#almost 5.6k words on that thing

[weisshapt]

if i start so much as looking at doing part 2 of that family tree before at least a month has passed someone come into my house and snap my laptop in half

[kamiversee]

˗ˏˋ My Love Note ´ˎ˗

6 | like a feather.

❧ Synopsis | In which Choso Kamo, your asshole of a best friend, starts to change after you get involved with a rather cheeky cashier, Gojo Satoru.

❧ Content | language, rough sex, degrading, praise, overstim, edging, teasing, taunting, Choso's mean because yes, filth, praise, pussydrunk Choso, feral activities, etc.

❧ Word Count | 5.6k

❧ Pairings | Choso Kamo x f!reader & Gojo Satoru x f!reader.

| Chapters mlist |

——Clothes scattered to the floor, soft pants leaving both of your lips while his two big hands grip the underside of your thighs and spread you nice and wide for him. You always knew your best friend was stupidly attractive but it’s entirely different when you’re about to have sex with him.

His hips were easing back and forth, boxers long discarded and the fat tip of his swollen cock rubbing all in between your slicked folds. And there you are with your hands above your head where he last told you to keep them, watching him with a gaping mouth as he sits there and teases your cunt.

Choso’s body was slightly glistening in that dim lighting of his bedroom, his abs tensing along with his eyebrows every time he pushed his hips forward just to watch his flushed tip slip against your pussy. The messy little sound of your slick wetting up his cock drove both you and him wild.

He was such a damn tease. So mean with the way he’d barely push the tip of his cock inside you, just to draw his hips back and bite his lip at the way his tip slides against your sloppy slit. He was driving you insane.

So much so that you soon brought one hand down to attempt to relieve yourself, Choso’s dark brown eyes flicker up to your face in warning, “What’d I tell you about that, hm?”

You let off a sweet yet desperate whine, “Choso, please?” Your hand goes idle and he smirks.

Nodding his chin at your hand now out of place, “Put your arm back where I had it, princess. M’not gonna tell you again,” Choso says in that deep voice of his. Then he’s easing his hips back again, angling himself so that his cock pressing right against your needy hole, “This is where you want me, right?”

“Mhm,” You hum, pulling your lower lip into your mouth. This was almost embarrassing— your hands above your head, his hands on your thighs, and only his hips being in control of how his cock angles against you. “Cho, hah… you said you’d treat me like a slut so-“

“No,” He interrupts so casually as he glances down to the obscene display of his cock rutting in between your folds, “I said I’d treat her,” Choso spits straight down onto his tip, tilting his head and smirking as he makes even more of a mess below, “Like a slut. Big difference, princess.”

You merely pout at that, your eyes softening in utter desperation as you lift your hips slightly— attempting to feel more of him, “Either way,” You huff softly, “You said you wanted to fuck me so just…”

“Just what?” Choso breathes out, dragging his heavy cock back and forth against you once more.

You swear you’ve been pleading for him for the past thirty minutes or so, “Fuck me-“

Choso smirks, “Beg for it,” He says suddenly as he shifts his angry cockhead away from you for a second just to tap his tip against you moments later, “Since you want it so badly, beg for it-, beg for me.”

You hate the way his lowly spoken words have you complying without thought, “Please?” Such a light little whine was hushed out and there he was biting back a groan.

He couldn’t even bring himself to deny you any further. As much as he enjoys teasing you and rubbing his leaky tip up and down your sloppy folds, feeling you twitch against him every time he speaks, leak with every glance, and whine at the faintest loss of him— Choso doesn’t think there’s anything that compares to the way you sound gasping out his name as he finally angles his cock into you.

And sure, you had plenty of time to admire his cock before he started pushing into you but fuck the last thing you were expecting is this mean curve of his. Pushing in inch by inch, his brows tensing and jaw-dropping, Choso was on the verge of moaning at how you felt around him.

Hell, he practically loses himself completely. His hands move away from your thighs and he leans down to you, feeling your legs wrap around his waist as he keeps pushing in and in and in. You could hear his breath hitching as his cock slides deeper inside you but what really caught you off guard is his struggle to talk.

Choso’s hair is still a complete mess and you notice how breathy his voice is, “Oh fuck,” He gasps with his brows fully tense, “You’re so-, agh… so fuckin’ warm, shit.”

And you’re both adjusting to each other perfectly fine at first. He’s easing himself in and out of you carefully, pulling his hips back and then rolling them back down slowly-, carefully even. That is, until his eyes focus on your face. Maybe it was the way your eyes hazily met his, or the sound of you gasping every time he humped his heavy cock deeper into you but, either way, it makes him groan.

“Fuuck,” Choso drags out, “Look at you,” He coos, tilting his head as his eyes rake up and down your expression, “Y’look so pretty like this,” He suddenly compliments.

Both his tone and oddly kind words make your cunt squeeze around him, earning a hiss from his mouth. “You only think m’pretty when you’re fucking me?” You whisper almost jokingly.

Choso shrugs and your little joke makes him smile, “I’ve called you pretty before, haven’t I?” He murmurs back to you.

As this little chat continues, he’s slowly picking up his pace inside you, “N-Not recently, no,” You stammer.

“Well, I’d keep complimenting you but uh,” Choso clicks his tongue and you feel his hands latch onto your thighs again. Then, in an instant, he’s moving your legs up and pressing them down against your chest, “That’s not how you wanna be treated tonight, now is it?” He finishes.

You would’ve answered him normally but the way his cock plunges deeper inside you, hitting somewhere all too sweet, has you choking on whatever it is you were gonna say. And he notices it too, the slight shift in your breathing, the way a whine gets caught in your throat, and your cunt clenching around him as if you didn’t want him to move.

“You’d much rather be treated like a lil’ whore f’me, right?” Choso huffs out rhetorically. Of course, he expects no real answer from you while he stuffs you full of his cock, ignoring how tightly you’re clamping around him. 

The sounds are so filthy too— your cunt was soaked, sopping even, as he thrusts his swollen cock into you. That syrupy squelch had Choso in a goddamn trance, his eyes flickering back, the veins decorating his muscular arms tensing as he fucks himself deeper and deeper inside you. Choso’s lips part at some point and he groans, feeling your legs dangle against his shoulders and the way your pussy narrows around his thick shaft.

The sheets below were already wet from you, followed by that obscene sound of slick coating his curved cock as he angles it into you. Your moans were being drowned out by the melodic sound of your pussy and it had Choso in a chokehold. 

Maybe it’s because you’re his best friend and he’s known you for about eight years but, Choso seems to know your body like the back of his hand. Shifting himself right where you need him, feeling your pussy gush as his tip knocks into your sweet spot repeatedly.

“C-Choso,” You gasp, “Fuck, mmgh…”

Choso shakes his head almost in disbelief suddenly, “Comin’ in my room late at night,” He starts off, losing himself in his replay of how the two of you ended up like this in the first place, “Askin’ me for ‘advice’ knowing damn well all you needed was for someone t’fuck you properly,” He grunts out that last word with a heavy thrust, watching your eyes flicker back.

While your eyes lull back, you’re gasping out a teasing little response back to him, “Don’t ah-, a-act like you didn’t want the-, hah… same thing, Cho.”

His lips twitch at the sound of your breathy voice, his hips growing more calculated with you, “Huh?”

“You’ve probably been f-fantasizing about this all d-day…” Your bottom lip slips into a slight pout as you hush those words out to him.

All Choso can do is smile at that. He can’t exactly say he hasn’t thought about this very moment once or twice today, “Think so?” He soon muses.

Waiting for your answer, he watches the number of times your face twists up– studying you, fucking his fat cock into you harder, holding back his noises, and-, hell, he was nearly holding his breath just so he could savor every little sound that leaves those pretty lips of yours.

“Uhuh…” You eventually gasp out.

Choso blinks away from his intense focus to the sounds he can get out of you, “What’s it feel like?”

Your brows twist up and your eyes flicker as you struggle to process his question, “Hm?”

“Does it feel like I’ve been fantasizing ‘bout this all day?” Choso emphasizes with a particularly hard thrust, “Huh?”

And oh how you love teasing your best friend, even when his cock is a hefty seven inches deep inside you, “N-No..” You mumble to the man, watching the immediate way his face twists up.

“No?” Choso practically scowls at you, “So I’m not fuckin’ you hard enough?”

A small little smile spreads across your face as your glossed-up eyes meet his, “Y-You could… mmgh, you could be fuckin’ me harder.”

Choso’s practically speechless for a second, continuing with his same ‘steady’ pace as he cocks his head to the side, “This isn’t enough for ya’, huh?”

“N-No, I just-“

“Greedy girl,” Is the last thing he growls out before pressing his weight down against you.

The underside of your thighs sandwiches against his chest and you swear you feel his cock twitching wildly inside you. Choso’s hips pivot down against you as he positions himself to be a bit more firm with the way he’s fucking you. 

Your eyes nearly cross at how he has you folded up and unable to move, forced to take every unforgiving inch of his angry curved cock. Then he has the nerve to stare you dead in your eyes with his low-lidded ones, deep brown eyes dilating the longer he looks at you.

“Oh fuck,” You gasp, feeling him slip his thumb in between the two of you and down to your clit.

Choso smirks again, “Look at you— fuckin’ droolin’ f’me,” He points out as his gaze dances down to the small trail of saliva leaving your lips.

You were almost completely out of it, clenching around him so desperately, moaning so loud that the neighbor would be ready for the noise complaint within twenty-four hours, and making this fucking face that had Choso pounding you down into his bed.

God if you weren’t every bit of sexy at this very moment.

“Choso,” You choke out as he thumbs your clit in small merciless little circles and doesn’t let up on you for even a second.

“Don’t Choso me,” He scoffs, “You wanted me to go harder ‘nd that’s what I’m doin’.”

The two of you are pretty sure his words are going through one ear and out the other because with the way your eyes are lulling to the back of your skull and you’re left under him just gasping and gaping with every thrust— you’re both positive that you’re pretty cockdrunk at this point.

How could you not be? You don’t know if you’d say it aloud but fuck is Choso’s cock huge. He hits all the right places and more, places you didn't even realize you had. And to make matters worse, he knows what he’s doing too. He just eyes the way your lashes flutter, listens for a specifically pitched whine of his name to leave your throat, and feels that soul-sucking grip you have around his dick every time he tries to tug his hips back— all of which lets him know he’s doing something right.

But then again, the sound of you blabbing out things like, “Feels so g-good, hah..” Assures him as well.

To which he lets his little ego present itself to you, “Oh I know it does, princess.” Choso whispers, tipping his head down a bit to lick that earlier slip of drool from off of your chin.

You pay almost no mind to it though, too distracted by that ego of his, “Cocky hgnh, b-bastard.”

“Hm?” Choso hums before softly kissing at the corner of your lips and whispering yet again, “What was that?”

“You heard me.” You grit out.

He can’t help his grin. Maybe your voice turned him on or something because every time you said something, especially if it was something teasing, his cockhead is just dripping inside you and you can feel his veins throbbing against your plush walls. 

“Nah, repeat that f’me,” He hums, slowing his pace ever so slightly, “Cocky what?”

“C-Choso-,” You gasp again as the creaking of the bed slows and his thumb rolls upwards against your clit.

He kisses the edge of your mouth again, “Say it again. C’mon, lemme hear you this time.”

You moan softly, feeling his cock curve right into where you needed him most, “Bastard, hah..”

“I’m no bastard, baby. Cause if I was…” He pauses to take a breath before smirking, “I’d do somethin’ like this,” And then his cock slips out of you completely and you nearly spasm.

The mean loss of him so suddenly had you on the verge of tears. Gasping a whiny little, “Put it back in, Cho. Pleease?”

To which he just decides to be an asshole for a bit longer and thrust his bulging cock against your throbbing cunt instead of inside you. “Put it back in, huh? But I thought I was a bastard, princess?”

“Choso, p-please,” You whisper. You were about to lose your damn mind, he was exactly where you needed him and now your cunt’s just clenching around nothing, “I-I’m so close.”

“Yeah?” Choso responds as if he didn’t know that already, “You were ready t’cum f’me?”

You nod desperately, “Uhuh.”

Then he’s leaning up, easing his weight off of you as he sits back on his heels. “So you’re done bein’ a lil’ brat then, right?” He asks with a little huff.

As if not to have him get too far away from you, you ease your legs down from your chest and shift closer to him. “Mhm,” You hum mindlessly with a cute attempt at reaching your hand down for his cock again.

Choso’s eyes follow your hand almost in a daze, mesmerized by how needy you are for him, “Promise?”

“Pinky promise Cho, now please..” You huff.

“Ready to take all of me like the good slut you promised to be f’me?” He asks almost finally. Then, he’s reaching for your hips and repositioning both of you— flipping himself over and pulling you on top of him, “Hm?”

Your lashes bat as you’re repositioned to straddle him so quickly, “Y-Yes Choso.” You stammer with your eyes all over how he looks below you.

With his hair all laid out against the mattress, his chest rising and falling with every heavy breath he takes, his body slick with sweat, and muscular arms at his sides as he grabs a steady hold of your hips.

Then you’re looking down and spotting his cock— watching how it twitches so aggressively with nothing more than a mere glance from you, eyeing down how cum leaks from the slit of his blushing cockhead, and practically drooling all over again. And not in only one place because you think you just got impossibly wetter from the sight of him underneath you like this.

“Well?” Choso breathes out before moving to put his hands back behind his head, “I was tryin’ to be nice for once, princess. If you want it so bad, stop starin’ ‘nd just t-,” He stammers off with a throaty groan as your fingers wrap around his cock so suddenly, “T-Take it.”

Was this his way of submitting to you? You almost smirk at the thought of that alone, adjusting yourself above him so that your pussy is hovering right over his tip, grazing him with your moisture. Choso’s breathing picks up instantly and he almost starts to regret putting you on top of him, almost.

What saves him from that regret is probably how enamoring you look sinking yourself down on his cock. He thinks he sees your pupils dilate the very second his cock slides back inside you and your lips quiver open as you moan his name so damn deliciously.

Shit. Choso was going to let you do your own thing but simply watching you sink down on him so sensually has his hips lifting to meet yours. A pair of hands are soon placed on his chest as you force him to keep still and Choso’s head tips back against his bed, his cock aching inside you.

There was that warmth again, such slick and wet filthy warmth that just surrounds the entirety of his cock in almost one go.

“Oh, fuuuck me,” Choso groans unintentionally, his hands moving from behind his head and right back to your hips.

His sudden grip is so damn tight too, like he’s literally holding on for dear life. And hey, maybe he was. This was an entirely new angle inside your cunt after all. Choso doesn’t know if he’s imagining it but he thinks you got tighter within those few seconds he wasn’t inside you.

What really throws him off is the first rock of your hips against him. Choso lets out the moan he’s been holding in all this time and his hips are lifting again.

“Choso?” You whisper his name so suddenly that it just rips him from his daze completely.

Panting heavier than he remembers, his eyes flutter before they land on yours, “H-Huh?”

You slowly lift your hips up and his eyes drop down to the sight of your puffy lips pulling up off of his cock, revealing a surprising slick of white before you start sinking back down.

“Oh shit,” Choso gasps, realizing he came prematurely from nothing more than the change of positioning alone.

You’ve got the smug look on your face, “D-Did… Did you just…?”

He nods his head and squeezes his eyes shut, “…I did.”

Despite Choso’s sudden release, you nor him exactly stop at that point. If anything, you kinda laugh it off and move your hips gently against him, “Cho, is that all it takes to make you cum?” You suddenly tease.

He rolls his eyes at you and his hands slide up to hold your waist, “Don’t fuckin’ tease me,” Choso gasps slightly, relishing in the slight aftershock of his abrupt orgasm, “You don’t know how-, fuck, how good you feel.”

You drag your fingernail along his sculpted chest, blindly admiring each cut and crease of his abs while your hips idly rock back and forth at such a torturously slow pace. “So tell me then,” You tease, earning a hiss from him as your fingertip flicks over his flushed nipple.

Choso grits his teeth for a moment, lowly eyeing how confident you seem to have gotten. “I jus’ did,” He huffs, “Now stop bein’ difficult ‘nd just fuck-,” His throat clears as he corrects himself, “Ride me.”

You tilt your head at the man and twirl your finger around his all too perky nipple, only teasing him further, “Say please.”

“I’m not beggin’ you to do shit,” Choso huffs.

Such a damn brat he was, even underneath you and panting heavier and heavier each time you toyed with his chest a bit.

“Asshole,” You frown, leaning down to him a bit and causing your hips to lift up off his cock ever so slightly, “You made me beg.”

His lips twitch into a smirk, “Baby, why would I beg for somethin’ I already have?” Then his hands are slipping back down to your hips and he’s pushing you down on him again, “Remember, I’m the one that put you on top of me.”

The way your brows twist up and your face scrunches are all too cute. Choso imagined this moment with you here and there but his fantasies will never compare to the real thing. Especially not with the way he easily guides your hips against him and you just sit there with that scowl on your face, letting him have his way with you even while he’s under you.

“Fuck you,” You whisper while you sit up properly and frustratedly glance down to where you two are connected. The sight below is so damn lewd.

With a messy white ring of cum already collected around Choso’s thick base, your pussy lips stretched just to take every inch of him, and both of you throbbing for more— it was just purely obscene below.

“That’s all you have t’say? ‘Fuck me?’” Choso mocks, raising a brow, “What happened to all that confidence of yours, huh?”

You groan, “Do you ever stop, mmh-, talking?”

He moves to take his hands off of you and prop himself up on his elbows, shaking his head slightly to move some of his messy hair out of his face before cracking a smile, “Why would I?” He then nods his chin toward your lower half, “She likes when I talk.”

As if to fight back with more than just breathy words, your hips jerk forward and earn a quick tensing of his brows in pleasure, “No, ‘she’ would just love if you shut the hell up for one second,” Your words come out almost all at once as you feel his fat tip prodding against that mushy spot inside you again.

“She can come shut me up herself if that’s the case,” Choso taunts with a teasing lick of his lips, “S’that what you want? Wanna come put that pretty pussy on my mouth ‘nd shut me the hell up?”

A whine leaves your throat at the thought alone, your eyes focusing on his lips and that stupid smirk plastered across them. “N-No,” You stammer before pressing your hands flat against his chest again and pushing him down off of his elbows and flat on the bed.

He’s caught off guard all over again because then you’re lifting your hips and slamming them back down on him— forcing a moan from both of you. 

Then he’s chuckling breathily, “Fuck, that’ll do it too.” Choso nods, “That’ll shut me up.”

“Yeah?” You huff as you continue with that aggressive bounce up and down on his cock.

Choso tips his head back again and nods once more, “Uhuh, jus’-, ah… jus’ k-keep doin’ that.”

You don’t have to be told twice. It was clear that something about you being on top of him drove him crazier than before. Something about feeling your cunt squeeze every inch of his cock as you lifted yourself, followed by the messy squelch of you plopping back down seconds later had his breath hitching again.

Choso’s no virgin but damn did you make him feel like one. He can hardly think properly as you ride him in earnest, bouncing yourself on his cock so prettily, simply taking what you want from him— hell, all he can think about is you and how well you’re taking him right now.

The heavenly little gasps of his name you keep letting out aren’t helping his situation either. Every little ‘Choso’ or ‘feels s’good’ that pours out of your mouth has his cock dripping against your inner walls again. The creaking of the bed had returned and you both allowed yourself to be as loud as either of you wished. 

Surely there’d be a noise complaint from the neighbors the next morning. Especially as you reach your orgasm and your bouncing comes to a slow. Then you’re leaning down to him and he’s wrapping his arms around your waist as yours go around his neck.

Your breaths are shared and he could tell and feel you make a mess all over his cock. You’re panting and trying to keep moving but you just couldn’t do it yourself, you can’t keep going as your legs start to give out on you.

All that talk from before and now look at you— silently begging him to help you maintain your high. And who was Choso to ever deny you of such a thing?

As such, he’s shifting his legs around and planting his feet flat against the bed before he starts fucking his heavy cock up into you. His sudden movement earned a choked gasp of his name from you and he gapes at how your eyes roll back.

His hands move to your hips and you lean up slowly, your eyes hazily meeting his.

Then, Choso’s whispering to you, “Fuck me back, c’mon,” He encourages.

Your arms are a bit shaky from his thrusts but that doesn’t stop you from placing your hands on the bed and keeping yourself stable as you throw your hips back to meet his.

And god did he start to lose his mind again, thrusting-, no, pounding himself up into you over and over and over again like he was possessed. His jaw hangs open, mirroring yours while you two fuck each other stupidly. Had it become a competition or something? Because it damn sure felt like it.

And hey, you and Choso have always been like that. From the day you met to now, whatever you did with one another always became some kinda competition. Not that you were complaining now though, it was working out in your favor— even though he was winning (in a sense) with the way your body goes limp again and you just fall forward against him.

Then Choso’s whispering in your ear, “That’s all you got?” He chuckles, his hands gripping onto your hips tighter as he moves you himself.

You’re panting and whining against him, feeling the constant and relentless prodding of his thick leaky cockhead into the depths of your cunt. Shit, if he couldn’t think properly earlier, you damn sure couldn’t by this point. All you could process was how fucking full you were of him, how every bruising inch fit into you so perfectly over and over, and that filthy sound of your cum and his mixing to create such a big mess around his cock.

“C-Choso,” You gasp out, “Choso-, fuck..”

He hardly even heard your voice at first, too lost in the syrupy trance your pussy had him in before he’s grunting out a lazy response to you, “Huh?”

Then your breath is stuttering, “S-Slow down-, nngh… please?”

“You feel so fuckin’ good,” Choso groans, “I can’t-, fuuck, I can’t slow down, princess. N-Not yet,” He pants, “Just-, hah, jus’ lemme fuck you full again. Mmgh, please?”

You whimper before turning your head to meet his gaze, “T-Thought you weren’t-, ngh, gonna beg for anything?”

He smiles before dropping his eyes to your lips, “Shut up.” Choso hushes out finally before pressing his lips into yours.

You don’t know how he does it or where the hell he gets his stamina from but he’s just doing all the work for you— hands on your hips pushing and pulling you down to meet his thrusts, his own hips piston his cock into you with not one second to catch a breath, and his lips molding against yours as he swallows up every whine and whimper you let out.

Though, as surprising as his stamina and strength are, even he gets tired or frustrated at some point and just flips you both on your sides. Your leg is hoisted up on his hip and he’s just rutting into you like a damn madman, panting hard against your lips while spewing curse after curse about how good you feel around him.

When Choso fucks, he fucks like he’ll never get the chance to do so again, coaxing orgasm after orgasm after orgasm out of you to the point where you’re seeing stars and can barely get his name past your lips properly. Listening for that sexy little ah, ah, ah that leaves your throat with every thrust— Choso was tempted to break you in half.

Hell, maybe he already had because you’re choking on your moans, tears are welling up in your eyes, and one moment he’s fucking you while you’re on your sides and the next he’s on top of you again, blindly beating his cock deeper inside you. You swore he was in your lungs at that point because every little gasp you took was of his name. 

Your nails were clawing at his back and you couldn’t fucking think. You lost track of how many times you came, all you could see was him and then white, blissful stary white as he hummed out quiet praises and pleadings of you to give him another one.

One more Choso promised, and then his thumb was at your clit again. One more he whispers, and then he’s marking up your neck and lower. Last one he swears, before you miraculously end up on your stomach, taking him ruthlessly from behind as he pushes your face down into the bed.

He was such a fucking liar. Whispering how sorry he was for not stopping yet, even as he kept going. Fuck, he might’ve been addicted. He doesn’t know how many times he came inside you, nor does he care too much because he swears it’s worth it when he pulls his hips back and sees the disgusting slick of pure white coating his cock.

He couldn’t even stop himself for a while, constantly fucking into you faster and then harder. His bed was no longer just creaking but now it was rocking with every thrust. He’s pretty sure he heard something snap but he was too lost in everything that was you to care.

The sight of your ass bouncing back against him made him grunt. He has a hand sneaking underneath you to toy with your clit once more just to watch the way you squirm before you’re coming undone all over again.

Choso groaned at the sight. He’ll never be able to forget how puffy your cunt was, how you twitched when he finally pulled out of you, and the way his cum looked dripping out of your hole.

“Shit,” He whispers, his breathing ragged while he just stared at how badly your legs were shaking, listening to you trying so hard to catch your breath, and gasping softly when your body goes all limp again.

You let out the softest little groan and Choso moved his sights onto the bit of your face he could see. As he did so, he couldn’t help but stare at the rest of you in awe, trying not to smile at the plethora of hickeys and bite marks he managed to leave all over you.

Damn. He really did ruin you.

Even as you lay there completely still, he catches your lashes fluttering before you try to look back at him. You were so beyond fucked out.

Choso swears he’s got little hearts in his eyes as he leans down to you, meeting your gaze up close before kissing you all too softly like he didn’t just fuck you stupid.

Yet, you kiss him back tenderly with what little energy you have left. When he pulls away, he takes in your expression and how tired you looked— appearing as though you were seconds from passing out.

“M’sorry pretty girl,” Choso whispers. The softness in his voice made your heart churn in more ways than one, “I didn’t mean to get carried away like that-“

The way you grin and murmur back to him makes his whole world pause, “S’okay, Cho,” You assure him. Your tone was so light, almost hardly even there. Then there was the way you were looking at him like you loved every second of what just happened and-

Oh god, he almost thinks he’s in l-

You cut whatever thought or feeling that was off with another kiss and that seems to bring him back to reality. Choso’s lashes bat in slight surprise before he settles his gaze on yours.

Followed by that is you letting out a huff and plopping your head back down against the bed. The two of you are still for a moment and Choso even ends up resting on top of you for a while. You both almost fall asleep like that until Choso gets up and stretches.

You had no idea what time it was or how long you and him had been at it but you were much too fucked out to care. Sleep was steady to overcome your senses and you faintly recall Choso talking to you about cleaning up but, you’re pretty sure you fell asleep at some point.

Which left Choso alone to care for you and the mess of his bedroom. Not that he minded.

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[pedgito]

𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘 𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐑𝐘 | Joel Miller x reader

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summary | you've got an issue and joel's willing to solve it. after all, what are neighbors for?

author's note | this was a prompt from a meet-weird thing i saw ages ago that was originally supposed to be javi, but jo (@undercoverpena) gave me the beautiful idea of making it joel and it spurred this monster.

content warning | established friendship, caught during sex, does the apocalypse having working appliances? probably not, but for the sake of this fic distend belief i beg. oral (eating out from the back), unprotected piv, subtly cocky!joel miller, he's a good ass neighbor, okay?, unbeta'd.

word count — 5.6k

Joel’s fixed this damn machine seven times, convincing himself every time that it was the last time. Shocker, it wasn’t. This time didn’t even last a month. He’s desperate now.

He would usually haul the load all the way to the communal laundry house closer to the group of joined townhomes that housed most of the younger adults—the spry and bright-faced ones who sprung up at the mention of patrol or work, any prospect of toting a gun around with any sense of leadership. They were eager, he couldn’t say the same for himself.

He was old, weathered—years of routine he had created to get the job done and get the hell home.

And truthfully, as he tapped the wrench against the metal machine, chin tucked into his palm as he scratched at his beard, he almost complied with the idea that he would just have to tough it out. Scrounging for parts was nearly impossible—dumb luck, really. In the past several years they’ve picked this town clean, bone-dry.

He’s elbow deep inside the barrel of the dryer when he hears the knock at his door, bumping his head against the rim of it as he exits and cursing under his breath as he pushes to stand, joints creaking and popping in disapproval. 

He can smell you before he sees you, the familiar scent of fresh-baked goods following you everywhere—Joel couldn’t feel guilt for being one of the folks addicted to your cooking. 

Grains had been hard to come by since the epidemic hit, everything was tainted on a global level. It took years and years of Jackson growing its own stock of wheat for things like pie or a nice, gooey cinnamon roll to even be plausible anymore. But, they were managing well so far.

“Saved ‘em for you and Ellie,” You tell him, a small plate of still hot brownies covered with parchment paper, dawning that trademark smile that Joel has come to love, tapping his fingers against the door frame as he passes the plate off to a quickly approaching Ellie.

“Girl’s got the nose of a basset hound,” Joel looks on in amused bewilderment as Ellie throws a mouth-stuffed thanks over her shoulder, “sorry ‘bout her.”

You wave her off whole-heartedly, taking in his sweaty appearance and casual attire. You were used to him in jeans and thick flannels, not a graphic tee and pair of sleep pants. He’s almost always dressed like he had to run at a moment's notice, you weren’t even sure he owned anything different until now.

“Everything good?” You question him, a small laugh escaping your throat.

“Damn washer and dryer is out again,” Joel explains, throwing a hand vaguely over his shoulder.

“Both of them this time?” You ask, “Damn.”

“I can fix ‘em, just a matter of finding the right parts,” Joel tells you, “ looks like I’m gonna have to hand wash again.”

Joel was a friend. You helped friends. It seemed like a no-brainer really, opening your mouth without thinking it through, the kindness tumbling out despite yourself.

“Oh, you’re welcome to load yours up at mine,” You offer and Joel looks immediately apprehensive, the southern charm and well-mannered tone gearing to creep up on you.

“Now, I don’t mean to make you feel like you have to—”

“Joel, I wouldn’t offer it if I didn’t feel comfortable with it,” You remind him, “seriously—anytime, just try and bring your own detergent—and for the love of god, empty your pockets before you put ‘em in.”

Joel chuckles tiredly at that, rolling his eyes as he nods in agreement.

“Got it, of course, sweetheart.”

“I leave an extra key under the rug, so if I’m ever not home just come in,” Given that Joel was Tommy’s brother, you knew he wouldn’t be up to any trouble, “sound good?”

“Yep. Anytime—just make myself at home.” Joel confirms and you nod with an even wider smile, waving a pleasant goodbye as you trailed down the stairs and made your way to the house you inhabited next door.

Right, anytime.

Unfortunately, Joel took that a little too literally.

-

Joel managed to scrounge up the courage a day later, tumbling into his house on tired legs after a lengthy patrol up at the cabin lookout, scooping the basket up in his arms and heading out his front door, taking the short walk to your house.

The lights were off, but that wasn’t unusual. Joel knew you liked to stay late nights in the town’s mess hall, often working on prep for the following morning to make the load a little lighter and sleep in a while longer, so when he fishes under the doormat for the key he thinks nothing of it.

And as the door swings open, it is still fairly quiet. Though, he can hear your own dryer running upstairs. He’s got the layout down too, having shared more than a few nightcaps with you. Friend to friend and nothing more, even if you had always felt a little more strongly toward being affectionate. A hug or a kiss on the cheek from time to time, he never pushed you away. Joel never seemed like the type of man who openly showed affection, even toward a friend. But, he was good, reliable–most of the time.

He reaches the stairs with trepidation as the sounds grow louder and part of him wonders if by some uncanny coincidence your dryer might be growling and rumbling on its own final leg. 

The moment his hand reaches that doorknob and turns he realizes he’s made a mistake.

He’s caught you at a…bad time. Head thrown back with your mouth hung wide, whatever noise you’re making was mostly drowned out by the nagging sound of the dryer as it tore through the spin cycle but he hears the tailend of it, a soft moan of pleasure from the man who’s buried inside of you right now, both of you naked from the waist down but your breasts on full display with your shirt tucked under your neck.

“Benny?” Joel asks, slightly amused.

You lift your head at the sound and spot him, your feet nearly slipping out from under you as you scramble to push Benny away, who perks with an even more perplexed, “Joel?”

“Goddamn it, Joel,” You curse behind gritted teeth, furiously readjusting yourself, pulling your sweats back on and over your ass and your shirt down, “What are you doing here?”

Joel looks down at the basket still clinging to his hip before back up at you, wordlessly.

You sigh through your nose with a tight lipped frown, cheeks puffing out as you brushed your fingers through your hair and down—Benny was still scrambling to redress behind you, unable to pull his gaze away from Joel.

“Benny?” Joel mouths at you quietly, eyebrows raised curiously.

You walk toward the now open door slowly as Benny buttons his pants and you shoot Joel daggers with your stern gaze.

Cut it out.

Joel smirks slightly, cheek dimpling with the action as he side-steps Benny, who leans around you and kisses your cheek—it was a kind gesture but given the situation, in horrible taste. You force a polite smile and once Benny is a far enough distance you hit Joel firmly in the arm as he passes by you and into the laundry room.

You walk Benny to the door with a million thoughts racing through your head, offering a distracted goodbye before you’re locking the door and racing back upstairs with determined footsteps and Joel has already loaded his clothes in the washer, turning the knob to set the load size and time.

“Benny?” He echoes his earlier questions, “Really?”

“What? Are you judging me?”

“No—just, that kid’s had quite an obsession with you for some time now. Just…surprised is all.”

Your lips pull together in a disapproving but nonchalant frown, taking his words for the bullshit they are.

“When I said anytime that did not extend to the middle of the night, Joel.”

“You’re usually still at work,” He supplies—and really, he’s not wrong, “M’sorry. I mean that.”

“Well, now I’ve gotta deal with the fact you’ve seen me naked,” You cross your arms over your chest and lean against the doorframe and Joel’s eyes track you for a moment, smiling with amusement at the thought.

“What? You want a fair trade?” Joel teases, “‘Cause, darlin’. I don’t mind—but it was an accident. Besides, ain’t nothin’ I haven’t seen before.”

He means it in a broader sense, but you can’t help the eye roll it induces. 

“No, no,” You chew at your bottom lip, watching Joel place the empty basket on top of the washer, “I can finish that up if you want to get some sleep. I know you had a long patrol today.”

“Oh, did you?”

He’s teasing you.

“Don’t push it, old man,” Joel shakes his head at that jab and chuckles, “Ellie clued me in when she picked up some sandwiches for her and Dina earlier.

He’s not going to pass on the offer, though. He nods, rubbing a hand over his tired face.

“Jesus—just…Benny?” Joel reiterates again, “Didn’t think the kid had it in ‘em.”

“Out,” You say with an over-pronunciation as you drag his slow and progressive steps further out of your laundry room and into the hall, “or you’re off my dessert list for a month, Miller.”

Joel smiles at you knowingly, “You wouldn’t dare,” He retorts, knowing you too well.

You wouldn’t make him suffer like that. Or Ellie, who wouldn’t hesitate to murder Joel if he robbed her of that pleasure. Not literally…but, she would carry a few choice words for him.

“Seriously, though, thank you,” He nods, leaning down to press a kiss into the crown of your head—an often familiar gesture when you parted after a long night of nonsensical talk and a couple glasses of wine or whiskey, depending on how hard the day had been, “I appreciate it, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, yeah—”

“And I do apologize for…not knocking and showin’ up at such a weird time.”

You shrug, “You’re forgiven. Just…don’t give Benny a hard time. He’s a good guy.”

“You’ve got my word, darlin’.”

Joel was determined to be on his best behavior, clearly.

-

It takes Joel a couple weeks to find the parts he needs and luckily there are no more run-ins on your midnight sex-scapades, still feeling the embarrassment from the first one. Joel doesn’t even seem to remember it after a couple days, thankfully. He was bypassing it for your own benefit, truthfully. And you knew that.

Selfishly, you're glad to have your appliances back to yourself. 

They’re good, solid, reliable—until they aren’t.

Your washer shits itself mid-load and you can hear it from downstairs. A loud screeching noise before an even louder pop that has you groaning loudly because you know. You can feel it.

You can’t even bring yourself to go check, peering through the window of your kitchen and catching a fresh pot of coffee in the house across from yours, a man coming into view and his stark white shirt contrasting the black coffee cup in his hands. He catches you out of the corner of his eye and looks at you with a quizzical amusement, smile tugging at his face.

Joel was always up before the sun rose, so with the sun just creeping into the sky you’re sure that’s his third or fourth cup of coffee. He reaches over his sink and fiddles with the latch on his window before heaving it up, watching as you struggled to do that same but eventually managed.

“You run outta coffee again?” He asks, sipping at the bitter, black coffee in his mug.

“No,” You reply quickly, slightly exasperated as you chew at your bottom lip, debating how to pop the question and feeling nervous under Joel’s intense gaze, curiously wondering if he’s still picturing you naked. He’s never explicitly mentioned it since, but you have caught him in the act.

Wandering eyes, gazes catching when your back is turned for half a second as you bend down or move in a way that exposes too much skin.

“My washer broke,” You cut to the chase and Joel chuckles at how comical it is, in hindsight.

Was this karma? It was definitely karma. 

You’ve never asked Joel for anything—despite your often bouts of kindness toward him you never expected anything in return, not even a favor.

“Doors open,” Joel nods toward his front door out of view, an invitation like you offered him.

You didn’t even hesitate, pushing the window close and bounding up the stairs.

-

You’re already loading your things into his washer before he appears around the corner, peeking his head in, coffee cup still in hand as he takes a few more steps and leans against the wall beside the washing machine and your eyes glance at him briefly before you continue moving the clothes, watching him watch you from behind the rim of his mug.

“I can start them and come back,” You tell him, “so I won’t be lingering around here all day.”

“No Benny?”

You stand up as you close the washer, deadpan stare pointed in his direction.

“You can be such a nosy neighbor, you know that?”

Joel shrugs, a smug smile covered behind his sip of coffee.

“It was just a few times. Besides he’s…too much for me.”

You turn the dial to start the load and it rumbles to life with a simple press of a button.

“You wanna talk about it?”

It wasn’t completely unnatural for you two—you knew quite a bit about Joel now: his life before, his work, his daughter…all things that come with trust and time. He’s waited patiently for you and you’ve given him peeks into your life, but nothing like this.

“It’s a long story, Joel.”

“Got time,” He smiles slightly, “I’ll go grab you a cup of coffee—sit down.”

You look around briefly, not a chair in sight. So, you raise yourself up just enough that you can slide your ass over the top of the washer, bare feet dangling off the floor and you wait, the subtle and quiet shake from the beginning of the load process keeping the awkward silence at bay.

Joel turns the corner a few minutes later with your cup, made up just to your liking and you nod with a gentle smile, taking the cup from his hand and allowing yourself a few generous sips.

“So—that night, you caught us,” You can laugh at the instances now, so you do in a soft, clipped manner, “it wasn’t the first—it had been a month by that point and he just caught me by surprise, showed up that night and things just got a little out of hand.”

Joel’s eyebrows raise in interest but he urges you to continue, leaning against the wall in front of you now, resting his mug on the shelf just above his head as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“He’s a good guy, don’t get me wrong—but I don’t do serious…I can’t, now with how things are. And I know a lot of people think the opposite, seize the moment and all that shit,” You sigh, a deep and heavy sound that expands and releases from your chest, “he was already talking about moving in, the idea of us having kids—so that night I just tried to distract him.”

“With sex? Seems a little…counter-productive, don’t you think?”

“Don’t judge me, Joel,” You warn him but it’s edged with a playfulness that Joel recognizes. You didn’t have a mean, deceptive bone in your body and Joel knew that from the first conversation he had with you.

“I needed him to shut up,” You groan at the thought of the conversation as it replays in your mind, “I’m trying to wash my clothes, he’s talking to me about babies. I do not want kids, Joel. Ever. At least none that are biologically mine. Who would want to bring a kid into this world?”

Well…Tommy. The thought comes to you after the words have already left your mouth and your heart sinks into your stomach, looking at Joel apologetically.

“Sweetheart, don’t even try to apologize. Ain’t nothing wrong with it.”

“It makes me sound horrible, I know but—”

“I’ve done my time—it’s none of my business how others choose to live. Besides, I’m pushing sixty, I don’t have to worry about all that…sorry, I’m not trying to be crude here.”

You nod knowingly with a smirk tugging at your lips, taking another sip of coffee before handing the mug off for him to place it next to his own, ready to slide off of the washer before Joel interjects with another question that catches you off guard.

“He treat you right, at least?”

You tilt your head with that same knowing smirk, pushing Joel away at his hip with your foot as he leans up from his position against the wall—Joel’s never flirted, always promptly skirted around the issue and went about it more gentlemanly. He’s not abrasive and straightforward like most of the men in Jackson, but damn did he know how to make you feel special.

Undivided attention, constant subtle compliments, giving up some much-needed sleep for a simple late night drink with you—part of you was too terrified to make your own move and make it clear just how badly you wanted just a small taste of him.

You’ve heard whispering, minimal talk from a few of the women in town. Joel didn’t often make his rounds but when he did, he left an impression. And you had every right to be jealous, because with him standing in front of you now—you knew it would be easy to say no and he would fix you right up, finally crossing that line that he’s been carefully dancing around for a few years.

“He’s a bit…timid,” You shrug, “and he doesn’t really…”

The air lingers and the side of Joel’s mouth pulls up—you don’t have to say it.

“Joel, don’t do that,” You shove at his shoulder as he approaches you, his hands pressing into the contraption you’re on, curled around the metal, “—he’s just…eager, but not in a good way.”

There’s a glint in Joel’s eye that leads you to believe he’s not thinking about Benny’s less than experienced sex life, feeling the sudden jitteriness from the coffee as your chest rises with a deep, shaky breath and Joel eyes the time over your shoulder.

Forty-five minutes and some change, plus the time to dry because Joel already knows you aren’t going to trouble yourself with walking the damp laundry through this cold, muggy weather.

“So, no then?” Joel asks.

He could have treated you better, sure. But, he wasn’t the worst.

But, the way Joel is staring at you knows makes everything and everyone dull in comparison.

You shake your head in agreement, chewing at the inside of your bottom lip as your hands fall to your lap, his hands ncreasingly closer to the tights covering your legs, suddenly feeling his thumb graze your hip. You both glance down at the action and your breathing halts, watching as his right hand slowly engulfs your thigh, fingers digging into the soft material and dimpling your skin underneath, his thumb only a few centimeters from dipping into the inside of your thigh.

They part on their own, welcoming Joel in wordlessly and his left hand echoes the other. His face is level with your own, staring down at your lips briefly before meeting your eyes and you’ve seen that look before—the adoration when he thought you weren’t watching, secretly you had become good at catching those glances, but Joel wasn’t trying to hide it now.

And it quickly dawns on you in the moment—he was jealous. Of Benny. Or really, any man that had come before him. But, he was using him as the scapegoat.

Honestly, you couldn’t even care.

“You want someone to treat you right?” He speaks softly and if you weren’t so close you wouldn’t have heard him, “I got you, sweetheart. I swear.”

