words would still get caught in his throat. He’s so lovesick, it’s embarrassing—his friends have been harping on him blushing and stuttering over you for the past month, and he can’t even blame them.

“What does she say to you when you guys talk,” Yuuji whines, hovering around Megumi, and not-so-discreetly looking back at you where you’re still sat in the living room laughing with Yuuta, “Does she ever say anything about me? I mean—probably not right? Which is fine! Actually, dont tell me—no, do. Or maybe—”

“She asks about you,” Megumi says, matter-of-fact in delivery, as he places a bag of popcorn in the microwave, but that doesn’t curb Yuuji’s enthusiasm. He’s practically bouncing, if he weren’t already—begging Megumi to spill the details, “What did she ask? Tell me! Tell me!” 

“She once asked if you dye your hair.”

“That’s it?!” Yuuji screams, heartbroken, and visibly deflating.

Megumi shrugs, “Yuuta probably knows more. She’s his exchange buddy friend thing, so ask him.”

“I can’t ask him, he’s right next to her!” Yuuji pouts, “Wait, what does ‘exchange buddy friend thing’ mean? You don’t think they’re more than friends, right…? I can’t blame her, senpai is really pretty, too, and he can actually talk to her… so unfair.” 

“You know, she’s not fluent, but she can understand some Japanese,” Megumi reminds him, “So, she can definitely hear you, and probably understand you.”

Yuuji’s shoulders slump, and once again, he turns around to look back at you. This time, you two make eye-contact, and that instant, Yuuji’s cheeks go pink, a nervous hand raised to wave at you, and instant internal regret at his actions; but, then you smile, and wave back, and Yuuji stays like that, dumbfounded and lovestruck and on autopilot as he waves with hearts in his eyes until Yuuta looks up from his phone and catches him.

Embarrassing. He knows he’s not the brightest, but he’s at a record high of self-embarrassment since he’s met you.

Yuuta finds himself chuckling when Yuuji spins around and goes back to prodding Megumi with questions. When you turn to face him again, it’s with a shy smile.

“I told you you’d like him,” Yuuta grins—the kind that seems sweet and innocent, but has just a kiss of that all-knowing tease to it; the kind that reminds you that he’s truly related to Satoru.

“Oh, be quiet,” you grumble, tucking your legs in and resting your chin on your knee. You spare another glance in Yuuji’s direction, for once, grateful for the language barrier between the two of you, when you turn back to Yuuta to proclaim: “I can like someone and not do anything about it. You’re real good at that, aren’t you?”

Yuuta’s slightly cocky grin falls into a scowl, and now you get to smile when he argues back, “We said not to bring up he who shall not be named in the presence of my friends!”

“Then don’t bring up my he who shall not be named in the presence of him!”

“Aren’t Americans all about forging new frontiers and chasing after your dreams?” he taunts, “Well, your dream is right in front of you.”

“My dream right now is to kill you.”

“Lucky for me, you’re going to have to hold off on that because your lover boy is approaching.”

You don’t have time to argue back with Yuuta when Megumi and Yuuji approach the living area with snacks in tow. Yuuta scoots to the tail end of the couch under the guise of giving Yuuji space to place the popcorn and nuggets in the center of the coffee table, but he has just enough time to flash you a wink before Yuuji settles in between. Megumi opts for the loveseat closets to Yuuta’s end of the couch, and you do your best not to reach over Yuuji and strangle Yuuta.

The boys decide on watching a movie you’ve never heard of, but Megumi reassures you it’ll be easy to follow and has English subtitles. You don’t mind, settling in to your corner of the couch with a handful of popcorn just as the title-screen for Human Earthworm 3 rolls across the TV.

You can follow along well-enough—even without subtitles, you get the gist of the movie. What you really find entertaining is Yuuji, who occasionally blurts out a comment or exclamation, or audibly coos whenever something sad is happening on screen. He’s almost as animated as the characters; you’re more of the silent-watcher type, but you find yourself endearing by this commentary, even if you can only understand parts of it.

You particularly appreciate the way that after every comment, he either motions to Megumi, or turns to you himself to repeat his thoughts in his best broken English, and even when you don’t understand his words, you understand him. His emotions are all on his sleeve: frustration, happiness, confusion, curiosity—communication between you two should be more difficult, but Yuuji makes it easy.

It gives you the confidence you cough out your own observation, “You, um… you’ve… seen the others? You seem to like this series.”

Across the room, Megumi and Yuuta hold their breaths, opting to not translate for you when you switch from Japanese to English. Yuuji is quiet for a moment, turned to face you with a slightly confused look on his face that makes you nervous, until his eyes brighten up and he smiles and begins nodding fervently—“Yeah—yeah, I do! It’s my… hm how do I say it… Oh! It’s my favorite!”

Between the smile on his face, the blush on his cheeks, and sincerity in his voice, you feel like you’re wrapped up in his world. It’s a little confusing, and scary, but it’s not all that bad. Maybe you can do something about it, eventually.

“I.. I think I like it, too.”