He’s not looking at you anymore, eyes dragging down the bridge of your nose to your lips again. But, you are looking at him, flooded with that tricky feeling that creeps up on you when you want things you know you shouldn’t.

“Joel, I told you—I don’t do serious,” And you hold your breath for the response, wondering if that would send this moment crumbling to dust, but Joel doesn’t miss a step.

“Good for you,” Joel dotes, “neither do I.”

Then he’s on you, the press of his lips in a heated kiss sends you tumbling back, caught by the warm slide of his palm over your back to pull you in, throwing your arms over his shoulders as he pulls back briefly, just enough for you to open your mouth to speak, but his tongue finds its way inside and the words fade away.

Just friendly, my ass—you think.

If you had known he kissed like this—you would’ve jumped at the opportunity months ago; a night spent drinking too many glasses of wine and laughing over some movie far before your time, but not his. 

He was so entranced, giving you all the details, but you couldn’t help giggling over it, too touchy to be considered friendly.

You’d both cut it short quickly when Ellie popped in halfway through the movie, and beyond that, it never grew.

Until now.

“Sweet,” Joel notes with a subtle smile, his hand dwarfing the size of your neck as his fingers wrapped around the column of your throat, holding you firmly in place as he maneuvered you toward and away from the kiss as he pleased, swallowing every tiny moan that escaped your lips when his other hand squeezed at your thigh just a little too hard.

“All that sugar,” In your coffee, the taste lingering on your lips and he licks around them teasingly, pulling away briefly to look at you, your eyebrows raising in question as the gears turn in his head, “—you still with me?”

“I’m just wonderin’ if you’re okay with this,” Joel speaks candidly, his eyes trained on his thumb as it rubs against the middle of your throat, traveling up under your chin and tipping your head up slightly, watching as you swallowed, “before I take this further, jus’ need to know.”

You nod jerkily, not even a second of hesitation. 

“You would have known the moment you kissed me, Joel.”

In turn, Joel nods slowly before he speaks, stealing the air from your chest.

“Alright then, pull these down for me,” He tugs gently at the material clinging to your thighs before both of his hands find the spot behind your knees and tug until your feet hit the floor, “and push that pretty little ass out for me.”

The absurdity of this language on his tongue makes you giggle but abide in an instant, struggling slightly as the material bunches at your ankles and Joel helps you the rest of the way, tossing your pants aside before he’s kneeling despite how his body protests, too eager to give you a taste of the pleasure you deserve and he’s grabbing the cheeks of your ass and squeezing them between his hands before he’s leaning up to bite playful at the soft flesh.

He groans quietly against your skin, the press of his aquiline nose against your ass as his fingers fold around the string of your underwear and pull, dropping them down to your ankles and off and then his tongue is flat against the seam of your cunt, gasping as you fall forward and your own fingers clawing against nothing.

“Joel!” You squeak out as his fingers dig hard into your ass, forcing you up on your tiptoes as devours, licking into your cunt as it quivers around his tongue. 

Your hand pressed against the wall in front of you to keep your chest from hitting the washer, feeling your pussy tighten around the finger that enters alongside his expert tongue, a soft groan erupting out of him from behind you. That smug motherfucker was attempting a teasing huh under his breath as he busied himself with the task of eating you out from the back and you couldn’t even think straight. 

‘C’mon, baby,” He coos between his alternating licks and slurps of the heady slick that dripped from your cunt, “come all over my mouth, let me taste that sugar.”

It’s absurd, the way he’s speaking to you now. Your eyes squeeze shut as his thumb finds your clit amongst the chaos of his tongue and fingers, face heating up at how noisy your cunt sounded over the dull shake of the washer and Joel’s satisfied moans, occasionally massaging at the back of your thigh when your legs shake with the creeping feeling of your impending orgasm.

“Oh,” You squeal, reaching behind you to dig your fingers into his hair, panting out in desperation, “—fuck, don’t stop! Joel, right—right there,” and then glance you take back at him, his eyes peeking open from his position below, on his knees and dutiful to you and you alone, well…

It sends you tumbling over the edge as his thumb rubs over your clit quickly, soothing you through the aftermath as he laps up the mess you’ve made all over yourself, dragging his tongue along the inside of your thigh because if you knew anything about Joel, he didn’t waste a meal. 

And you were just about the finest he’s tasted.

You clear your throat as you rest your feet flat on the floor, feeling the faint quake in your legs as Joel rises slowly, forcing you to swallow down a giggle as he winces and he can see it on your face.

“Worth it,” He excuses himself, “don’t look at me like that.”

“No old man jokes?” You sound sad and Joel can’t believe it.

He shakes his head.

But, the smile that breaks out on your face quickly diminishes any comeback he has.

You begin to push him away with a hand gripped in his shirt, carefully avoiding the obvious bulge in his sweats as you reach for your tights, ready to redress and drop to your own knees as a favor but his fingers are wrapping around your wrist, pulling your attention back to him.

“I meant it,” Joel tells you, tilting his head to catch your gaze.

You smile wide and tilt your head to mirror him, “I think you proved your point—Benny is a pathetic man who doesn’t know how to make me come, blah blah…”

“My job ain’t done if you’re still thinkin’ about him, darlin’.”

His eyebrows raise in challenge.

Okay, you’re game.

Wordlessly you allow the hands at your hip that guide you toward the front of the joined appliances, his fingers sliding under your top until you get the hint to pull it off, your breasts bouncing free from the shirt—the few bras you had were already in the wash, big deal.

Joel chuckles and stops for a moment, admiring the sight of your breasts for the second time that month, albeit more openly this time. He reaches forward and rubs his thumb along your nipple, watching the nub harden under his touch and you bite at your bottom lip, eye fluttering closed at how sensitive they were to touch, something other men never took the time to notice.

“You like that?” Joel asks with a creeping grin.

You nod, watching as he squeezed your tits in his hands, showing your nipples ample attention as he circled them with his thumb before leaning down slightly and swiping his tongue over the hardened nubs, sucking your breast into his mouth and his eyes peer up, gauging your reaction which quickly developed from a soft giggle to a loud moan.

“Clothes,” You breath out, “off—if you still have a point to prove.”

A point that you wanted proven. Hard.

Joel pulls away and yanks his shirt over his head, allowing you an unobscured view of the mix of muscled shoulders and his softened stomach, running your hand over the patch of hair at the center of his chest and down, right along his hips until his own fingers hook around the fabric and pull his sweats and boxers down in one motion, his cock catching against the edge of his waistband before it bobs back up toward his stomach.

You find yourself smiling despite yourself, forgetting for a moment that Joel was standing there and watching you, feeling your mouth water at the sight of him hard and leaking at how just getting a small taste of you had turned him on that much, precum leaking slowly from the tip and he wraps his hand around himself, other hand tapping at your chin to drag your attention back up to his face, reminding you he was still there.

“Got somethin’ on your mind, sweetheart?”

You shake your head furiously, “No, no—no, nothing. Just, uh—”

“I’ll start slow,” He tells you and with the size of him, thick and girthy in ways you’ve only imagined or pictured in your head, it’s daunting, “are you still alright with all of this?”

Your face softens and you nod, appreciating the repeated check-ins, the need for confirmation, but it pulls at your heart as you wonder why he feels the need to ask so much. As if he was fearful you would change your mind on a dime—Joel was fine with that, but he was more worried about the change in dynamic. Thankfully, you were determined for that not to be the case.

“I’m pretty tough,” You shrug, a playful smile gracing your face.

Joel nods absently as his fingers drag along your waist before catching behind your knee and pulling it up over his hip, both of your eyes dragging down to his cock as he tugged at himself a few times, his brow furrowed as he spread your lips apart with the head, dipping his hips down slightly to catch against your hole before he pushes in slow, one solid stroke that steals the sound from your throat and transfers to his own. Joel groans out softly as he pushes into you, his hands gravitating toward your face and wrapping around the sides of your neck, tilting your head back to mouth at your skin, his tongue dragging along your collarbone before sucking and nipping gently at your skin.

“Don’t I know it,” Joel responds after a while, “find something to hold onto.”

Your soft giggle of excitement shoots down to your core and your fingers wrap around the edges of the washer and Joel pulls back swiftly before he’s snapping his hips back into you before repeating the process several times, the jolt of the machine hitting the concrete wall behind you drowned out by your loud moans, quickly swallowed up by Joel’s lips as he pulls your mouth to his, breathing into it with every sharp snap of his hips.

“Harder,” You beg, biting at his bottom lip as he groans, using his fingers intertwined into the hair at the nape of your neck now to pull your head back and he pulls his hips back quick, bottoming himself out inside of you so forcefully you feel like your legs might give out, his cock rubbing against your already too sensitive g-spot and continuously finding a way to bring you closer and closer to the edge, “fuck—yes, yes. Joel, oh my god—”

“Yeah,” Joel goads you, his eyes drawn closed as he tries to keep his own orgasm at bay, “give it to me, baby—wanna watch you make a mess on my cock, alright?”

Easy, you laugh airily and feel the instinctive squeeze of your walls around Joel’s cock as he pulls your face to his, foreheads pressed against each other as he angles his hips back and slams into you one last time before you come undone, head falling back in a similar position to how he caught you a few weeks ago, this time for him. 

Your grab for his shoulders suddenly, blunt fingernails digging into his skin and he takes a few harsh breaths through his nose before he’s pulling out, hand grasping his cock as he jerked himself a few seconds before he comes in thick, short spurts against your stomach, squeezing at the head of his cock as he drags it through the mess he’s made.

His expression is nothing short of mesmerizing, mouth hung open just enough that his tongue can drag over his bottom lip before his teeth are taking its place, eyes drawn to your skin.

Wordlessly, he pulls away on his own pair of shaky legs as he reaches for his wrinkled, worn shirt and brings it to your stomach, cleaning up the mess with a faint smile on his face.

“You know, I think it might take me a bit to fix my washer,” You tease, “so—I might be over here bothering you for a while.”

Joel peers up at you, his head still tucked down as he wiped at your stomach.

“Fine with me.”

Then he’s peering over your shoulder, watching as the washer time inched toward zero, dinging behind you. You turn around, letting your leg fall from his hip finally, ass brush against him in the process and Joel can’t help the way his eyes refuse to leave the sight of it.

Only feeling slightly guilty when you catch him this time, not giving him the pass you usually do.

“We’ve still got about an hour left if I dry them here,” You tell him, “anything else you wanna prove?”

Joel’s tongue pokes at the inside of his cheek, eyes dragging up toward the upper level of his house before flicking back toward you, a smile plastered on your face.

“I can think of a few things.”

divider creds: @/cafekitsune

[tremendum]

personal lies

[not my gif. title from the song of the same name, by Djo.] pairing: dbf!joel miller x fem!reader (afab, use of she/her)     rating: explicit. (18+. mdni.)       word count: 5.6k  requested: Hi! Your work is so insane and incredible! I've literally been thinking about Joel Miller nonstop and was wondering if you'd write a fic where reader is flirty but also has a way of getting herself into clumsy situations- like she bends over to grab something at a party and Joel turns around at the same time and he's pressed right against reader's ass- and these situations keep happening and she just bullies him about him being a pervert until he finally does something about it ;) Keep up the incredible writing!! summary: "when you were young, you'd always thought Joel was handsome - but he was just your dad's friend, someone who would make you blush strictly because he was teasing you. now, though - he makes your cheeks flush for a whole new plethora of reasons." warnings: healthy age gap (reader is around 23, Joel is like 47), DBF!Joel, Mean!Joel, brat tamer!Joel, brat!reader, dom!Joel, semi-public sex, light voyeurism, choking, light dacryphilia, inappropriate use of household appliances, use of word slut, its dirty, slight allusions to exhibitionism, brief choking, so much dirty talk (its joel), so much degradation, reader calls Joel a pervert, teasing, slight dumbification, brief spitting, rough sex, unprotected PiV, cum play, spanking. think that's it!

notes: okay once again, another mean!Joel for the soul! its a problem! im happy for this request bc it helped so much with my writer's block. pls pls keep sending requests i love them all u guys are amazing.

[other Joel fics: i’ve got headaches and bad luck but they couldn’t touch you fever landmines  Mr. Miller Series ]

★  

the bathroom window fogs much quicker than it used to. 

it's the first thing you've realized since returning back to your childhood home - the lack of use in your old shower, now empty of all the half-used floral shampoos and body scrubs of your youth. 

you suppose it makes sense, with your father living on his own now that you're five years out of the house - he has no real need to shower in the bathroom you'd once used as your own. in fact, as you examine under the cabinets and the medicine cupboard, it seems as though he's converted it into a storage room for cleaning supplies and the odd bundle of cotton swabs. 

it makes you grin as you massage lotion into your legs, staring at your foggy reflection. 

your father's muffled voice from downstairs shouts something and, in lieu of a response, you towel off and wrap it around yourself, cursing your father for not restocking towels that were large enough to cover yourself in a modest way to your trek back to your room; not that it much matters, your father's friends won't be arriving for another hour and a half, at the least. 

you're struck with something from your youth when you open the door, though -

and it grunts in response. 

the breath leaves your throat as your eyes drag over the expanse of chest which lies just in front of the bathroom, with a hand extended almost as if he were about to open the door - muscular arms and a familiar wristwatch - certainly not your father's. 

you gape up at Joel Miller, who stares, wide-eyed, back down at your form.

your face floods with an immense amount of heat; Joel Miller, your father's closest friend.

you haven't seen him since last summer - and before then it was even more scarce. between college out of state and splitting summers with your father and mother, before your visit home last summer, you don't think you'd seen him since you left for university. 

he's changed, but not that much - tan, with hair that curls at the nape of his neck, a nicely fit t-shirt that brings out the honey of his eyes. now, though, he's got slight smile lines on his face that compliment his striking, burly features and a peppering of gray through his hair; your mouth runs dry as you take in the large frame of thick shoulders and contoured biceps. christ. 

when you were a teen, you'd always thought Joel was handsome - he was kind, funny, and would always buy you iced tea when he ran for some beers for him and your father after a day working around the house or in the yard. but he was just your dad's friend, someone who made you blush strictly because he was teasing you. 

now, though - ever since last summer when you'd caught his eyes lingering on your figure a few too many times, he makes your cheeks flush for a whole new plethora of reasons. it was a thrilling game you came to know last summer - the way he’d flush and clench his jaw after every quip, each slight tease of phrase, wink, of riding up of your skirt when he walked by.

it makes your stomach flip still - and the most delicious part of it all is the smoldering glares he'd give you when you pushed him too far; last summer, you'd discovered the only good thing about your clumsy, teasing nature: Joel's reactions. 

he’s everything the gentleman, always has been - even when you pushed his buttons, flustered him, he never lost his cool. only ever let his eyes wander and speak for themselves.

so when you open the door directly into him, you’re shocked to see him standing there, eyes wide.

his appearance throws you off, as there was nobody besides your father in the house when you'd stepped into the shower minutes before. tilting your head, you regain your footing quickly, heart picking up as you see his eyes rake over the length of your legs, exposed from the tiny pink towel you wear.

it’s been far too long you think, noting the change in his face when he recognizes you.

his eyes scour over every curve of your body, as if seeing you for the first time- you can’t hide your smirk. "can I help you with something, Joel?"  

his eyes avert just as quick as they found you, staring at something extremely interesting just above the crown of your head. "was lookin' for some rags. your father spilled downstairs." he shifts on his feet, looking into the steamy bathroom behind your frame, "didn't realize there was anybody home..." 

you hum, lifting a brow, "good thing I came out when I did," you send him a sly grin, "or else you'd have gotten a show." you tease, shooting him a gentle wink.

his eyes narrow slightly, tilting his head. he mutters your name lowly and it strikes you that you haven’t seen him in over a year and here you are, staring up at him, in a minuscule towel.

“watch it. didn’t know y’were in there.” he utters, sounding defensive as he crosses his arms over his broad chest.

the rumble of your name as it leaves his lips is insatiable; it bathes you in heat as his eyes flicker down towards your chest and back up to your eyes and you smirk, a light tut leaving your mouth.

"sure you didn’t, Joel.”

he cocks a brow at your implications, his head tilting slightly, but he says nothing. your father yells something about warped wood downstairs and the moment snaps, Joel clearing his throat and you looking away.

“I'm onto you, perv." you smirk, winking once again. you don't give yourself the chance to see his reaction as you brush past him, a flick of your wet hair trailing over the green cotton of the shirt that hugs his biceps. you don't hear him move even as you slide past your door and shut it. 

it’s not until you’re inside your room that you hear the bathroom door slam so hard it reverberates through your walls. you fight your racing heartbeat and dull throb of arousal, pressing your fingers against your hot cheeks. 

"honey?" your dad calls as you leave your room.

“Joel's here. come say hi and help us set up."

your heart skips, butterflies erupting in your stomach as you round the stairs, where the two men stand at the bottom. feigning surprise, you start down the steps towards them. "hi, Mr. Miller." you say pleasantly, "when did you get here?" 

Joel's eyes flash with something as he watches you, tilting his head as if trying to decipher what you're playing at - as if he didn’t see you in a towel thirty minutes ago.

"little bit ago." he responds, shifting on his feet and watching you with crossed arms. “when did you get here?” he counters, nodding to your suitcase, which sits still at the top of your stairs.

your dad laughs at your words, though, breaking the tension he didn't even feel before you can answer Joel’s question. "-Mr. Miller? since when did you have any manners?" your dad snorts, "been calling him Joel as long as I have."   you roll your eyes playfully at him, reaching the last step, still a few inches shorter than the man next to your dad. 

Joel’s eyebrows raise; you look away as you grin. “trying to be polite, I guess. it’s been a bit.” you shrug.

"guess they did teach ya something mature in college, huh?" you dad smirks, nudging your arm. you flush and shrug just as Joel swallows, "haven't seen you in a while, sweetheart." he nods, "how've you been?" 

you smile, "been really good, Joel. better now that I get to see my favorite old man." you tease, stepping between the two men, eyes trailing over Joel's gaze even as you walk away. despite your dad's grunt of offense at your joke, he still grins, "you look nice, honey." he says, patting your shoulder.

you smile, not breaking eye contact with Joel as you hum, "thanks, I just showered."  

the crowd is thicker than you expected.

you didn’t know your father even had this many friends.

besides your own friends who you’d invited to come catch up, you spent the afternoon chatting with nearly every person in the old neighborhood you’d ever met.

if you thought being home from school while you were a student was bad, being freshly graduated at a backyard barbeque full of your dad's friends was much, much worse. 

flocks of couples, neighbors, and family friends gravitate towards you in waves, asking about your achievements and new job and oh, what's it like in the big city? 

you're barely able to break away for a minute to stalk over to the side of your house, nestled up in the grass of your backyard, to grab refreshments - sure, you've already had a few beers and you're not particularly thirsty, but Joel's leaning up against the side of the house and you're drawn with a heat in your abdomen towards him.

a small group of men talk just next to the coolers, engrossed in some conversation that holds no interest to you; but he's there, and something inside you screams for his attention. 

you barely brush his back to excuse yourself past the bodies, reaching down into the cooler to fish out something palatable.

but your blood runs just as cold as the ice in your hand when a sudden pressure against your ass sends a shiver of desire through you. 

you instinctively gasp. the pressure of someone’s hips pressing firmly but briefly against your ass, by accident, startles you as you stand up, a pulsing desire spreading through you instantly once you see Joel, face in shock, behind you.

you swallow; he must have turned after thinking someone’d tried to get his attention, just as you’d bent over. your face heats up.

you're met with eyes that hold awkward shock and a small dark flame that flickers slowly as your shame suddenly melts into a smirk, lunging at the perfect opportunity to sink your claws into him. 

"s-sorry, didn't see you there." he stutters slightly. heat pools in your stomach at the flush on his cheeks, the white ring around his knuckles spreading where he grips the neck of his beer bottle too tight. 

grinning, you shrug. "it's okay, Joel. I'm sure it was an accident. you seem to be prone to them." you say sweetly, voice sounding almost simpering as you smile.

from the look he gives you, it's clear he can see right through your words. "were you grabbing a beer?" you ask, watching his jaw clench. 

"no, I was-" but he stops himself at the teasing raise of your brows, shaking his head as he tries to save himself from your teasing. "sure. yeah." 

but just like that, he's fallen into your trap, and you smile, “just watch where you’re standing this time, yeah?” you ask. and within a split second, you're bending over again right before him, falsely digging through ice to grab a bottle that you know he likes. you shift slightly, leaning your weight on one leg as to pop your hip slightly before straightening up and handing the bottle to him with a smirk.

when you whirl back around, his eyes are up towards the sky, jaw clenched tightly with strain as if silently praying to god; though you know Joel Miller has not once stepped foot into a church in his whole life. he clears his throat tersely, eyes meeting yours again as he grabs the bottle from you. "thanks," he mutters. 

"you might want to finish that one first." you say with a grin, nodding towards his half-full beer bottle opened in his hands. he looks riled as he sends you a harsh look that only makes you smirk more, shrugging as you saunter off. 

as much as you try, you can’t get the feeling of Joel pressed against you out of your mind.

and, with a shivering glance across the patio, you can tell he can’t either; while fully engrossed in a conversation with a woman close to his age, you lock eyes with Joel for a full five seconds before you break away. his gaze is heavy and intent - it follows you, watches you interact with people from the town and your friends from high school.

despite the scorching stares he sends you from across the yard, you keep your distance from Joel, too. you're engrossed catching up with a few friends from high school on the patio when your dad pulls you aside, asking you to help out bringing the food onto the patio. 

bowls of chips, salads, roasted vegetables, condiments, and several different variations of sweets are brought out and spread across the folded tables outside. the smell of ribs and pulled pork from your father's smoker fills the air while you fill a tub full of water for the kids on the law to bob for apples in, watching from the serenity of your kitchen. 

the breeze floats through the open window as you stare out, the scene calm as you let your thoughts linger. out near the yard, a woman leans down to pick up a discarded paper plate and the man beside her places his hand on her hip; a gentle squeeze that has your eyes glued to the motion. unable to help it, your mind wanders.

Joel's hands are large; they're rough with callouses from work and the skin gets cracked during the winter, but they're warm. you start to wonder if he's got a woman to touch like that - sure, you remember a few women who'd hung out around your dad and him when you were younger, once Sarah was old enough. but there'd never, to your knowledge, been a serious girlfriend.

you watch with desire as the man taps the woman's hip, fingers close to her ass, as she straightens, and it causes you to avert your eyes. your cheeks heat as you imagine the way it'd feel if you were out there - if the man's hand was Joel's, if he were to grab you in the middle of all these people, shove you down onto your knees-

you clear your throat, eyes snapping down to the sink where the water was overflowing from the bin with a gentle bubbling noise.

you groan to yourself in embarrassment. you need to get a fucking grip - no, you need to get laid. 

the tub is filled a little too high; it's unsteady as you lift it up, hoisting it above your hips to hold against yourself as you turn around. but there's a figure behind you that makes you jump in shock, jolting the tub until it spills over yourself. you're hit with a shocking rush of cold as the water tips and drenches you; you let out a sharp yelp as one hand flies to your chest. "christ!" you snap, eyes landing on the perpetrator - 

"Joel!" you snap, "you scared me."

"jesus," he mutters, moving towards you, grabbing the bin from you and placing it down on the counter, "I wasn't even close t'you, sweetheart. I was walkin' into the garage." 

you swallow, taking a breath to calm your tight nerves. "I was zoned out, I guess-" you curse your bumbling hands, a light breeze catching over your wet skin and sending a shiver through you. just your luck.

you sigh, tilting your head, "what are you doing, slinking around here?" you raise a brow as you accuse him. he rolls his eyes, "ain't slinking anywhere. was goin' to find apples. your dad is adamant about those kids on the lawn. afraid they're gonna tear up his landscaping." 

you sigh, shaking your head, "you made me spill." you pout dumbly, heart still pounding as you become increasingly aware of how wet your dress is- his eyes narrow, "'s not my fault you're always gettin' yourself into trouble." he mutters, shrugging as he looks down at your chest, the fabric slowly melding itself against your hot skin as the water spreads. 

"says you." you retort, shaking your head. his eyes catch yours after you mutter it; a quick, intense glance that sends a strike of heat through you. a warning look. 

but as always, he doesn't linger on your teasing, instead clearing his throat and moving on. it drives you mad as he hums. "at least it's water." he tries, "clean you right up." he hands you a dish towel, which you take with a quirked brow. desire burns between your legs.

"I already showered today," your voice is seductive, floating through the tense silence of the room as your eyes meet the side of his face. "as I'm sure you haven't forgot." you tease.

his hands freeze from where they were, wiping some of the water from the counter with a towel. he turns slowly to look at you, face dark. the air suddenly feels thick. "what's that supposed to mean?" his voice is low, brows drawn as he stares down at you - jaw clenched, chest heaving. his eyes dare you to say it, to let him take a bite. 

you hum, "don't act coy now, Mr. Miller." you tease, watching his eyes darken with your words. "I see the way you watch me. don't act like you aren't thinking about me." you add boldly, heart hammering - if, somehow, you've made it all up in your delusional head, you're utterly fucked. 

but his jaw ticks and his inhale is sharp, a flicker of his eyes down to your bra as it peeks through the wet material gives him away. it lights a flame within you that nothing else ever has. 

"creeping around upstairs while I'm showering. you're trying to tell me you weren't about to slide in, take a peek?" you tilt your head to stare up at him through lidded eyes, kicking the teasing up the highest you've ever done. 

you push onto your tip toes, your dripping chest mere inches from his as the barbeque continues feet away, outside. "you want to see it, don't you? feel me against you, like you did out there? I'm really warm." you mutter, drinking in his silence as he heaves his chest against yours. “and so tight.” you whisper, bold courage seeping through you as your eyes fall to the straining tent in his pants.

a rush of pride tickles you when he doesn't stop you, doesn't tell you off - so you continue, legs jelly with arousal. "I'm way too young for you, but you just can't stop yourself, can you?" you whisper into his ear, "you're so perverted, Joel." 

you're throbbing with heat when you pull back slightly to drink in his red cheeks, his piercing stare that nearly kills you. his glare is molten, sharp as his gaze flickers from you then out to the party, returning with a burning malice. "go change. now." is all he says.

"are you distracted, Joel?" you tease, smirking up at him. “or just too scared?”

“shut up.” he orders, the malice behind it barely surviving his bark as his eyes dip quickly to your chest and back.

you smirk, “you can’t keep your eyes away from me. you’re a sick man, Joel.” you mutter, letting your hand drag down the neckline of your dress, exposing your breasts through your wet fabric. he nearly growls, rough hand flying to your bare arm, tugging you close to him. "take it off." he hisses.

you blink up at him, shivering from the hungry, dark eyes that seem to tear you apart inch by inch, as you breathe out a defiant, "you're not my dad." 

he chuckles at that, an exhale leaving his lips. "you're damn right 'm not. and you're not a fuckin' child. go change." 

you settle on a darker sundress this time, to avoid another wardrobe malfunction.

your heart hammers just as loud in your throat as it did minutes earlier in the kitchen as you stare out your bedroom window, searching for one figure in the crowd of guests. Joel's nowhere in sight, yet the kids are all huddled around a tub of water with bright red apples bobbing up and down. 

with a sharp sigh, you gather your undergarments and dress to bring down to the washer, flicking off your light. 

the laundry room smells fresh - a breath of clean air after the suffocating tenseness of the kitchen. the thought of Joel's face makes your cunt flutter slightly; that dark, angry stare - the rouge of his cheeks at your words. where doubt should creep in, nothing but pride fills your mind, knowing you can rile up the man just as easy as riding a bike. 

you've just started the wash cycle, moving to stand up when the door slams shut, making you jump once again to be met with Joel's large frame. 

you raise your brows, masking your shock and nerves with a grin, "back for more, creep? too late, I already put my panties in the wash-" 

but he crowds into you so quick that your mouth snaps shut; your back hits the edge of the washer as you stare up at him, shocked. "'m tired of your shit," he sneers, eyes angry, "prancin' around, wearing next to nothin' and bendin' over for everyone to see." your stomach flutters.

he sneers his next words. "you really that clumsy, or are you just too shy to admit how bad your pussy's aching for your daddy's best friend?" 

your jaw nearly drops from such bluntness coming from Joel's lips. you've rarely even heard him cuss - only during football games and the one time he burnt his hand on the grill after you'd leaned over and given him a perfect view down your shirt. 

 "Joel-" you start, a rush of arousal flooding the seat of your panties as you're pushed backwards. he leans into your space, dipping his head until he's in your ear. "who's the real creep, huh?" he mutters, warm breath scattering chills over your neck, "you’re sick, baby. goin' after men almost twice your age." he tuts, sliding his thick jeans between the soft skin of your thighs. “you got no idea what a man like me could do t’ya.” you gasp sharply, hands gripping his thick shoulders and he pushes you back further, your spine thrumming with the rumble of the washing machine.

“bet you think you can show me, don’t you?” you challenge, raising a brow.

"tired of your bullshit, sweetheart." he shakes his head, leaning back. "how am I gonna get you to shut up?" he asks mockingly. you swallow, canting your hips slightly as a prickle of desire rolls over you. "bet you'd love to turn this into a lesson, wouldn't you Joel?" you tease back, but he moves his leg up slightly, the rough material brushing against your heat. jolts of pleasure erupt from the spot and you let out a short mewl. his hand rises to grip your jaw, firm but gentle. his skin is hot and large against your cheeks. 

"don't lie, sweetheart, you love it." he growls, "you love trippin' and spillin' shit just so I can come clean up your mess for you. 's that right? you just need my attention?" his thumb caresses over your cheek, jilting a brow as he stares down at you, "answer me." 

you swallow dryly, nodding pathetically, "yes." 

he tuts, condescending as he tilts his head. "where's all the teasing now, baby? you're always so talkative. did'ya realize I'm too much for you?" he taunts. 

you shake your head, eyes wide, "no!" you eject, flames of heat licking your cheeks as he smirks. you try to go back on yourself, play down your eagerness, "-no, you're not too much, I promise." 

he tilts his head the other way this time, eyes sharp. "so what is it, then? y'afraid of all the people out there? that your daddy's gonna come looking for ya and find us in here? see me touching you, like the pervert I am? because I'll leave right now 'f that's what you want." 

you shiver as another rush of arousal floods you, twitching your hips at his words, the low drawl of his voice. you grasp him tight by his biceps, holding yourself against him as you meet his hot stare, unable to voice your desires. your blood pumps with need. 

"oh." he hums, eyes narrowing as he pushes his thigh up against you roughly, eliciting a short moan from you. "or do you like that?" 

you swallow, eyes lowering to where you drag your hips over his leg, pathetically desperate. he chuckles and it reverberates in his chest under your palms. "anyone could walk in here, sweetheart. your dad could be on the other side." he whispers into your ear, coaxing a moan from you - he tuts, "-an the washer's not loud enough if y'gonna moan like that." 

you nod, staring into his eyes; they pierce you with their intensity. he's giving you an out, asking if this is what you really want, or if its just some juvenile grasp for attention. your mind has been made up since you found out Joel was coming today, though. 

"I'll be quiet for you, Joel." you whisper, nodding, "I can handle it." 

you can tell, he likes that; he presses to you fully, his hardening cock pressing against your side. you sharply inhale, the reality settling in as you drip with desire, aching for his touch. boldly, with a breath of fresh desire, you snake your hand down to palm him through his jeans - he's thick, straining against his jeans as his grip on your jaw tightens. 

"how long have you been this hard, Joel?" you tease, confidence sudden as you smirk, "bet you've been thinking of me since you tried to sneak into the shower earlier for a peep show." 

his hand slides down to grasp your throat as your sentence tapers out: a squeeze causes a rush of pleasure through you. "quit it with the fuckin' lyin'. you're already desperate enough." his breath is hot on your face. with a grin, you accentuate a squeeze on his bulge, coaxing a short grunt from him. "says you, old man?"

this pushes him to the edge. 

rough hands leave your hip and throat to flip your body over, pushing you until you're bent over the washing machine, its vibrations tremoring your whole body. "eager, are you?" you tease, gasping when one hand presses you from the base of your neck.

his voice is sharp in response, "tired of you, sweetheart. gonna fuck all the teasin' right out of you." 

your cunt flutters at his words, wiggling your hips until you press against his crotch, feeling the hard thickness of his clothed cock over your panties. "-and you'll probably love every second of it too.” you mutter against the cold white surface of the washer. 

a harsh swat on your ass makes you yelp slightly, the pleasure smearing arousal between your thighs, legs shaky with anticipation. you swallow heavily when your dress is shoved up over your hips, exposing your skimpy panties to Joel as his large hands splay over the flesh of your ass. 

his hands grip and squeeze your skin, teasing you, as slowly his fingers graze over the seat of your underwear, toying with the ruined, soaked fabric. "you're dripping," he taunts you, the stark words causing your eyes to widen, a short whimper leaving your lips. "eager, are you?" he parrots your words. 

you let out a shuddered moan, swallowing as a finger falls to rub feather-light circles over your throbbing, clothed clit. the sensation has you bucking back against his touch, but his own grip on you prevents your movement; a harsh grip on your neck, forcing you down against the vibrations of the machine.

"tell me what you want." Joel mutters, voice commanding. you resist the urge once again to roll your eyes as you grit your teeth; your own medicine tastes bitter as he feeds you spoonfuls. "come on, you've always loved to talk." he sneers, his voice taunting, as if recalling all the times you've teased him, secretly aching for him. "you had such good manners in front of your daddy earlier, didn't you? so where's that pretty please? say pretty please, Joel, please fuck me on my daddy’s washing machine." he adds, thumb pressing down slightly harder on your clit. a strangled noise escaped your throat, your eyes wrenching shut. “say you want me to use you.”

"fuck- pretty please- J-Joel, please use me-“ you whimper, giving up as he hums at your words. a squeeze on your throat.

“y’gonna knock it off with the desperate teasing?” he asks sharply, holding you towards his mouth. you swallow, trying to hide your grin at the wall and hoping Joel can’t see it.

“yes, Joel, just please, please fuck me.” you submit to his request, throbbing with desire.

you feel his chest as he leans over you, breath against your spine. "begging your dad's best friend to fuck you? you’re so dirty, baby. you should be ashamed." he tuts, kissing your spine in a feather-light touch as his other hand slides your panties to the side, your arousal already dripping down your legs. 

your cheeks flush as you nod wordlessly, wiggling your hips slightly, cunt aching for him. 

he doesn't make you wait any longer; his cock is thick and heavy as he pulls himself out of his jeans, running his shaft through your molten heat.

your gasp is strangled as his tip nudges your clit, a groan from his lips rumbling and low as you hold your breath in anticipation. he rocks his hips again and your legs soon tense up, cold against the washer as your hands grip the sides, "hurry, please." your voice is breathless and cracked as you ask it, exhausted and driven wild from his teasing. "need it so bad.“ you whimper breathlessly. 

he has the audacity to chuckle lightly, his thickness spreading your juices and notching just at your entrance before sliding past in tease. your nails scrape the metal as your eyes clench shut - he's so big; a flood of nerves rolls over you. 

"i know you do, sweetheart.” he mutters; you almost consider slapping him, but then you're sharply inhaling at the sudden sensation of his spit, dripping down onto your pulsing, aching heat. you can't help the moan at the feeling; there's a moment where Joel's hand caresses your cheek gently and you can't help but lean into his warm skin, keening at the touch, until it slides over your mouth and you realize he's muffling you.

and then he pushes forwards, breaching your tight, hot cunt. 

and you’re gasping. simultaneously, you suck in breaths at the sensation, his own groan so low it may be a growl. 

your brows pinch together at the tight fit; he's so big and you're tight with desire as he slowly inches himself inside, relishing in the agonizing pleasure of him nearly splitting you open. "Joel," you whimper, voice completely muffled by his tight hold on your mouth. 

he whispers hot against the shell of your ear, "you better be quiet." 

his voice sends a flood of arousal through you, coaxing his cock further into you, enveloping him into your warmth as his cock presses against the spongy part of you that has your back arching in a gasp. and then he's dragging himself slowly out of you, thrusting back in deep and slow. 

he lets out a shuttering breath into your collarbone as your nails dig into metal. you squirm at how deep he is; sweat lines your brow as your body is forced against the machine, barely able to accommodate his size. you let out a breathless, broken whine into his palm at the feeling, his length nearly splitting you, the sounds of your arousal slicking him and coating you both as he starts to thrust with a deep pace.

he holds you hard against the machine, ensuring you can't buck your hips, the other hand sliding to your neck, keeping just where he wants you at the angle that has both your eyes nearly rolling back. 

he growls as he starts to fuck into you hard and rough, the washer shaking with his thrusts. "take me, that's right." he grunts - the sentence sends your toes curling in pleasure. "fuck-" he grunts, "dirty slut, letting me fuck you right here- practically begging me all night-" 

the vibrations from the washing machine send tremors of pleasure through you and with wide eyes, you can feel your orgasm growing quickly. you can't help the gasps as Joel hits the spot in you that has tears brimming at the edge of your vision. 

"you close already, sweetheart?" he taunts, hand grabbing both your wrists to pin them against your back. you can't move as he pumps into you, the machine hitting the wall as the fire writhes in your abdomen. 

you nod, tears almost spilling in pleasure. the vibrations are bringing you so close to the edge as he hits the spongy spot inside you that nearly makes you scream; he chuckles darkly. "you need a little more, baby?" 

you nod, wailing gently against him as you try to move against him, toes leaving the ground as he fucks you into the machine. "you wanna cum, hm?" 

you nod furiously, yelping, "yes!" through his muffling. 

you feel a familiar warm feeling in your abdomen after a several deep thrusts and you moan out as he lifts your leg slightly up, hitting a new angle that nearly sends you over the edge. "fuck." he hisses.

his hands grip your wrists tight, "you know how t'touch your clit, don't you, baby?" he asks. you nod, looking towards the wall as you can't crane your neck further to see him. he doesn't let up on his thrusts, even as you glare at the wall, nodding with a whimper. 

"why don't you touch yourself, then?" he asks, teasing with a dark lilt in his voice that sends thrills through your body. you flutter and clench at his condescending tone, his hand pinning your wrists back as you struggle to move your hand to where you most need it. 

"c'mon, sweetheart, try harder. work for it." 

a tear falls onto the washing machine as he thrusts deep, hard. he hums low, leaning over and hitting a new angle, lips against your neck. "you gonna stop slutting yourself out? an’ stop callin' me a pervert when you throw yourself at me?" he asks, taunting. you groan, nodding enough that your neck hurts as you keen your back towards him, on a desperate edge of something brilliant. 

he hums, "'kay, baby. touch yourself. want you to cum on my cock." 

your hands are released and frantically your fingers find your sensitive clit, yelping as he presses his hand harder to your mouth. the feeling is blinding. 

your cunt flutters as you hit your high not two thrusts later, your whole body tense. you let out a long, loud whine of his name as you nearly short circuit. 

 “f-fucking tight-" he grunts, his own thrusts sloppy as he chases his own orgasm, already moving on from yours as you go limp with pleasure in his grasp. 

overstimulation sends your legs quivering as he grips you tighter, fucking into your throbbing heat. your cunt, still sensitive and contracting, drives Joel crazy - though you tense as you hear a familiar voice calling out Joel's name from the patio. 

your eyes widen, but Joel doesn't stop - not when your dad yells his name louder, as if he's entered the kitchen. 

and, to your horror, your dad calls out for Joel, asking if he's seen you. 

 you don’t miss the coincidence of your dad yelling into the house in search of you while his best friend cums inside you. a groan quiet in your ear as Joel suddenly stills deep inside you, hot spurts of his cum pumping into you, both your breaths heavy. he rocks into you, shaking breath as your father once again calls for him. 

when Joel pulls out of you, he caresses your spine, releasing your mouth. you suck in a breath, shuttering when his thumb slides over your ruined cunt, thumbing his cum back inside you gently, lowly groaning. 

you don't say anything, too shocked to speak as he pulls your panties back over you, dragging your dress over your ass.

releasing you from his grip, he hums into your ear, "now you’ll quit your fuckin' teasing, you hear me?" 

and then, within seconds, you hear him returning outside, calling back your dad's name while you try to stand upright on shaky legs. 

shit.

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[writerunnamed]

note: This is something I've wanted to write for a while but I am well aware that not everyone will be into it. There are a few stories I want to tell that aren't the norm so I decided to start this nameless blog to tell them. I am not tagging anyone, if you find it then you find it. xo Joel(stepdad), significant age gap, female reader. 18+ legal, reader is 20 (warnings: pov sex, Joel spits on the 😸, boobie play, really inappropriate dirty talk, an unused sex toy [will make an appearance in another chapter], female masturbation, daddy kink, unfit parent) 5.6k word count masterlist • series masterlist • part 2

He takes up so much space, and it wasn’t just physically. He took up space emotionally, mentally. Mentally most of all. Your thoughts always drifted back to him. Cyclical. An elliptical pattern making him the top of every list you’d go through in your head. He seemed to know it too, in a stoic, quiet, largely unsettling way. Older, attractive men tended to do that. 

It started during that in-between time, when summer, losing your job, and having to move back home pushed you to figure out what the fuck you actually wanted to do with your life seemed to come together like the planets aligning. The precipice of a turning point, a ticking clock counting down the days until your childhood bedroom would be turned into a gym, or an office, or a guest bedroom. The lukewarm welcome from your mother would ice over and you’d really have to get your shit together. 

Your mother was what people who didn’t know her would call ‘a free spirit’, what you called her, was a fucking mess. 

Your earliest memories consist of having to remind her to buy milk or to pay the bill because the electricity had turned off while watching cartoons in front of the tiny, living room tv. You’d had to remind her, in not so many words, that she was the mother, and you were the child. 

To your friends, she was the cool mom. The party mom. Your house was the place to be because she didn’t ask questions, she left her cigarettes unattended and didn’t mind if a few went missing. She kept the bar cart stocked, even if there was nothing but flies in the cupboard and nothing but half-empty condiment bottles in the fridge. Your friends loved it. 

She flirted with the boys your age, she gave sex tips to the girls. 

You smiled when they congratulated you on having the cool mom, and when they all went home, you retreated and pretended to be happy. 

Joel settled her down. Met her in a bar and moved in quick. He came into the picture when you were fifteen and you were almost sure he’d be just like the rest of the lovers she’d taken over the years. You’d given the whole thing six months. Half a year for him to see what a fucking disaster she was. Six months to be a fucking creep, to cheat or get cheated on. 

The only differences you could clock at first were that he was self-employed, and marginally better looking than his predecessors.

He was firmer though, less malleable than the others she’d brought around, he seemed immune to her charms and that only inflamed her. It made her desperate for his approval and his attention. She would throw a tantrum, or play one of her mind games but he’d never rise to her bait. He was patient for the most part, until he hit his breaking point and his temper reared its head. A temper only she seemed to bring out in him. 

To you, it was pathetic. 

He didn’t try with you though, there was no flattery or strong hand, only a silent respect. In a sense, he treated you as the adult, and her as the child. It worked for you, if he’d expected you to call him dad he would have been laughed at mercilessly and he seemed to know this. 

The disturbing part was his respect and his healthy avoidance of you worked its own kind of magic. It made him an enigma, made you curious as to what he got out of the whole thing. A home, sure. A woman who was obsessed with him, yes. Sex–yes. You heard it enough for it to turn your stomach. By the sounds of it, he knew what he was doing.

The thought sickened the healthy part of your brain. The other part though, the part flooding your body with hormones, making it come to life with curiously intense sexual feelings, that part wanted to know what it was he was so good at. How could he pull those sounds out of anyone? It was easier to imagine him with some faceless woman. 

It was shameful to imagine yourself. 

The thought–although enough to fuel a desperate journey of self-exploration–always filled you with an insurmountable guilt. 

For those first few years you could barely look at him. Your mother took it as a healthy dose of teenage rebellion. That only aggravated you more. She never asked questions, never dug to see what the cause of your obvious distaste for her partner was about and so again, you retreated. He, however, kept to the outs of your path. He followed your lead, he let you control any and every part of all of your interactions. He didn’t ask questions. He kept the lights on. He kept the fridge full. 

He burrowed his way in, whether you liked it or not. 

When you turned eighteen, you moved out. He helped, did his ‘fatherly’ duties and moved you into the apartment, he urged your mother to take you on an extensive grocery trip, spoke to your landlord about the safety of the building. You supposed you should have been grateful, you should have said thank you, given him some sort of acknowledgement that you appreciated his help but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Instead you said your mumbling goodbyes, and promptly closed the door on them. Neither of them complained. 

The euphoria of venturing out on your own had lost its shine depressingly quick. A string of chronically unserious boyfriends came and went, the rent climbed higher than you could keep up with, and while already living paycheck to paycheck, you lost your job. Your cellphone had taken the brunt of your frustration at having to call your mother, begging her to let you come back home while you got back on your feet a little more than two years after you’d left. 

Your teeth gnawed at your lips, your fingernails dug into the skin around your cuticles in the attempt to keep your voice sweet and pleading, in the end it was his voice that you’d heard in the background, telling–no, commanding her to say yes. That he would be your champion twisted at your insides. Maybe a small, healthy part of you hoped he’d put up a fight, tell you that you were too old to be coming back home and that you had to figure it out on your own like an adult. 

A healthy part of you hoped that he’d save you again, only from yourself. Hanging up with a heavy, resigned sigh, you set about starting the trek home, ignoring the swirling mess of annoyance, confusion, and perverse glee in your stomach. 

-

The first few days were spent in a depressive episode, a seemingly inescapable loop of sleeping in late, leaving your room only when the house was empty to raid the kitchen for something to eat, scrolling mindlessly–blindly–on your phone and then staying up way too late only to do it all over again. 

They didn’t bother you, but if the annoyed sighs and narrowed eyes from your mother were anything to go by, the talk was coming soon. After the third day of the cycle, you circumvent it and wake up early-ish to shower and dress in something other than ratty old sweats long forgotten by an ex you couldn’t quite remember. 

You came down to find Joel sitting at the kitchen table. His eyes tracked the lines of you, raising an eyebrow inquisitively. 

Your heart leapt. He should have been at work by now. 

“Good morning.” It came out croaky, your voice almost reluctant to come out. 

“Mornin’.” His hair was slicked back, the gray almost sparkling in the golden light. You fiddled with the hem of your shirt. His eyes were so intense, you found yourself stuck in place, like a deer in headlights and that ever present, deep-seeded anger reared its head. It was irrational that he should frustrate you so much with his calm presence. 

“Coffee’s fresh, if you want some.” He jut his chin out to the pot, lowering his eyes to his paper once more. Once his gaze had shifted, you found you could breathe again. You mumbled a thanks and moved to pour yourself a cup, thankful, if unsure why, to focus on something concrete instead of abstract self-reflection.

“Your mama’s gon’ be late tonight. I thought I could pick up a pizza on the way home.” He says it offhand and again, your heart races. 

“Whatever.” You scrunch your face up in annoyance, it sounded like such a bullshit, teen response. He doesn’t comment on it, and that somehow makes it worse. You beat yourself about it as you root around in the fridge for the milk. The cereal you liked was in the top cupboard, and you’re not quite tall enough to reach it. 

You heard his chair scoot back and then suddenly he’s there, beside you, pressed up tight. You follow the long line of his throat as he stares up, reaching the box with ease while one big, warm hand lands on your lower back. He smells like the laundry detergent your mother insists on buying mixed with something else. Manly, smoky, with coffee laced through. Your cunt clenches nonconsensually as he stands there and stares down at you, his whole front pressed against your side, his hand still holding your lower back. Your mouth hangs open, stupidly, and he raises an eyebrow again forcing something to kickstart deep in your gut. 

“You okay there babygirl?” The endearment feels unwholesome.

It triggers something strange, strengthening the underlying conflict for him. There’s a lilt in his tone you don’t like, maybe because deep down you like it too much. Maybe you don’t want to admit that, or analyze anything about what the fuck is happening in your body. In your psyche. 

“Yeah.” You step out of his bubble, barely managing not to trip over yourself in your haste to get away and put a healthy distance between you. 

“Yes. Thank you.” You take a deep breath, pressing your lips together tight in what you hope to God is a neutral expression. 

He lets out a bemused huff through his nose, a mischief in his eyes shining out at you that you’ve never seen directed at you. You’ve seen it used on your mom. You’ve seen her go giggly and flirty whenever he looked at her like that. A half-formed escape plan starts to form but he saves you from the need, he puts his things in the dishwasher, and nods his head in goodbye. 

You practically hold your breath until you hear his truck rumble out of the driveway, and down the street. 

-

You manage to avoid him for a few days, staying out late catching up with friends, or feigning a need for rest. You’ve convinced your mother that your days are now spent job hunting, and for the most part they are. You leave in the morning, avoiding any and all contact and you get home late, creeping up the stairs much like you did in your teens even though you’d really never needed to. Your mother never enforced a curfew, and when Joel joined the picture, he didn’t pry. 

The luck didn’t last though, you got over-confident. He was sprawled out on the sofa, up uncharacteristically late one night when you padded through the house. 

“You’re up late.” You quickly check the accusatory tone, “Don’t you have to get up early?” Better, it comes out more concerned than annoyed and he nods. He wore a threadbare t-shirt, the fabric of it having been through the wash too many times to keep its shape. Light, gray sweats were stretched almost obscenely tight over his spread thighs, pooling at his crotch from being shoved up by the couch. 

“Couldn’t sleep. Come sit, we can watch some tv.” He pats the seat next to him and despite the deep desire to retreat into the Joel-free haven of your bedroom, you cannot seem to disobey him. 

You settle beside him on the couch, a little further away than was necessary. He chuckles softly. 

“I ain’t gonna bite you, girl. Not unless you ask nicely.” 

You pretend you don’t hear it, choosing instead to compartmentalize whatever game he’s playing and stare at the screen. He flips through the channels, settling on one thing for a few minutes before moving to something else until he finds a movie that’s already close to midway. There’s an electricity in the air, something about him galvanizing the space between you, charging it enough to make the hairs on your arms stand on end. You frown to yourself, barely paying attention while fighting an increasingly confusing mental battle. Why is it so hard to be around him? Why does he inspire such scorn? Is it scorn at all?

You rub at your eyes, scrubbing your hands down your face in a feeble attempt to wipe the slate clean. 

He’s just a man, a man your mother had chosen and for better or worse they seem to work. She is happy with him and he is seemingly happy with her, why then is it so hard to accept him for what he is? Something slithers around in your brain, something that laughs darkly, something pulsing through the network of thoughts and ideas that threatens to crack open your subconscious and throw it right in your face. 

“Well now, ain’t that somethin’?” You pull your hands away from your face to see a very explicit scene playing out on the screen. Heat floods every inch of your body. 

“Almost looks like she’s enjoyin’ herself.” He leaves it on, and you feel stuck, your body betraying you yet again to see the way the woman on screen moans wantonly while under a very handsome man. You let out a non-committal sound, teetering on the edge of madness. You scold yourself, you are an adult, an adult that has had sex before and this isn’t even real. 

“Looks like fake bullshit to me.” The strength in your voice lends credence to the illusion that you aren’t affected. He laughs, calm and completely at ease and that only pulls the anger to the forefront again. 

“They can’t show the real stuff on these channels. If it were real, he’d be doin’ what she needs.” 

“And what’s that?” It comes out before you can stop it. 

“Well,” He smiles to himself, winning a duel you hadn’t even known you were fighting. 

“If it were real, he’d be pressin’ on her clit, he’d be makin’ sure she felt every inch of him and make her take his cock like a good girl.” You let out a heavy breath, half shocked, half grateful it wasn’t a whimper. 

Warning bells go off in your head, just as a heartbeat starts in your cunt because you can see it. You can see him. His face twisted up in pleasure but cocky, his hips moving, his thumb dipped into your mouth and then swirling around your clit. He smiles at catching you looking at his hands and you want to yell at him. You want to smack him across the face and kick him in the balls for saying something like that to you, his partner's daughter, but you don’t. 

Your body almost catapults you out of your seat. Barely unintelligible words come out, something about needing sleep, about being tired and then you hightailed it out of there like a bat out of hell. 

The shower was cold enough to make your teeth chatter, but it did nothing to cool the heat blooming in your core and it was with a terrifying desperation that you ground against your fingers. The slick pooling at the mouth of your pussy was enough to feel even with the water washing everything away except your shame. 

You bit your tongue to keep from moaning out the taboo and entirely inappropriate name you were dying to say out loud. His firm thighs spread on that couch filled your mind, the calloused, work-roughened hands you could practically feel on your hips, on your thighs. You could feel them holding and spreading your legs open so he could make you make those same noises you’d heard over the years. Make you take it like a good girl, his good girl. 

You came with a shudder, sagging against the chilly tile. You warmed the water with a sigh, disappointed and ashamed with yourself, trying, and failing, to put the whole thing out of your mind. 

-

You doubled down on avoiding him after that. 

Your mother worked most of the time but when she was home, things were easier. He reverted to the healthy avoidance, the proverbial disinterest that she didn’t seem to have a problem with. You still heard them some nights, the bed creaking, throaty cries, deep grunts but now they haunted you in a different way. Now you heard his words on that couch and couldn’t help but picture all manner of unsavory things that both disgusted and thrilled you. 

Being unemployed didn’t help. There was nothing to keep you out of the house most of the day, and there were only so many places that would accept you looking for a job in person. 

There was only so much time you could spend with friends too, they had their own lives and jobs and relationships. Too busy to save you from unwanted free time. 

Old habits resurface, and you retreat within yourself while pushing yourself harder. A job would fix things enough to help, you could save up enough money to leave for good and take yourself out of the equation. 

-

The powers that be momentarily take pity on you, and after what seems like a lifetime's worth of job hunting you blessedly get a call back. It’s a part time job, but at this point beggars can’t exactly be choosers. It’s a steady, if insufficient source of income that hadn’t been available to you before. Determined, you buckle down, you channel every guidance counselor you’ve ever had and ace the fuck out of that interview.

It’s not taxing work, but you put your head down and focus with the hope that if you worked hard enough, if you made a good enough impression, made yourself indispensable they’d throw you enough shifts to make up a full time job. 

It helps. Time spent away from the house, from your mothers dried up welcome, from Joel altogether genuinely helps. You feel a bit lighter, less guilty, less prone to imagine the unimaginable. You find comfort in the absence of self-imposed temptation. There is peace in the mindless work, in the life outside of the house that no longer feels like a home. 

It's a double edged sword though, because at the end of every shift, the luck–the peace–runs out. If being at work and out of the house is a respite, returning home only thickens the tension. Time spent outside the house only sharpens the discomfort, clarifies the glaring wrongness of it all when you enter it at the end of the day. What it all is, you won’t name. That way madness lies. Issue is, with every interaction, with every chance encounter in the hallway, or living room, every second spent with him in the kitchen watching his lips touch the rim of his mug the thing inside grows. Parts of him fill the corners of your mind. The curve of his shoulders filling out the flannel shirts he favors. The fullness of his bottom lip when he purses them, something he does while squinting at the paper that you’re almost sure he isn’t aware of. His neck, his hands, the dimple in his cheek when he laughs at something really funny. 

These things jump out, innocent as they may be, but other not so innocent things start to creep in. The bulge in his jeans is a mental mine, it lies in wait and every so often when you think you’ve avoided it, it detonates and you catch yourself staring, both ashamed and so inappropriately curious it eats away at you like acid. 

What you needed was something to fill the emptiness, both emotionally and physically. So you did what any modern, adult woman would do; you bought a sex toy. 

Nothing too crazy, or expensive. After perusing the site for a while you finally settled on a plain, non-threatening dildo. Nothing too big, nothing noisy, just something to be able to focus on, something to use while imagining someone giving you what you need. You ignored that dark thing inside that hissed his name, shooed it away and ordered the package for express delivery. With your mom constantly working, and Joel keeping to himself you figured it wouldn’t be an issue. Neither of them would question a package addressed to you. 

You still aren’t sure whether or not you’d do it all over again had you known the Pandora’s box that little package would open. 

You all but rushed home after work. All day, you’d imagined the relief that toy would bring. You imagined yourself using it in the shower, steam swirling as you took your pleasure. You imagined yourself laying in bed in the safety of the dark, setting a towel down on your chair and riding it to your heart's content. 

Joel’s truck is in the driveway when you pull in, but it’s secondary to the excitement at the chance to sequester yourself with your new best friend and so when you walk into the house, you don’t give him much attention. Until he opens his mouth. 

“You got a package today babygirl. I put it on your bed.” He sits on his spot on the sofa, a funny little smile on his face. A bad feeling swells in your chest, and you look up the stairs before meeting his eyes again. 

“Thanks.” You drop your bag on the little bench near the front door, trying, and failing to keep the nervous feeling out of your voice. He nods, and you make your way up, stopping yourself from taking the stairs two at a time. 

Ice flows through your veins when you see the package is open. 

He’d opened your package, he knew what you’d bought. 

Blood pounds in your ears as you stand there, limbs cold and numb at the realization that he saw it. He saw it. He opened it, and he placed it here, on the very place you fantasized about using it. Sweat beaded on your brow, the bottom of your stomach fell out of your ass as you stood there, barely feeling the soft, worn carpet under your feet. 

“Little small, f’you ask me.” His voice at the mouth of your room made your head twist fast enough to hurt your neck. You hadn’t heard him follow you up the stairs, hadn’t heard him open your door and lean against the frame, arms crossed in haughty amusement. 

“Why would you open my package?” You clutched at it, as though he could forget what he’d seen if you held it tightly enough. 

“I didn’t open it on purpose, I’m expectin’ somethin’ and I didn’t read the name.” He pushes away from the door frame, making his way closer and it’s like the air thins as the space between you shrinks.

“I mean, I could tell you been frustrated, but this doesn’t seem like it’s gon’ help much.” He reaches out, and takes the package from you. You watch him do it, watch him, frozen as he plucks it from your hands and takes the toy out. 

“This all you can take?” He holds it, contemptuously–pityingly. 

You wanted to snatch it out of his hands, the dimming voice of reason urges you to push him out of your room and remind him that he needs to keep a healthy distance but you say nothing, you stand there, and watch him. He puts it all down on your dresser, before stepping a little closer, close enough for you to have to crane your neck up to look into his eyes. 

“No boyfriends around to give you what you want?” His hand comes up, the tips of his fingers sliding across the apple of your cheek, slipping down until his thumb pressed against the cushion of your bottom lip. 

“No one around to give you what you obviously need?” He steps a little closer, until your bodies meet. This is wrong, your mind screams it but your body is frozen under his eyes, under his touch. That part, the frozen part is cheering, it’s running victory laps as it floods your cunt with slick in preparation for something unholy. 

That same, writhing, traitorous thing whispers that this is your chance, the house is empty and your body obeys. You look your fill, you take in the curve of his nose and the furrow in his brow. His eyes are black as a crow's wing, lust-blown and completely focused on your parted lips and your shallow panting. 

Adrenaline spikes and you do something you cannot take back. You rise on your tip-toes and press your mouth to his. 

He hums into it, smiling and once again you get that feeling that you’d made the exact move he’d expected you to. A vague, but fleeting inkling that you were just a pawn on his chessboard. 

At any other time you would have stepped away and repented, ate yourself alive with guilt but his hands pulled you closer, his tongue swiped at the seam of your mouth and you opened up for him. That only made it all the more real, the taste of his tongue in your mouth, feeling his hands lower to hold onto your ass. 

The rational part of you shrinks down to nothing, and that other part, the wrong part–it swells and preens under his hands. He pulls away, and embarrassingly, you chase his mouth in a daze. 

“Oh honey, you’re just dyin’ for it aren’t you?” He herds you towards your tiny bed, the twin mattress that has been the stage for every taboo fantasy about this man, your stepfather. You shoo the word away with a shiver. 

“It’s wrong-” You almost whisper, but you don’t push him away, you let him lay you down in that bed and he laughs. 

“It is, isn't it?” He pulls at the hem of your shirt, you raise your arms for him and the picture of it is wrong, daddy taking off your clothes. The thought, the word,  should disgust you but it only pulls your hands to him. You join in, and pull his shirt up and off, biting your lip at the broadness of him. You take in each freckle, the sprinkling of hair on his chest, the dip of his throat calling out for your tongue like a siren. 

He presses his lips to yours again, licking into your mouth obscenely. Unseemly. 

“You been wantin’ this for a long time, haven’t you babygirl?” He pulls your bra off, and the shock of cold air hardens your nipples. He bites his lip to see it, unable to stop himself from flattening his tongue against a hardened bud. A sound you’ve never let yourself make out loud in this room fills the space between you and that slithering thing luxuriates. 

He moves, languidly, unhurried to the other breast and holds the plump of it in his big hand and sucks at the second bud, sucks as much of the peak as he can into his mouth, breathing through his nose while you slowly spiral into madness.

When he lets go, he presses a kiss to your nipple and his facial hair tickles your skin. 

He pulls your leggings off along with your underwear in one go and the reality of it all hits you when the air hits your soaked core. That’s when the urge to put a stop to it is the clearest, when he kneels between your legs and spreads them wide, stares at the place where he’s already filled a million times in your mind. The place that’s drenched at the mere thought of him. 

“Joel-” You start, but he pushes your legs up, folding you and then he lets a glob of spit fall from his mouth slowly, aiming it, a bullseye right on the lips of your cunt. It’s too much, too filthy and you let out a whimper. 

“I think you wanna call me somethin’ else right now.” He undoes his belt and his jeans, keeping his eyes on where his saliva slides down over the open mouth of your cunt, down towards your asshole. He pulls his cock out and part of you shatters. Your eyes flit to the toy sitting on your dresser, your eyes flit to the open door of your bedroom. 

“Don’t worry, your mama ain’t gonna be home for a while.” He smiles, conspiratorially. It's too real, it’s too hypnotic, seeing him there with his cock in his hand while your legs already ache from holding them up and open. He slides the blunt end of it through the mess he’s caused, through his spit and he groans at the sight of it. 

Your heart races so hard to feel him there, that you see the pulse of it in your vision. 

“Deep breath baby.” he warns before slipping inside the tight fist of your pussy, the size of him making you gasp. This is it, there’s no coming back from this and right now, with him seated deep, his groin pressed up tight and the tip of his cock kissing your womb you cannot even think of why you’d ever care.

This is where he's meant to be. This is where you need him. 

“Oh baby, that’s so good huh?” He thrusts shallowly, pulling out a little more than halfway before shoving his hips forward again. You don’t really know how to form words, you don’t know how to take in what’s happening. This is Joel, your step-dad, fucking you in the bed you grew up in. One hand sits heavy on your shin, holding it, the other slides up and holds onto your breast. 

“Look how fuckin’ wet this little pussy is for me,” he moans the words, “you like daddy fuckin’ you?” He thrusts harder and you moan despite the word hitting you in the stomach like a big drop on a rollercoaster. He shouldn’t say that, shouldn’t call himself that, not now. 

“No-” it doesn’t come out like you mean it to, it sounds wrong, like a caress. 

“No? But I think you do-” He leans forward, keeping his pace while pressing his chest to yours, his mouth all but lining up and despite your bullshit protest, you hitch your knees high on his ribs to make room because if he stopped you’d probably die. 

“I think you want me to be your daddy, don’t you baby, it’s okay, I want to be.” He speeds up and the sounds between your legs are so wet, so filthy. 

“You can say it, I want you to say it.” He holds himself up, his elbows caging in your skull and before you can complain or moan or cry he sticks his tongue down your throat again. Your hands finally join the fray and you wrap your arms around his neck, holding him tight to you. 

“Come on baby, say it for me, tell me how good daddy fucks you.” You moan, closing your eyes while your cunt floods him with wave after wave of slick, enough to drip down your ass and onto your bed, down his balls. Enough for it to soak the curls at the base of him. 

“Look at me when I’m fuckin’ you honey.” His hips speed up and it's hard now, his thrusts making your bounce, hitting a part of you that toy would never touch in a million years. 

You open your eyes, and look at him above you, sweat beading on his hairline. Never has he looked more fucking appealing than he does right then. The word is there, in your mouth and you know it’ll taste sweeter than anything in this world. 

The wrong thing wins.  

“Yes daddy.” You moan it, and the shameful thing sets off fireworks in your being, he smiles, and tucks his head into the damp crook of your neck, feeding his lovely filth right into your ear. 

“That’s my babygirl, that’s it, fuck baby you take it better than your mama.” Something inside recoils at that, but something else, another facet of that fucked up thing inside rejoices.

“Let me hear you say it again, say it when you come.” He licks a hot stripe up your neck. His words are a filthy groan, something to tuck away for later.

He reaches down, pressing his thumb to your clit just like he said on that couch and you keen, the slip and the pressure enough to toss you over the edge with an almost painfully intense orgasm. 

“I’m coming, daddy.” It’s a shuddering whisper as your cunt clenches around him. 

He moves quickly, kneeling between your legs to pull out and then he’s stroking himself over your cunt. It’s still pulsing when he paints it in his come. You catch your breath as he tugs at himself a few more times, milking himself against you with a disturbingly familiar groan. 

The fog clears altogether too quickly. The lights are too bright, you’re naked, and he’s still got his jeans around his thighs while the guilt creeps into your veins, replacing the euphoria. 

What have I done? What have you made me do?

[fvsm4x]

S1 E24 —☆ HAUNTING TOUCH

pairing ( 𝗚𝗢𝗝𝗢 𝗦. 𝗫 𝗙𝗘𝗠 ! 𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥 )

Looks like you’ve accidentally moved into a haunted apartment, and there’s no escape now! You’ll have to deal with Gojo Satoru—your pervy, invisible roommate who can’t stop teasing you in all the wrong ways.

c.w. Ghost ! Gojo satoru x female reader, oral ( f. receiving), satoru is a perverrtttttt, pantie sniffing and stealing?? Idk, nsfw, mdni, stalking, somnophilia, lovesick gojo kinda, reader is a bit stupid, Spectrophilia

word count. 5.6k

a.n/ TODAY IS MY BIRTHDAY!!

Moving into your new apartment was supposed to be a fresh start, the beginning of something exciting and different. After months of searching for a place that didn’t break the bank and didn’t feel like a closet, you stumbled across this one: a charming, slightly old-fashioned apartment nestled in a quiet neighborhood. The rent was suspiciously cheap, but everything looked good on paper.

The landlord, a friendly but quiet older man, had seemed eager to get someone in the apartment, and after a quick tour, you were sold.

The building was old, with high ceilings and tall windows that let in just enough sunlight to make the place feel cozy during the day. The floors creaked slightly beneath your feet, and the walls had a few nicks and scratches that gave the place character. It felt like it had a story, something comforting in its age, a contrast to the sleek, sterile apartments you'd seen before. You loved it from the moment you set foot inside.

Moving day came faster than you expected, and after a long, exhausting day of unpacking, you were ready to collapse. You spent hours dragging boxes up the narrow stairs, arranging and rearranging furniture, and trying to make the space feel like yours. By the time the sun set, casting long shadows across the floor, you were too tired to cook, so you settled for ordering takeout. Sitting on the floor, surrounded by half-unpacked boxes, you ate your dinner while scrolling through your phone, enjoying the silence of your new home.

The first few days went by uneventfully, though you couldn’t help but notice how quiet the building was. There were no sounds of neighbors, no creaking floors from above, no distant hum of conversation through the walls. It was peaceful, almost unnervingly so. You told yourself it was just because the apartment was well-insulated. Besides, the quiet was what you’d been craving after living in a noisy, cramped city for so long.

But little things started happening that made you pause. At first, it was just the lights. They would flicker every now and then—nothing too out of the ordinary for an old building, you figured. The kitchen light buzzed occasionally, casting a faint, uneven glow that was easy to brush off. You’d call maintenance about it when you had time.

Then, you started noticing objects in slightly different places than where you’d left them. You’d place your keys on the kitchen counter, only to find them on the coffee table later. Or you’d set your phone down, and when you came back, it would be a few inches to the side. Small things—things that could easily be explained away by the chaos of moving, you told yourself. Maybe you were just more scattered than usual, with all the boxes and stress.

But the more it happened, the harder it was to ignore.

One evening, you were washing dishes when the lights in the kitchen flickered again. You paused, hands in the soapy water, watching as the overhead light buzzed and dimmed, casting long shadows across the counters. You sighed, making a mental note to call the landlord in the morning. But just as you turned back to the sink, the faucet next to you sputtered and came on by itself.

You froze, watching the water gush from the tap, your heart pounding in your chest. Slowly, you reached out and turned the handle, stopping the flow. You stared at the sink for a moment, your mind racing to come up with an explanation. Maybe the pipes were just old. Maybe there was a pressure issue. You shook your head, trying to brush it off.

That night, as you lay in bed, the unease crept back in. The apartment was too quiet. The kind of quiet that made every little sound feel amplified. You could hear the floor creak occasionally, and once, you thought you heard a soft, distant sound—like someone sighing. You sat up, listening, your breath catching in your throat. But there was nothing. Just the quiet hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen.

You told yourself you were imagining things. Moving was stressful, and new places always felt a little strange at first. But deep down, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was… off.

The next morning, the lights flickered again as you made coffee. The buzzing sound filled the room, and for a split second, you thought you heard something else—a soft laugh, almost playful, like someone watching from a distance. You stood still, the hairs on the back of your neck rising as the sound faded.

You spent the rest of the day trying to ignore it, trying to convince yourself that it was just the apartment’s age showing. But that night, as you were brushing your teeth, the bathroom light flickered twice, then stayed off for a few seconds before coming back on. Your pulse quickened, but you finished brushing, telling yourself it was nothing.

Then, the faucet turned on by itself.

You jumped, staring at the stream of water gushing from the tap. This time, it wasn’t just a drip or a sputter—it was as if someone had deliberately turned it on. Your hand shook as you reached out to shut it off, the silence that followed feeling almost deafening. You glanced around the bathroom, suddenly aware of how alone you felt in the apartment. The air felt heavy, like you weren’t quite alone after all.

The lights flickered again, and this time, there was no mistaking the sound. Soft, barely audible, but definitely there—a laugh, low and teasing, as if someone was standing just behind you. You whipped around, your heart pounding in your chest, but the bathroom was empty.

You told yourself it had to be your mind playing tricks on you, but as the days went by, the odd occurrences became more frequent. Objects moved on their own, the lights flickered at the strangest times, and the laughter—always faint, always distant—began to follow you from room to room.

You tried to ignore it, tried to rationalize it, but the feeling of being watched never left you. Something—or someone—was in the apartment with you. And it wasn’t going away.

As the days passed, the strange occurrences in your apartment didn’t stop—they only grew more unsettling. Flickering lights became a nightly routine, always at the most inconvenient times. The soft, teasing laughter followed you from room to room, making your skin prickle. It wasn’t just random noises anymore. It felt targeted, like something was watching you, waiting for the perfect moment to make its presence known.

It started small. Your laundry, for example—folded and left in a neat pile on your bed. At first, you thought maybe you’d done it in a tired haze, but then your underwear, particularly your panties, would be laid out, almost displayed, as if someone had gone through them. Each time you found them, your cheeks would burn with embarrassment, but you forced yourself to dismiss it. Maybe you were just being paranoid.

But it didn’t stop there.

One night, after a long day, you stepped into the shower, eager to wash away the stress. The hot water felt amazing as it poured over your skin, steam rising and fogging the bathroom mirror. You closed your eyes, letting yourself relax for the first time all day. The warmth was soothing, but just as you started to unwind, you felt something strange. It wasn’t a sound this time, but a shift in the air, like someone was there with you.

You opened your eyes, glancing around the bathroom nervously. The shower curtain rustled slightly, but there was no one else in the room. You shook your head, trying to shake off the creeping anxiety.

But then the lights flickered.

You froze, soap slipping from your hands as the overhead light buzzed and dimmed. The room felt colder, the warmth of the shower suddenly less comforting. You wrapped your arms around yourself, feeling exposed even though you were alone. That’s when you heard it—his voice, low and teasing, as if he was standing right behind you.

“Nice view.”

Your breath hitched, and you spun around, water splashing against the tiles. But the bathroom was empty, save for the lingering steam swirling around you. Heart racing, you reached for the towel, wrapping it around your body as tightly as you could. The voice—it was clear as day, but there was no one there.

You stepped out of the shower, still dripping wet, your mind racing. Maybe it was just your imagination. Maybe the stress of the move was finally getting to you. But as you walked toward the fogged-up mirror, you froze. There, in the condensation, a message was slowly appearing, as if written by an invisible hand:

“Nice ass:)”

You gasped, backing away from the mirror, clutching the towel to your chest. The message blurred as the steam started to dissipate, but the message was clear. Someone—something—was here. And it wasn’t just watching.

It was playing with you.

Over the next few days, the incidents escalated. You’d come home to find your dresser drawers open, your panties scattered across the floor like someone had gone through them. The first time, you thought you’d left them out yourself, but the way they were laid out—so deliberate—made your stomach turn. Then there were the bathroom moments—whenever you showered, you’d feel that same eerie presence, like eyes lingering on your body, watching, waiting.

The laughter grew louder, more distinct, as if whoever—or whatever—it was, was enjoying your discomfort. At night, you’d feel your sheets shifting slightly, like someone was tugging at them from the foot of the bed. You’d sit up, heart pounding, only to find nothing but empty air. But the sensation—the feeling of being watched, of being toyed with—never left you.

Then, one particularly quiet evening, you were changing out of your work clothes— when you felt it again—the shift in the air, the invisible presence that seemed to hover just over your shoulder. You were halfway through pulling on your pajamas when the lights flickered, and a low, familiar voice whispered into your ear:

“Why don’t you leave the pajamas off this time?”

You gasped, pulling your shirt over your head in a rush, your face flushing hot with a mixture of shock and humiliation. But that teasing laughter filled the room again, like whoever was haunting you was enjoying every second of your reaction.

The worst part? A small, nagging part of you was starting to wonder—what if this wasn’t a dream? What if you really weren’t alone in this apartment? And worse, what if he wasn’t planning on leaving anytime soon?

The next morning, you woke up with a pounding heart, the events of the previous night replaying in your mind. Had it all really happened? The flickering lights, the teasing whispers—it felt too surreal to fully grasp. You rubbed your eyes, trying to shake off the remnants of a restless night. After a quick breakfast, you left for work, determined to brush it all aside.

But as you stepped into the bustling city, the lingering feeling of unease trailed behind you like a shadow. You couldn’t shake the thought that something—or someone—was watching you. Each time you caught a glimpse of a stranger on the street, your heart would race, but you’d quickly remind yourself that it was just your imagination. There were no ghosts lurking in the corners of your life; this was just an old building with some quirks.

Yet, as the day went on, your thoughts kept drifting back to the apartment. You couldn’t concentrate on your work, your mind wandering to the strange occurrences. Maybe you should call the landlord about the lights, or even consider looking for a new place. But the thought of starting over again, packing up all your things for the second time in a few weeks, felt daunting. You sighed, trying to focus on the tasks at hand, but it was no use.

When you finally returned home, the apartment felt eerily quiet, as it had for the past week. The sunlight was fading, casting long shadows across the hardwood floor. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for whatever awaited you in the shadows.

As you moved through the rooms, you noticed your laundry basket had been knocked over, clothes scattered across the floor. Your heart sank. Had you left it like that? Or had someone—or something—done it for you? You knelt to pick up your clothes, feeling a chill race down your spine as you gathered your things.

“Okay, this is ridiculous,” you muttered to yourself. “It’s just an old building. There’s nothing to be scared of.”

But as you stood up, a flicker of movement caught your eye. You turned sharply, only to find the bathroom light flickering ominously. Your pulse quickened, and a wave of anxiety washed over you. You took a cautious step toward the bathroom, but before you could reach for the doorknob, the light stopped flickering, plunging the room into darkness.

“Really?” you said, forcing a laugh, trying to convince yourself that this was all just a trick of the mind. You opened the door, peering inside, and noticed the steam lingering in the air, as if someone had just taken a shower.

“Great, now I’m imagining things,” you muttered, shaking your head as you flicked the switch, and the light flickered back on, illuminating the room. You moved to the sink, splashing some water on your face, trying to ground yourself in reality.

Suddenly, a cold breeze brushed against your neck, sending a shiver through you. You spun around, heart racing, but there was no one there. You rolled your eyes, scolding yourself for being jumpy.

“Get a grip,” you whispered, taking a deep breath. You closed your eyes for a moment, leaning against the cool sink, letting the water run. The sound of the water was soothing, but just as you started to relax, you heard it again—the low, teasing laugh echoing off the tiles.

“Why do you keep pretending you’re alone?” the voice came, a soft whisper that sent chills down your spine. It was unmistakably playful, dripping with a teasing quality that made your skin prickle.

You froze, eyes wide as you scanned the room for the source of the voice. “Who’s there?” you asked, but the only response was the echo of your voice bouncing off the bathroom walls.

The air grew thick with tension, and you stepped back, your pulse pounding in your ears. “This isn’t funny!” you shouted, though the sound felt hollow, almost weak in the empty space.

“Not funny? I think it’s hilarious,” the voice replied, the amusement clear in its tone. “I love watching you squirm.”

Your breath hitched as a wave of heat rushed to your cheeks. Was someone—something—really watching you? The realization sent a shiver down your spine, and you stepped out of the bathroom, retreating into the safety of your living room.

But as you turned to leave, you caught a glimpse of movement in your peripheral vision. You whipped around just in time to see a flicker of white—was that a figure?—before it disappeared. Your heart raced, and you fought the urge to scream. You were alone, yet you couldn’t shake the feeling that you weren’t.

“I know you’re there!” you called out, trying to sound brave, though your voice wavered slightly. “Show yourself!”

In response, the only sound that met your challenge was a soft, breathy laughter that echoed through the apartment, taunting you from the shadows. You took a shaky step back, your heart racing as you glanced around, the flickering lights dimming again and casting eerie shapes that danced along the walls.

The silence that followed felt heavy, almost oppressive, and you could sense the presence lingering just out of sight. A chill raced down your spine, and you couldn’t help but feel that he was watching you, delighting in your unease. The knowledge that you weren’t alone gnawed at the edges of your mind, both thrilling and terrifying.

Eventually, you managed to muster the courage to retreat to your bedroom. You turned off the light, hoping to banish the creeping dread that had settled in your chest. As you slipped into your pajamas, you tried to convince yourself that this was all just a figment of your imagination—a bad dream that would dissipate with the morning light.

But as you jumped under the covers, cocooning yourself in the warm fabric, the shadows seemed to close in around you. You closed your eyes tightly, willing yourself to fall asleep and hoping that when you woke, everything would be back to normal.

As you lay in bed, the tension of the evening began to fade, your eyelids growing heavy. The soft rhythm of your breathing filled the silence of the room, and you felt yourself slipping into a dreamless sleep, the haunting presence momentarily forgotten.

But as the night deepened, a cool draft swept through the room, carrying with it an almost palpable energy. The covers at your feet began to stir, slowly pushed aside by an unseen force. You stirred slightly, a soft sigh escaping your lips, but you didn’t wake.

Gojo, unseen but very much present, hovered just above your bed, his gaze fixed on your peaceful form. The way the soft glow of the moonlight illuminated your features made his heart race with an intensity he hadn’t expected. He watched, entranced, as you slept, your chest rising and falling rhythmically, your hair spilling over the pillow like a dark waterfall.

Unable to resist, he reached out, his hand brushing lightly against your cheek. The warmth of your skin sent a thrill through him, and he admired how serene you looked, completely unaware of his presence. He traced a finger along your jawline, careful not to disturb you, savoring the softness beneath his touch.

His fingers then moved down, grazing over your stomach, feeling the gentle rise and fall as you breathed. He marveled at the way your body seemed to relax into the sheets, completely trusting and vulnerable. With each touch, he felt an intoxicating mix of desire and reverence, appreciating the intimate moment without wanting to push too far.

He continued to explore, his fingers trailing to your waist, brushing against the fabric of your pajamas. The urge to pull you closer—to bridge the gap between the living and the dead—was overwhelming, but he held himself back, content to admire from a distance. The thrill of his touch, though fleeting, made his heart race, and he found himself captivated by the way you responded to his gentle caresses, even in your sleep.

Gojo continued to trace the delicate curves of your body, he felt an overwhelming surge of desire wash over him. The way you lay there, so innocent and unguarded, ignited something deep within him—an intense craving that surged like a tide. His heart raced as he let his fingers linger on your waist, the warmth of your skin contrasting sharply with his cold touch.

He bit his lip, trying to suppress the instinctual urge to claim you. But the sight of you sprawled across the sheets, completely unaware of his presence, stirred something primal within him. It was maddening; every time he looked at you, a rush of lust clouded his thoughts. He shifted slightly, feeling his body react involuntarily to the intoxicating combination of desire and admiration.

Gojo’s breath hitched as he fought to maintain control, his gaze tracing over your form, lingering on the way your body rose and fell with each breath. The fabric of your pajamas hugged you in all the right places, teasing him with the promise of what lay beneath. The mere thought of how easily he could pull those soft fabrics away made his pulse quicken, and he felt himself hardening at the thought.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he murmured to himself, a hint of desperation lacing his tone. The tension in the air felt electric, charged with unspoken possibilities. His hand drifted lower, fingertips brushing along the soft material of your pajama top, teasing the edge of the hem as if tempted to explore further.

Every part of him wanted to surrender to the desire that throbbed in his chest, to take you right then and there. But he held back, reveling in the sheer thrill of the moment. Watching you, the way you sighed softly in your sleep, sent shivers through him, both thrilling and torturous. He knew he should stop, but the more he watched, the more he felt himself losing control.

His hand ventured lower, brushing the edge of your pajama pants, the fabric soft beneath his fingertips. The contact sent a rush of warmth through him, and he couldn't help but marvel at how delicate you seemed, wrapped up in the cocoon of your blankets. His fingers lingered just above the waistband, hesitant yet curious, feeling the gentle curve of your hips.

With each slow movement, he could feel the heat radiating from your skin, intoxicating him further. He traced the outline of your body, the subtle dips and rises that made you uniquely you, savoring the sensation of your warmth beneath his touch. You shifted slightly in your sleep, a soft sigh escaping your lips as if responding to his caress, igniting a thrill deep within him.

He hesitated for a moment, the line between admiration and temptation blurring in the shadows of the room. As his fingers inched closer to your skin, he felt a mix of excitement and restraint. He wanted to touch you, to explore the contours of your body fully, yet there was a profound respect for your innocence, a desire to revel in the moment without overstepping boundaries.

The fabric of your pajama pants was thin, and he could almost feel the warmth of your skin just beneath it. He let his fingers trail along the edge, teasingly close to crossing that invisible line. The sensation of his touch made the air thick with tension, electric and charged, as if the very atmosphere around you was aware of the forbidden intimacy unfolding in the dark. He slowly pushed your pants down—carefully to not wake you up

As your pants slipped down to your ankles and fell to the floor, the cool air kissed your skin, stirring you from the depths of your dreams. In your slumber, you remained blissfully unaware, lost in a world where nothing could touch you.

Gojo’s hand moved with practiced ease, slipping around your thighs and gently coaxing them apart. The sensation was electric, even in your sleep, as if some part of you sensed the shift in the atmosphere. His touch was teasing, almost reverent, as he revealed the delicate blue panties you wore, adorned with a tiny bow at the front.

The fabric clung to your folds, accentuating the softness of your skin. A subtle dampness had formed between your folds, making the material slightly sheer, hinting at your body's response to his presence. It was a testament to the tension that crackled in the air, as he admired the way the panties hugged you perfectly, creating a contrast that was both innocent and alluring.

Gojo's gaze was fixed on you, his expression a mixture of desire and fascination. He reveled in the sight of you, so trusting and vulnerable in your sleep, completely unaware of his hungry admiration.

Gojo breathed out heavily, a small smirk forming at his lips as he grinned. “Someone must be having a great dream,” he thought to himself, his amusement mixing with a thrill of desire. Slowly, he let his fingertip glide over the wet spot, the material yielding slightly under his touch, sending a jolt of excitement through him.

You stirred slightly, a soft sigh escaping your lips as you instinctively shifted deeper into the warmth of your blankets. In that moment, Gojo took the opportunity to slip your panties to the side, his breath catching as your skin was revealed to him. The sight was intoxicating, and he couldn’t help but admire how beautiful you looked, even in your slumber.

Leaning in closer, he lowered himself onto his elbows, his nose brushing against the soft skin of your inner thigh. He inhaled deeply, drawn in by your sweet, intoxicating scent that enveloped him like a warm embrace. It was fresh and alluring, igniting a primal urge within him that he struggled to contain.

The temptation became too much to bear; he felt himself losing control. His tongue flicked out, brushing against your warm skin, and you instinctively arched into him, a soft whimper escaping your mouth as your subconscious recognized the sensation. The initial touch of his wet tongue against you sent shockwaves of heat spiraling through your body, stirring you from your dreams.

As you began to wake, you felt a warm rush in your lower stomach, a heat building that made you blush even more. Your eyes fluttered open, confusion mingling with a strange sense of desire. The realization of what was happening hit you like a bolt of lightning, and you shot upright, your hand instinctively tangling in Gojo’s hair as your body reacted to the sensations he was creating.

You gasped, your breath hitching in your throat as his tongue expertly flicked against your sensitive skin, sending a jolt of pleasure coursing through you. It was a mix of surprise and undeniable pleasure, and you couldn’t help but moan softly, the sound escaping before you could stop it.

Gojo’s heart raced at the sound, his instincts driving him further into the moment as he continued to explore, tasting you with a fervor that only intensified your reaction.

Your heart raced as you tugged on his hair, a mix of confusion and overwhelming desire coursing through you. Gojo responded to your pull, the sensation igniting a fire in him as he continued his ministrations, licking and teasing with an expert touch. You gasped, the sound echoing softly in the dim light of the room, a testament to the intensity of your awakening.

You were torn between pleasure and confusion, your mind racing to comprehend the whirlwind of sensations and the reality of the situation. Who was this man? How did he get into your apartment? You had convinced yourself that the flickering lights and eerie shadows were mere figments of your imagination, a result of moving into a new place. Yet, here he was—intimate and insistent, his warm breath brushing against your skin.

“W-What’s happening?” you stammered, still gripping his hair as your body betrayed your mind, yearning for more despite the chaotic thoughts swirling around. “Who are you?”

Gojo paused for a moment, his blue eyes locking onto yours, a mixture of amusement and hunger dancing in their depths. “I’m your roommate who is enjoying the view,” he said with a teasing smile, leaning in closer, making your breath hitch.

“A roommate?” You shook your head, trying to clear the fog of pleasure clouding your thoughts. “I don‘t have a roommate! I live here alone..”

His laughter echoed softly in the room, a sound that sent another shiver of confusion down your spine. “You really think you’re alone in this apartment?” he replied, his voice low and playful, as if he reveled in your bewilderment. “I’ve been here all along, I thought that was obvious cause i spoke to you”

As the weight of his words sank in, the unease in your stomach twisted. The flickering lights, the shadows that danced along the walls—they suddenly felt more significant. Was it possible that you had unknowingly welcomed him into your life, this alluring presence who now had you caught in a web of confusion and desire?

You opened your mouth to protest, to question further, but another wave of pleasure washed over you as he resumed his teasing, his tongue flicking against your most sensitive spots. You felt the tension coiling tighter, each flick sending waves of heat crashing over you, making it hard to think straight.

“Don’t think too hard,” Gojo murmured, his voice dripping with mischief. “Just enjoy the moment. ”

His words twisted in your mind. You had never considered wanting something like this. The mixture of fear and pleasure churned within you, creating a heady cocktail that left you dizzy. “No, I—” you started, but the protest faltered as his tongue continued its wicked dance, sending another gasp from your lips

He looked up at you with an impish grin, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “You smell so good.. I couldn’t help myself.”

The playful tone in his voice only heightened the tension. You felt a blush creeping across your cheeks, a mix of embarrassment and something else—something intoxicating that made you want to lean into him. The softness of your sheets contrasted with the heat building between your legs, and you could hardly think straight.

As he continued to work his tongue, you couldn’t help but arch your back, instinctively seeking more of that delightful sensation. Each flick and swirl of his tongue ignited every nerve ending in your body, drawing soft moans from your lips. It was as if he had uncovered a hidden part of you that yearned to be explored.

“Does it feel good?” Gojo asked teasingly, pausing for just a moment to allow you to respond, his breath tickling your skin.

You could only nod, a desperate sound escaping you as the tension inside you coiled tighter. The world around you faded into nothingness, leaving just the two of you in this charged moment. He watched you with a hungry gaze, taking in every reaction, every sigh, as if he were memorizing your body’s responses.

“Just relax,” he encouraged, his voice a soothing balm that only added to the pleasure. “You’re so pretty”

With that, he resumed his teasing, his focus unwavering. You surrendered to the sensations washing over you, losing yourself in the warmth and intimacy of the moment, every heartbeat echoing the unspoken connection that lingered in the air.

A low moan escaped your lips, unbidden, as his tongue slipped inside you. The sensation was overwhelming, a flood of heat radiating through your body. Your fingers instinctively tightened their grip on his soft, white hair, tugging at the strands as your hips bucked involuntarily in response to the maddening rhythm he set. Each flick of his tongue sent ripples of pleasure coursing through you, your breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps.

Gojo’s presence was both commanding and teasing, his movements deliberate, savoring every reaction he drew from you. He pulled away momentarily, the cool air of the room brushing against your heated skin, and your eyes fluttered open just in time to meet his gaze. Those piercing blue eyes were filled with a dark amusement, a predatory gleam in them that made your pulse quicken.

“Such a pretty pussy,” he whispered, his voice low and reverent, as if he were admiring something rare and precious. The words sent a shiver down your spine, the heat inside you pooling deeper, igniting a fire that you couldn’t control. Before you could respond, his mouth was on you again, more insistent this time, his tongue working with a skill that left you trembling.

The room around you seemed to fade, the only thing anchoring you to reality being the intensity of the moment. Every nerve in your body felt alive, hyperaware of his every touch, every subtle shift. Your hands clutched his hair even tighter, a quiet whimper escaping you as you felt the tension coil tighter and tighter in your core.

You could barely form a coherent thought, lost in the sensation as he continued his assault on your senses. With each pass of his tongue, the pressure built until it became unbearable, and then, like a wave crashing over you, the release came in an overwhelming rush.

Your body arched, your breath catching as the climax tore through you, leaving you gasping for air. For a moment, time seemed to stop, your senses overloaded with the heat, the electricity, the overwhelming pleasure that left you shaking. He didn’t stop, though—his eyes never leaving yours, watching as you unraveled beneath him, fully aware of the power he held over you.

Your body finally relaxed, sinking back into the bed as the aftershocks rippled through you, your grip on his hair loosening. Gojo lifted his head, his lips glistening with evidence of what he’d just done, and that smirk returned, lazy and satisfied.

As your breathing slowly returned to normal, your body still trembling from the intensity of what had just happened, you blinked your eyes open. The warmth of what had just transpired lingered in the air, but something was missing. The weight of his presence—his hands, his body, the heat of his breath against your skin—had vanished.

You lifted your head, blinking through the dim light of the room. Where was he? Your heart pounded, a mix of confusion and unease settling in. You were sure you hadn’t imagined it—every touch had felt so real, so intense—but now, he was gone. Completely.

You sat up slowly, the sheets rustling as you scanned the room. The lamp on your bedside table flickered again, casting long, eerie shadows that seemed to shift with every second. The unsettling quiet that filled the space made your skin prickle. He’d been here—right here, between your legs—but now there was nothing, not even a sound to suggest he had ever existed.

Had he left? Was he still watching?

A faint breeze seemed to brush past you, chilling the room even further. You wrapped your arms around yourself, suddenly hyper-aware of your bare skin, of how exposed you were.

Just then, you heard it—the softest of sounds, a quiet, almost mocking laugh. It was close, impossibly close, yet no one was there. You shivered, your eyes darting around the room, searching for any sign of movement, any clue to his whereabouts. But there was nothing.

“Satoru Gojo. Remember the name, sweetheart. You’ll be hearing it a lot.”

🏷️: @sadmonke @collectionofdolls @1t4d0r1 @glazedtear @madamechrissy

[tojikai]

Sundered⁺ : CATHARSIS

Big thanks to @mikeyslvrr for commissioning this piece! ♡

Pairing: Gojo x reader

• SUNDERED MASTERLIST

Genre: Angst

tags/cw: angst, babydaddy!gojo, babymomma!reader

word count: 5.6k

a/n: Only the kitchen conversation can be considered a part of the main series.

Have your pieces been carried by the waves, swept away from this city that whispers his name everywhere you go?

Satoru woke up from a hard smack on his shoulder. “What is wrong with you? You kept grunting in your sleep.” You walked away, fixing your belt. “You’re leaving?” He muttered, heart still racing as he ran a hand down his face, thinking of his dream where you got mad at him and left with Yui.

Satoru's pretty sure that if he died today, he would get seven minutes of all the moments he had hurt you, not seven minutes of happy moments. Sometimes all the wrong things he did would catch up to him and haunt him in his sleep; where he can almost physically feel the pain he caused emitting from your skin because he chose to be a better man for someone else. 

“Uh, yes. Isn’t that why you volunteered to babysit? He watched you reapply your lipstick. Satoru found himself licking his lips, spacing out. “Oh yeah,” He sighed, realizing that he just fell asleep after snack time with Yui. He overheard you asking your Mom to babysit Yui while you go out and he volunteered.

You’re going out. On a date. At night. With a guy.

He blinked fast like it could wipe away his heart-wrenching thoughts. It’s just a date, he told himself, reminding himself of his place in your life and how he doesn’t have the right to be…territorial and possessive over you. 

“I, uh, haha, ‘had a really deep nap’” He scratched his head. There were a lot of things going on inside his head but hugging you was the hardest to control. If he begged you not to go, would you listen? But he promised to support your happiness. 

Satoru and you have been having a very healthy co-parenting relationship, and you're more comfortable around each other now. Although you never mentioned anything about taking him back, he just can't let go of his hope. If he gave up, he feared to end up like his father. 

Lose the woman he loves, his family, forever. That's his biggest fear. He’d probably just drop dead without warning if it happens.

“I won’t be out so late.” You rushed to check on your sleeping doll in her room. “Her screen time, Satoru.” You reminded him as you looked at yourself in the mirror. Satoru could only hum in response, mesmerized. He wished he could go out on date nights with you too.

Tapping his shoulder, you left him daydreaming in the middle of aftershocks from a nightmare.

———————————————

“Yui, do you think Mama still loves Dada?” He asked absentmindedly, juggling a toy in his hand while his daughter was lost in the movie. He didn't think she was listening to him, but she replied with a simple, “No.” He stared at the side of her face for a minute before sighing, afraid that she might be right.

“Mama wuv Yui.” She pointed at her chest, leaving Satoru in awe. “Of course. Dada loves you as well.” He was trying to let go of the weight on his chest but tragically failed when he remembered the words he said to you that fateful day. It was one of the days he regretted the most. 

That, and the day he chose to give up on your relationship.He can see himself spending his whole life proving his love to you as long as you let him. 

The wait was agonizing. He feels like his oxygen levels get significantly lower with each passing hour. He paced around the kitchen after lulling his child to sleep. It’s 9:27 PM and just as he was about to check his phone, the door opened. “Oh, it’s been a while since I ate out with a friend alone.” You sighed, a small smile playing on your lips. Satoru just stood there nervously.

“W-welcome home. How did your…date go?” He kind of regrets asking that because it felt like he was intruding, but you smiled, taking your shoes off. “It was fun, a little breather. Where’s Yui?” You walked to Yui’s room and Satoru couldn’t help but breathe in as you passed by him.

You smelled of…your cologne. He let out a sigh of relief. But did he feel relieved? No. It’s just the first date. There could be a second, third, and fourth date. Then, you’ll be together, and God…what will become of him?

“Did you go home by yourself?” He followed you. “Of course not. He dropped me off.” Damn it. He should’ve waited by the window so he could see him. “He got Yui a little something.” You pulled a little bear keychain from your bag, and Satoru couldn’t help the painful contractions in his heart.

That motherfucker prepared. He cursed internally, smiling a little too hard as you showed it to him. “Guess I’ll just give it to her tomorrow.” You both kissed your daughter good night before leaving the room. He felt a splitting headache coming on. He hasn’t stopped thinking since this afternoon.

As Satoru left, he took in the small smile on your face as you closed the door. You’re really happy. Now, he’s curious about this guy. Closing his eyes, he squeezed the steering wheel. It was that feeling with Toji again, and this time it’s worse because he has to witness you slowly fall in love with someone new.

He felt like running back inside and begging you to just let him begin again like that too. But that would be too much of an imposition, especially for someone who almost ruined your perception of love.

What he can only do is go home, suck it up, and sleep.

———————————————

The following weeks have been nothing but torture for Satoru. The second time, you went out with a couple of friends but that didn’t change anything for him. And now,  you’re meeting up again, and despite being told that your mom can do it when it’s not his schedule, he still insisted on babysitting.

Now he’s once again sitting on your couch, elbows on his knees. What would he do if you called him and told him you won’t be home tonight? No, no, he doubts that. You’re too hands-on with Yui, no way you’ll just decide like that. But…What if? He shot up from the seat to peek at the window when he saw headlights from outside.

You’re still inside the car. Images started flashing before his eyes and he could tell he was just a pinch away from bursting out the door to get your attention. Satoru’s hand moved up to his chest in relief when you stepped out. He probably kissed her. His brain whispered and Satoru was forced to gulp the pain.

He’s gonna have to see it one day and he will have no choice but to look away.

Sitting down when he saw you walk to the door, he rubbed his eyes quickly before pretending to be on his phone. “Hi,” You smiled at him, “I got home late.” You sighed, glancing at your wristwatch. “It’s alright, Yui was being so good, she slept early.” He ran a hand through his hair and walked behind you.

Kissing your daughter’s cheeks, you looked up at him. “You know, I was wondering if it’s fine to take Yui with us to the theme park next time?” You stood up, heading to the kitchen. “I mean, I’ll be there, I just want to tell you since you’re her parent too.” You continued, unaware of the thoughts in his head.

This kitchen. 

He felt nauseous watching you stand there, leaning on the counter like you did when you had your big fight. He thinks this sensitivity stems from all that has happened to him and your family.

“What do you think? You can meet him before we go—” You explained but he just stood there, shaking his head as he licked his lips. “I don’t know. I mean, I know you won’t let anything happen to her but…” He inhaled sharply, should he admit that he was jealous? You wait for him to finish talking but he doesn’t know what else to say.

“Is he…Are you guys getting serious?” He tried to smile genuinely. “Ah…” Sighing, he continued, “I guess I was just being…overprotective. Sure, y-you can take her. I mean, I’m sure he’s a good guy if he—” Straightening up, you crossed your arms, perplexed. “Satoru, what’s going on? What are you thinking?” He can’t give a reason. He just bit his lip.

“N-nothing.” His eyes feel heavy, he just wants to sleep. He starting to feel…defeated. “I just got a bit…I guess protective because a…a new person is gonna be around my child but,” He nodded awkwardly, desperate to convince you and hide his feelings, “It’s alright. You’re with her. Yeah, it’s okay.” He was about to bid goodbye, but your curious eyes froze him in place. 

“Alright,” A sigh of relief escaped his mouth despite not really feeling relieved. “Why don’t you eat with me? I bought something on our way home. Take it as a thanks for babysitting even when it’s not your schedule.” You joked, getting the plates. As much as Satoru wants to sleep his heartache off, how could he reject the smile on your face?

He can’t even remember the last time you ate together. Just the two of you. Looking at you now, he can’t help but wonder if this will be the last time too. If you fall for that guy, this could be the last time he’ll see this; the glow on your face as you share your thoughts with him. In the midst of it, Satoru can’t help but feel sentimental.

“None of this would’ve happened if I hadn’t done all that shit. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to atone, but I’ll sell my soul just to take a quarter of the pain off your mind.” You paused, processing his words. You remember all the times you felt irked while experiencing something fun, knowing it could’ve been the three of you if it wasn’t for what happened.

But you’re teaching yourself to create space for something good by letting go of the bad.

“Why did you do those things? Did you…did you want to get rid of me so bad back then?” You chuckled bitterly, suddenly feeling vulnerable, but he quickly answered. “No, Y/N. I never wanted to get rid of you. I was just…” Inhaling deeply, he looked you in the eyes. “I was desperate to run away from the problems I created in our relationship.”

“I thought distancing myself from you might help me move forward, but…” He licked his lower lip, shaking his head. 

But you can’t really create distance when it comes to someone you love, no matter how far apart you physically are. 

“Seeing Toji was the last straw. I knew I had to do something then, and I felt even dumber for letting it get to that point before listening to myself.” You looked down at the mention of your dear friend.

“I know how much you hate it, but…Y/N, I’m sorry. So many things went downhill in your life, and I took part in all of it. I can never do enough to fix it.” His voice weakened with every word. “You gave me the best thing, too.” You spoke, and his eyes lit up a bit, but not enough to mask his sorrow. 

You nodded toward your child’s room. “Satoru, it’s hard to just forget. I’ve said this countless times. But for that tiny human,” A small smile played on your lips, “For that little girl, we have to put things behind us. I don’t want her to grow up surrounded by the negative things of the past.” You leaned back in your chair, understanding that at times like this, you have to be positive. 

Satoru had been through things, too, and you wouldn’t invalidate that.

“Did you learn from your mistakes?” You asked him, standing up to grab a bottle of water. “I did, Y/N. I promise. I know it’s not much, but I try, and I will continue trying for you, for Yui.” You only realize now that you hadn’t really talked about it so thoroughly. Why? Probably because it scared you. But you can't live in fear forever.

However, the conversation brought you back to when you first saw him and Naomi. You tried hard to stop your emotions from taking over. Your face slowly drops at the memory. You remembered how you trusted his words, and how he went back on them.

“Why did you decide you didn’t want to try with me anymore that time?” Your throat started to constrict. Your chest suddenly felt too cramped up for your beating heart. Perhaps if you chose to spill out your unanswered questions earlier, it wouldn’t feel so hard right now. 

“I was a coward. I was too afraid to face our problems with you, so I thought it was better to cling to the freedom I felt with Naomi.” Stretching his legs out, he glanced at you. You can’t help but think that if only you had been open and talked it out before, instead of pushing each other away, things would’ve been better.

But of course, there’s always the threat of his beloved mother.

“Then, my mom introduced Naomi to me. She was there, she took care of Yui with me. She didn’t pull away from me, even when all I talked about were my problems. She didn’t make me feel alone.” He paused. The silence was deafening. You hated that all that you could hear was your heartbeat.

“That time…it was what I needed. But that’s definitely not what I wanted.” He looked up at the kitchen light, recollecting the feelings and thoughts he used to have. “I wanted myself to believe that. I made myself believe that I’m better off without you. For a little while, I did. She gave me a sense of tranquility, something we never had in a while then.” The peace. 

You didn’t think it would still hurt to hear him talk about her like she’s his savior but you found yourself looking down, sighing. “The quiet was nice, right?” You felt bitter suddenly. “Is that why it took a whole new guy coming into our lives for you to stand up and get your family?” You looked at him, feeling bad that you were having these thoughts for something gone. 

You don’t like to dwell on things so much but, maybe after all this time you still hate to think that some other girl was at your place. 

“It’s not quiet when I got you on my mind.” He murmured, your breath hitched. “Weeks after we fought in this kitchen, I couldn’t dream of anything else but your face, your voice.” He closed his eyes, eyebrows furrowed like he was in pain. “I could’ve sworn that if I heard your voice calling out my name, I would’ve given it all up.” You gulped your water, recalling how crushed you felt that time.

“Y/N…why did you pull away from me? I was scared shitless every time you’d say you’d find someone better because I know damn well there’s a lot.” He laughed unenthusiastically. The breath you took was harsh on your throat. It felt like it was slicing your neck from the inside. 

“I didn’t know how else to protect myself, Satoru.” You sniffed, reminding yourself that this one conversation could change so much between you and Satoru. “I didn’t know how else to protect myself from the pain, from your mom.” Something flashed in Satoru’s eyes at the mention of his mother. He’s hurt but you know that he longs to talk to her. It was still his mother, after all.

“I failed to stand up for you because I was too focused on pleasing my mom. I’m sorry that I couldn’t protect us from her.” Satoru knew that if he only believed in you a little more, the damage in your relationship wouldn’t have gotten so big. “I didn’t realize that she was already dictating my life to the point where she got me to leave my family without even knowing it.” 

Slowly taking your hand in his, he rubbed your skin with his thumb. By how shallow his breathing was, you can tell that this conversation was slowly breaking Satoru into tinier pieces. Holding your hand was probably the only thing that could keep him from falling apart right now, so you let him. 

Feeling his touch, you wondered if this was how gentle he was to Naomi.  You can’t help but think…what if he’s way gentler with her? Before you knew it, you were already speaking out your most kept thoughts; the softest, most tortured part of your heart was exposed.

“For many nights, I stayed up crying, wondering how you could so easily protect Naomi at the expense of my feelings.” You watched as his finger stopped moving on the back of your hand. “I remember wanting to know what she had that made you the man I always wanted you to be.” Tears started to pool in your eyes again, but you refused to look at him. 

Knowing about what happened to them, you were convinced that Naomi was also a victim of Satoru’s mother. She was a victim of her love towards Satoru, and that love was taken advantage of by Satoru’s mother. But other than that, you can’t help but think about how she used to be such a wonder to Satoru that he fell for her so easily. 

You watched Satoru wordlessly move out of his chair to kneel before you, kissing your hands. His whispered apologies spoke volumes. “You’re never any less, Y/N. Please, don’t think like that.” But you made her feel like that. He wished he could find the right words to say. But he thinks that no amount of apology could erase the scars he painted on your heart.

“I wanted to be better. But I'll forever regret everything I did just to satisfy her even when I knew it was hurting you.” His breaths were shaky, rough. “I wanted to be the man you wanted me to be. And just because I did it for her doesn’t mean I didn’t want to do it for you. Y/N, more than anyone, I wanted to be better for you first.” He knows that there will never be enough words to comfort your ache. But Satoru’s willing to prove it to you.

“I thought improving myself for her would make me feel better about our broken relationship. I was selfish, Y/N. I’m sorry.” You quickly wiped your tears away, sighing at how the heavy feeling in your chest seemed to slowly vanish after being uncaged. “Did it? You were going to marry her.” You weren’t mocking him at all. But it kills you to think that he loved her enough to want to marry her.

“At one point, I did. I used to think taking things further with her would pull me farther away from you. But it didn’t because if it did, I wouldn’t break so easily at the sight of you being with someone else.” Silence follows, and you can only smile and nod. Words alone still feel hard to believe. That’s why you've opted for a co-parenting setup with him—for now, you're letting his actions speak for themselves.

The night stretched on as your questions found answers, regrets were voiced, and what-ifs were shared. The conversation was bittersweet, a plea to undo mistakes and lessen the depth of wounds. The answers served as stitches and bandages to the injuries made.

That night, both of you hoped for a brighter tomorrow and lighter hearts in the days ahead.

_________________________________

Three years ago, you wouldn’t have seen yourself in an unfamiliar town, living in a small apartment with your mother and working as a waitress in a small restaurant. It was a tough adjustment for the kid but you’re getting there. She still asks for her father now and then, but you can’t give anything but a simple “Not now. He’s working” 

Will they ever meet again? Will you ever see him again? It doesn’t matter if he won’t come for you. You will live. For yourself. For Yui. You walked home with your head down, clutching your bag as you entered a small convenience store to grab some bread. You stared at a pack of candy on one of the shelves, allowing the buried memories to play in your mind.

—FLASHBACK—

“So, you’re good with her father now?” Your friend asked you as you pushed Yui’s bike. The theme park was packed with people and Yui couldn’t be more distracted and excited. “Yeah, I guess. We talked about a lot of things. We needed that.” You sighed, pursing your lips. 

“I'm still hesitant about trying again with him. With what happened between us, it’s still hard for me to just decide that.” Albeit unaware of your entire past with Satoru, your friend tried to be understanding, and you truly appreciated that. 

Seeing a row of empty chairs, you decided to sit down, and just as you were about to speak to your friend again, Yui got up and cheered for the coming cart, “Mama! Clouds, pwease!” You stood up as she pointed to it, dropping the toy Satoru got her. The toy quickly rolled down the pathway to the direction of the cart which had to stop by a group of kids and parents.

“Oh, shoot!” Your friend didn’t even have time to get it for you. You beat him to it, running after the toy which luckily bumped into a potted plant near the cart. You picked it up, panting as you looked back at them. Your friend was standing up, ready to go to you but you waved the toy at him, pointing at the cart to imply that you could get it yourself.

It was getting a bit crowded from the buyers so you signaled him to stay there with Yui, not wanting to involve her in any possible accidents. Thankfully, the vendor was skilled, and soon enough, you were returning to your daughter with a pink ball of cotton candy. “You moved so fast. I could’ve gotten it for you.” Your friend laughed, shaking his head in amusement.

“I guess it’s because I got used to it. When Satoru can’t be around to help, it’s all on me so…” You shrugged, only realizing that when it comes to Yui, you’d rather let yourself do all the work instead of relying on others. But that changes little by little now that Satoru’s around more. The day flew by, turning out to be more about Yui's outing than a friendly date.

You quickly checked your phone after your friend dropped you off. ‘Can I come over when you’re home?’ It was Satoru. Your brows furrowed at how serious he seemed. His texts usually carry a hint of sweetness, but this time, it was just a plain old text. ‘We’re home.’ You quickly replied and not even 15 minutes later, he was already at your house.

“Where’s Yui?” You looked at him standing at the door, waiting until you signed for him to come in. He was always like that, and while you appreciated it, you found the awkwardness somewhat amusing. "She fell asleep. Have you had snacks—" You were about to ask him, but he cut in abruptly, his tone serious.

“Y/N, can I ask you about something?” You felt nervous all of a sudden. He looked at you before reluctantly sitting down on the couch. You joined him when he pulled out his phone, scrolling for something. “Please, don’t take this the wrong way. I just want to know what happened here,” 

Your eyes widened, staring at the photo of Yui with your friend at the park earlier. It only captured half of the cart, blurred in the background. “Where were you? Look, my daughter’s alone with a… basically, a stranger to her—” You interrupted, heart racing in your chest, “Why do you have that? Did you get someone to follow us?” He sighed, remaining composed.

“No. Now, please just answer me first.” You learned the hard way about fights and now you just want to stay calm because this is certainly a misunderstanding. “I went after her toy that rolled down, and I bought cotton candy for her.” You reached out to zoom in on the pic, cursing out the way it was taken. What matters is that the cotton candy cart can be recognized.

“I know it’s blurry but I’m here, I even have a photo of Yui with a cotton candy if you want to—” Satoru shook his head, sighing exasperatedly. “Y/N, you left our daughter with a man. You barely know this guy, he’s a newbie in your work and now you…” Rubbing a hand over his face, Satoru looked at you with disappointment but still soft nonetheless. 

“You could’ve let him get that toy for Yui if he was such a man, made him buy in that crowded place for you.” You stayed silent, understanding where he’s coming from but the fact that he has this photo is setting you off. 

“He was about to. But I beat him to it because it’s always been like that for me.” You tried to explain before continuing, “Who sent you that, Satoru?” Satoru stared at you, contemplating. 

“My mom came to my house.” Now you know why he was in such a state. You bit your lip, wanting to cry out of frustration. Her restraining order lasted six months. You know there’s no way you could tear Satoru’s mother away from his life but you just want him to stop being tied to her apron strings.

He told you about how his mother came to him a few hours ago. He initially told her he was not yet ready to talk to her again, but was intrigued when she said she ran into Yui and a man at the park. 

“Were you following them?” He didn’t try hiding his accusatory gaze. “No, son! Believe me, I was just afraid that Y/N would panic if she saw me. But I saw her leave Yui with this man.” She looked so different from before. Satoru almost wanted to cry to her despite the pain she caused him, ask her why she did that. But he has to be tough. 

“You may go, Mom. I will talk to Y/N about it.” He attempted to close the gate but she kept getting closer to him, “When will I see my granddaughter? I miss her so much. And you, my Son…” Her teary eyes were still too much for Satoru, he looked away shaking his head. “I don’t know. Not now.” With that, he closed the door. 

“I don’t want you to think that I’m just simply buying her words, that’s why I came here to talk to you,” Satoru reassured you, “I know you didn’t mean to leave Yui like that but please, just…” Before he could even finish, you already answered, kind of relieved that this didn’t end with the slamming of doors again. “I know, I just got used to doing stuff for her myself. I’m sorry.” With that, the misunderstanding was cleared.

You didn’t think this would be followed by a string of events that would once again mess up your slowly glowing life. “Why are you here?” Your phone was in your hand as you blocked the door, your fingers found the emergency dial and immediately called Satoru. “I just want to see my Yui. I know I messed up Y/N, I just want to see my only grandkid.” You just can’t bring yourself to let her in.

“Satoru…can you come over? Right now. Your mother’s here.” You can hear his heavy sigh from the other end, “Don’t let her in. Wait for me.” And just as Satoru arrived his mother cried on his chest. “Son, I know I did wrong things but how can you treat me like I would harm your child?” Satoru’s hold on her arm was gentle but firm. 

Holding her to his chest as she breaks down, she looks at you with eyes that bear his agony. You can’t blame him for that’s his mother. But you’re desire to protect your child was greater. “I will only allow it for a few minutes, Satoru.” You wiped Yui’s face, peeking at the door to see his mother sitting on a monoblock chair with her head down.

“I know. I understand and I’m sorry. Sit with us if that would make you feel more at ease about this. I’m here, Y/N.” Hearing this from Satoru calmed you a bit, but it didn’t take away your worries. You just prayed that this would end soon. 

The last straw was the humiliation she caused you in front of your friends and strangers at a cafe. You were caught off guard and were almost torn down again but you stood your ground. 

“You dare leave your daughter at home just to mingle around? Y/N, what kind of a mother are you?” Your friends attempted to break it off, trying everything they could just to get his mother off your back. You should’ve just called the police that day. 

“What do you know about being a mother when you set up your own son for assault?!” You answered back, garnering whispers from strangers. “This is not about me! This is about you leaving your daughter just to fuck around!” It was only a matter of time before the guards dragged the two of you out of the cafe. 

“Out of all the days, she really chose the time when Satoru’s overseas for work!” You cried, fixing your hair on the way home. “You gotta protect yourself and Yui from that woman, Y/N.” Your friends looked at you with concern. That woman brings nothing but misfortune to you and your life. 

The moment you got home,  you called Satoru immediately. “I’m filing a case whether you like it or not, Satoru. I’m tired of this.” You cried, “I know, Y/N. I’m so sorry but please just wait for me to get back. I’ll help you when I’m back, I promise.” You couldn’t go out for a few days after that, it also took everything to stop your mother from committing a crime. 

And now, just a week after that, you almost lost your reason for living. 

You had to get another set of utensils after Yui dropped hers. When you returned, you saw her walking out of the cafe’s door. Satoru’s mother held the door open, using a pack of candy to lure the child out.

You’ve never run so fast in your life. You fought with all your might but she beat you to it, carrying Yui and attempting to take her away. “If you weren’t in our lives, Satoru would’ve been fine!” She screamed at you, pulling at the crying kid. You were so terrified and angry that you started to shake. You chose to scream for help rather than answer back, afraid that you’d lose your baby.

When people started rushing towards you, she immediately took off. You didn’t bother to see if she was captured, you just ran, desperate to save your child. After calling your mom, you’ve made your decision. You attempted to call Satoru but he was unreachable. You tried to understand that he was working and he didn’t even know this was happening. 

And when he finds out, he’d probably only try to hold you back and you don’t think you can do that. You can’t be in a place where your daughter’s unsafe. You knew you had to leave. Your daughter’s cries tell you that you have to leave. The scratches in her arms tell you that you have to leave. And that’s what you did, albeit without a clear place in mind. 

You left with your mother and that’s all Satoru knows too. 

Going home from his trip, Satoru didn’t even go back to his house. He went straight to yours and as if his fears came to life, you weren’t there. He tried calling you but it doesn’t even ring. He looked everywhere, asked around, and even went to Toji’s to beg him but he didn’t know too. His nightmare came true and the beat of his heart felt like it was slowing down with each day that passed without news about you.

All he knows is that the last time you were here, Yui almost got kidnapped by her own grandmother. 

He knows how protective you are of Yui. No wonder you disappeared. Satoru partially blames himself for not coming home when you called him crying. You probably thought he would put you off again. You probably thought he’d choose his mother again and honestly, he can’t blame you after all that he’s done in the past.

Satoru was broken, and the love he used to have for his mother turned into disgust and hate. His father helped him with his mother’s case. She was sent to jail after witnesses including your friends testified. His sleepless nights were endless. His search for his family was ceaseless too.

-END OF FLASHBACK-

Three years have passed since that, and you promised yourself that you would only believe that you and Satoru are meant to be together if he found you. If he didn’t, then maybe it’s better to let it go. After everything, you just can’t help but feel like the heavens are intentionally trying to separate the two of you.

But here you are, proven wrong when you bumped into a white-haired guy with tired blue eyes as you exited the store.

“Y/N?”

Sundered Masterlist

[catiuskaa]

i would LOVE to read your vision of boyfriend by dove cameron....... but w minsung x reader 😏

OH MARSYYYY marsyyyy ajdbkskfla youuu how dare youu take my sleep away from me like thisssss kabfoqbfoskj i barely got to 300 words and i was like “yup. there’s no fucking way i’m not writing this.” so @lyramundana @stayconnecteed, pasarla muy bien mis amores bskdbakd id a la iglesia después

𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄-𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐒.

sum. gentlemen like them make for a better boyfriend, and minho and han will let you know as soon as you come over… they know first times pave the way for more.

yes, the cursive makes a cute lil sentence, kill me

wc. 5.6k (me cago en todo mars)

cw. suggestive, smut! cursive: a lifestyle, the restaurant scene came out really high-class? fem!reader x dom!simp!minho x sub!needy!jisung, the reader is cheating on her boyfriend, so many things happen (praise, degradation, hair pulling, thigh riding, dry humping, oral fixation, marking, mild choking, corruption kink, use of pet names, accidental orgasm denial, oral (f rec.), begging, fingering (f&m rec.) dirty talk, overstim, mild bondage, unprotected piv sex [don't!<3], creampie, breeding kink, dacryphilia). holy shit this is nasty man, aftercare (mandatory) and just have fun lovelies <3<3<3

[🎀 ☆ 🍽️ ☆ 🎀]

Minho has to breathe in, slowly as he smiles, a cat-like grin that has already threatened many people’s hearts, grabbing Jisung’s wrist and pulling him a bit closer.

His company that night —his company forever, if anyone bothered to ask or wanted to know— doesn’t ask why, merely tilts his head, watching, waiting.

“Twelve o’clock. Red and white dress.”

It’s a mumble that the older man makes with his eyes half closed, yet he opens them again after a beat of silence. He grunts, a low, whispered voice, not daring to interrupt the shy flow of music in the fine restaurant, but still takes Han’s chin in his hand, gripping it softly and tilting it a bit further to his left.

“That’s more like one o’clock— oh.” Minho doesn’t dare voice nor even question the way blood rushes to the deepest parts of his body when Jisung licks his lips and stares back at him, lowering his hand with a gentle touch that sets his skin ablaze.

He can’t help but let his eyes trail towards your figure again. The dress you’re wearing, a mix of colours that gingerly combines with that of their own suits, that clings to your shape in a way that threatens his own sanity and the stability of their plan, the impulse of running to you head first wondering what the crash would feel like. He stops himself, and breathes in again, deeper this time in an attempt to stop wondering how the dress would look just a few floors over them, in their hotel room, preferably on the floor, and he finally does, catching the faint scent of Jisung’s new cologne.

Alone. It’s funny to him. Ridiculous, yes, because only a fool would leave such a beauty like you in a situation like that —on your own, waiting in boredom close to death, or even worse, resignation—, and he’s sure that if he were in your place, he would’ve left a while ago. Hell, if he ever pulled something like that, he’d allow for Jisung to choke him —in a non-sexual sense, at least for once—, but he can’t help feeling giddy at the empty sight of the chair in front of you. Almost as if you were waiting for them to get close, to take a seat. And then, maybe you’d smile. Like a little treat.

A cute gift.

The image makes him smirk as he licks his lips. Minho knows he’d wrap you up in a heartbeat.

“What do you think?” He ponders the question lowly, still waiting for the waiter as the restaurant prepares their table. The one next to you, of course.

Jisung’s eyes widen for a moment. “What do I think?”

He gulps, and Minho reels in the way his boyfriend is already blushing, the red dust on his cheeks making him think twice and wonder if he could afford having a little snack before properly taking you both as a dessert, and he can’t help but snicker, tonguing his cheek.

“What are the chances?”

Minho’s fingers stroke Jisung’s palm.

“Well, I did as we agreed. And now the plan follows, jagi. I’m sure you can play your part now, mmh?” His voice is sultry, low, and a whisper, one that deepens Han’s blush and darkens his eyes even further, making his breath hitch to Minho’s amusement. “As if you can’t do whatever you want with that pretty little mouth of yours.”

“Min—”

“Welcome.” The whispered whine that Jisung had been just about to say dies on his lips, as tragically —yet not quite as brutally— as the unfortunate and inopportune waiter in Minho’s head.

“Your party for two is ready. Come with me.”

Shrugging away the comment ‘with you here, no one’s coming’, Minho follows behind Han and nods his head after being pointed to his table.

White-collar thieves could have plenty of money and exotic pairs of jewelry. Take any gemstone, for example. In unknown eyes, it may seem flawlessly perfect, but that’s merely a refracted illusion. Its core, deep in there, remains a secret, and it’d take a good crack for it to be seen.

No, this couple had it clear. A thief could steal anything but achieve nothing. And as Minho sends his partner in crime a wink, and the plan finally starts, its gears already set in place, he knows that whatever the outcome of it might end up being, nothing would give a better reward than trying to steal you tonight.

And it all starts with a silly trip of his boyfriend’s foot.

Jisung’s hand saves him from ending head first against your thighs —did he really save himself, Minho wonders, because the thought sounded like heaven—, and he watches as the younger one rushes back up, an apologetic grin on his face that he had seen so many times before and still made him want to kneel in front of Jisung and worship him to death and beyond.

“Sorry,” Ji smiles, bashful, his little dimples showing. He pretends to cringe, an action only Minho can see through.

“Oh, no, don’t worry. Are you alright?” The genuine worry that slips through your tone softens the men.

“Of course. Yes.” Jisung chimes right back. “Such a kind lady.” He grins, pulling his hand in front of him.

Minho is just watching, and the feeling of witnessing such a moment nearly has him bulging in his tailored pants as shy little Jisung kisses the back of your hand.

He can’t believe how obsessed they both are with you, enthralled at the mere thought of having you closer, and he doesn’t care, needing more, more of your confused smile as you stare at his boyfriend, more of the gentle blush that creeps up to your cheeks, more of the way your hair is neatly tied up and away from your face, feeling the impulse to ruin you on the tip of his fingers.

“What’s a place like this doing, surrounding a beauty such as yours?” Minho smiles, taking a seat at his table. Calm. Mindful. With the plan in his head.

You chuckle so politely that it makes Minho fidget with his rings, a laugh so melodic that tickles his heart and warms his insides.

“I stay in this hotel.” Minho knows. He’s seen you before.

“Alone?” Jisung smiles, a bit cheeky, sitting and moving his chair at an angle, making it easier to keep the conversation going.

The way you sigh makes them both angry and giddy. They had seen your partner before, and they almost couldn’t believe their eyes, genuinely wondering what had the ugly man done to deserve such an angel. If it were for them, not for too long.

“Up until twenty minutes ago, I wasn’t, but…”

Crystal clear. They both can see the resignation in your eyes, and Minho can’t help but feel it trail up his skin, needing to do something about it immediately.

“I know it may seem too straightforward,” his mouth is dry and he can feel his ears turning red. “But I wouldn’t mind the extra company tonight. Right, jagi?”

The smile he shoots at Jisung is soft and sweet, feelings conveyed between layers and layers worth of things he hasn’t said yet. A comforting grin that Ji matches, holding his hand from below the table and giving it a light squeeze, catching it.

“Yes. It’d be a pity, using that wonderful dress on such a dull night.” His boyfriend turns to you, smiling widely. “Join us?”

God, yes. The squirm of satisfaction that threatens to leave past his lips has him fidgeting with his fingers, cracking his knuckles in an oh-so-giddy attempt to hide just how excited he is when he sees you stand up and grin sheepishly, moving your chair and settling on their table.

If one tried and overthinked it too much, it wouldn’t work. People tend to feel those kinds of things, the rush, the nervousness, the desperation. Not attractive on a stranger in the slightest. And Minho knows he’s one lucky bastard just getting to sit with you at the same table, sharing sentences with Jisung across the rounded table with just a blink and a cheeky stare through his lashes.

And as the night goes on, sneaky glances, touches, soft hands over yours, their eyes deep in colour, on you as you wine and dine, the white-collar thieves swiftly steal your heart for the night.

A fever dream. You find no other way to word it, how they get under your skin and into your head, how their cheeky antics keep getting you closer and closer in a way that almost baffles you. You can’t even think about that sad excuse of a boyfriend you have when Jisung’s hand brushes your arm again or when Minho’s eyes lock on yours, almost undressing you under his gaze.

You couldn’t call it a red flag. After all, their collars are pure white.

[🎀 ☆ 🍽️ ☆ 🎀]

Jisung can’t hold back any longer.

He opens the door to their hotel room for you, and in an unrestrained need, grabs your wrist and finally pulls you to him.

Minho smirks, closing the door with a thud by leaning on it, watching as his boyfriend ruins and smears your lipstick, giving it just a bit before he pulls him from the back of his shirt, tutting at him.

“Such a needy little slut, mmh? Couldn’t even wait for me?”

His hands thread on Jisung’s hair, pulling in a way that has him already on edge. Minho takes his blazer off under the eager eyes of his company, and also takes Ji’s red one, leaving both on the couch that sits in the corner of the room as he licks his lips and takes his hands to his boyfriend’s neck, kissing him deeply, hungrily, humming a snicker when he feels his cheeky little hands tugging and pulling on his white shirt.

“Brat.” He whispers on his lips. “We have to treat our guest first, don’t we, jagi?”

Heat pools on your lower belly, disarmed as the two gorgeous, disheveled men stare at you with a glow in their eyes so deep it could fuck you alone. Both stare at the other with a sly grin on their faces, the phrases they want to say hidden behind the opacity of their eyes, clouded in lust.

Cheekily, Minho grabs Jisung by his belt, speaking at mere inches away from his lips.

“Be a good boy and hang on the door the do not disturb sign, mmh?” His eyes trail from Han’s neck, reeling on his heavy breathing and how his big brown eyes flutter when his hand teases him, tickling his skin with a brush of his fingers, doing tender and slow motions, opening the lower buttons on his shirt and going down his happy trail.

Jisung only nods weakly, in a daze as Minho lets go of him, blinking slowly and letting out a playful chuckle when he teasingly smacks his ass as he makes his way to the door.

“Now, what do we have here?”

Your throat feels dry and you yearn for the moment in which you’ll finally drown in Minho’s lips. He can tell, approaching you slowly, his steps barely making a sound on the carpet below.

His hands brush away the few hairs that Ji got loose, his hand traveling from the shell of your ear to just a bit after your pulse point. “Such a beauty.” Your heart swoons as he whispers, something that sounds more for him than for you, which does nothing but worsen the situation below your dress.

Licking your lips, you watch as he leisurely sits on the edge of the bed, two fingers teasingly making a ‘come hither’ motion as he spreads his legs, making space for you between them, his tailored clothing hugging his lush thighs in a way that nearly makes you salivate.

“I won’t bite, gorgeous. Not unless you want me to,” he teases, his hands stroking your knees while he sits just a short step or two away from you.

The sentence not only makes you shiver in anticipation, but also makes a small part of you wonder if there could be anything you wouldn’t let these men do to you. Dare I say non-existent, the list seems to be pretty short, as you nibble on your lip and answer to how he pats his thigh, taking a seat.

“There we go.” He grins with a low hum, his hands traveling far past the fabric that covers your thighs, grabbing and kneading the skin under his grasp. “Wonder how long it has passed since you’ve been treated right.” He clicks his tongue. “We have to do something about it, don’t we, jagi?”

He’s talking to Jisung as if you weren’t there. As if they’re taking you, a pretty diamond gingerly falling into their white-gloved hands, and —make no mistake—, you’re letting them, and it’s the end of the story, because you’d be a fool not to.

Besides, it’s already too late to back down. You want this. You couldn’t care less of what happens to your boyfriend after he left and scurried back wherever, attempting to leave you with the burden of paying for everything again without having to deal with the consequences nor the guts to face you. He was going to have a fun time, arriving at your previously shared room and finding that your things had been already packed and you were no longer anywhere to be seen, leaving behind you not only the bill of the restaurant —both his and yours, and then the one you had with Minho and Jisung, of course, an autograph on the receipt and all— but of the entire week you had been abroad, for all the times he had been tricking you and pulling your leg.

Tonight, you weren’t just being stolen. You were being freed.

“What makes you tick? Mmh, gorgeous?” Minho gets you back from your mind, naughty hands traveling underneath your dress and playing with the back ends of your underwear.

He’s dying to kiss you, and he will —he will die trying and he’d be happy to do so—, and he can see it in your eyes that you want just as much, the dark of his reading yours with an ease that does nothing but aggravate the situation, knowing that if he were to kiss you as he had been thinking —ever since he and Jisung had seen you and your boyfriend— would cause you more things than neither you nor him could process, leaving both of your minds blank, wet, legs tangled with one another.

Minho cherishes the way you tremble in his grasp, feeling Jisung’s hands surprise you from behind, playing with the zipper of your white and red dress.

“Baby, you’re already grinding on my thigh.” It’s teasing, it’s a menace, and he fucking loves it, seeing how said sentence darkens both your and Han’s eyes. “What are you thinking, mmh? Want us to figure you out as we go?” He licks his timidly swollen lips, his hands traveling down your legs to take your heels off, discarding the red sole shoes by the end of the bed.

He kisses Jisung over your shoulder, and a moan leaves your lips when said motion —him moving forward, that is— makes him tense his thigh underneath you.

“Jagi, do me a favour.” He whispers on his boyfriend’s lips, next to your ear, as if he’s telling Han a secret you shouldn’t know —but you don’t care whether you should or shouldn’t. You’re already going to hell for cheating on that low-life you call a boyfriend. Could be the wine speaking, or how your pussy is already leaking, but if you’re going to hell, you’ll make it so that these fine gentlemen help you reach heaven first.

“Ladies first, okay? Let’s treat her how a princess deserves.”

Jisung’s eyes smile as he bites Minho’s lip, finally taking your dress off of you, lowering the zipper in a way that his hand strokes your skin as the dress goes further down, and doesn’t stop kissing him, even when his greedy hands take the dress off your shoulders, and travel forward, tickling you menacingly, from your belly to your chest, teasingly playing with the little bow that decorates your white bra before letting his fingers go further up your cleavage.

Minho’s hands move your hips against his thigh, starting to feel the wetness and warmth not only on the fabric between his leg and your sweet sweet core, but on his skin.

He chuckles, panting on your ear as Jisung’s lips hungrily travel to your back, kissing and scratching with his teeth. A man blinded crazy by lust, his hand finally reaching your neck.

The way the action makes you moan is almost obscene, your cheeks as red as Jisung’s forgotten blazer and trousers. His grasp, gingerly cold, as if the rest of his warmth was traveling to other parts of his body —parts you weren’t complaining to be feeling against your lower back—, was a little bit over your collarbone, and it drove you wild.

“Hyung—” It’s a whine so desperate that nearly has him crumbling apart. Jisung’s eyes are teary when Minho’s lock into the dark brown full of lust that they have turned to. Merely pecking his lips, Minho smiles.

“I’m going to eat you alive.” It’s a desperate groan, and his partner’s eyes only glow in a darker shimmer, as if he yearned for just that. “Go on, jagi. Have fun.”

Before you can expect it, Jisung lets out a moan, grabbing your waist and pulling you from Minho onto the bed. Your impending release gets ruined, and you whine, your hand unconsciously traveling to your face.

As the younger one hurriedly finishes taking your dress off of you, discarding it somewhere on the floor —a view that, later on, would make Minho grin cheekily— said gentleman moves and lays down next to you while his partner leaves hickeys all over your inner thighs.

Only pants, whines, and moans leave your lips, low and dimmed, overwhelmed by all that you’re feeling, hiding behind your hand. But they’re gentlemen, after all. Ever-so-observant, Minho’s smile is sweet when he takes your hand and interlinks your fingers.

“Beauty,” he calls, his voice sultry. “Are you familiar with the traffic light system?”

It takes a shy, confused shake from you for him to tut at his boyfriend, and Han stops his antics, licking his lips, his eyes glowing as he strokes your thighs, gingerly comforting you out of your daze.

“Like a traffic light, yeah? Green for when you want to keep going, yellow when you want to slow down, and red if you want to stop.” His hand softly moves, trailing soft motions on your cheek. “Don’t wait for us to ask. If we’re playing the figure-it-out game, I want to hear you moaning ‘green’ every single minute. Good?” You blush, nodding. “So. Colour?”

You give it a thought. You’ve brought up things like this before to your boyfriend. Things he shamed you for. Things you had been wanting to do for a while. And as you stare back at Minho, his eyes widen for a moment when he sees you smirking lightly.

To hell and heaven with it. It had been a close call before, back at the hotel’s restaurant. It’s stupid now, and you can’t believe you almost ran away back to your room and wasted such a divinely given chance like this one.

“Green.” You smile. “Figure me out better than I know myself.”

Jisung’s mind is completely foggy and hazy, his hands kneading your thighs, waiting, panting at your sudden forwardness. He can barely form a coherent thought, his mind consumed by the need to keep going until your taste is all that he knows.

You lift yourself, sitting on the bed, as the focus of the two men’s attention while your hand reaches for Jisung’s chin, and he’s dead. He’s gotta be, because as he moves to keep feeling your soft grasp on him, he swears he stops breathing.

“I’m going to kiss you.” It’s an announcement. Not quite a question but a warning, a narration of sorts. It keeps Minho waiting for a movement, something, whatever, anything to be able to follow what they had started, surprised by the newfound shimmer in your eyes.

And you can only confirm the whole chain of unbridled thoughts that haunt you —that you want to devour them with kisses, that you would let them eat you whole, unashamed, unrestrained, and overly needy— when, after closing your eyes, you erase any space that was between your lips and Jisung’s.

It’s not the butterflies in your stomach, but your own pulse rumbling in your ears, so loud that you think that either of the two men to whom you knew crystal clear that you were going to give yourself to tonight could hear it without making any sort of effort.

Nasty, desperate, wild. Jisung is gone, set on making any trace of red lush lipstick disappear from your lips. He starts kissing you more passionately, taking both of his hands to your nape, pulling on your hair in an attempt to get you even closer to him, the need for oxygen merely a necessity far less important than to keep kissing you and lick away your strawberry lipstick.

“This is crazy,” you pant, gasping for air.

“You make me crazy.”

He’s breathless, and he just can’t stop kissing you. Not when you’re giving yourself back to him with almost the same intensity, the raw need for more overperforming any sort of kissing skills that Jisung thought he had before. Matter of fact, he can’t think. Not when his hands travel from your waist, your skin like a canvas he’d die to keep marking, trailing a teasing path up your back, making you shiver until he finally undoes the barrier that keeps him from touching, and finally tasting —licking, spitting, marking, fondling, kissing, biting, better if it’s all at the same time— your breasts. He swiftly takes your bra off of you, as if it burns. It would’ve made you laugh, but as he cages you against the mattress the only thing you can do is moan.

Yes. Yes. Yes, More. Please. Don’t stop.

There’s a light bounce of the mattress when Minho takes a seat behind you, and Han whines when you leave his lips.

You’re a mess. There’s no other way to describe it, and Minho loves it. He loves how you’re in between Jisung and him. How you’re drooling and moaning, your head leaning against his shoulder as greedy little Hannie goes back to where he was heading before. He loves how you’re not holding back anymore, your right hand pulling on his boyfriend’s hair and your right one on his nape, gingerly playing with it as you squirm under the pleasure that Ji’s mouth brings you.

“Beauty,” Minho’s voice is impossibly low when he calls for you, pressing soft, tender kisses on your pulse point. You whine, a strained ‘yeah?’ that kills him. “How do we feel about this?”

You open your eyes, not really aware when you had closed them, and you look at Minho’s soft hands, his rings shimering under the room’s indirect light. It’s a lace, your fuzzy brain tells you. It has the words Dior written several times on it.

“G-green…” it’s a whine, it’s slurry, and it turns to a hitched breath when Han’s fingers slide inside you with ease, curling and thrusting until you can’t do anything else but moan and whine, trembling as you come, pleasure hitting you in waves.

You cling onto Minho like a rock, as much as you can, his body behind you stroking you in a way that makes you shiver while Ji helps you ride out your high.

“Look at him, princess.”

His tone is slightly mean, and you sigh, feeling his arms surround you.

“He came just from tasting you.”

You’re still a bit out, panting, but your eyes turn to him, whose head is leaning on your thigh. One of your hands moves to stroke his hair, and you grow hotter watching how he shudders for a second.

“He was grinding against the mattress. Like a little horny slut.”

It’s shameful. Minho’s tone is one for mocking. He’s… torturing him. And yet he looks like he might just come one more time from that alone.

“M-min…” Hannie whimpers, a slurred sound of pleasure.

“Oh, beauty. He even wants more.” Jisung’s eyes open, staring at you two from below, and he moans.

You blink, but slowly, you seem to get it. Or, if you asked Jisung, you were a godess sent straight-out from heaven.

“But can he… beg like a… a pretty slut?”

Minho nearly comes untouched at your tone. The way they’re already corrupting you, how you’re degrading Jisung already, watching how he’s unconciously grinding against the mattress again, overstimulating himself.

“Ngh, fuck… p-princess…” his hands travel to your thighs, clinging to them like a lifeline.

You’re unsure of what to do, because you know what to say, holding back for a second.

“Beauty,” Minho kisses your neck. “What’s that brain of you thinking, mmh?”

Your blush covers your whole face, and you smile, as if you’ve been caught on a white lie.

“I… want to, um. Want you to do to him what you did to me.”

Jisung freezes in his place. Minho’s eyes darken. “Keep talking, beauty. Spare no detail.”

Your shyness fades as you look at Ji’s face, reeling at how he moans softly, his body just a tiny bit spent, yet he’s paying close attention to you and your words, not wanting to stop even for a second. The intensity of his stare makes heat hit you, unexpected yet welcomed. 

And with hooded eyes and weak legs, you turn to face both Minho and Jisung, letting go of what you’re thinking without giving yourself the chance to second guess it. 

“I want you to finger him. While you fuck me. And then I want him to fuck me.” 

Perplexed. There are little to no words Minho can manage to say, if any. He knows that he’s a sentence away from losing himself completely to the sensation, your mind and body now completely under the control of the aphrodisiac that is their company and undivided attention, and the intense pleasure it induces. 

“Hyung.” Han’s eyes are teary, and he looks so pretty. 

Why would Minho resist?

He takes you by your wrists and pulls you towards him, kissing you in a way that makes your mind and body completely submissive and compliant. There it is. Minho is finally kissing you, claiming you with each stroke of his tongue. And now he holds no restraint, his hands exploring your body, his touch becoming more urgent and passionate with each moan that goes past your swollen, kissable lips. 

His body presses even harder against yours, pinning you against the mattress as he kisses you deeply, his lips and tongue tracing a path down your neck, his breath hot against your skin. Minho bites down gently on the sensitive skin of your collarbone, his hands gripping your hips, holding you in place as he continues his assault on your senses, his desire for you growing more and more intense.

He moans softly into the kiss, his hands wandering along your body, his touch hungry, as if he couldn't get enough of you —and he can’t, he’s well aware that you might be his last meal, and he’d be happy about it— grabbing and marking and touching all he can reach. He breaks the kiss briefly, his lips trailing down your jaw and neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against your sensitive skin as he pants heavily, his voice low and hoarse with desire.

"You're driving me crazy, beauty," he murmurs, his voice gravelly with lust. "Can't get enough."

“Minho, please,” you whine and beg, shivering when he stands on his knees, looking at you from above, a dark, nasty shimmer in his eyes. 

He pushes Jisung next to you, face down ass up, which only makes the latter moan, desperate to be touched again. 

“You know what, beauty?” Minho grins, mad, crazy, horny, and all of the above, as he takes back the Dior lace and softly moves your hands over your head, making a pretty bow on your wrists, almost as pretty as his needy princess. He’s thankful Jisung wanted to buy that perfume. 

“I’m going to fuck you. Because you want to, don’t you, beauty?” His snicker brings heat to your whole body, and it hits you where you’re restrained, Minho’s hands pinching and teasing all over your torso, watching you crumble and whimper underneath him. “And I’m going to make him come too. You two want to be used like little toys, and it’s just what I’m about to do.” 

He bends down to reach for the lube in the bedside table, but uses that opportunity to meanily bite your cheek. It feels warm under his tongue, the skin red, not only from the teasing bite but from how deep you’re blushing. 

Minho keeps talking while he slowly removes your ruined panties and Jisung’s soiled underwear. 

“I’ll fuck you so good, beauty. So good you won’t ever feel the same, if you fuck that scum you call a boyfriend. I’ll make you come so hard you won’t even remember his name.” 

You don’t know what happens first, but surely, Jisung and you start whining and moaning, panting as Minho fails to keep a steady pace on both of you, his thrusts irregular as pleasure takes hold of him. 

He’s reeling in pleasure, whispering into your ear in between moans and grunts how good you feel, how tight your pretty little pussy clenches around him, how you’re going to milk him dry as he keeps pouncing on you. “If y-you, ever, ever, ever doubt who you belong to…” he moans, watching you cry in pleasure, listening to Hannie’s slurred babbling, failing to get a good grip on the bed sheets. “Remember… that you can always come back… princess…”

After all, his duty as a thief wasn’t only stealing. He wasn’t going to complain when he’d kill for you to sit on his face. Just for starters. 

It doesn’t take long for Jisung to come on his own palm, shivering in pleasure, panting, but smiling at you, and —with his other hand— grabbing yours while you moan and whine and whimper, so close once again. 

T-too much— Don’t stop. Yes, yes, please!

Moaning so beautifully, Minho crumbles. His words are slurred as he whines, something about filling you up that makes you see stars as he somehow thrusts even deeper.

“There, there, ah… f-fuck, I can’t…” 

Dazed, fucked-out, drunk and lost in pleasure, you’re only able to let out louder sounds, tugging at your restraint as the Dior bow keeps you grounded, and Jisung’s now clean hand —you missed when that happened, yet you’re not bothered enough to question it— presses figure eights on your clit. And not even a minute later, you’re both gasping and moaning, and you throw your head back as he comes inside of you. 

It takes a moment for the three of you to move. For a minute, the world stops spinning, and you relish the warmth of his bodies, next and over you, your head still fuzzy with pleasure. 

You and Minho whine when he pulls out, and you shiver at the loss of heat over you and the emptiness inside you. Jisung is quick to fix the first one, softly moving your head over to his shoulder, and he leans his chin over yours. 

“Hey, princess.” He still has a red hue on his cheeks, but you’re pretty sure you’re matching, if not worse. 

You hum, weak, and he can’t help but giggle. His soft hands cradle your face, and he sighs, stroking your nose with his tenderly. 

“I’m really happy you joined us tonight.” 

And with the strength you have left, you merely move to kiss his palm, your eyes closed. They remain closed when Minho comes back, even when he softly moves your arms and links them behind his nape. 

Han heads into the bathroom first, making sure the water of the bathtub is warm enough before sliding inside, helping Minho put you down, leaning your head against Ji’s shoulder and in between his legs. 

You’re half asleep, but you smile when Minho’s hands stroke your legs. Your legs feel sore and you’re a blink away from the best sleep of your life, but first, the best night of your life makes sure to take care of you after all the fun. 

Two pairs of hands clean up the mess they turned you to, and you’re so happy to be taken care of as sweetly and as gently as they are doing, that you weakly peck Minho and Jisung’s lips. 

No words are needed, and Jisung hugs you from behind, pressing soft kisses on your shoulder blades. Minho links his hand with yours, fondly staring at the two of you before him. 

Thieves like Han and Minho are masters in their craft. With professional care, they dry your body, tender touches fully lulling you to sleep when Jisung grabs one of the discarded white-collared shirts and gingerly closes its buttons. Bathed, spent, and tired, they settle you in between them, with your back to Minho, and Jisung kisses his boyfriend’s hand, covering all of you with the bed’s blanket. 

Sure, maybe you didn’t do all that you wanted that night. But you don’t mind it. Warm, clean, and thoroughly satisfied, you’re fine with the need that hits you even after you wake up. You want to be theirs so much, and despite the estrangement, it’s a fact that doesn’t change —not even after it dawns on you that neither you nor them introduced themselves, and you don’t know their names.

[🎀 ☆ 🍽️ ☆ 🎀]

kats, who needs a high —infinite, even— dose of grass, stat.

catiuskaa, august 2024 ©

[marvelsswansong]

show and tell

summary: a white rose at the train station. his hand in yours at the zoo. his mother's golden mirror. does he love you or is he simply trying to gain the public's favour and secure the Plith prize? you're unsure. and so is he, until he very much isn't.

tags: coriolanus snow x fem!reader, slow burn (ish), fluff, angst, technically a happy ending but quite dark, purely based off the movie but I take some creative detours, CW for violence, mentions of starvation, toxic/manipulative behaviors and a semi-dark!snow (please read at your own discretion, take care of yourself above all else :))

☆ word count: 5.6K+ words ☆

⚠️ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞.⚠️

Coriolanus hates waiting. 

The stillness, the eerie silence of an early morning at the Capitol train station. It eats away at his core.

His mouth tastes like copper, his throat's starting to itch from the dryness and there's a brief moment of fear as he ponders if he's making a huge mistake. A sharp whistle ringing through the station signals the train's arrival, and as his eyes adjust to the billowing grey smoke and a sea of white (the peace keepers), the flower in his left hand suddenly feels heavy. As if the weight of the situation is starting to bear on his shoulders.

He wasn't supposed to be here. If all had gone to plan, he would've already been the recipient of the Plinth Prize and taken the first car back home to buy his grandma'am some chocolates and Tigris a new dress. No more worrying. No more surviving on dwindled fortunes. No more pretending to fit in with high society. 

Then, of course, the rules had to change. Viewership was down and it was of both Dean Highbottom's and Dr Gaul's opinion that what was missing was spectacle. Now, whoever the best mentor was in transforming their tribute into prime entertainment would win the prize. 

"Your role is to turn these tributes into spectacles. Not survivors." 

The silence that hung after this announcement in the Academy was heavy, but Coriolanus knew better than to show his true emotions on his face. After all, if there was one thing that he knew how to do as the star student of the Academy: it was to plan. And when he saw your... unruly introduction to the public, sneaking a snake down a woman's dress before cussing out the audience, it dawned on him that it would be a tall order to endear you to the public.

But not impossible.

The sounds of the tributes being roughly unloaded off the platform snaps him back into reality, his eyes easily landing on your figure as you jump off the train, your upper arms supported by the tribute (Jessup, Coriolanus recalls his name being) standing next to you. Pushing through the soldiers, the blonde nearly breaks into a small sprint to catch up to you as you turn your head upon hearing the sound of hurried footsteps.

"Welcome to the Capitol." the strange man in front of you says, before holding out a pristine white rose. It's a peculiar looking flower, you think, a kind of flower you've never seen before (at least, certainly not back in your home district). It looks almost artificial, you think, with how perfectly white and untouched its petals are.

The blonde assesses your cautious glance - the sunlight hitting the under color of your irises perfectly in a glistening twilight - and a fleeting thought passes by, that the tv camera didn't do your natural beauty justice. He has to suppress a smirk when you finally respond, narrowing your eyes at him with your arms crossing above your chest.

"You seem like you shouldn't be here."

He chuckles at that.

"I'm not supposed to be. And yet here I am." A pause. "But I'm your mentor. Coriolanus Snow."

That's a first, you think. Mentors for tributes. 

"And what does my mentor do except bring me roses?" you question, flicking the buds with your fingers. Coriolanus just smiles. 

"I do my best to take care of you." 

Your supposed mentor says it so sincerely, you think, and he's obviously charming with his devilishly handsome looks and low whisper. But there's something that stops you from holding out your hand and taking the rose from his fingers. You suppose he isn't lying - after all, what would be the point of it - but there's something in his eyes that you can't quite explain. 

Something that makes your stomach flutter in both excitement and dread.

"Move." the soldier behind you then barks, shoving you and Jessup forward. You decide to give your mentor one last grin and a quiet "see you later", thinking that's going to be the last you see of him for a while.

The last thing you expect is for him to jump into the back of the vehicle alongside the other tributes, drawing the eyre of a few who pin him against the moving vehicle and start taunting him with violence. 

"You look rather out of place." the tall boy pinning Coriolanus drawls.

"I'm not, I can assure you. I'm here for (Y/n). I'm her mentor." 

That puts the unwanted attention on you, as the other tributes begin to circle around you with sinister expressions twisting on their lips.

"Mentor, huh? How come little miss music gets one but not the rest of us?" a brunette girl drawls, eyeing you up and down.

The boy pinning Coriolanus down applies stronger pressure to his neck, and you rise in an attempt to intervene, but he meets your gaze discreetly and motions for you to remain seated. 

"You all have a mentor, they're just... not here." he croaks. 

"Right, and we're all supposed to believe you?" another girl, this one from district 4 you believe, taunts. "What's to say we shouldn't just kill you now?" 

The blonde shoots you a nervous look and that's when you feel pity. Just like you, he's in a foreign environment and pretending to be brave. You suppose also that he's your only ticket out, your only chance of potential success at surviving in the games.

So you intervene.

"You could kill him. But then the moment this truck stops you'll all be gathered round and killed by the peace keepers. He's clearly Capitol. And if they're willing to hang District people simply for stealing, can't imagine what killing a member of the Capitol would mean for punishment." 

That scares them off and Coriolanus sits down next to you, breathing heavily in an effort to catch his breath, before quietly thanking you.

"You really wanna thank me?" you quirk, leaning over to whisper in his ear. "Start by thinking about how I can actually win." 

The truck then suddenly comes to a halt, and the next thing you know the truck is being tipped over and the doors fly open. Coriolanus grasps your arm in lightning speed, pulling you close towards him so that he'd hit the harsh ground first, absorbing most of the impact.

When you shakily stand up on your feet, you realize you're enclosed in a large metal cage akin to that of an animal enclosure. There's even an over enthusiastic TV presenter in the background, who now seems to have noticed your mentor and begins to call out to him.

"Where are we?" you breathe out, already shivering from the autumn cold.

The blonde barely shifts, only dusting off his suit in a calm manner.

"(Y/n) (L/n) from District 12, welcome to the Capitol Zoo. Would you like to meet my neighbors?" he jokes, eyes slyly shifting to the right to refer to the small audience that has now gathered around the TV presenter. 

You hesitate, but then he takes your right hand in his before leaning over to whisper in your ear.

"You want to win, right? Good. I'd like to win as well. And the first thing you'll need to do? Perform for the cameras." Coriolanus accentuates the end of his sentence by sliding the rose behind your ear, a gesture which draws an excited reaction from the crowd.

Is your mentor doing it for the cameras or for something else? You're unsure. But given your desperation to win, and the fact that he clearly knows more about the games than you do, you decide to play along.

Warm hands twisting in the cold, Coriolanus drags your enjoined hands towards the TV camera as he does what he does best. Lie, smile, and charm the audience. Even when the attention turns to you, as Lucky Flickerman (that's his name, you learn) directs questions towards you, the blonde never lets go of your hand in his.

Before he leaves, as news of his rule-breaking spreads amongst the members of the public, you grab him out of desperation one last time.

"Please get us some food, we've been starving since the Reaping."

The blonde nods, but you can't help but feel anxious: not knowing if his previous gestures of kindness were just for show. 

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

"Who's that for?"

Coriolanus had meant to sneak the sandwiches and cookies into his spare napkin discreetly, but of course Clemensia had to be two steps behind him, interrogating his every move. 

"Just not very hungry, that's all." he nearly grits through his teeth, forcing a fake smile.

The dark haired girl chuckles at that, shaking her head sideways.

"You don't have to lie to me, Snow. Especially me."

"... It's for (Y/n)." he quietly admits. She hums at that, picking at her own food from across the table.

"That's awfully nice of you. What, already going soft for some girl you met yesterday?" she teases, and it immediately elicits an angry refusal out of him.

"It's not like that." Coriolanus snaps, his sudden harshness making his classmate flinch in surprise. "I just... can't have her dying before the games even begin because she's not as well fed as the others." 

Clemensia scoffs, flicking the rest of her orange peel into the trash.

"Honestly, Snow, I don't know why you bother. She's clearly not going to survive. I mean, have you seen the tributes from districts 1 and 3?"

Ignoring her comments, he wordlessly slips away from the table and hails a ride down to the zoo. News of his intentions travels fast and whilst he doesn't mind Sejanus' company, it takes intense effort to force himself to look away from Arachne when she tags along and decides to taunt a caged tribute with a glass bottle. 

"You came back." you mutter, staring at the neatly wrapped napkin in disbelief. Coriolanus dislikes how surprised you sound, then hates himself more for caring about what you think. 

Why do you care what she thinks? he scolds himself. She's just a tribute you're mentoring.

"Of course I did. Can't have my tribute dying before the games even begin, now can I?" he teases, feigning nonchalant. 

The presence of academy mentors seems to have attracted a crowd, with a few photographers even pointing their lenses towards you and Coriolanus as his hand slips through the metal gates to meet yours to hand off the food. When your fingers touch his, a part of you wonders if he would've ever came back if there was no PR involved.

Too grateful and too hungry to care, you just say thank you, before breaking off a piece for Jessup and offering half a sandwich to your mentor.

"Oh no, I'm not hungry." he says out of instinct, surprised by your offering. You raise your eyebrows in response, pursing your lips.

"You sure about that? Because I could hear your stomach growl from a mile away." you retort. 

"Right. Uh, thank you." 

Biting into the soft bread, you chew, savoring every bite. A silence settles between the two of you as you both eat, right before you ask him a quiet question.

"... Did you get into a lot of trouble for what you did for me yesterday?" your eyes shine with worry, you nervously looking up at him for an answer. He finds himself again surprised by how much you seem to care. 

Yes, he wants to say. I nearly got myself disqualified as a mentor and it would've been the end of my family's future in the Capitol. But he swallows his thoughts down, alongside the dry taste of the tuna sandwich.

"Not much. Actually, I was able to convince the gamemaster, Dr Gaul, to implement a few changes to the games."

"Really, like what?"

"To let the public send you donations. That way, I could send you supplies you needed into the arena - food, water, medicine. It'd mean having to do the extra job of playing to the public and getting them to root for your survival, but with a voice like yours, the songbird of Panem -"

Your smile drops at that, your gaze turning stern at his suggestion.

"I only sing when I please for an audience I choose." your eyebrows furrow, your usually sweet expression melting into something more sour. It's oddly cute, he thinks. 

"I know, but I'm really going to need you to try. It's for your own survival. Our survival." he emphasizes, staring right into your eyes. You can't suppress your sad smile at that, crumbling the empty napkin in your hands.

"Are you sure it's not just for your survival?"

Your question haunts Coriolanus that night, alongside the sounds of broken glass and pained gasps as Arachne lies bleeding on the ground, having been stabbed in the neck by one of the tributes. When he quickly runs to his classmate, he doesn't get to see your expression, as you're ripped away by Jessup pulling you into safety in an instant and peace keepers swarm the scene in an effort to remain calm.

When he's back home and the crimson blood coating his hands have dried from where he was holding his dying classmate's wounds, he wonders if there's any truth to your answer.

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

Everything changes at the arena tour.

You've not had much sleep. You're confused, you're angry, but most of all you've been haunted by your conflicting feelings towards your mentor and the name he'd called you - songbird. A silly little songbird, you think spitefully. 

To sing and charm the very same public who had doomed her to a violent game of death. 

It was absurd, really, that he'd even ask that. It made your stomach churn and your head ache at the thought of cheapening your craft for something so juvenile.

And yet, when you spot the familiar red suit and white blonde hair in the mass of other mentors at the arena, you can't help but feel warmth in your chest and stomach. A part of you even feels lucky, given that the other mentors seem to waste their time insulting their tributes or being too afraid to talk to them. Whilst Coriolanus, on the other hand, seems to be full of ideas to ensure your survival.

"The game master liked my suggestions. So the donations system is going to be implemented, with a broadcast beforehand for the tributes to get a chance to endear themselves to the public for donations." He's speaking so fast that you almost think he enjoys explaining the games to you. "Now what this means is that assuming you get enough donations, when the bell goes off, you don't go for the weapons. You don't fight. You just run as fast as you can, hide and stay alive for as long as you can." 

"How can you even be sure I'll get enough donations for you to be able to send supplies?" you mutter, looking around at the other tributes. "A lot of these folks are a lot taller and stronger than I am. They've got a much better chance at surviving than I do."  

Coriolanus surprises you by taking both of your hands in his, squeezing your palms tight in his cold palms.

"I know, but we have something none of the others have."

You scrunch your face in confusion.

"What's that?"

"A story. A strong connection between you and me, a Capitol mentor and a District 12 tribute. Not to mention, your incredible singing and songwriting. Match that with my knack for public relations and we'll have enough donations to send you any supplies necessary for your victory in the games."

You realize then that Coriolanus is unlike anyone else you've ever met. So confident, so sure, so perceptive of other people and their secret desires and pitfalls. His unwavering commitment to his beliefs is admirable, if not almost foolish, but you keep that part to yourself.

"How're you so sure I'll even survive the first few minutes?" you push back, still unconvinced, though you don't pull away from his hold. "And, again, I don't just sing for anyone."

The blonde opens his mouth to respond, but he's interrupted when a sudden cascade of dust and fire crumbles down from the ceiling of the arena. The sound of a bomb exploding reverberates as you're both thrown off of your feet by the impact. Your head is still ringing from the chaos when Jessup pulls at your sleeves, commanding you to walk away from the wreckage. 

Rising onto shaky legs, you even spot another tribute running from the guards towards a blown out hole on the side of the building. And when your eyes meet with Coriolanus' frantic ones, his lower half trapped underneath rubble, you both recognize that you now have an unbridled chance to escape - 

But you don't.

To the blonde's complete shock, you instead shove your friend off, screaming as you lift the heavy cement column with all your strength in an effort to pry the debris off of his body. With the help of a few peace keepers, it works, but Coriolanus falls into unconsciousness quickly as he succumbs to the excruciating pain of crushed ribs and bruised limbs.

The last thing he sees before he fades into darkness is your teary eyes, a sight he so badly wants to fix by wiping away your tears with his fingers... 

When he eventually wakes, it's in a dark hospital next to his grandma'am and sister. There's a roar on the television screen as you're brought onto the broadcast, shy smile and a glittering guitar in hand. It hits him that you're actually going to sing. 

"I didn't have a chance to... uh... write a new song. But I'd like to dedicate this performance to someone very special who's recently been hurt." you say into the mike, your eyes clearly brimming with nerves and doubt. 

As you sing, there's a tight sensation in Coriolanus' chest once the lyrics settle into his mind - a small voice whispers in his mind that it's jealousy, for you singing about a boy back in your home town who broke your heart - but it's overwhelmed by the feelings of gratitude and awe that you'd ended up doing what he asked you to do. All that, after selflessly saving his life.

"A...are you okay, Coryo?" is all Tigris asks, brushing his hair back and gently guiding him back down onto bed upon seeing his expression twist into one of discomfort.

"She could've run." 

"What?"

"At the arena. The blast blew open a large opening on the side of the stadium. I saw one of the tributes actually make it out that way." he lets out a shaky breath, hating you for what you've done to him to make him feel this way. "Damn it, Tigris. She could've run. She could've-"

A single tear drops from his left eye and onto his injured palm, his weak voice giving away his true emotions.

"She could've saved herself from even having to participate in the games. But she stayed. She fucking stayed behind to lift the debris off of me."

"She saved your life." his sister finishes for him, the atmosphere turning somber as she wraps her arms around his shoulder. "I'm just so glad that you're both safe." 

As you retreat from the screen, the donation numbers only piling up higher as Lucky Flickerman closes out the broadcast, a hot fire lights up in Coriolanus' stomach. 

He has to save you.

No matter what it takes.

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

"You know he's just using you, right?"

After the broadcast, once it's revealed that you were given the largest amount of donations out of all the other tributes, Coral from District 4 corners you backstage. 

"Pardon?" you fake ignorance, a small smile playing on your lips, which only seems to aggravate the girl further. 

"Your pretty boy mentor. He's only been faking all sweet for you to get the public to send you donations. In fact, I bet he didn't even bother to try and pull himself out of the wreckage so that he could get more public sympathy.

You snap at that, all fake modesty melting away in an instant.

"You have no idea what the fuck you're talking about, Coral. Coriolanus isn't like that." you spit, but all she does is look down at you with a nasty smirk on her lips.

"Oh really? And how would you know, little songbird? Think he'd care about someone from district 12? And why do you think he wants you to win so badly? Because he's a good person?" she mocks, her face now a mere inches away from yours. "No. I reckon it's more for the prize money." 

You can't sleep that night at the zoo, tossing and turning in the dark. Your mind can't seem to rest, torn between the adrenaline and dread for the games tomorrow, alongside the constant worry over Coriolanus' wellbeing and doubts over his genuinity and trustworthiness.

Coral's just trying to get in my head. you repeat to yourself, over and over again. You're on the edge of sleep, exhausted and upset by your conflicting emotions, when you hear a familiar voice coming from the darkness. 

It sounds like Coriolanus. 

You sit up straight, and it's true: he's here, and he's whispering your name repeatedly, beckoning you towards the front of the cage and away from your sleeping competitors. Suddenly, the overwhelming exhaustion and fatigue disappears, and you find yourself gravitating towards the only person you've been thinking about for the past 24 hours.

"Coryo, you're... you're alright." you sigh out, almost overwhelmed with relief. You don't even realize you're crying until his hands reach up and brush away your tears, his warm hand a stark contrast to the freezing cold of the night.

"I am. All thanks to you, songbird." he breathes out, his fingers tracing the ripples of your cheeks. His head feels dizzy and his hands tremble as he searches his pockets for his mother's golden compact mirror. 

"Don't call me that." you weakly laugh, as he does too. "What's this?" you ask, staring at the object he’s folded gently into your hands. 

"It's for you to use in the arena. Now listen to what I say very carefully. Don't breathe this in, don't spill it on yourself, and only use it when you really need to." he slowly explains, as if he's terrified that you're going to harm yourself by merely carrying it in your pockets. 

"Is... is this allowed? For you to sneak in and give me this?" you whisper, looking around your surroundings, but it's pitch black. 

The blonde purses his lips, using every muscle in his body to keep his expression neutral.

No, it's certainly not allowed. I am risking my life, as well as my family's future, by doing this.

"That's not important. What is important is that the blast from the arena has created a hole leading out to a bunch of service tunnels. I tested it out myself, it leads towards the outside, far away from the peace keepers." 

"Wait, I don't understa-"

Desperation grabs a hold of him, and it's a foreign feeling - the crushing despair of wanting to protect someone that he can't, the burning urge to want to put someone else ahead of him for once.

"What I need you to do tomorrow, (Y/n), is to run. The moment the alarm rings, don't even think of running towards the weapons or fighting the others. Don't even hide anymore. Just… just run towards the tunnels, by yourself, and get out."

"But what about Jessup-" you hiccup. Your head's spinning, confused and horrified by your mentor's change of plans and the prospect of leaving behind your friend to die in the arena. 

"Forget about him." Coriolanus snaps. Suddenly, his eyes are cold and his voice is firm, commanding you as if you have no choice in the matter. "In there, he's as dangerous as the other tributes. You can't trust anyone, not even your supposed friends, okay? The games, they-" he chokes on his own words, and there's something again in Coriolanus' eyes that you can't quite decipher. "They bring out the worst in people. Promise me you'll run."

It makes your stomach twist in anxiety.

"I-"

"Please." 

As he begs, his face crumbles, his voice so desperate and feeble that you can't find it in yourself to say no. 

"I... I'll try." you relent, and he lets out a sigh of relief at your agreement. 

"Good. Perfect." He takes your head in his hands and softly kisses your temple. "I won't let you die in there, okay? Just like you took care of me after the explosion. I'm going to take care of you."

"I'm your mentor. I do my best to take care of you." 

Coriolanus' words from the train station echo in your head as you nod, pocketing the mirror deep inside your dress to hide it away from plain sight.

"Will I... will I be able to see you, after the games?" 

You immediately feel stupid for even asking that. Everyone knows winning the games merely allows your return to your home district. And on all logical accounts, it wouldn't make any sense for the man to give up his life in the Capitol to follow you back to 12.

But he smiles at your innocent question, only nodding whilst squeezing your hands in the dark. To your feeble heart and mind, it feels like a genuine promise.

"Of course, my songbird. I'll do whatever it takes."

"Don't make promises you can't keep." you whisper.

"I never do." 

And for the first time, you think you actually believe him wholeheartedly.

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

You can't believe it. 

You've won.

You were so sure you were going to die once the snakes had been released, eyes closing shut once the venomous snakes began to crawl up your skin, but as you continued to sing... The reptiles simply slithered by your side, remaining docile and non-threatening. And based on the snakes' sudden change of behavior and Highbottom's scowl when he announced you as the victor of the 10th Hunger Games - "consider yourself lucky, little girl, as it seems your mentor was willing to break more than a few rules for you" - your stomach churns at the realization that Coriolanus kept his promise.

He did whatever it took to get you out. 

Even cheating. 

You've only heard whispers of the punishments for cheating at the Capitol. But based on the frequent hangings of rebels in your home district, you can't imagine that the punishment would be very kind.

Weeks have passed since your victory, since the last time you've even seen Coriolanus, but it does nothing to erase him from your mind. You still see his faint silhouette in the mornings, when your eyes have barely adjusted to the morning light and there's a pile of clothes sitting on the chair beside your bed. You think you hear his voice amongst the sea of strangers’ conversations, calling out for his 'songbird'. And you swear you see his face in every crowd at the bar.

Unbeknownst to you, Coriolanus is having the same struggles on the opposite end of the country. Luckily, bearing the last name Snow meant his punishment for cheating was to be lighter than the usual hanging: mandatory military service. District 8. But he's sure to bring his last few bills to bribe the immigration officer for a transfer to 12. 

All to come find you. 

He suffers through the first week of training - grueling hours, hanging ceremonies, endless ramblings from Sejanus about making a change for the better. He pretends not to notice Sejanus establishing connections within the rebel community, until he can’t ignore it anymore. After all, Coriolanus simply can't afford his friend’s idealism and recklessness to get him killed too, and potentially you, when you're thought to be linked to the movement by mere virtue of association.

Especially not you, Coriolanus thinks.

After the games, of having to watch you bleed, sob and fight for hours on end as he stood helplessly, only able to watch: even the passing thought of your death elicits a violent reaction in him. He'll do anything for you. 

Even if that means turning in his only friend to prove his loyalty to the Capitol.

It's an unremarkable Wednesday night for you when you're singing a song at the bar, black guitar in hand and the smell of booze thick in the air, when your eyes come across a familiar face. 

It takes you a few seconds, of course. You almost think it’s a hallucination, if it wasn’t for the sea of other soldiers surrounding him, validating his presence. His fluffy white locks are gone, replaced with a clean buzz cut. He's lost a bit of weight, his shoulders more broad and rough from military training, and the lack of expensive bright fabrics draped around his figure is jarring at first. But it suits him, you think. 

The song can't finish any faster before you're slinging your guitar to the back and rushing up to Coriolanus, immediately throwing your arms around him. He stiffens in your embrace before relaxing, his arms finding your waist and squeezing you tightly. And you can't help but savor every essence of his being: he smells of sweat and coal (unlike his Capitol uniform which always smelled of florals and clean linen) and you can feel the cool metal of his dog tags press against your collarbone at this angle.

"You came back for me." you breathe out, still not believing that he's in front of you. Your ex mentor just smiles, tapping your cheeks with his hands.

"Said I'd never break a promise, now didn't I?" 

As the next performer goes up on stage, recapturing the attention of the audience, you pull him away towards the back room, far away from the bustling crowds and twinkling lights.

"I've thought of you every day, my songbird." Coriolanus whispers against your skin once you two are away from the crowds, his head falling forwards into the nape of your neck.

Your cheeks warm at his comment, your fingers coming up to play with the dog tags around his neck, before a light chuckle escapes your lips.

"What's so funny? Did you not miss me?" the blonde teases, and you shake your head sideways in denial.

"Of course I missed you. I missed you more than you could imagine."

"Then what's the chuckle for?"

You let out a short sigh, not knowing if it’d be wise to bring it up. But all he does is encouraging you, looking deep into your eyes and nodding, urging you to say what’s on your mind. You relent, shoulders sagging. 

"It's just... when I won the games, Highbottom congratulated me. But not for winning the games. But for surviving you." you awkwardly chuckle in hopes of diffusing the seriousness of your question. "Is it true, Coryo?"

"What are you getting at?" is his response, coy and low. You can't tell if he's amused, annoyed or disturbed. 

Or all three at once.

"There's rumors, you know. I heard that you... you had to kill a tribute." you whisper, as if what you’re saying is the biggest secret in the world. "Is it true?"

Coriolanus pauses at that, the smirk on his face dropping for a fraction of a second before he's cupping your face and lifting your gaze to meet his eyes. His stare is so strong, so unwavering, almost to the point of unnerving you. But it's matched with such warmth and softness in his touch as he strokes your hair.

"You have to understand, darling… It was just like the snakes. If I hadn't rigged the game by getting the snakes used to your smell so they wouldn't attack you, you would've died. And if I hadn't killed the tribute charging at me when I had to sneak into the arena to rescue Sejanus-" he sighs, slow and long. He looks as if he’s thinking hard. "I had to, my songbird. I had to do it to protect you. To take care of you." he emphasizes.

You're not sure what kind of an answer you wanted, but you're unable to respond immediately, as it slowly dawns on you that this man both cheated and killed another person for you. 

His response to your silence is a swift kiss, calloused hands dropping to your waist to pull you in close, the gesture desperate and messy. Breathing heavily when he parts from you, he kisses you once more, this time a short peck which is more rough and demanding.

"I would do anything for you, (Y/n) (L/n). Anything for you."

Coriolanus chooses to keep quiet about the fact that technically, he could've just injured the tribute charging towards him instead. Or that it felt freeing to have ended the tribute’s life. Or that just a few hours ago, he tipped off the Capitol about Sejanus' rebellion. All in an effort to secure your unbridled safety. So that he doesn’t ever have to let go of you again.

"Now, where are your manners, my songbird? Aren't you going to thank me?" he whispers against your lips, smoothing out your hair.

"T-thank you, Coryo." you manage to stutter.

He smiles at that, kissing the top of your head as he sways you from side to side.

"Of course, love. Don't worry. We’re going to be just fine. In fact, everything will be fine from now on."

As you peak out from under his embrace, you're not so sure if you can believe him anymore.

a/n: leave it to a new hunger games movie and Tom Blyth playing young!Snow to make me return from my 1.5 year long writing hiatus.

I'm quite nervous about this one as it's my first time writing for a semi-dark character and also because it's been so long since I posted my writing on here... But I hope you enjoyed, please leave a comment, like, reblog, etc if you liked it. If this one is received well I might go ahead and post the other Snow fics currently sitting in my drafts!!!

[mrsfancyferrari]

Our Love Is Strong

Summary: You weren't going to let your eating disorder destroy your relationship until it did.

Song: Only Love Can Hurt Like This by Paloma Faith

Author’s note: From someone probably has an eating disorder but disguises it being a picky eater, I really wanted to write this. Happy ending. Please like, reblog and share this! <3

Word count: 5.6k

You and Lando Norris had just gotten into a serious relationship, and you couldn't be happier. The chemistry between you two was undeniable, and you had both been looking forward to building a future together.

However, there was one thing that you had been hiding from Lando - your biggest secret, your eating disorder.

As an F1 driver yourself, maintaining a slim figure had always been a priority. You had become accustomed to following a strict diet, limiting your food intake to the bare minimum.

Your career as a racing driver had ensured that your body was in peak physical condition, and a diet was not a major concern since you hardly ate anything in general.

However, Lando was growing increasingly concerned by your lack of appetite. He noticed that you were frequently skipping meals, and he couldn't help but notice the weight of your body diminishing.

“Are you not going to go eat more?” Lando asked you, not looking up from his phone.

“I’m full,” You answered as usual, “I’m going to be at the gym if you need me,”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Lando questioned you, concerned of your health.

“Yeah everything is okay Lando,” You said with a small smile, walking towards the door.

“Why do you insist that everything is fine when I can clearly see that you are troubled? You know I'm here to listen and understand what's really going on.”

You immediately stopped in your tracks, not turning around to face him.

“Don't shut me out please - let me in so I can help. I know you've been through a lot, but keeping your feelings bottled up isn't healthy. Please, talk to me. I want to support you, but I can't do that if you won't be honest with me.”

You kept quiet, afraid that your voice would betray you if you spoke. You didn’t want that. You could hide your secret. You hid it from your family and friends so why shouldn’t you hide it from your boyfriend?

“I'm on your side, Y/N. All I ask is that you trust me enough to open up. Together, we can work through whatever is weighing on your mind.” Lando begged, standing up from the chair and slowly walking to you.

“I’ll be in the gym if you need me,” You repeated quietly before rushing out of the room, leaving Lando in a distressed state.

You’ve been spending more time at the gym lately and less time with Lando. It's a conscious decision you made to avoid him as much as possible, as you don't want to discuss the topic of your eating habits.

Lando has always been concerned about your diet and weight, and it's become a point of contention between us. You appreciated his concern, but you feel that it's your own personal matter, and you don't want to be constantly scrutinized or lectured about it.

By spending less time with him, you were able to focus on your own fitness goals and personal growth without the added pressure.

“Congratulations Y/N! Your weight has gone to 140.0 pounds,” Your physician said, looking at the weight scale that you stood on. “Is your new diet doing good for you?”

“Umm yeah it does help,” You lied, standing off the scale after they recorded your weight.

Lies. You hardly ate the new diet. You wanted to get to the weight you were to told to get to in the quickest time so you could help your team out more that you would not be weighing down the car.

“Great, now tell me do you get any dizzy spells recently?” The physician asked, not looking up from their board.

Yes, almost everyday.

“No, I don’t get any dizzy spells,” You lied again.

“Do you ever feel cold or tired?” The physician continued.

“Nope, I feel fine,” You answered, wanting the questions to stop.

The guilt was creeping up on you slowly.

The physician smiled warmly as they reviewed the test results. "I'm pleased to say that everything looks perfectly normal," they announced, their voice exuding a reassuring tone.

"However, I would recommend making a few adjustments to your diet. Let's go over a plan that will help you feel your absolute best."

The physician proceeded to outline a balanced, nutritious regimen, tailored specifically to address any minor concerns and ensure your continued good health.

You were happy that they didn’t notice your pale skin, clammy hands and the slight ribs showing through your skin.

“Make sure to take a lot of water and stick to this new diet and I’m sure you’ll be lighter in no time,” The physician instructed.

You nodded while remembering nothing she says. You wouldn’t be needing it anyways, you have your way of losing weight.

When you left the doctor's office, you saw Carlos waiting for his own appointment. You approached him and said, "Carlos, fancy seeing you here. How are you doing?"

Carlos looked up and replied, "Oh, hey there! I'm doing alright, just waiting for my turn to see the doctor. I've been having some issues with my back lately, and I figured it was time to get it checked out. How about you, how did your appointment go?"

“It went great! Just a usual checkup,” You said, lying through your teeth.

You started to feel lightheaded, and a sense of unease crept up your spine. As you stood there, the room seemed to sway slightly, and you couldn't quite focus your eyes.

This was no ordinary feeling – something was clearly amiss. Recognising the signs of potential dizziness or even a more serious medical issue, you knew you needed to act quickly.

Taking a deep breath, you steadied yourself and began to assess the situation more closely. Was this a temporary bout of lightheadedness, or could it be a sign of a more underlying condition? Your mind raced as you considered the various possibilities, each one more concerning than the last. However, you refused to panic.

"Whoa, I'm starting to feel a bit lightheaded," you muttered, placing a hand on your forehead. "I haven't felt this way in a while."

Carlos looked at you with concern. "Are you alright? Maybe you should sit down for a moment." Hr guided you to a nearby chair and helped you ease into it.

"I'm not sure what's causing it," you replied, taking a few deep breaths. "It just came on suddenly. Do you think I should get some water or something?"

“I think you should go back into the doctor’s office to get checked out,” Carlos stated, worriedness written all over his face.

“No, no, I just forgot to drink water today,” You said, trying to regain your vision.

Carlos immediately ran over to the water dispensers, taking a cup of water before walking back to you worriedly

Carlos hurried over to the water coolers, quickly grabbing a cup and filling it with water. As he rushed back to where you were standing, a look of concern was etched across his face.

“Here you go,” Carlos said, handing you the cup of water and you took it, grateful for his actions.

“Should I call Lando to come pick you up?”

“No!” You immediately yelled, the name of your boyfriend making you jump. He would force you to go back to the doctor’s office and remove you from the race.

“I mean no, I’m meeting up with him after this so there is no point calling him,” You lied with a strained smile on, sipping on the cold water.

Carlos gave you a long stare to find anything he could use to bring his best friend into it but he found nothing.

“Carlos Sainz,” The physician called in from their office and Carlos looked annoyed to have to leave you but he saw nothing wrong with you.

"See you later, Carlos," you said, bidding farewell to your colleague in a polite and courteous manner. You then rose from the cool, metallic seat and made your way out of the building, your departure marked by a sense of professionalism and civility.

Carlos gazed at you intently one final time, his eyes conveying a sense of determination, before turning and walking towards the entrance of his physician's medical practice. . . .

Lando looked from his phone to you who was asleep in your shared bed, worried about his girlfriend.

You have been getting paler for the past few days, and he couldn't help but feel concerned. He knew how important it was for you to rest and recover, but he couldn't help but worry about your well-being.

As he watched you sleep, Lando couldn't help but feel a sense of relief.

He was grateful that you were getting the rest you needed, and he vowed to do everything in his power to ensure that you felt better soon. . . .

The qualifying race was fast approaching, and the pressure was on for both of you. You, struggling with an eating disorder, knew that your performance was being watched closely.

Charles, noticed your increasing fatigue and tried to speak up, but you brushed it off and pushed yourself harder, determined to secure more points.

You were exhausted when you bumped into Charles. "Hey, Charles."

Charles greeted you with a smile, "Hey, my friend. I noticed you've been looking a little tired lately. Are you okay?"

You were obviously guarded with your emotions, "I'm fine, thanks. Just focusing on qualifying."

Charles gently replied, "I noticed that too. The drivers are noticing too. Are you pushing yourself too hard?"

You ignored Charles' concern for you, "No, I'm perfectly fine. I just need to give my best on the track."

"Are you really sure? I've noticed that you haven't been eating much lately. Something isn't right."

"That's none of your business, Charles. I'm fine, really. Just leave me alone and focus on qualifying."

Charles wasn't going to give up easily as he firmly said, "No, it's not right, and I'm not going to leave you alone. I care about you, and I can't sit by and watch you suffer in silence."

You were beyond angry now. Why couldn't he ignore you like everyone did?

"You have no right to judge me! You don't know anything about my personal struggles."

"It's not about judgment. It's about caring. I care about you, and I don't want you to suffer in silence. Please, talk to me." Charles begged.

You weakly said, "I...I don't know what to say."

Charles had an understanding look on his face. "It's okay. I'm here for you. Just remember that it's okay to ask for help."

You answered, voice breaking, "Okay, Charles. I'll think about it."

Charles was patting your back, "Take your time. I'm here for you, no matter what."

You looked up, "Thank you, Charles."

Your eating disorder started when you were young, unable to afford good food. Growing up in a low-income household, you often went without proper nutrition, which led to a distorted relationship with food.

As you pursued your racing dreams, the pressure to maintain a certain physique only exacerbated your struggles with food. The constant focus on qualifying and securing points overshadowed your well-being.

The constant pressure to maintain a certain physique in the racing industry, coupled with the intense focus on qualifying and securing points, created a toxic environment that overshadowed your well-being.

The distorted relationship with food, stemming from your childhood experiences of not having access to proper nutrition, became even more challenging to overcome as you pursued your racing dreams.

However, being in a relationship with Lando only added to the pressure you felt. Seeing how other drivers' partners looked perfect and put-together, you couldn't help but compare yourself and feel inadequate.

The desire to fit into that mold and meet those expectations only fueled your eating disorder further, as you believed that achieving that "perfect" appearance would make you more worthy of love and acceptance.

It was a vicious cycle that seemed impossible to break. . . .

It was a crisp morning as you made your way through the paddock, the cool air sending a shiver down your spine. You tried to ignore the growing sense of fatigue that was creeping up on you, chalking it up to the nerves of the impending race.

As you approached the pit, the dizziness hit you like a wave, causing you to sway slightly on your feet. you brushed it off, determined to push through and focus on the task at hand.

The mechanics were bustling around, making final adjustments to your car, and you knew you needed to be at the top of your game.

Despite the warning signs, you climbed into the cockpit, your movements feeling sluggish and uncoordinated. The familiar rush of adrenaline was absent, replaced by a heavy, lethargic feeling. You shook your head, trying to clear the fog, but it only seemed to worsen.

As the race began, you struggled to maintain control of the car, your reactions slow and your concentration wavering. The other drivers pulled ahead, leaving you trailing behind, unable to muster the energy to keep up.

You knew you were putting yourself and the team at risk, but the thought of admitting defeat was too much to bear.

By the time the chequered flag fell, you had finished well outside the points, your body and mind utterly spent.

As you returned to your garage, you sat in your car, gasping for breath, feeling completely drained and unable to move. Your body ached with exhaustion, and even lifting your hand to wipe away the sweat on your brow seemed like an impossible task.

The physical and mental toll of the race had taken its toll on you, leaving you in a state of utter exhaustion. The disappointment and frustration washed over you, knowing that you had pushed yourself to the limit and still fell short of your expectations.

You stumbled out of the car, your legs wobbly and unsteady. The pit crew rushed to your side, concerned expressions on their faces as they tried to offer support.

Ignoring their pleas, you continued to wander aimlessly with your helmet on, the voices around you becoming a distant blur.

The weight of disappointment and frustration settled heavily on your shoulders, as you struggled to come to terms with falling short of your own expectations.

As you stumbled aimlessly with your helmet on, your vision began to blur and darken. Colors and shapes merged together, and you could barely make out the faces of the concerned pit crew.

Panic set in as you realized that your body had reached its breaking point, and your vision was giving out completely.

The world around you faded into darkness, leaving you disoriented and overwhelmed.

As you collapsed on the ground, the pit crew rushed to your side in a frenzy of concern and alarm. Their voices blended together, a cacophony of worried shouts and urgent instructions.

Some knelt down beside you, gently trying to rouse you, while others hurriedly called for medical assistance. The team's collective panic was palpable as they desperately tried to understand what had happened and how to help you.

As the medical team arrived, the pit crew stepped back, their faces etched with worry and fear.

They exchanged glances, silently conveying their shared concern for your well-being. The atmosphere in the garage had shifted from anticipation and excitement to a somber and tense mood, as everyone anxiously awaited news of your condition.

Another thing that the pit crew was worried about was your boyfriend, Lando Norris, and his reaction to your condition.

They knew that he would be furious and distraught when he found out what had happened. They understood the immense pressure he put on himself to perform well, and they feared that he would blame himself for your collapse.

They braced themselves for the storm that was about to come, hoping that they could provide him with the support he needed to navigate through his own emotions.

A staff member had come up to Lando and whispered something to him. "Lando, we need to talk. Something has happened to Y/N. She collapsed after the race and the medical team is attending to her right now."

Lando was shocked by the information. "What? Is she okay? What happened? Why wasn't I informed earlier?"

"We're still waiting for more updates, but it seems like her body gave out under the pressure. The doctors are doing everything they can. We didn't want to distract you during the race." The staff explained to him

"I can't believe this. I should have been there for her. She always puts so much on herself. I need to see her, now." Lando said, walking towards your paddock garage.

The staff member immediately followed him, not wanting him to make any rash decisions in public. "We're making arrangements for you to visit her at the hospital, Lando. Your focus right now should be on her well-being."

Lando paced back and forth, his anxiety growing with each passing second. He couldn't stand the thought of you being alone in the hospital, fighting for your well-being.

As he waited for the car to arrive, he replayed the events of the race in his head, desperately searching for any signs that he might have missed.

A car finally came to pick up Lando and take him to the hospital. As he got in, he couldn't shake off the feeling of guilt, wondering if there was anything he could have done differently during the race to prevent your collapse.

The drive to the hospital felt like an eternity, each passing moment filled with worry and self-doubt.

He finally arrived at the hospital and approached the reception desk, his voice trembling as he asked the secretary for your name. The secretary looked up and said, "May I ask your relationship to the patient?"

Lando took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves, and replied, "I'm her boyfriend, Lando Norris. Please, I need to see her right away."

The secretary nodded sympathetically and quickly located your name on the computer.

"She's in room 305 on the third floor. Take the elevator to your left," she said, pointing in the direction.

Lando thanked her and hurriedly made his way towards the elevator, his heart pounding with a mixture of fear and hope.

As Lando stepped into the elevator, he couldn't help but feel a sense of relief that he had finally found your room.

The journey up to the third floor felt like an eternity, each passing floor filled with anticipation and worry.

As Lando stepped out of the elevator onto the third floor, he couldn't help but feel a surge of relief and anticipation. Room 305 was just down the hallway, and he quickened his pace, eager to see you and reassure himself that you were okay.

The door to the room swung open, revealing a scene of medical equipment and monitors, but what caught Lando's attention was the sight of you lying in the hospital bed.

His eyes filled with tears as he approached you, gently taking your hand in his.

As Lando looked at you lying in the hospital bed, he noticed a tube attached to your mouth. The tube was connected to a ventilator, helping you breathe and providing the necessary oxygen to support your recovery.

The soft hum of the machine filled the room, a constant reminder of the critical role it played in keeping you stable. Lando's heart ached at the sight, knowing that you were relying on this lifeline for every breath.

It snaked its way from your mouth to the ventilator, securing your connection to the vital support system.

Lando couldn't help but feel a mix of gratitude and helplessness as he watched the gentle rise and fall of your chest, synchronized with the rhythmic breaths the machine facilitated.

"I'm so sorry, I should have known," Lando whispers to himself, his voice filled with regret. He pulls up a chair beside the bed and holds your hand tightly.

Lando gently brushed a strand of hair away from your face and whispered, "I promise I'll be here for you, every step of the way. We'll get through this together." . . . .

You regained consciousness shortly thereafter, but you were weak and disoriented. The room seemed unfamiliar, and it took a moment for your eyes to adjust to the bright lights. As you looked around, you saw Lando sitting beside you, his eyes filled with relief and concern.

He gently squeezed your hand and said, "You're awake. I've been so worried. How are you feeling?"

"How did I get here?" you slurred, your voice still groggy from the effects of the sedation.

Lando's face softened with a mixture of understanding and sadness as he explained, "You collapsed after the race, but don't worry, you're in the hospital now and the doctors are taking care of you."

As Lando spoke, fragments of memories began to flood back into your mind. You remembered the intense pressure building up inside you during the race, the struggle to breathe, and the overwhelming fatigue that consumed your body.

You looked at Lando, tears welling up in your eyes, and whispered, "I pushed myself too hard, didn't I?"

Lando's voice cracked with emotion as he replied, "You gave it everything you had. But now, the most important thing is that you focus on recovering. We'll figure out the rest together."

Before Lando could say anymore, a doctor came into the room looking serious. "I'm glad to see you awake," the doctor said, addressing you. "We need to talk about your condition and the next steps for your recovery."

The doctor's words hung in the air, and Lando's grip on your hand tightened as you braced yourself for the difficult conversation that was about to follow.

"From your tests, you have been heavily malnourished, causing you to collapse," the doctor stated, his voice filled with concern. "We will need to address your nutritional needs and closely monitor your progress. A team of specialists will be assigned to create a personalized recovery plan for you, focusing on restoring your strength and replenishing your body."

The doctor's words hit you like a punch to the gut. He explained that your collapse was a result of severe malnourishment, as your body had been deprived of essential nutrients for an extended period of time.

Tears streamed down your face as you realized the extent of the damage you had done to yourself, and Lando's eyes mirrored your pain as he vowed to support you in your recovery journey.

"Before I continue, is there any mental health condition that I should know about?" the doctor asked, his voice gentle and understanding. You paused for a moment, contemplating whether to disclose your struggles with your eating disorder.

You looked over at Lando, taking a deep breath before speaking. "Yes," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

"I've been battling an eating disorder for years."

Lando's expression softened even further as he gently squeezed your hand, silently assuring you that he would be there for you every step of the way.

The doctor nodded, his eyes full of empathy. "Thank you for sharing that with me," he said.

"It's important that we address both your physical and mental health in your recovery plan. I will make sure to involve the appropriate specialists who can provide the necessary support and guidance. Remember, you don't have to face this alone."

The doctor then excused himself from the room, leaving you, Lando and the unbelievable tension that hung in the air.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He finally asked after the uncomfortable silence took over the room.

You took a deep breath, gathering the strength to respond. "I didn't tell you because I was ashamed," you admitted, your voice trembling. "I felt like a burden, like I was letting you down. I didn't want you to see me as weak or broken."

You tried to apologize, explaining that your eating disorder was deeply rooted in your past and that you had struggled to overcome it.

You explained how it had started as a coping mechanism to deal with the pressures of being an F1 driver, but it had gradually taken over your life.

Lando's eyes softened as he reached out to wipe away a tear from your cheek. "You're not weak or broken," he said firmly.

"You're strong for sharing this with me. And I want you to know that I love you no matter what. We're in this together, and I'll do whatever it takes to support you in your recovery."

The weight on your shoulders began to lift as you realized that you didn't have to face this battle alone. In that moment, you knew that with Lando by your side, there was hope for healing and a brighter future ahead.

He had witnessed firsthand the toll that an eating disorder could take on this relationship, and he was determined to help you overcome it. Lando had seen how it strained communication, eroded trust, and created a sense of helplessness.

But he also believed in your strength and resilience, and he was committed to supporting you every step of the way.

He knew it would be a journey filled with ups and downs, but he was ready to face it together, knowing that love and understanding could make all the difference in your recovery. . . .

Lando had been worried about your well-being for months, even when you had been diligently treating your eating disorder. There were times when you would try to skip meals, but Lando always seemed to know.

One afternoon, Lando came home from work, eager to share his latest Quadrant video. He saw you sitting at the dinner table, eating slowly. Your hands trembled slightly as you struggled to swallow each bite.

Lando approached you cautiously, his heart heavy with concern. "Hey, beautiful," he said softly, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. "How are you doing?"

You turned to look at him, your eyes filled with a mix of vulnerability and hope. "I'm okay," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "But Lando, I think I'm still struggling."

Lando nodded, understanding the pain behind your words. "I know, my love," he said, his voice full of empathy. "But you're doing so well. You've made so much progress."

You sighed, feeling a mix of frustration and despair. "I know," you said, your voice breaking. "But sometimes, it's still so hard. Sometimes, I just...I forget."

Lando leaned closer, his voice filled with reassurance. "I understand," he said, his eyes locked on yours. "But I'm here for you, every step of the way. And I promise, I'll never give up."

You smiled, grateful for his unwavering support. "Thank you, Lando," you said, your voice filled with emotion. "You always know what to say."

Lando leaned in closer, his voice barely above a whisper. "But you know what else?" he asked, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You tilted your head, curious as to what he had in mind. "What's that?" you replied, your heart pounding with excitement.

Lando leaned in even closer, his lips almost touching yours. "I promised to give you a kiss once you finish your food," he whispered, his voice filled with anticipation.

You blushed, your heart racing. "You're going to keep that promise?" you asked, unable to hide the anticipation in your voice.

Lando nodded, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "I will," he promised, his voice filled with determination.

You turned back to your food, determined to finish what was on your plate. With each bite, you focused on the feeling of the fork in your hands, the rhythm of chewing, and the taste of the food on your tongue.

After what seemed like an eternity, you finally finished your last bite. You looked up at Lando, your eyes filled with a mix of relief and anticipation.

"Can I have the kiss now?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Lando smiled, his eyes filled with tenderness. "You have it, my love," he said, his voice filled with love. He leaned in, his lips softly landing on yours, a gentle kiss that spoke of his unwavering support and love.

As you pulled away, your eyes met his, filled with a mix of joy and gratitude. "Thank you," you said, your voice filled with emotion.

Lando leaned in again, his voice barely above a whisper. "You're welcome," he replied, his voice filled with warmth.

Suddenly, Lando grabbed you by the under your thighs and carried you up to his chest. You let out a gasp, but he quickly reassured you, "Don't worry, I've got you."

Your heart raced with surprise and excitement as you looked into his eyes. "What's gotten into you?" you asked, a hint of laughter in your voice.

Lando grinned mischievously, his eyes sparkling. "I just wanted to show you how much I appreciate you," he replied, his voice filled with adoration. "And maybe have a little fun while we're at it."

"Wow, you really know how to surprise me," you said, a playful smile on your face. Lando chuckled, his arms securely holding you.

"I thought a little spontaneity would spice things up," he replied, his voice filled with excitement.

You leaned in closer, your lips almost brushing against his ear. "Well, you certainly succeeded," you whispered, a mischievous tone in your voice.

Lando's eyes widened with anticipation as he listened to your whispered words. He leaned in closer, his voice filled with excitement. "Oh, I have plenty more surprises up my sleeve," he replied, a mischievous smile playing on his lips.

As Lando leaned in closer, his hunger for your lips evident in his gaze, you felt a surge of electricity between you.

With a swift movement, he closed the remaining distance and hungrily captured your lips in a passionate kiss, igniting a fire within you that burned with desire and anticipation.

Your lips were crushing together, devouring each other's with an insatiable hunger that left you breathless. The intensity of the kiss sent shivers down your spine, as if every nerve in your body was on fire.

It was a kiss that spoke volumes of the raw passion and desire that existed between you, leaving you both craving for more.

Lando pressed you against the wall, his body flush against yours, intensifying the heat and desire between you. The rough texture of the wall against your back only heightened the sensations as his lips continued to explore yours, leaving you both lost in a world of passion and longing.

Your skin tingles with heat as Lando's lips trail down your neck, leaving a trail of fiery kisses in their wake.

Every touch sends a jolt of electricity through your body, making you feel alive and consumed by the intensity of the moment.

The warmth spreads from your lips to the rest of your body, as if a fire has been ignited within you, melting away any inhibitions and leaving you completely lost in the passionate embrace.

"Let's go to the bedroom," Lando whispered in your ear, his voice filled with desire. The words sent a thrill through your body, fueling the fire of anticipation that had been building between you.

Without breaking the kiss, Lando effortlessly scooped you up into his arms, carrying you with ease as he navigated towards your shared bedroom. The anticipation and desire in the air were palpable as he laid you gently on the bed, his eyes locked with yours, promising a night of passion and fulfillment. . . .

Your love story may not have been an easy one, but it is a testament to the power of love and the resilience of the human spirit.

Your eating disorder may have threatened to destroy your relationship, but in the end, it served as a catalyst for growth and a deeper understanding between you two. . . .

[kamiversee]

˗ˏˋ My Love Note ´ˎ˗

7 | What's it gonna take

❧ Synopsis | In which Choso Kamo, your asshole of a best friend, starts to change after you get involved with a rather cheeky cashier, Gojo Satoru.

❧ Content | language, fluff, teasing, dry humping, sexual tension, etc.

❧ Word Count | 5.6k

❧ Pairings | Choso Kamo x f!reader & Gojo Satoru x f!reader.

| Chapters mlist |

——The next morning you wake up with your cheek pressed against something warm, an oversized t-shirt clothing you and one of your legs resting atop something. You quickly find out that the something in question happens to be none other than the man you had sex with the night prior, your best friend, Choso Kamo.

Laying on his naked chest, before your eyes even peel open, you relish in the gentle smell of his cologne. Surely you don’t remember either of you showering last night and yet here he was smelling as though nothing had even occurred. But hey, you’re pretty sure you passed out at some point so you wouldn’t be surprised if he cleaned himself up while you were sleeping.

The sound of a phone dinging oddly close by makes you finally crack your eyes open, the first thing you’re met with is a phone in Choso’s hand not too far away from you. Since you were lying slightly on top of him, you could feel the deep breath he took due to the most recent notification. 

In the background was the faint sound of The Weeknd— you’ve got no idea what song was playing but it was there somewhere, sounding a bit far away. That aside, instead of focusing everywhere all at once, you center your gaze on Choso’s phone and watch his thumb linger over that recent notification.

You had to blink a few times to read it but the most you got from the text there was a ‘Hey, can u call me when u wake up? I wanna talk about last night…’ from someone named… Hori? You’ve got no idea who that is but the message is swiped away and blatantly ignored before you get to think about it any further.

Choso then swipes through the rest of his messages, answering some recent texts from his family members up until one message catches your eye yet again. It was something from his Uncle and the only reason it caught your eye is because your name was mentioned. Allas, before you could read anything past the words ‘Are you still,’ Choso was swiping out of the text thread entirely and you were soon spotting your contact.

Choso, being the total sweetheart he is, has your name happily saved as ‘Idiot #1’. You wouldn’t expect anything more or less from him but reading that made you scoff, which alerts him that you’re awake.

Followed by his realization is his heavily husked tone hitting your ears, “Well, good morning to you too.”

You almost smile at his voice alone. Something about it had your heart twinging in an unusual way and your lips twitching before you shifted your head up to look at him, “Mornin’ Cho.”

Choso’s gaze softens as it meets yours and you catch the way his whole expression and vibe seem to come at peace all at once. “How’d you sleep?” Holy shit the rasp in his voice was making your legs twitch against him ever so slightly, your eyes fleeting elsewhere.

“Fine, I think,” You hum, glancing around his bedroom until you spot the TV, “You?” As you ask that, you’ve located the source of lowly volumed music.

“Better than I have in a while,” Choso sighs as his eyes remain on your face, “How do you feel?”

You turn to him again and tilt your head, “I feel okay but uh, better than you have in a while?” You repeat with a lift of your brow, “Good pussy gave you some good rest, huh?”

He rolls his eyes at that question immediately, “Oh but I’m the ‘cocky bastard’.”

A smile graces your face and you shrug, “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Yeah,” Choso replies simply, “I guess you could say that.”

You chuckle at that and let out a little hum, to which he grins at you. Was there something in the air? Because Choso was staring at you like you were the only thing he’s ever cared to lay his eyes upon and you couldn’t get yourself to break away from his gaze for a long moment.

“Cho,” You hush out, watching as his brows lift, “Why’s my name saved as Idiot number one in your phone??”

Annnnd moment ruined.

Choso chuckles, “Cause’ you’re idiot number one, duh.”

“Why the number? Are there more idiots you know?” You muse, smiling slightly at the man.

“Two things; one, if there were, would you be jealous? And two, did you just willingly call yourself an idiot?” Your brown-haired best friend huffs out in jest, intrigued by your questions.

You shrug, “One; no. And two; yes.”

Ah, he’s full-on smiling at you now. Something was definitely in the air because Choso hasn’t felt this banter with you in forever and his heartfelt weird experiencing it again. 

Then he’s shaking his head at you, “You’re a dumbass.”

“I have my moments, I suppose,” You hum before slowly moving to sit up. The second you try moving, there’s a throb coming from just about everywhere— more specifically your thighs and back, which causes you to wince and pause in your movements, “Shit.”

Choso’s sitting up along with you and he tips his head to the side, “I asked you how you felt ‘nd you said you were okay.”

You scoff, “I was before I-“

He doesn’t even let you finish before he’s reaching over to his nightstand and grabbing something for you. Then he’s handing said unknown items to you and earning a confused glance from your face.

“Ibuprofen for your pain,” Choso explains, handing you one of two pills, “And uh, morning after for your uh-,” He awkwardly clears his throat as he processes a few things in his head, “So you don’t get, y’know… Since I uh-“

“Fucked me full of your cum last night?” You say bluntly, making his entire face heat up.

“Y-Yeah,” Choso stutters as a very prominent shade of red spreads across his face, “Since I did that.”

You smile at how shy he’s being before taking those pills from his hand, raising a brow at the man as you gesture to them, “So, am I supposed to throat these pills raw?”

“I’m sure you could if you wanted to,” He comments casually while reaching over for a water bottle, “But if you need me to stretch your throat out beforehand just say the word and I’ll-“

“Christ, Choso,” You gasp as you slap your free hand over his mouth. He smiles against you and hands you the water bottle he was reaching for. “How do you get shy from the thought of last night but then all bold two seconds later??” You huff before taking your hand off his mouth and grabbing the water bottle.

Choso shrugs, “Cause’ I almost got you pregnant last night,” He says reluctantly, the tips of his ears burning red, “But I can’t get you pregnant if I fuck your throat.”

You roll your eyes at him before taking the given medicine swiftly. Choso’s smile widens a bit and he quietly watches you gulp down the water and two pills, his eyes unknowingly focusing in on your throat for longer than intended. The way you effortlessly swallow-, which should be expected, you’re only drinking water but…

That small little ahh you let out as the bottle is retracted from your lips, the way you managed to cause a slip of water to escape your mouth, followed by an innocent glance in his direction, and then your eyes are on his and his eyes are on your lips and he just-

“You want to?” You ask casually, earning even more of his undivided attention.

“Want to, what?” Choso murmurs with a soft furrow of his brows.

You chuckle and lean closer to him. Then, you lean down a bit so he can look into your eyes and not at your lips, “Fuck my throat.”

Choso swallows thickly as he gazes deep into your eyes, “Right now?”

You scoff, “No, idiot. I’m sore enough everywhere else-“

“What’s one more place?” He cuts off, suddenly all too interested in the mere idea of face fucking you.

A heavy sigh leaves your lips, “Choso.” You murmur sternly.

“I’ll be gentle,” He whispers back, slowly reaching for your waist and carefully pulling you closer to him.

And then you’re on top of him all over again, your thighs spread and straddling him comfortably.

You shake your head, “Cho-“

“I promise,” He urges as he leans back and pulls your upper half with him until he’s resting against his headboard and your face is less than an inch away from his, “I’ll ease my cock in, take it nice ‘nd slow with you if that’s what you want, princess.”

Your body heats up at both his words and how gentle he’s already being, “Choso… We like, just woke up.”

He flashes that stupidly sexy but lazy smile at you, “Not a big fan of morning sex?”

“I actually am but,” You pause for a minute. Your eyes just linger on Choso’s and you feel his hands trail down to your hips, then your thighs, and then he’s squeezing slightly.

Choso leans in, “But…?”

“I’m sore,” You whisper.

“You’re sore,” He echoes as if to say it more to himself than to you. With that, he lets off a little nod before slouching back, “Right. Well, can I at least get a kiss?”

“S’that all you want?” You hum while leaning forward and slipping your arms around his neck.

Choso nods again and his eyes greedily drop down to your lips, “Uhuh.”

His hands start sliding up again, as if he just can’t get enough of touching and feeling you. You grin before your lips are slotting into his, his grasp on you tightening all of a sudden. He feels you whine into the kiss and bites back a smile as his hands continue to slip upward.

Choso’s fingertips dance just barely under the fabric of the shirt you’re wearing (his shirt) and you soon feel him hold onto the bare skin of your hips. His hands weren’t exactly rough but they weren’t the softest either. Choso’s skin was an odd mix of both, some areas were more calloused than the others and you could always tell he used his hands quite a bit.

He slides up again with his touch, holding onto your waist before tugging you even closer and kissing you passionately. You hum against him before he starts easing his tongue into your mouth.

And then the kiss is getting hotter and he’s gasping against your lips when you unintentionally rock your hips against him. 

Choso pries away and drops down to your neck, planting kiss after kiss and relishing in every sigh you let out. “Thought you were sore?” He hums into your skin.

You smile, “I am,” Then you’re tilting your head to give him better access and his hands are dropping back down to your thighs.

“Where?” Choso asks softly while caressing the top of your thighs and still kissing tenderly at your neck.

“The back of my legs, kinda,” You explain quietly with his hands moving the moment you speak, “And my back-, b-but mainly under my thighs.”

“Mh,” Choso hums and then he’s sliding his fingers underneath your thighs and pressing into your skin, earning a noticeable wince from you. “Here?” He whispers.

You nod and he kisses under your jaw, his hands focusing on those sore areas of yours as he massages them carefully. 

This goes on for a while up until your head ends up resting on his shoulder and he massages your legs while you remain seated on top of him. Gasping every time he presses into your skin just right and whining while he soothes your tired muscles, you find your eyes squeezed shut as he touches you.

“Right there, Cho,” You whine, to which he rotates his fingertips against the most recent area he was in.

Choso turns and presses his lips into your neck, “You make this sound so sexual, y’know,” He teases.

You roll your eyes, “It just feels good, a-and I’m not doin’ it on purpose.”

“Sure you aren’t,” He chuckles.

Then, the two of you simmer back into that comfortable silence of yours, his hands working your tense skin with care as you remain as still as possible.

· ───────── · ꨄ · ───────── ·

Roughly ten minutes go by until you seem to be a lot more relaxed under his touch. The same artist that’s been playing lowly from the TV can still be heard, Double Fantasy by The Weeknd being the song filling the still air of the room. 

At some point, Choso decides he can start teasing you again and he moves his lips to your ear, “Where else are you sore, pretty girl?” He whispers way too affectionately.

You quickly pull your head away from him and shoot him a pointed look, “I told you my back…”

He meets that little glare of yours with a smirk, “I really did a number on you, huh?” Choso teases while sliding his hands up to your back and soon pressing his fingers against your spine.

You sigh and your lashes flutter in relief, “Uhuh.”

Your best friend continues to soothe you, skillfully running his hands all up and down your back to relieve the tension. And it felt nice to be cared for like this by him. Usually, if you were sick or ever feeling bad— he’d shrug you off and tell you to thug it out (affectionately).

But now? Choso was the sweetest you’ve ever experienced from him. You wondered how long this would last-

“Choso,” You breathe out, having felt his hand wander off.

“Hm?” He hums innocently.

You almost laugh at the man, “That’s my ass.”

He bites back a laugh of his own, “Yeah, I know. You’re not sore here?” Choso questions while he palms and squeezes at the fat of your ass.

“No, Choso,” You snicker, “You just wanted an excuse to touch my ass.”

“Noooo,” He drags out playfully as his smile begins to mirror yours. You raise a brow at him and he quickly folds, “Okay, maybe. But I dunno, I couldn’t help myself. You’re sittin’ on top of me and lookin’ at me like…”

Your head weighs to the side as you search his eyes for an explanation, “Like what?”

He shrugs, “I don’t know how to describe it but it makes me crave you.”

“C-Crave me?” Your lashes bat in surprise and he nods.

Choso’s naturally sleepy features remain neutral as he peers into your eyes, “Mhm.”

You try to laugh his little statement off, “One night with me and now you’re obsessed?”

“Addicted, maybe.” Choso whispers so faintly you almost miss it.

Almost, “Seriously?” You utter in response.

He swallows, sitting there just staring at you while his hand continues mindlessly squeezing your ass. He has such a mellow expression with you right now. You’ve felt comfort with Choso before but never to this degree. Everything about the way he’s looking at you right now is making your heart feel odd.

“No.” He eventually says in a firm tone.

You scrunch your brows, “Cho-“

“I was joking, shut up.” He cuts off— feeling distant with you all over again.

“No you weren’t,” You refute, scoffing at the man, “You really are addicted to me now, aren’t y-“

He’s cutting you off with another kiss, to which you freeze completely. Your brain simply halts at the feel of his lips on yours again. So soft and gentle with you, like he’s been waiting years to do this and wants to sink into this feeling forever. Hell, maybe he has been waiting for years.

It’s nowhere near the first time he’s ever kissed you but, something about your lips on his makes his mind lose all sensible thoughts for a minute. Which is why both of his hands are dropping to your ass and he’s pulling you impossibly closer to him.

He pushes against you a bit harder and you gasp at how needy his hands are on you. Your lips part against him and he gifts your ass with a smack, earning a faint moan from you.

“Fuck,” Choso sears in between your lips, gripping and grabbing at all of you.

Your chest is pressed tightly against his and because of his tight grip on you, you can’t help the gentle rock of your hips against him.

Seconds, it takes mere seconds for you to feel his cock poking up at your unclothed cunt.

Then Choso’s snatching his lips off of yours and dropping to your neck again, “Don’t stop,” He groans, “Please.”

You moan at the way he shifts one hand to your hips and constantly tugs you against him, grunting hotly into your neck as he feels your bare cunt rub against his cock— one flimsy layer left between the two of you.

“C-Cho, we shouldn’t-,” You’re cut off by him gently lifting his hips against you, a soft gasp escaping you instead.

“Why?” He breathes, moving to grab your ass as you grind against him a bit harder, “We have the whole day to ourselves,” Choso whispers.

You toss your head back and he starts sucking on your neck, careful not to leave a mark. “B-Because… we just, hah, we shouldn’t.”

He scoffs, “Scared of noise complaints?”

“No?”

“Should be,” Choso hums as he bites back a throaty groan from the way he feels you right against his tip. “Shit, did you-, hah, notice what I did to the wall yet?”

Your brows twist up before you turn and catch sight of a rather large hole in the wall, one caused by Choso’s previous roughness with you and the bed knocking into it a little too hard.

“Choso!” You gasp, “How the hell did you-“

“I knew I heard somethin’ last night too,” He chuckles, “I was just too wrapped up in you to care.”

“You-“

“I’m sorry,” Choso breathes out almost finally before reenacting his acts from last night and swiftly flipping the two of you over, pinning you down against his bed and rolling his cock down hard against you.

You gasp, “Oh fuck-, why’re you s-so…”

He tilts his head, the veins decorating his arms flexing, “So what?” He breathes.

“Fuckin’ hard,” You nearly laugh, smiling a bit at the man, “We just woke up not too long ago. H-How do you get turned on so easily?”

Choso chuckles as if to taunt you, “You do know I can feel you right?”

“Huh?”

“I’m not the only one turned on,” He scoffs, leaning down to speak while his lips graze yours, “I can feel how wet you are, idiot.”

You gulp, “I…”

Choso nibbles on your lower lip and tugs for a moment before whispering, “Let’s jus’ make it quick, yeah?”

“Choso.” You utter sternly in protest.

“Promise,” He pants, “I promise it’ll be quick-, maybe I’ll jus’ put the tip in, c’mon.” His hips mash down against yours, causing the outline of his erect cock to push further against you.

You moan, “Mgh, but-“

“I need you,” Choso groans, sounding almost pained, “Jus’ a little bit more of you, please,” He whines.

“Fuck, o-okay, fine-“

And then he’s kissing you again, rutting his clothed cock against you over and over while he messily reaches his hands down to his sweats. Snatching at his drawstring, eager to remove the tiring layer of clothing, Choso’s kissing you like his life depends on it.

You’re such an idiot— giving into your best friend for yet a second time in a row. Were you addicted? Isn’t this wrong? Choso’s your best friend. Your best friend.

He’s just about to pull his sweatpants down before he’s rudely interrupted by the ringing of the apartment doorbell.

You both freeze, panting heavily as if you’ve been caught doing something you had no business doing. Gulping, Choso lets out a long and frustrated groan before dropping his head into the crook of your neck.

“Can we just ignore them?” He asks you.

You giggle, “No, it’s probably one of our neighbors.”

“Oh,” Choso practically smiles at that, “You’re right. They’re probably here to give us an earful about our noise last night. Or well, your noise-“

“Shut up and go answer the door,” You scoff, “I’ll probably be here when you get back.”

“Probably?” Choso questions as he sits up and slides out of his bed.

You shrug, “I might run back to my room while you’re distracted so uh, be quick.”

A wink is sent to the man and he fights the urge to just stare at you in awe. You probably have no idea how you look right now, wearing his shirt, one of the many hickeys he left on you poking out from your collarbone, laying in his bed all tired but horny because of him-

Okay, enough of that for now. Choso shakes himself out of his little reverie and glances around his bedroom floor to spot a different pair of sweats to slip into. He swiftly does so, groaning in discomfort while he turns his back to you and debates on putting a shirt on.

You lay in his bed staring at him, your eyes widening at his back profile and the numerous bright red scratch marks decorating his skin. Damn, did you do that last night?

You almost smile at the sight but in the corner of your eye, for whatever reason, the lyrics to the song from earlier seem to catch your attention. Said song was over by now but the last end of the hook was fading out. Brightly reading the words ‘Even though it’s wrong’.

Now, it’s just a song but you can’t help but find it funny considering you just had sex with Choso last night, and almost again just a few seconds ago. It’s almost like you were forgetting something-

“See what you did t’my back last night?” Choso’s voice tugs you from your mind and you look at him.

Scoffing, “Looks like you were attacked.” You comment teasingly.

Choso tosses the shirt he was considering putting on and shrugs, “Does it?”

“Yeah,” You sigh, laying on your side and watching him glance into his bedroom mirror.

The man turns around briefly to admire the marks left on him and he grins, “Holy shit,” Choso breathes, smiling at the sight, “I looked at it a bit last night but fuck, you clawed at me like crazy.”

“…Did you not feel it while you were fucking me down into the mattress ‘nd telling me to ‘take it’ for like twenty minutes straight?” You ask dryly.

He pretends to think for a long moment and opens his mouth to say something snarky but another ring of the doorbell cuts him off.

“Better go get that,” You hum playfully.

Choso groans, clearly annoyed by the constant interruption before swiftly exiting the room. Entering the hall, passing the living room and the kitchen, and soon approaching the door.

He lets out a yawn as he unlocks the door and soon opens it, “If this is about the noise last night, I jus’ wanna cut this short by sayin’ I’m-, oh,” Choso cuts himself short as he makes eye contact with the person awkwardly standing at the door.

The man in front of him furrows his brows, “I uh-“

Choso interrupts by putting a hand up and glancing back inside the apartment, “Door’s for you!” He shouts back to you. Then, he looks at the person in front of him one more time, sizes him up, and scoffs, “She’ll be out in a sec'.”

The man opens his mouth to reply but Choso rudely slams the door in his face.

Frustrated, and with his mood almost completely ruined, Choso groans again as he makes his way back to his bedroom. As he walks in, he spots you sitting on the edge of his bed looking down at something on the floor before you look back at him over your shoulder.

“What do you mean the door’s for me?” You ask softly, “And uh,” He watches you lean down to pick up a tarnished piece of fabric, “When the hell did you rip my panties?”

“Last night, duh,” Choso huffs out rather sassily before brushing past his bed and heading toward his bathroom.

“You owe me a new pair,” You tell him with a pout on your face.

With no emotion in his voice, “I’ll buy you twenty.” He says curtly before disappearing into his bathroom completely.

You scoff at his sudden attitude and dismissal of your first question, moving to stand on slightly wobbly legs as you extend your arms into the air to stretch. Sighing, you glance around to find your shorts, soon spotting them and slipping into them before exiting the room.

Every step you take, you feel faint soreness but you think the medicine and massage Choso gave you helped your body not to feel too bad. As such, you steadily make your way to the front door— wondering if there’s a package for you or something. You still get the feel you’re forgetting something but between that and Choso’s sudden grumpiness, you just-

Every thought of yours comes to a sudden halt as you swing open the door.

“S-Satoru?” You breathe.

Oh, so that’s what you’d been forgetting. Gojo Satoru, y’know, the guy you’ve been getting along with better than you ever have with any other guy you know, the guy who’s nothing but a gentleman to you, the guy who you were literally dancing with less than twenty-four hours with, the-

Yeah, you get the point. Either way, you’re left staring up at the man with your eyes as wide as ever and your breath caught in the middle of your throat. Staring into Gojo’s kindhearted and dazzling blue eyes, feeling an abrupt rack of guilt lump up in your chest as your mind scrambles for some way to process your situation.

Swallowing thicker than ever, you slowly step out into the hall with him and shut your apartment door behind you, “What uh-, w-why-, what’re you doing here?” You stammer out with the faintest shake in your voice.

Gojo moves to scratch the back of his neck, “If I’m being honest, I’m not too sure myself.”

Blinking in confusion, you tilt your head, “What?”

“I just-,” Gojo sighs, “You didn’t respond at all last night or this morning, so I got a little worried…”

“So… you show up at my apartment?” You question further as you raise a brow at the man.

He winces, “Is that weird-, this, is this weird?” Gojo asks as he gestures to his being here.

Maybe if you weren’t guilty of sleeping with your best friend it wouldn’t be…

“U-Uh, no?” You huff out almost awkwardly, “I just wasn’t expecting you, sorry. My phone died on me last night and I never plugged it up.”

He nods before glancing to the side, “Busy with other things?” 

You choke on your own guilt all over again, “I-I’m sorry?”

“Your roommate said somethin’ about a noise complaint,” Gojo recalls simply as he looks at you once more.

Your brows go up, “Did he? Well, that’s probably from whatever he was up to before I got home.”

Gojo tilts his head at you and you feel as though he could see right through you, “Riight…” He hums, “Anyway, I just came over to make sure you were okay.”

“I appreciate that Gojo but what could’ve possibly have happened to me from last night when you dropped me off to this morning?” You point out to the man with a little laugh. Sure, regret and guilt were eating you alive right now but that still doesn't explain Gojo’s sudden appearance, “I live with someone I’ve known for like eight years.”

“I don’t know-, wait, you’ve known him for eight years?” He redirects as he narrows his eyes at you.

“I met him during my freshman year of high school, Satoru,” You chuckle, “He’s my best friend.”

“Is that all?” Gojo blurts out.

You blink, “Huh?”

The man gulps, having not meant to ask that so suddenly, “Like, are you two just best friends?”

“That’s what I just said, yes.” You reply straightforwardly.

“I-“

Quick to snap back at the man for questioning you in an accusing manner, “Aren’t you and Geto just best friends?” 

“Yeah,” He murmurs.

“Is that all?” You ask with a smirk.

“Of course-,” He cuts himself off with a scoff, “Okay, I see what you did there.”

“Mhm,” You hum, “So if that’s all then uh,” You slowly begin to motion toward the door behind you.

Gojo reaches a hand out, “Wait, are you free today?”

You pause, “Depends on what for.”

“Me,” He shrugs.

“Am I free for you today?”

“Yeah.”

“Hmmmm, I dunno, I gotta check my schedule, Satoru.” You say teasingly as you lean left against the doorframe, “I’m a busy woman, y’know…”

Those pretty rose-tinted lips of his curve into a smirk, “Oh are you now?”

You smile, “Mhmm..”

Gojo takes a little step closer and lifts his shoulders, “Can’t you spare some of your time for your favorite barista?”

“I can consider,” You tell him before eyeing the man up and down, “What did you wanna do with me anyway?”

“Jus’ hang out.” He explains simply.

“That’s all?”

“Mhm.”

Clicking your tongue, “I would but, I was planning on taking a bit of a rain check today.”

“Oh,” Gojo hums, his brows lifting in surprise, “That’s uh-, that’s cool. I mean, yeah, no, that’s-“

“Satoru,” You snort.

He stops himself from making even more of a fool of himself, clearing his throat and meeting your gaze, “Yes?”

Lifting a finger, you gesture him to come closer and he shuffles his feet toward you. Then, you reach up for his shirt and carefully pull him down to you.

“Stop being such a dork,” You sigh with a smile on your face. Then you plant a kiss on his cheek and hug him, “And thank you for coming to check on me.”

Gojo’s body goes still for a moment while you wrap your arms around his neck and push up on your toes to hug him fully. After which, his arms are engulfing your waist and he’s letting out a sigh as he reciprocates your hug.

“Anytime,” He murmurs, his hands caressing your back, “Sorry if I made things weird…”

You chuckle, “You’re fine, Satoru. You jus’ surprised me, that’s all.” You slowly retract from the hug and meet his eyes one last time, “So… I’ll see you Monday morning?”

He nods, “Yeah.”

And with that, the two of you are steady to say your goodbyes to one another— soon parting ways as you watch him leave before disappearing back into your apartment and letting you the heaviest sigh ever.

Silence engulfs you as you stand there at the door for a moment. What are you? Some kinda slut? You literally had sexual interactions with not one, but two men on the same night.

Christ, what the hell got into you last night (aside from Choso)? Now the guilt was really settling in. It hit you earlier when you first laid eyes on Gojo but now that you’ve spoken to him, it’s like you feel even worse.

How could you completely forget him last night? The guy went out of his way to show up the next morning just to make sure you were okay and yet there you were, having just been pulled away from having sex with your best friend for a second time. This was so beyond fucked up-

“Y’know if all else fails,” The sound of your brown-haired best friend speaking tugs you out of your thoughts, “You should really consider acting because that was-“

“Oh my god, Choso,” You instantly let out a long groan, turning around to glance at him standing in the nearby kitchen, “Please shut the hell up.”

He frowns, “What’d I do?”

A sigh of frustration is let out, “Me. You did me, and that’s the problem.”

His face contorts to confusion as your statement hits his ears, “How? It’s not like you’re dating the guy.”

He makes a rather good point there but that doesn’t stop you from feeling guilty about forgetting about him and lying to him. “But I like him.” You argue.

Choso rolls his eyes, “So? What does that-“

“A lot,” You emphasize.

Your best friend cocks his head to the side and crosses his arms, “You like him ‘a lot’ but you let me fuck you last night?” 

At that, your breath is caught in your throat, “I…”

He heaves out a really heavy sigh, “Look, if it makes you feel any better, I won’t say anything to him.”

You meet his gaze with thankful eyes, “Really?”

“Yeah,” Choso shrugs, “We had sex, who cares. Why would I go out of my way to tell him that?”

“Because you hate me and find joy in my suffering,” You comment jokingly.

He laughs, “I don’t hate you.”

“Debatable,” You argue, “But anyway, thanks.”

Then, you move away from the door and slowly start walking in the direction of your bedroom.

“Mhm,” Choso hums, his eyes following you, “So, are we gonna pick up where we left off or-“

You’re quick to cut him off and not allow yourself to let him have his way with you yet again— you feel shitty enough as is, “Not in the mood anymore, Cho.”

Choso, not fazed by your rejection in the slightest, merely nods, “Another time then?”

The last thing you say to him is a crisp, “No.” Before you disappear into your bedroom and shut your door behind you.

There’s the slightest panging felt in Choso’s heart at the sound of that but he ignores that feeling entirely. ‘No’, you said. He scoffs, yeah right, let’s see how long that lasts…

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[daphwritesworld]

#11 k. mccabe— LUNCH.

content: pussy eating (both receiving), face humping (k receiving) lots of kissing and making out lol, fingering (r receiving), public/beach sex, groping, drinking wine, tattoos, grumpy morning! reader, top!Katie, bottom!reader

warnings: mentions of tattoos, tabloids posting personal info/photos, mentions of a dvd player bc I'm old and still use them

synopsis: A much needed rest day has finally come for you and your girlfriend. She's got everything planned out for you both, from a secret appointment, to a movie date, and finally treating you to a nice lunch on the beach.

requested: yes

word count: 5.6k

!! MINORS DNI!! 18+ CONTENT

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An arm sliding around your waist is what you notice first in your daze of slumber. Your mind still hasn’t caught up yet, too focused on how cozy the bed is. But suddenly you’re being pulled to the middle of the mattress, your back hitting a chest as you snuggle into the warmth. You swear you could pass back out even easier now, the new heat source making you even more comfortable. It had been a long night celebrating your anniversary, especially since you both had a game first. You’d won 4-1 Arsenal, so the girls gladly helped you party the night away…but today is about doing all the things you weren’t free to do alone yesterday. 

“Time to get up, my darling.” Katie’s voice is always so thick with her accent first thing in the morning. The raspiness always gets to you, and she knows it, too. She’s often taken full advantage of your weakness for her morning voice. She loves whispering the dirtiest of things into your ears at the crack of dawn and letting her hands roam across your body, teasing you until you’re begging for her touch. Then she’ll flip it on you, clicking her tongue as she scolds you for running you both late to practice. “What am I gonna do with you, pretty girl? Always making us late.”

You turn around in her hold, burying your face into her neck as she starts to rub your back. The early ambiance of the outside world slowly creeps inside, like the birds chirping and cars starting to fill up the streets. You can still smell the body wash she used last night on her skin, taking in a deep breath of it as you exhale in a sleepy sigh, “Five more minutes, please baby.”

“Okay, hun..but only five more. Then we gotta get ready for the day, alright?” She’s met with a small snore from between your lips. Already back to being dead to the world in her arms. Her chest shakes with a silent laugh at that, trying not to disturb you before your times up. Katie slowly pulls your head back, resting it on her pillow so she can examine your face. There have been many days where she’s watched you sleep. Not in a creepy way, but in an endearing way. She’d often wake up before you and just admire how beautiful you look while deep in slumber. You’re like a piece of art lying perfectly in motion, her personal Mona Lisa who stepped out of the painting. Gripping the canvas as you pulled your way to be in the world of the living and took refuge in her heart. You’ve burrowed your way into her soul, carved out a spot there, and made a permanent home…but she wouldn’t have it any other way. 

She knew you’d be trouble for her the first day you attended practice after signing with Arsenal. Strolling right in with that perfect smile on your dumb gorgeous face, and effectively distracting her for all of warm-ups. She’d gone pretty hard on you that first day during drills, taking the frustrations of her attraction out on the pitch. And after all the teasing, slide tackles, and pushes she’d sent your way, that still didn’t stop you from coming over in the locker room and telling her she played well that day. A hand extended to shake hers and that stupid smile appeared back on your face, making her heart almost burst out of her chest (for about the tenth time that day). Katie swears to this day that her brain short-circuited at that moment. You were standing in front of her covered in grass and dirt stains, and she had been the cause of them….but you still looked like a goddess standing before her, reaching out an olive branch in the shape of your perfectly painted nails. 

For the first time in her life, Katie McCabe was rendered speechless. Blubbering her mouth silently like a fish out of water before jutting her hand out to take yours. As you shook hands all Katie could concentrate on was how soft your skin was, like an invitation to never let go. You giggled while watching her, “You’re cute.” 

As you slipped away from her, she stood frozen in place, like a deer caught in headlights. You turned at the door before you left, shooting her that paralyzing smile one last time, “See you on the pitch, McCabe…and close your mouth. Wouldn’t want our star defender catching any flies now would we?” And just like that you were gone out of the room, leaving her to pick up the pieces of her frontal cortex shattered onto the floor below her. 

It’s hard to believe it’s been a little over five years since then, and only four months since the proposal. You’re both currently living in your little bubble of love. Deciding together to keep the engagement to yourselves for at least two more months. The secrecy of sharing such an exciting and intimate moment from everyone in your lives has been fueling A LOT of sex between the two of you. In the locker room showers, the club meeting room, and numerous bathrooms or broom closets of whatever establishments the two of you have occupied. 

Katie sighs looking back at the clock, she’s already let you sleep an extra 10 minutes now. She knows how you are though, especially first thing in the morning. You’re usually her walking sunshine, radiating light off you everywhere you go. But you’re always her frumpy grump in the morning (as she likes to call you.) A frown and a furrow between your brows settle into your features as your sleepy eyes try to shut at any given moment. You’ve run into many, many walls that way..so Katie came up with a solution a few years back when you started living together: carrying you around like a koala bear until you can walk and function on your own.

Her arms secure you in her grip, hoisting you up as you stay sound asleep in her hold. She starts walking to the bathroom, knowing when she sits you on the counter it’s gonna wake you up. She turns the hot water in the shower on first, letting it warm up as she gets you up enough to hop in with her. The cold marble lights goosebumps across your skin as you jolt alive wakeful, your eyes snapping open to the bright lights above you. Your hips go to lift your thighs off the freezing countertop, but Katie’s hands stop you, pushing you to sit back down. Her hands slip under your shirt as you shiver at the feeling of her ring sliding across your warm skin, leaving a tingly feeling behind in its wake. 

A kiss graces the pulse point on your neck, Katie’s lips lingering as you start leaning into her more. The soft sucks and nips from her teeth start warming you up slowly. Like a fire brewing in your belly the more she teases you. She leans back for a second to pull you into a searing kiss, her nails digging into the skin of your waist now. It’s the kind of kiss that takes your breath away, leaves your face red, and panting for some fresh air when you pull apart. Katie pulls back enough to speak against your lips, “Time to get up and shower, sleepyhead.” 

Your face drops back into those distinct telltale signs that you’re frustrated. That’s made even more apparent by the way you cross your arms over your chest and let a scoff out into her face. Katie just smiles at you, used to your stink of an attitude in the morning after so many years. Honestly, at this point, if you ever woke up this early with a smile on your face she’d be racing you to the ER for a full workup of your brain. “You did not kiss me like that JUST so I’d get in the shower,” you narrow your eyes at her as you say it. “Are you saying I stink, McBabe?” you push her shoulder lightly with a pout on your lips. 

“Only your tude, darling….but your hair is looking a little doolally,” she says with a grimace on her face. The little smirk at the corner of her mouth gives way to her joking nature underneath though. You open your mouth to say something else all prickly, but she cuts you off with her fingers wiggling across your middle. Then she starts attacking you in flurry of kisses, all over your face as you struggle to get away from her.

“K-Kate! Katie s-stop!” Your hands come up to push at her stomach and chest, loud laughs ripping from your mouth as she relentlessly tickles you on the counter. “Pl-Please baby! Ok-Okay! I’ll get in t-the shower!” 

She pulls back at that, her infectious grin mirroring your own as she starts taking your clothes off. Leaving little kisses on your body as she concludes stripping you. She reaches for her shorts, but you slap her hand away. “Let me, love. Only fair that I repay the favor.” 

Your lips slot onto hers as your hands slip down her toned abdomen and start pulling her sleep shorts down her legs. No time is wasted as you instantly reach back up and take the band of her underwear into your fingertips. You rub the material through your fingers for a second, admiring the softness before they follow the path of her bottoms around her ankles. 

Then you’re gasping into her mouth as she’s backing you up into the counter you’d just been plucked off of. The articles of clothing that had taken home around her feet now kicked to the side, ironically right in front of the laundry bin. Her grip on your now bare hips disappears as she pulls away from your makeout. Using her now free hands to pull her sports bra off and toss it somewhere to be picked up later from the floor. 

She picks you back up, letting you wrap your legs around her waist as she leads you both to the now steaming shower. “I’m making you drive if all the hot water’s gone.”

Katie lightly slaps your ass as a response. The warm water surrounds you as she closes the door behind you both. She lowers you to stand on your own, hugging your back to her front as you both submerge under the downpour of the showerhead. “I’m always gonna be the one driving anyways darling, we both know that.” 

“Oh yeah? Says who?” 

“Says you miss pro passenger princess! I can’t remember one time you’ve ever sat in the drivers seat while we’ve been together…unless we’re counting when you’re on my lap while you let me–” 

“Okay! I get it, I get it!” You turn around and place a hand over her mouth, laughing as you come to terms with your new title. Deciding to tease her back a bit for causing the blush dusting your cheeks, “Don’t have to do a play-by-play for me. I know you love those, but leave our sex life out of your pregame rituals- EW KATIE!” 

She’s the one laughing now, smirking as she flicks her tongue back out at you. “That’s so gross, babe! My poor hand with your morning breath germs all over it!”

“Oh shut up! Acting like that same tongue wasn’t shoved inside your cunt less than 12 hours ago and been in your mouth ever since your pretty little eyes peeled open.” 

Your mouth shuts closed at that, the red on your cheeks deepening as you hide your face with your hands. “Okay, I’m not gonna argue with you there,” you breathe out between your fingers. You’re met with a kiss to the forehead as Katie pulls your hands away, chuckling as you reveal a small frown to her. 

“Turn around you goober, I’ll wash your hair. We really can’t mess around now or we’re gonna be late for our appointment,” she says while reaching for your shampoo. 

It’s always so relaxing when she does your hair for you some days. You used to always laugh at first because it reminded you of Charles from Brooklyn99 so badly. She never understood when you’d just burst out giggling like a madman and when she’d ask you’d just reply, “The most intimate thing you can do for a lover is wash their hair!” 

When you finally got her to agree to watch the show about a year after the shower routine started, she almost choked on her popcorn when she heard him say it. Yeah, she definitely chased you around the house before tackling you to the couch and tickling you as a punishment for making fun of her popcorn hazard. She really does love to use it as her weapon of certain surrender…because after five seconds you’re begging for a truce. 

The hints of apple and honey fill your nostrils as Katie’s fingers massage the cream into your scalp, pulling soft relieved sighs from your lips. She can physically see your body relax into hers at the act. She’d never admit it to you, but this really is the most intimate act she’s ever done with a lover…and it’s reserved just for you– promised forever now. 

“All finished, booger!” 

You turn around as she starts loading up her loofa, taking it from her grasp as you start doing it for her. It starts out innocently– it really does, okay! But like most things with Katie, they don’t stay that way for long. You can’t help but fall to your knees as the loofa runs clean water down her body now, the last of the suds swirling down the drain. “What are you doing, doll? I told you we can’t waste any more time messing around,” her hand comes to rest on the top of your head.

“And I told you I’d repay the favor last night, and I think we’ve established I don’t like leaving empty promises, baby.” Your hands run up her legs, stopping to run your nails up her inner thighs. The hand on your head turns into fingers in your hair as she lets a growl out, pulling your head up. “Stick your tongue out, darling.” 

You do as she says, opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out. Her hand moves more towards the back of your head as she pushes your face into her cunt, her shoulders hitting the cold tiles as she guides your head. Her nipples get hard from the contact off the wall, a shiver running down her spine as you start sucking on her clit. Your hands go up to grab her hips, trying to ground yourself as you get lost in the taste of her. 

“Just like that, fuck babe.” She’s gritting her teeth now, planting her footing before grinding her pussy down onto your mouth. “Open your– fuck! Open your eyes for me, love.”

And Jesus fuck you had to fight the urge to let them roll into the back of your skull when you do. She’s staring down at you with those alluring eyes, her long wet hair thrown onto one shoulder, and her abs flexing as she grinds down onto your eager mouth. You moan just at the sight, flicking your tongue on her clit as you let one of your hands come down to replace it. Then you push your tongue inside of her, desperate for a true taste of what you know she has to offer. 

“Pussy drunk aren’t you, darling?” she laughs out, holding you completely still as she puts a little more pressure onto your face as she humps into your tongue harder. The water running down her perfectly sculpted body is reflecting off the light coming into the bathroom. A sign of the little time you two really have, the rest of the world carrying on as you’re frozen in the spot between her legs. Your knees are aching and your jaws getting sore, but that bleeds into the background noise as Katie lets out a knee-wobbling moan. 

Her eyes burn into yours as her legs start to shake around your head, and you start grinding your face back up into her as she comes down. The roll of her hips bumping her clit into your nose in the chaos, more sweet sounds tumbling from her lips. She cums with a groan of your name falling from her lips, the hand in your hair dragging you up her body.

You let your tongue trace its way up her body as she brings you up to meet each other’s lips in a messy kiss. Tasting herself all over your mouth as she walks back under the main stream of water, you squeal from the chill from the now heatless water. She quickly washes you both up before hurrying from the shower, a new skip in her step for the day. 

It only takes you both about 15 minutes to get ready, you in a nice flowy sundress that Katie had surprised you with last night in the early a.m. hum of London. You’d stumbled in all tipsy, horny, but determined to swap your gifts before bed, and by god, you got it done, too. Like did you look at them for 5 seconds and then instantly sit them on the coffee table and fuck for three hours straight around on different surfaces of the house?...The answer would be yes. BUT hey you got the prioritized goal done before going at it like animals and that’s all that matters in your book. 

Katie walks into the bathroom where you’re finishing up your makeup, and your eyes almost pop out of your head. She’s wearing an outfit that throws you headfirst into ovulation early. There she stood in her tight tan crop top and white flowy pants. The glasses you had gifted her two birthdays ago, a gold necklace with your initial hanging from it, and the gold watch you bought her for your first anniversary to match.

It all comes together to make a delicious sight for your viewing. She comes up behind you, arms bulging as she places her hands beside you on the same countertop you’d made out on earlier. “Stop ogling me, we’re gonna be late you perv!” 

You roll your eyes at her before finally zipping up your makeup bag. You put on some lipgloss before tucking it in your purse and moving to go put your shoes on. “Wear comfy ones, I’ve got a surprise for you at lunch!” she calls out across the room as she sees you approaching the shoe rack on your side of the closet. You give her a questioning look, wondering why you’d need comfy shoes for whatever restaurant she’s chosen…but nonetheless, you comply. Slipping on some sandals to match your dress, and to show off your matching nails of course (courtesy of being paid for by your girlfriend). 

You arrive at the tattoo parlour right on time, not a moment to spare. You hop out of the car and rush inside hand in hand with Katie. She leans down to press a kiss to the side of your head after she’s talked with the man at the front, “You’re so lucky we weren’t late or you’d be in big trouble, missy.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” you whisper back at her, “but we weren’t, so live a little, babe.” 

She just shakes her head at you, following behind the heavily inked man in front of you until he pulls the curtains back to an empty room. He leads you inside and pats the freshly cleaned black leather chair, “Alright who’s going first?” 

—

When you leave the shop you’ve both got a huge smile on your face, hands intertwined and swinging as you skip to the car. “I can’t believe we really did that, Katie!” 

“Best believe we did, darling! Now you’re really stuck with me forever,” she pulls you back into her arms. Stopping on the sidewalk to take this moment in with you. 

“And always,” you say barely above a whisper, but it’s enough for just Katie to hear. Your fingertips move as gently as ever as they trace along her ribs, right under her left boob where the fresh ink lays eternally embedded into her skin. You’d both gotten matching ones– a cliche I know– but it was something you’ve both wanted for a while. Hers saying, “go deo” and yours, “i gconai” in the same spot. It’s a promise to each other that’s permanently carved into your persons; a pledge of forever and always. As cheesy as it sounds the words hold dear for you both, and the Gaelic spelling gives a deeper connection as well. 

Katie swears she feels her heart stop beating in her chest as the sounds of the city become nothing but white noise, her body leaning into yours as you share a soft, yet passionate kiss in the busy bustle of the city. You almost don’t want to pull apart, but the remembrance of your surprise is what fuels you to break away and start tugging her toward where she parked the car. “Come on, move it McBabe! I heard we’ve got a plan for lunch, and I’m dying to see what you’ve got arranged!” 

After a 3-and-a-half-hour ride, you finally reach your destination. She’s brought you to Priory Beach, the place you went to on your second-anniversary trip. She leads you out to a white tent on the side of the beach, out of the way enough for some privacy between you two. As she leads you closer you feel tears gathering in your eyes at the sight. There’s not just a tent, but blankets spread out, too. A mini table is set up full of your favorite picnic foods, a vase with your favorite flowers, two wine glasses, and your favorite red bottle to accompany it. A little fully charged DVD player is under the table, and the movie you two watched on your first date sits right beside it. But the polaroids of you two hanging from the white tull-wrapped arch is what does it for you, and before you know it you’re crying like a baby. 

Katie pulls you into her arms as she hugs you, a panicked look on your face as she does. “Oh lord, I’m sorry darling! I didn’t mean to make you upset or anything-”

“No! No! I love it!” you pull back quickly, your shiny eyes meeting her terrified ones. “It’s just..no one’s ever done anything this sweet for me. It’s a lot to take in, okay!” 

She throws her head back and cackles at the realization. “Oh yeah? Not even like…oh, I don’t know, say getting a matching tattoo?” She teases as she wipes your tears away with her thumbs, now cradling your face in her hands. 

“Shut up! You know what I meant, babe!” 

She puts a hand on her chest and acts like she’s just been shot at close range, “Not even McBabe? Oh, see you are mad at me!” She lets out a dramatic sigh, slumping down onto the blanket as she gets on her knees and takes your hands into hers begging for your forgiveness. You quickly do, laughing at her antics before she pulls you down to sit with her. It’s a beautiful view to have as you eat. The waves roll in as a backdrop to the movie as it plays. It’s really all just background music to the endless conversation between you two, the wine keeps flowing, and the hours keep ticking by. But it’s barely been 20 minutes to you both. Too busy drowning out the world around you as you get lost in each other’s eyes and voices, retelling the best moments of your love story as you reflect on how you’ve got to where you are today. “Oh, wow! The lights are a beautiful touch!” you gasp as they flick on, lighting up your space as the sun sets before you. The movie’s long been over and the DVD player dead for a while, too. You take a sip from your last glass of wine and lean your head on Katie’s shoulder, taking in the beauty of the scenery that you’re able to see up close and personal right now. The oranges, pinks, and reds reflect off the water. Ripples of incomprehensible vibrant colors all mashing into one to create an unforgettable memory. “Should we take a picture of the sunse– what are you looking at?” you cut yourself off as you look up at her, the last part of your sentence becoming a whisper. She’s just staring at you, with this unreadable expression on her face, it’s truly one you’ve never seen before (at least not awake). 

“You’re just so beautiful. I wake up every day in awe that it’s me you’ve chosen to spend the rest of your life with. I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you, but I thank god every night that I’m holding you to my chest. I get to experience the best parts of life because of you, and I’ll never be able to truly repay you for that, y/n…but thankfully I’ve got the rest of our lifetime together to try.”

You can feel the weight of her words as she speaks them. There’s no smile, laugh, or distraction in her voice. She’s confessing to you, like a sinner in a catholic church. Spilling the contents of her soul out onto the staircase of your heart, and leaving it there for you to either clean it up or let it soak into the deepest parts of you. So you lean up and press your lips against hers. Katie grabs your face, turning you around as she yanks you onto her lap. Your half-empty wine glass goes flying, landing in the sand beside the blanket as the wine leaks into the ground staining it dark. 

You want to say something back to her, but your brain is just mush. It’s like she’s stolen all the thoughts out of your head and you’re just floating in this bliss called her. You’re starting to think she was onto something when she said you fried her brain that one day because holy fuck you’re really humping your fiance’s lap on a public beach right now without a care in the world like you two aren’t famous athletes. “Mmm Katie– someone could s-see us,” you can barely get it out as she keeps her lips on yours. 

“Then let them,” she says it so casually into your lips that you almost listen to her, but one of you has to be the responsible one. So you pull back and give her your best kicked-puppy look, a pout dancing on your bottom lip, “Please, baby. I don’t want to end up on the front page of some tabloid– at least not till I’m officially Mrs. McBabe.” 

She looks at you while biting on her bottom lip, her brows furrowed as she thinks of something deep in thought. You tilt your head at her after a few seconds, placing a hand on her shoulder to check on her. “Baby? Are you ok–OH MY G–” You’re cut off twice. The first time when she manhandles you into the air. The second one is when she continues to manhandle you between her thighs, resting your back on her chest and a hand over your mouth. “Shhh darling! Wouldn’t want to ruin my plan now would you?”

You shake your head no, still not able to use your voice. So she slowly moves her hand away from your mouth, and lets it slide up the inside of your thigh. “Your dress is long enough to hide my hand, and you can hide your face in my neck if you want to, okay? I promise no one will see us” and you nod your head in response. 

“I need to hear you say it. Is this okay with you, y/n?” Her voice is suddenly stern, a hint of her softness peaking out to wrap around the words in a thin veil. 

“Yes baby, j-just please touch me already! God, I’ve needed you since you kissed my breath away this morning.” 

Katie groans into your mouth as she crashes them back together, her fingertips digging into the skin of your upper thighs as they inch up closer to your heat. When they reach your pussy she’s met with instant wetness and a loud breathy moan from you. A laugh rumbles up in her throat and vibrates your mouth as they stay connected, “No panties? Fuck baby you’ve been needing it bad all day, huh?”

You whine out at her teasing, raising your hips up as you search for her touch. Bucking wildly as your body begs for her fingers. “Okay shhh, shhh. I’ve got you now, love. Calm down,” as her digits run up and down your slit. They collect the unfathomable amount of wetness onto her fingers, your pussy leaking like a hydrant for her. She slides a single finger in first, not wanting to overwhelm you before you’re ready. 

“Add another one, please,” you say through a small moan. 

“Only cause you asked so sweet,” she smirks back at you. “My sunshine girl.”

So she slides her finger out and quickly returns with a second one buried inside your cunt. She’s fucking you a little faster now, the reluctance from your tight walls finally letting up. You’re biting your lip, muffled little cries of pleasure audible to Katie’s ears solely. 

Her other hand finds its way into the top of your dress, popping a hand underneath your bra as she starts groping your breasts. She makes sure she gives them both equal attention, switching out every so often to not overstimulate you. Her lips find shelter on your neck, leaving little pecks when and where she wants. But when you start grinding down onto her fingers, she decides to add another one by surprise this time. 

It rips a louder moan from your mouth, especially since her thumb is adding to the mix and rubbing circles onto your clit now. Your body wants to squirm away, but you’re stuck between Katie’s legs, being forced into letting the pleasure wreck through your body. “I’m g-gonna cum, baby!”

You feel a smile against your jaw, “You’re my pretty fucking fiancé, yeah? I love you so much. I can’t wait to marry you, darling. Can’t wait to make love to you as my wife– my other half.” 

 she’s starting to ramble and it’s going to be your downfall. The feeling of her curling them to hit right into her sweet spot draws you even closer to the edge, “Let it all out, darling. Cum on and give it to me!”

And so you do. Your hand comes around to grip her wrist through your sundress, your nails digging into her skin as you flail around in her hold. Your back arches away from her chest and your toes curl as they kick out in front of you. Your walls squeeze her fingers so tight she has to stop moving them as she’s biting love marks into your skin, trying to let this orgasm run its course as long as it can. You swear you’ve never cum this hard– positively boneless in her hold. 

You hiss at the slight sting as she pulls them out of you, immediately bringing them up to her mouth for a detailed cleaning with her tongue. Her eyes roll back at the flavor of you that hits her tastebuds, and she’s manhandling you onto your back this time. The soft blankets swallow you up as you lay down submerged in them, “Wh-what are you doing, K-Katie?”

“I just need to clean you up a bit, baby. I’ll be fast, I promise. Can’t have you all messy the whole ride home, now can we?” You should’ve known at the sight of her smirk right then…that it was going to be anything but speedy, but alas you have fallen victim to the tongue game of Katie McCabe once again. Your legs thrown open wide, back arched off the ground, hand on her head as it disappears under your dress, and a brand new tabloid with a picture of that exact scene on the front page the next morning. But one detail does stick out enough to add it to the headline..the shiny diamond ring on your finger, only visible from the light off of the set up she made you. 

“You can’t even tell that’s us, darling! It’s too dark, we’re fine. Just gotta deny deny deny,” Katie says like she’s a genius. A proud smirk on her face as she tries to pry you out from underneath your fortress of the duvet. 

“THEY HAVE PHOTOS OF US IN THOSE EXACT OUTFITS ALL OVER THE CITY THAT SAME DAY!” it’s shouted from under your mound of protection..not for you– but for Katie. If looks could kill she’d of been dead 10 times before now, all hell breaking loose after you woke up, and not five minutes later you’re getting bombarded with texts of screenshots and links. 

“Okay your right…this is serious, baby, I'm sorry…So should we start the onlyfans on our honeymoon? I could retire ear–”

“KATIE!” And if that wasn’t enough to know you didn’t like that joke, then the pillow to the face should definitely get your mood across.

[ivyyisbored22]

𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐞—𝘓𝘦𝘦 𝘒𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘹 (𝘧𝘦𝘮) 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

A Stray Kids one shot (𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 @laurenalpha123 . 𝚃𝚢𝚜𝚖!)

Synopsis: You are a trainee at JYPE and Lee Know is your Sunbae. But you both had been schoolmates until Lee Know moved away and now you joined the company to become an idol. You had unconfessed feelings for him and you didn't know— the sexy dancer has had an eye on you since high school. Now that you're almost so close to him, he is determined to have you.

Warnings: SMUT🔞. Mature content. Strong language, Semi-public?(practice room), unprotected sex, size kink, reader is called kitten,overstim(?), oral(f.receiving), fingering, doggy, pet names,(somewhat of)dirtytalk?, mirror sex. Minors do not interact!!!

(Sometimes my brain just...works...LMFAO)

If this isn't your thing, you're more than welcome to skip it. Reblogs, likes, comments and feedbacks are always appreciated.

ɪ'ᴠᴇ ᴘʀᴏᴏꜰ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ɪᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪʟʟɪᴏɴ ᴛɪᴍᴇꜱ ʙᴜᴛ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴘᴏᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪꜱᴛᴀᴋᴇ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴡʜᴇʀᴇ, ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡ.

Word count:5.6k (My hands slipped— I'm sorry(⁠･ั⁠ω⁠･ั⁠))

𝑬𝑵𝑱𝑶𝒀!

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"I'll join you after a few hours," You told your bandmate as you combed your hair and put it up in a messy bun. The strands fell around your face in a way that added a casual charm to your look, but you didn’t care much about appearances right now. "I just wanna work out for a while."

"Sure. I'll send you the details." Your bandmate said, grabbing her purse, ballcap and mask, getting ready to go out with two of the other members. "Don’t push yourself too hard, okay?" She added, a note of concern in her voice.

You returned her smile and gave a reassuring nod. She pulled you into a quick, warm hug before slipping out the door, her footsteps fading down the hallway as she joined the other members, leaving you alone in your quite spacious dorm room.

You sighed, stretching your arms above your head and feeling the slight burn in your muscles from the intense training sessions earlier in the day. The pressure of being part of an upcoming K-pop girl group was always present, but in moments like these, when you were alone, you felt a strange mix of excitement and anxiety. It was an exhilarating but daunting journey.

You glanced at your reflection in the mirror, the soft glow of the sun glowing through thw window, highlighting the determination in your eyes. The girl staring back at you was not the same one who had entered the company months ago—she was stronger, more resilient, and more driven than ever before.

You got dressed in a comfy pair of sweatpants, a cute crop top and white sneakers and made your way to the door. With one last look around the dorm, you stepped out into the hallway, the door clicking shut behind you.

You walked towards the elevator and made your way to the dance practice room. The doors slid open and you stepped inside, once the elevator reached the floor, you walked to the end of the hallway.

The building was so silent as if no one was roaming the corridors, it was slightly creepy and of course the building had thick walls. You swallowed the unease building in your chest and started walking, the sound of your sneakers tapping against the floor the only thing breaking the silence.

As you approached the end of the hallway, the familiar door to the dance practice room came into view. It was a place you knew well, a space where you had spent countless hours perfecting your routines and pushing your limits. The sight of it brought a small sense of comfort, but the unnerving stillness of the building lingered in the back of your mind, making you quicken your pace.

You reached out for the door handle, but paused for a moment, glancing around the deserted corridor one last time. The entire floor seemed devoid of life, and for a split second, you wondered if you were truly alone.

But you shook off the feeling, telling yourself it was just your imagination playing tricks on you. After all, it wasn’t uncommon for the building to be quiet during the day when most trainees were either out, practicing or resting in their dorms.

Pushing the door open, you stepped into the practice room, greeted by the familiar scent of wood and faint traces of lingering sweat and—a devastatingly handsome man who had no business being that handsome.

Your eyes widened as your heart began to race behind your ribcage. Lee Know, the well known among everyone and everyone around the world, stood casually at the corner of the room, his back pressed against the mirrored wall, scrolling his phone.

Lee Know was your Sunbae, who joined the company six years before you did but he wasn't just your senior.

You and Lee Know were schoolmates back in high school. He was almost like a bully, picking on you and teasing you any chance he got.

But despite all that, Lee Know has stood up for you and has almost got himself in trouble at the principal's office for fighting with another jerk of a guy at school who treated you like shit.

And to this day, you were grateful to him for stepping up for you.

Lee Know glanced up from his phone, his eyes directly falling on you standing in the doorway, your heart began racing even faster. You had seen his practice videos on YouTube, he usually wore hoodies and sweatpants but today out of all days, he was in a black tank top and shorts.

Good lord.

"Oh hello, Sunbae," You said, attempting to break the silence, his eyes were still on you, an intense gaze watching you, falling from head to toe, observing your outfit.

You slowly stepped in, closing the door behind you and pushed away a strand of hair behind your ear. Man, why was he watching you so intently? His face was literally unreadable.

“Surprised to see me?” He asked, a slight smirk tugging at his lips, his voice smooth and deep, cutting through the silence of the room. The teasing lilt in his tone made your heart flutter even more.

You struggled to find your voice, still reeling from the shock of seeing him here. “I—uh, yeah. I didn’t expect anyone to be here,” You stammered, mentally cursing yourself for sounding so flustered.

You had seen Lee Know around the company before, but never like this. Alone and in such close proximity. He pushed himself off the wall and walked towards you, the smirk on his lips growing as he noticed your reaction.

Your breathing increased as he stood only a few feet away from you, you could see his chest rise and fall. You looked up at him, trying your best to hide your deepening blush but it was in vain.

Lee Know tilted his head, sliding his hands in the pockets of his shorts, "It's been a while since I last saw you. You’ve changed a lot since then. In a good way of course."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. The idea that Lee Know still remembers you, sent a rush of emotions through you. You thought he had forgotten about you but it looks like you were wrong.

"Thank you, Sunbae," Your voice almost broke in half out of embarrassment? Shyness? You didn't know. All you knew was standing this close to Lee Know just made you go crazy.

"So have you," You managed to say, your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside you. His gaze was still locked on you, intense and unwavering, as if he was searching for something hidden beneath the surface.

Lee Know’s smirk softened into a small smile at your words. “I guess we both have,” He replied, his tone warm but with an undercurrent of something deeper.

“But some things never change.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, the air between you thick with tension. You could hardly believe this was happening—that you were standing so close to him, having a conversation that felt so personal, so intimate.

He took another step closer, his presence almost overwhelming. The scent of his cologne, fresh and subtly spicy, filled your senses, making it even harder to think straight.

"Wanna do our new comeback dance challenge with me?" His sudden question caught you off guard, you looked at him blinking for a second before nodding softly.

"Sure, but I already know the choreography," You said, a faint smile playing on your lips as he watched you with a playfully arched eyebrow.

"Is that so? Then I guess we don't have to warm up"

"I don't think we have to"

He glanced at you one more time before he moved towards the sound system and plugged in his phone, the lead song of their newest comeback began playing on the speakers.

As the music began to play, filling the room with its pulsating rhythm, you took your place in front of the mirror, Lee Know stood next to you. The tension in your shoulders melted away slightly, replaced by the familiar rush of adrenaline but him standing next you still made you nervous.

Lee Know was one of the best dancers in the K-pop industry, everyone knew it and you felt insecure for a second knowing your skills wouldn't match his. But you pushed that thought away when the chorus of the song started.

Your body moved in synchronisation with Lee Know, your movements fluid and perfect matching his. The choreography was complex, but you had practised it so many times that it felt like second nature.

Lee Know moved with an effortless grace that was mesmerising to watch. His body seemed to flow with the music, every motion deliberate yet smooth, he was born to dance.

You found yourself getting lost in the way he moved, the way his eyes flicked to you every now and then, gauging your performance, as if challenging you to keep up. And you did. Every twist, turn, and pop was executed with precision.

The two of you were in perfect sync, moving as one unit. The reflection in the mirror showed you both, side by side, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to bask in the feeling of dancing alongside someone you had admired for so long.

As the song drifted off, he turned to you, a satisfied smile on his face. “You were great,” He said, his voice slightly breathless but full of admiration. “I knew you were good, but that was something else.”

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face at his words, a flush of pride warming your cheeks. “Thank you, Sunbae,” You replied, trying to catch your breath. “But I think you might’ve been holding back a little.”

Lee Know chuckled, the sound deep and rich, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. “Maybe just a little,” He admitted, a playful glint in his eyes. “But only because I didn’t want to completely show off.”

You laughed, the tension in your body finally melting away. “I appreciate that,” you said, your tone light and teasing. “Though I’m not sure I could keep up if you went all out.”

He shook his head, still smiling as he looked at you. “Don’t sell yourself short. You did good."

His compliment made your heart skip a beat, the sincerity in his voice hitting you harder than you expected.

"Let's go another round?" You asked, now feeling fully confident.

"Sure" Lee Know replied smoothly and he walked to the sound system to put on a new set of songs.

For the next forty five minutes the two of you freestyled, danced to the latest comebacks and even practised for your debut song.

Sweat slicked your bodies as you came to a short break, his black tank top hugged his figure while your white crop top clung onto you, revealing a faint colour of your bra.

Lee Know caught an accidental glance of your chest but quickly turned his head away and walked to the mini fridge and grabbed two bottles of water.

You went to the corner of the room and sat on the floor, wiping off the sweat from your brow with the back of your hand, feeling the slight burn in your muscles after the intense session. Songs from the sound system continued playing quite soundly in the background.

Lee Know approached you and handed a bottle, the cold water you drank helped cool you down, but it did nothing to calm the racing of your heart.

You glanced up at Lee Know, who stood above you, his eyes glinting with that familiar playful mischief.

"Tired so fast?" He teased, the smirk on his lips growing as he leaned against the wall beside you, one eyebrow cocked in that infuriatingly attractive way.

You rolled your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips despite your best efforts to stay composed. “I’m not tired, Sunbae,” You shot back, though your breathlessness betrayed you. “Just pacing myself.”

“Is that what it is?” Lee Know chuckled, taking a long swig of his water, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly as he swallowed. “I figured you’d be able to keep up better by now.”

His words was coated with a hint of sarcasm, but there was an undercurrent of something more—an unspoken challenge that made your pulse quicken.

He had always known how to push your buttons, even back in high school, and it seemed like that hadn’t changed one bit.

Lee Know’s eyes flicked down to where your crop top clung to your skin, the faint outline of your bra visible through the thin fabric. For a split second, you caught him staring, but he quickly averted his gaze, clearing his throat as if nothing had happened.

He sat next to you, so close that you could feel the scent of his spicy cologne and sweat radiating off his body, which shouldn't make you feel like you wanted to drown in it.

“I've seen you dance at school," He said. "You’ve definitely improved a lot since,” He said, his tone casual, though you didn’t miss the slight edge in his voice. “But you might want to work on your stamina. Can’t have you tapping out too soon.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head at his relentless teasing. “Is this your way of saying I need more practice?” You asked, your voice light and playful as you tilted your head to look up at him.

“Maybe,” He replied, turning to you while his arm rested on one knee, his eyes glinting with amusement.

For a few moments the two of you stood there in silence, not knowing what to say next. You took another sip from your bottle and closed the cap, glancing at him but his gaze was already on you.

You felt your heart beginning to race again, a chuckle escaped from his throat as he turned his head away and finished his bottle of water.

"You know," He began softly, his voice low and slightly rough around the edges, you looked at him through the corner of your eye.

“You’re really something else.”

You fully turned to him and before you could respond, he moved closer, his free hand coming up to brush a strand of hair away from your face. The touch was light, almost hesitant, but it sent a shiver down your spine, your skin tingling where his fingers had grazed.

“You drive me crazy,” He confessed, his voice barely above a whisper now, as if admitting something he’d been holding back for a long time. “Ever since high school… I’ve been trying to figure you out. But you… you’re impossible.”

His words, spoken so close to your ear, made your breath catch in your throat. The heat between you was almost unbearable now, and you felt a pull, an undeniable urge to close the gap between you.

“Is that so?” You whispered back, your voice trembling slightly as you looked at him. The intensity in his gaze was almost overwhelming, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look away.

“Maybe you didn't try hard enough.”

Lee Know’s eyes narrowed slightly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Oh, I did,” He murmured, his voice laced with that familiar sarcasm, but there was an edge to it now—something darker, more serious.

“But you’re just a tough nut to crack.”

His hand, still resting near your face, moved to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. The contact was electrifying, sending jolts of warmth throughout your entire body. Your breath hitched, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it.

“And what happens if you do?” You asked, your voice barely audible as you leaned into his touch, your eyes locked onto his.

Lee Know’s smirk faded, his expression turning serious, almost contemplative. He leaned in closer, his lips just inches from yours, his breath warm against your skin.

“I guess there’s only one way to find out,” He whispered, his voice so soft it was almost lost in the quiet of the room.

Time froze in that moment when Lee Know pressed his hand on the wall, caging you with his body, lifting your chin with his fingers and bringing you close to him.

You swallowed hard but he didn't bring your lips to his. He only watched you and watched you as if he was waiting for someone to be revealed from your eyes.

"Six years. For six years you've managed to take over my head. Live in there. Freely. And now,"

Lee Know's hand went up your crop top, his palm caressing your skin that made goosebumps pebble your skin, his low, growling voice made your thighs clench. You felt something wet slowly beginning to pool between your legs.

He squeezed your breast through your bra, you inhaled a sharp breath, your hand instantly gripping his arm.

"Sunbae," You said so softly it almost sounded like a moan. And that soft voice made his cock hard.

"Lee Know, darling. Call me Lee Know. Or did you forget my name?" He said in a low rough voice as he began squeezing and palming and playing with your breast that caused you to whimper.

"Someone might walk in," Your fingers dug on his arms, your face still so close to his, his warm breath was over you, it drove you mad. But you wanted him to keep going. Your arousal began consuming you and you needed more.

"Then I guess we make it fast. Right baby?"

Lee Know pulled you down, your back was now on the floor, his knees on either side of you and pinning you beneath him. His eyes were dark and full of desire as he watched your chest rise and fall.

"Should I stop?" He asked in a husky voice. You shook your head, not being able to think of anything else. "No, don't. Please"

And that was all he needed to hear.

Without another word he pushed your top up along with your bra, revealing your hard nipples and beautiful breasts to his lust filled eyes. His eyes widened along with his smirk as he took in the heavenly sight beneath him, he leaned down and closed his mouth around the sensitive tip, your hand instantly tugged his hair.

You couldn't help but moan at the way his mouth sucked your nipple and rolled the other with his forefinger and thumb. He was basically worshipping your tits, giving both of them equal amounts of attention.

"Always knew my princess will taste the sweetest" He released your nipple with a soft pop sound, your fingers were still snaking his hair.

"Lee Know I, I need you," You said in a breathy moan, arousal spreading all over you, you could feel your juices stain your panties.

"You have me baby," He said as he removed your shoes and tugged down your pants along with your underwear, leaving you completely naked below your waist with nothing but your socks on.

He spread your thighs, the scent of your arousal reaching him as he got down to your hot dripping core. Your slick glazed infront of his eyes, his mouth watering knowing he's going to be having the best time of his life.

He placed a feather like kiss on your clit that made your chest heavy and core beg with need, it clenched around nothing, Lee Know smirked again and continued to kiss your clit multiple times.

"Lee Know...pl—please..."

"How so impatient baby" He licked your juices and was the last he said before he drew in the sensitive nub in his mouth and sucked.

Your back arched, Lee Know's tongue flicking and licking and sucking on your clit as he pushed a finger inside you, stretching your pretty walls and another, continuing to stretch you while his tongue played with your bud.

He groaned as your juices coated his face, tongue and fingers, you writhed and bucked your hips but his other hand's fingers were digging onto your thigh, holding you in place.

Lee Know knew that it was worth waiting. Worth waiting all those years for you. For him to taste you like this. In his sanctuary, under him, with your body begging for him to keep going.

"Oh my, Lee Know, oh" You were whimpering as he pumped his fingers inside your cunt, while he sucked on your clit like it was his last meal.

He pulled his fingers out after a few seconds of pumping and replaced it with his tongue without a word coming out of him other than a satisfied groan in your pussy, eating you out. The taste of you only hardened his cock behind his shorts.

You couldn't hold on, your eyes gushed with tears but Lee Know was so mean, his licks and flicks were slow and languid, you were squirming as you kept moaning without an end, the sound of your moans mixing with the beats of the newest songs playing off the speakers in the background.

While your senses were being driven out of your mind with Lee Know's tongue, you prayed that no one would walk in or hear your embarrasing noises. And those noises only turned Lee Know on more.

Your head turned to the side and through your glassy eyes you caught your reflection staring back at you. Lee Know's face buried in between your legs while your mouth was hanging half open.

You didn't look like the kind, innocent and polite idol the company trained you to be. You looked heavily drunk from arousal and at the way Lee Know's mouth worked on you.

"What a sweet little pussy you have sweetheart," He languidly licked your slit making you cry softly.

His cock was so hard and felt excruciatingly painful behind the confines of his shorts but he was too drunk on your sweet pussy that he ignored it.

Lee Know rose up from your heat, looking at you while his chin was coated with your essence, his lips red and stained with your juices, he got up to your face and crushed his mouth on yours.

You could basically taste yourself off his lips, his tongue swiped over your lips, demanding entrance as he kissed you fiercely. It wasn't gentle but dominant, his tongue battling with yours while his fingers circled your clit.

You moaned into his mouth, bucking your hips begging for him to give you more. Goodness, when were you this turned on?

Lee Know groaned as he pulled back and returned back to his meal, resting your leg on his shoulder and his tongue pushing inside your walls, kissing and licking your pussy, basically driving you absolutely insane. Literally keeping you on the edge.

"Lee Know, I can't, please" You begged him breathlessly, squealing while he worshipped you with his mouth.

"I'm teaching you on how to build your stamina kitten," He kissed your wet walls. "We should work on that right?"

Your fingers pulled his hair so hard, it nearly ached him but what you didn't know, Lee Know liked it when his hair was being pulled. You didn't know how turned on he was right now and how he was going to do everything to keep you under his mercy for however long he wants.

And hopefully no one walks in on you both.

"Pleaseplease, I can't, please" You were whimpering, breathing heavily, you couldn't do it any longer.

"You wanna come baby? Come all over my face? And show me how much you love this?"

"Yeah, yes, please Lee Know, GODDD"

He flattened his tongue in one more long lick and that undid you. "Come for me, kitten."

The words didn't fully leave his mouth as you came shuddering, your moans sounding like an erotic background music for the lyrics playing off the walls, your orgasm washed over you and Lee Know making your toes curl.

You were panting heavily from your high, letting go of his hair and your other hand and feet laying flat on the floor, you could still see tiny specks of stars erupting behind your eyes.

Lee Know smirked watching you process your comedown and stood on his knees. You slowly propped on your elbows, your eyes directly falling on his huge throbbing bulge below his abdomen and the slight stain around it.

When he was almost about to fully stand up, you wrapped your hand around his forearm. "You know you aren't done." You said challengingly that made his eyes and smirk widen with mischief.

"I don't carry condoms with me when I'm going to the practice room, kitten. Unless you think I do this all the time" He said as he brushed his fingers over your needy wet pussy. It was begging for him.

"We don't need it"

"That's not a good idea," He refused. Lee Know was always against unprotected sex and he knew he had pushed his luck as far it could go for today.

"You know you want this," You got up on your knees and touched his groin. "And so do I."

"Sweetheart," He protested but you went past it, you didn't know where you got this much courage from. You pulled his shorts and boxers down, just so that his erection was freed, your eyes widened.

OH GOD.

His cock sprung out, long, proud and beautifully hard, thick and veiny, pre cum leaking off the tip as it throbbed angrily. All your previous encounters vanished into thin air as you took in the sight of his gorgeous velvet shaft.

You looked at Lee Know with a wide smirk playing on your lips and stacked your hand on the base of his impressive length, stoking him as he groaned. You cutely kissed and licked the pretty tip, lapping his pre substances, the sweet saltiness lingering on your tongue.

"You. Drive. Me. Crazy." He growled.

Lee Know gripped your wrist and swiftly turned you around so that now the two of you were facing the mirrored wall. His erection dug onto your lower back and he pushed you onto all fours, grazing the tip on your entrance.

Your eyes closed shut and core ached with need, with one last gentle stroke, Lee Know held your waist and filled you inch by inch of his length in a smooth glid that made your back arch and cry out sharply.

"Lee—"

His cock was huge, he had to let you adjust for a few long seconds before he started pounding into you. You were basically naked if not for your socks and your top and bra resting beneath your neck.

"Fuck baby you're so tight" Lee Know rasped in a harsh tone, diving his huge length in your cunt, the hard wood floor bruising your knees.

"I might come right now."

Your breasts were bouncing, back and forth, as he pounded into you in a nearly punishing force, you almost— almost regretted asking for him to fuck you. But the pleasure of his thrusts were so euphoric, you wanted him to keep pushing you further.

"Open your eyes." Lee Know growled harshly, his hand came around your neck, fluttering your eyes wide open, meeting your reflection in front of you.

"Look at me when I'm fucking your tight little pussy."

You did. Your eyes met him through the mirror as he continued pounding into you so hard, abusing and wrecking your poor hole, his hand almost tight around your neck.

Your walls squeezed and clenched his thick shaft, driving Lee Know out of his mind. His cock was throbbing inside of you, he was resisting the urge to slap that round pretty ass of yours, but the way you took in his dick this gorgeously sent him to heaven.

"What do you think the world will think if they ever saw this huh?" Lee Know growled that made your heart pound hard enough to break out of your ribcage.

"Practising a very unique choreography right? On all fours as you let me wreck this slutty cunt?" His words were harsh, raw and dirty. He was taken over by some primal energy that made you weak.

"Tell me, kitten. Is this what you wanted?"

"Ngh, yes" You nodded frantically, your hands gripping the wooden floor for balance, but he was holding you fiercely. Moan after moan spilled out of your throat uncontrollably along with his harsh groans as hit each and every spot in you.

Ironically, the song 'Drive' was playing on the speakers, your eyes remained locked on your reflections, watching yourself getting mercilessly fucked by Lee Know from the behind.

"I won't let you go until the ending, Hold on tight as it speeds up"

It was like he was following the lyrics as he fucked you faster and harder, you watched yourself from the mirror, squealing and moaning, the floor bruising your knees, breasts bouncing, mouth open and tears streaming down your cheeks.

Lee Know's head was fallen back, his hand still around your neck and hair sticking on his damp sweat slicked forehead and so was yours. Your messy bun was now very loose, the strands falling on your face.

His eyes met yours again on the reflection, the two of you were in a sweaty mess, dripping with whimpers, moans and groans, the sloppy sounds of his cock going in and out of your cunt soaking the air.

"Oh, I'm, gosh,"

"Are you going to come for me again, kitten? Hmm?" He loosened his grip around your neck. "Go on, baby. Come."

With one final thrust, he hit your G-spot, you cried out coming all over his cock. Lee Know held you, slowing his pace and helped you ride out your earth shattering orgasm.

Your hand lost grip from the floor and you almost slipped but he held you before you fell, your velvet walls pulsing as your brain tried to process the high of your ecstatic climax.

Relentless thunder roared in Lee Know's chest as he came soon after you, groaning and cussing. It was almost the very last second but he pulled out of you, his cum shooting over your back and pussy. He came SO much that his cum spilled on the floor between your knees.

He quickly stood and pulled his shorts up, rushing towards the restroom and came back with tissues. He cleaned up the mess he made and wiped your thighs, holding you. And after you calmed down from your high, he helped you get back into your clothes.

Lee Know got up again and unplugged his phone from the speakers, you too slowly got up on your feet adjusting your pants and top but felt a sharp, throbbing ache pulsing through your knees and a slight soreness between your legs.

The last two hours replayed in your head again, every single detail vivid and etched in your brain.

"Are you okay?" Lee Know asked gently, turning to you as you came back to a steady breathing and fixed your hair, gulping down the remaining liquid from your water bottle.

"Yeah, I'm fine" The post-sex fog faded away, awkward tension began forming between the two of you. God how can you ever look at him the same anymore?

You two just fucked, not just anywhere but in the practice room, at the company with God knows who passed by or accidentally heard you both. A deep crimson bloomed on your cheeks, not out of fluster but out of embarrassment.

It was like Lee Know could read your mind and the concerned look spread across your face. He gently cupped your cheek making you meet his eyes, his usual cold face was replaced in a soft warmth.

"Hey, it's alright," Lee Know's fingers lingered as they tucked the strand of hair behind your ear, his touch surprisingly tender. The warmth in his eyes melted away the last of your embarrassment, his concern for you evident in the way he looked at you.

“Really, it’s okay,” He repeated, his voice low and soothing, as if he was trying to calm the storm of thoughts swirling in your mind.

“You don’t have to worry about anything.”

You bit your lip, still feeling a twinge of unease. “But…we’re at the company, if someone—”

Lee Know gently interrupted you by shaking his head. “No one’s going to find out. And even if they did, it’s none of their business. We’re both adults, and we made the choice together.”

His words were firm but comforting, and the way he spoke made it clear that he wasn’t just saying this to ease your mind—he genuinely believed it. The tension in your chest loosened, though the reality of what had just happened still felt surreal.

“It’s just… this isn’t something I ever imagined happening.” You admitted, the blush on your cheeks deepening.

“Me neither,” He confessed, his tone gentle, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek in a gesture that sent warmth flooding through you. “But I’m not regretting it. Are you?”

You looked into his eyes, searching for any hint of doubt, but all you found was sincerity. His question caught you off guard, making you pause. After a moment, you shook your head slowly. “No…I don’t regret it.”

The smile that spread across his face was small but genuine, a flash of relief in his eyes that made your heart skip a beat. “Good,” He murmured, his hand still cradling your cheek.

For a moment, the two of you just looked at each other, the practice room around you fading into the background. There was no awkwardness now, no embarrassment—just a quiet understanding and a shared feeling that had finally been acknowledged.

Lee Know’s hand moved from your cheek to the back of your neck, gently pulling you closer until your foreheads touched.

You closed your eyes and melted into the feel of him, your arms gripping his back, you pulled him to a tight hug. All the years of unconfessed feelings crept the hearts of the two of you, wrapping in the comfort of each other’s presence.

You pulled back reluctantly, but you knew time was stretching and you have to go catch up with your band mates. You looked into Lee Know's eyes one more time in a soft intensity.

"I have to get back to my dorm," You said, your voice almost as quiet as a whisper.

Lee Know nodded, a small smile tugging his lips. "Sure," He leaned down and placed a quick peck on your lips. You chuckled softly, the tension from earlier now a distant memory.

You returned his smile nodding and turned towards the door, walking to the exit.

"See you around, kitten" He said smirking, his usual personality returning.

You looked back at him, a tiny smirk of your own playing on your lips.

"See you around as well, Sunbae." . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Enjoyed this one shot? Consider checking my masterlist for more. Requests? Check 𝚁𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚜 (& 𝚁𝚞𝚕𝚎𝚜)

Thank you for reading!

xx,Ivyy

[syluslnd]

hello! can i request heavy angst with sylus and mc? like them never officially being in a relationship but clearly belonging to eachother, keeping a love-hate slowburn dynamic so it's nothing knew when they fight, but one day they get into a really bad, heated argument. out of anger sylus says something he immediately regrets and mc leaves (also out of anger) but something happens and they don't come back. (you can decide if it's happy ending or not)! thank you in advance!

house of cards

word count 5.6k

tags- angst no comfort,verbal insults ,death,dead dove,grieving

──── ୨୧ ────

The night was cool and the dim streetlights of Onychinus cast long shadows over the pavement. You waited outside one of Sylus’s known hideouts, a secluded bar where his lieutenants often gathered. It had become routine—waiting.

You leaned against the rough stone wall, arms crossed, trying to calm the growing frustration. He hadn’t reached out in days and when he did, it was for one thing—hooking up, nothing more, nothing less. Every time you tried to talk about something real, something deeper, he deflected with that arrogant smirk or one of his quick dismissals.

It was driving you mad. You wanted more than the casual, heated exchanges. But how could you demand more from someone who wouldn’t even admit what you were to him?

Footsteps echoed behind you and you straightened, turning to see Sylus approaching, his tall frame cutting through the dim light like a shadow. He looked as composed as ever, eyes sharp and calculating. You couldn’t deny the way your heart raced at the sight of him but the growing anger inside kept you from softening.

“You’ve been busy” you muttered as he stopped in front of you, crossing your arms tighter over your chest.

Sylus raised a brow, his expression unreadable. “What can I say, sweetie? I run an empire. It keeps me occupied.” His tone was casual, indifferent, like he wasn’t fazed by your clear annoyance.

“That’s the problem” you shot back, your voice edged with frustration. “You’re always ‘occupied.’ When was the last time we spent more than an hour together without it turning into some… thing? It’s like you don’t even care unless we’re in bed.”

He chuckled softly, though there was a sharpness behind it. “You’re upset because I’m busy? You knew what this was.”

His dismissiveness was the last straw. “Is that all this is to you?” you asked, your voice rising. “Just something casual whenever you feel like it?”

Sylus’s expression darkened slightly, his calm demeanor still intact but there was something colder in his eyes now. “You’re making this bigger than it is.”

Your chest tightened. How could he be so dismissive? You weren’t asking for the world just… something more than this half-life with him. “Bigger than it is? Sylus, you barely talk to me unless you want something. I’m tired of feeling like an afterthought. I deserve more than that.”

For a moment, his expression softened but it was fleeting. He stepped closer, his hand reaching for your chin, lifting your gaze to meet his. “What do you want from me?” His voice was low, almost dangerously calm. “I’m not the kind of man who makes promises. You know that. But you’re still here.”

You pulled away from his touch, the sting of his words echoing in your mind. “I don’t know how much longer I can be” you admitted, your voice quieter now, the weight of it hitting both of you.

Sylus watched you pull away, a flicker of something passing through his eyes—annoyance maybe or something deeper that he wasn’t about to show. He sighed, running a hand through his hair before dropping it back to his side.

“Fine” he said, voice laced with irritation “I’ll make it up to you. Let’s go out. Will that make you happy?” His words felt more like an obligation than a genuine apology, as if he were doing you a favor by even suggesting it.

You scoffed lightly, the apology clearly lacking any sincerity. “Really, Sylus? An apology and an offer to go out, just like that? You think that’s enough?”

He rolled his eyes, the sharpness of his usual calm starting to crack just a little. “You’re not making this easy. I’m trying here.” There was a slight edge to his voice but his gaze softened for a moment. “So, where do you want to go?”

You bit back the retort that almost escaped, knowing pushing too far too fast wouldn’t get either of you anywhere. “The arcade. I want to go to the arcade” you said, watching him closely.

Sylus’s expression shifted and for a second, the irritation returned. He didn’t hide the slight frown tugging at his lips. “An arcade?” he repeated, like the idea was absurd for someone like him. “You want me to take you to a place full of flashing lights and teenagers wasting time?”

A small smile crept onto your face despite the tension. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I want. It’s fun, Sylus. Or have you forgotten how to have fun?”

His eyes narrowed, clearly not amused by the teasing. But then, after a pause he sighed again this time more resigned. “Fine. If that’s what you want.”

It wasn’t much of an apology and you could tell he was annoyed but there was something in the way he relented that caught you off guard. Sylus was many things—cold, ruthless, always in control—but every now and then you caught these small moments where it seemed like he was trying, even if he didn’t fully understand why.

“Thank you” you said, keeping your voice soft but not letting the gratitude carry too much weight. You didn’t want him to think everything was forgiven just because he agreed to one date. “We’ll go tomorrow, okay?”

He glanced at you, something unreadable in his gaze. “Sure. Tomorrow.”

You nodded, the awkward silence hanging between you like a thin thread. You didn’t know if you should say more or if this was one of those moments where you just let things settle. Sylus turned away but just before he walked off, his hand brushed yours—light, almost hesitant. It was a fleeting touch, gone before you could react but it lingered all the same.

The neon lights from the arcade spilled out onto the busy street, reflecting off the windows as people moved in and out, laughing and shouting over the sound of the games inside. You stood near the entrance, arms crossed, glaring at your phone. Sylus was late again. It wasn’t like this was a surprise—he was always late—but today, it stung more than usual. You had put effort into this. You wanted to have fun, just once, without all the complications. But, of course, Sylus had to ruin that by being Sylus.

You checked your phone again. 30 minutes late.

Your jaw clenched, anger boiling just beneath the surface. This wasn’t just about tonight—it was about all the other times he brushed you off, made you wait, or treated you like something he could pick up and drop whenever he felt like it. You were tired of being patient, tired of pretending it didn’t bother you when it did.

The sound of footsteps behind you caught your attention and you didn’t need to look to know it was him. Sylus always had a presence—a certain energy that shifted the air around him. Still, you didn’t turn right away, letting him stand there for a moment while you seethed in silence.

“Sorry I’m late, sweetheart” Sylus’s voice came smooth as ever, carrying that casual arrogance that drove you mad. You could feel his gaze on you, waiting for you to respond. “Business, you know how it is.”

You slowly turned to face him, the anger barely contained as you stared him down. “You’re thirty minutes late, Sylus.”

He tilted his head, his smirk teasing. “I thought you’d be used to it by now.”

That infuriating smirk—it was enough to make you want to scream. But this wasn’t the place. You were surrounded by kids, teenagers, people who didn’t know the kind of world Sylus lived in. You couldn’t make a scene, not here, even though every nerve in your body begged you to let loose.

“I’m tired of it” you said quietly, your voice sharp but low, careful not to draw too much attention. “You’re always late. It’s like you don’t even care.”

He stepped closer, his height casting a shadow over you but it wasn’t his size that had your heart racing. It was the way he looked at you, like he could see through every wall you put up and worse like he found it amusing. “You’re cute when you’re mad.”

You narrowed your eyes, refusing to let him distract you with his charm. “Don’t start with that. You think showing up late and calling me ‘cute’ is going to make this better?”

Sylus’s eyes glinted and he leaned in slightly, his voice lowering just enough that only you could hear him. “You’re still here, aren’t you?”

There it was. That casual confidence the way he twisted every situation in his favor and the worst part? He was right. You were still here. But it wasn’t because you didn’t have enough self-respect to walk away—it was because, despite everything, some part of you still wanted this. Wanted him.

“You think I’m just going to let it slide every time?” you shot back, your voice barely above a whisper, trying to maintain your composure in public.

He chuckled softly that rich, deep sound that sent a shiver down your spine despite your anger. “You’ll let it slide because you want to be here with me. Don’t pretend otherwise.”

Your pulse quickened as his words hit deeper than you’d like to admit. He wasn’t wrong but that didn’t make it any less frustrating. You swallowed, trying to keep control of the emotions that were bubbling dangerously close to the surface.

“I wanted us to have a normal night” you muttered, glancing away to avoid his piercing gaze. “Just one night where we didn’t have to deal with your… business. But you couldn’t even show up on time.”

For a brief moment, something shifted in Sylus’s expression—something softer, almost like regret. But it was gone just as quickly, replaced by that familiar teasing smirk. “I’m here now. Isn’t that what matters?”

You looked at him, searching for any sign that he really cared, that he wasn’t just saying what he thought you wanted to hear. But Sylus was a master at hiding his true feelings. He could be teasing one second and dangerous the next, always keeping you guessing.

“You don’t get it, do you?” you said, shaking your head in disbelief. “It’s not about you being here now. It’s about everything. About the way you treat me like an afterthought, like I’m only here when it’s convenient for you.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unbothered by your words. “You’re making this way too complicated, sweetheart.”

You clenched your fists, taking a deep breath to calm the storm brewing inside. “Maybe it’s not that complicated to want someone who actually gives a damn.”

Sylus smirked again, stepping closer until there was barely any space between you. “I give enough of a damn to be here, don’t I?”

His closeness was overwhelming, his presence suffocating yet intoxicating at the same time. You hated how easily he could pull you in, how his words—no matter how frustrating—always had a way of making you second-guess yourself. But you couldn’t let him win this time.

“Being here isn’t enoug” you whispered, your voice tense with emotion. “I need more than that.”

He studied you for a moment, his gaze lingering on your face, as if considering his next move. Then, with a soft, almost mocking chuckle, he brushed a stray piece of hair from your face, his fingers barely grazing your skin. “You’re something else, you know that?”

You didn’t respond, biting your lip to keep the tears that were building up from spilling. You weren’t going to cry—not here, not in front of him. But the way he looked at you, like he could see every crack in your armor, made it hard to keep your emotions at bay.

After a long pause, he sighed, though it sounded more like annoyance than sympathy. “Alright, fine. I’ll make it up to you. We’re here now, let’s just enjoy the night,okay kitten”

You wanted to scream at him, to tell him that ‘enjoying the night’ wasn’t enough to fix what was broken between you two. But instead, you just nodded, knowing full well that this wasn’t the time or place for a real argument.

“Yeah” you muttered, your voice hollow. “Let’s enjoy the night.”

You stood in front of the claw machine, gripping the joystick harder than necessary, your eyes narrowed in concentration. The bright, colorful stuffed animals inside were taunting you, mocking your every failed attempt to grab one. You had already wasted several coins and each time the claw just slipped off the prize at the last second, your frustration only grew.

Sylus leaned against the machine behind you, his arms crossed and a smirk dancing on his lips. You could feel his gaze on you and it wasn’t helping your mood. You were still pissed—at him, at his nonchalant attitude, at the whole situation.

“Having trouble sweetie?” Sylus asked, his voice laced with amusement.

You didn’t answer, your jaw clenched as you maneuvered the claw over a plush toy that looked easy enough to grab. You hit the button, watching as the claw descended… only for it to fumble and drop the toy yet again. You cursed under your breath, stepping back from the machine in frustration.

Behind you, Sylus chuckled softly, clearly entertained by your struggle. “You know, you might be better at this if you weren’t so mad.”

“Shut up” you muttered, glaring at the machine like it was somehow responsible for your anger.

Sylus pushed himself off the wall, coming to stand beside you. “Let me try.”

You hesitated, not wanting to give him the satisfaction, but eventually stepped aside with a sigh. Sylus slid a coin into the slot, his movements slow and deliberate, as if he wasn’t in any kind of rush. He tilted his head, studying the plush toys inside with a cool, calculating expression—like this was some kind of challenge he needed to win just to prove a point.

He moved the joystick with ease, barely paying attention and then pressed the button. You watched as the claw descended, grabbed a stuffed bear and successfully lifted it up, dropping it neatly into the prize chute without a hitch.

You stared at the bear in disbelief. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Sylus grinned, reaching in to grab the prize. “What can I say? I’m just lucky.”

You rolled your eyes still too annoyed to let it go. “It’s not luck when you don’t even care.”

He handed you the bear, his smirk softening just a little. “Here. Something to remember me by when I’m not around.”

You took the bear reluctantly, not sure whether to be touched or even more irritated. There was something in the way Sylus looked at you in that moment, though—a fleeting softness, like he was enjoying being here with you, even if he didn’t say it outright.

For a few minutes, it was almost… normal. You grabbed some drinks from the concession stand and you found yourself relaxing—just a little. The arcade lights, the sound of people laughing and playing games and even Sylus’s teasing remarks all blended into a strange sense of calm. Maybe it wasn’t perfect but it was something.

You took a sip of your drink, glancing at Sylus. “You think you can beat me at air hockey?”

He raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Sweetie you really want to challenge me?”

You shrugged, smiling for the first time since he showed up. “I’m just saying, you won’t win twice in a row.”

Sylus chuckled, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

The banter felt easy, natural even and for the first time in a long while, you were actually having fun with him—laughing, teasing, almost forgetting how mad you were earlier.

But just as you were starting to think the night might turn around, Sylus’s phone rang. You watched as his playful demeanor vanished, replaced by that familiar cold detached look that always came when something serious was happening.

He answered the call, turning away from you slightly but you could still hear bits and pieces of the conversation. It was business, obviously—Onychinus business.

You sighed, already knowing where this was headed.

After a few minutes Sylus hung up, his jaw tight. He didn’t look at you right away, as if he was bracing for your reaction.

“Let me guess” you said, your voice bitter. “You’ve got to go.”

He ran a hand through his hair, glancing at you apologetically. “I’ll make it up to you.”

You stared at him, your earlier frustration flooding back in an instant. “Make it up to me? You said that last time and the time before that.”

Sylus opened his mouth to respond but you cut him off your anger spilling over. “You know what? I’m done hearing your excuses. Every single time we try to do something, you end up bailing. I’m not an afterthought, Sylus.”

His gaze flickered but he remained calm, almost too calm. “It’s not like that—”

“Then what is it like?” you snapped. “Because it sure as hell feels like I’m just something you deal with when it’s convenient.”

He sighed, his patience clearly wearing thin. “You know how this works. I don’t get to choose when I get called.”

“You don’t get to choose?but you also don’t seem to care how it affects me” you shot back. “You always have time for business but never for me.”

Sylus’s jaw clenched and for a second you thought he might snap. But instead he just took a deep breath his voice low and controlled. “I’m trying to keep you out of this. That’s why I don’t bring you into my world more than I already have.”

You laughed bitterly. “Oh, so this is you protecting me? By making me feel like I don’t matter?”

He stepped closer his voice dropping even lower. “You do matter. But I can’t always be there when you want me to be.”

You looked up at him your anger mixing with something else—something closer to hurt. “I don’t need you there all the time, Sylus. I just need you to act like you care.”

For a brief moment his expression softened and you could see something flicker in his eyes—guilt, maybe or regret. But just as quickly as it appeared it was gone, replaced by that same cold distant look he always wore when things got too close, too real.

“I’ll call you later” he said, his tone clipped.

You stared at him in disbelief. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

Sylus hesitated but eventually turned and walked away leaving you standing there your heart sinking as the sound of the arcade faded into the background.

It had been a week. A whole week without so much as a call or a message from Sylus. Each day that passed made your frustration grow until it morphed into a bitter, burning anger.

You knew this wasn't a relationship-he had never promised that. But still, the silence gnawed at you, his dismissive attitude felt like a slap in the face. All the excuses about his work, his responsibilities-none of them felt like enough anymore.

So when you heard a knock at your door and opened it to see Sylus standing there like nothing had happened you felt your blood boil.

“Hey kitten” he said casually, as if the past week hadn’t happened. He leaned against your doorframe his sharp eyes scanning you with a cool detached air. “Haven’t heard from you in a while. You could’ve at least called.”

You stared at him your anger simmering just beneath the surface. How could he be so nonchalant? So unaffected?

You tried to stay calm to hold it together but the way he stood there acting like everything was fine like he hadn’t disappeared without a word set you off. “I could’ve called?” you repeated, your voice shaking with anger. “Are you serious right now?”

Sylus shrugged, his usual smirk playing on his lips. “Yeah sweetie I’ve been busy.”

“Busy?” You felt the anger bubbling over and before you could stop yourself you stepped closer your fists clenched at your sides. “You disappeared for a week, and now you just show up like it’s no big deal? Do you even realize how pissed off I am?”

His gaze flickered with mild amusement as if your anger was some sort of game to him. “You’re always pissed off.”

You glared at him your chest tightening. “Because you give me every reason to be! You act like you don’t even care.”

Sylus chuckled, his eyes softening just slightly as he watched you fume. “You’re so adorable when you’re angry.”

His words were the final straw. You felt tears welling up in your eyes and you hated it—hated that he could make you feel like this, like your anger didn’t matter, like you didn’t matter. He had come here for one thing, and you knew it. That much was obvious by the way he was already moving closer his hand reaching for your waist as if he could just sweep all your anger away with a touch.

But you stepped back, stopping him in his tracks. “No.”

Sylus blinked, surprised by your sudden resistance. “No?”

“I’m not doing this” you said, your voice thick with emotion. “I’m not just going to let you walk in here and act like everything’s fine.”

He stared at you his brow furrowing as if he didn’t quite understand why you were so upset. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the fact that you don’t give a damn about me” you snapped, your voice cracking as the tears finally spilled over. “You show up when it’s convenient for you, when you want something and I’m just supposed to go along with it? I’m not some toy you can pick up and put down whenever you feel like it, Sylus!”

For the first time Sylus didn’t have a clever comeback. He just stood there his smirk fading his expression hardening into something unreadable and for a moment, just a moment, you thought you saw a flicker of guilt in his eyes.

But then, his phone rang.

Of course.

You watched in disbelief as he pulled out his phone, glancing at the screen with that same detached expression you had grown to hate. He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he looked back at you. “I have to take this.”

“No.” Your voice was low, trembling with barely-contained rage. “You’re not doing this again.”

He paused, his hand hovering over the phone. “I don’t have a choice.”

“You always have a choice” you spat. “You just never choose me.”

Sylus’s jaw tightened but he remained silent his fingers gripping the phone as if it was some kind of lifeline. The phone kept ringing the sound filling the tense space between you like a countdown to something inevitable and that was it. That was the moment you snapped.

“You’re a cold-hearted bastard, you know that?” you said your voice rising as your anger reached its breaking point. “All you care about is your damn job, your stupid mafia game and yourself. You don’t care about me. You never did.”

Something in Sylus’s eyes darkened at your words but you were too far gone to stop now. “You act like you’re so untouchable, like nothing and no one matters to you. Well, guess what, Sylus? You’re not untouchable. You’re just a coward who can’t handle real emotions. You’re pathetic.”

His hand clenched around the phone, his calm exterior cracking just enough for you to see the anger brewing beneath the surface. “Watch it” he warned, his voice low and dangerous.

But you didn’t back down. “No, you watch it. I’m done pretending like this is something it’s not. You show up when you feel like it, you leave whenever you get a call and you expect me to just wait around for you like I don’t have my own life. Well, I’m done. I’m done being your damn convenience.”

Sylus’s eyes narrowed, his voice a deadly whisper. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I know exactly what I’m talking about” you shot back. “I’m talking about how you treat me like I don’t matter, like I’m just here for your amusement.”

The tension in the room was thick, suffocating and for the first time Sylus didn’t have his usual cocky, unbothered expression. He looked… furious.

And then, in a moment of weakness, you said the words that changed everything. “You know what’s worse? We’re not even a couple. We’re not anything. I’m nothing to you, right? Just some girl you hook up with when you’re bored.”

Sylus’s expression turned cold, ice spreading through his gaze. His voice was quiet but sharp as a knife. “You’re right.”

The air was sucked from your lungs. You stared at him, feeling like the ground had just been ripped out from beneath you. He didn’t even hesitate. He didn’t deny it. He just… confirmed it.

“We’re not a couple” Sylus continued his voice brutally calm. “We never were. You knew what this was from the start.”

You took a step back, your heart pounding in your chest. His words cut deeper than any knife ever could. You had known of course you had known. But hearing him say it out loud, hearing the cold finality in his voice—it broke something inside you.

Tears welled up in your eyes again but this time they weren’t from anger. They were from heartbreak. You couldn’t even look at him anymore. “I hate you” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Sylus flinched, just slightly but he quickly masked it. “Go ahead, hate me all you want. It doesn’t change anything.”

You stared at him for a moment longer then turned on your heel and stormed out of the apartment. You didn’t care where you were going. You just needed to get away from him, from the pain, from everything.

The night outside was dark and cold the streets of Onychinus dangerous as ever. But you didn’t care. You were too hurt, too broken to care. You just kept walking, your tears blurring your vision as the world around you faded into nothingness.

And Sylus… didn’t follow.

Sylus had been drowning in work. The weight of Onychinus bore down on him heavier than usual. One of his trusted men had been leaking information—details of transactions, routes, even the inner workings of their operations. It was enough to shake the entire foundation he had built over the years.

He couldn’t afford to let this weakness show. Weakness in his world meant death. So he buried himself in the chaos, his mind constantly racing through strategies to tighten his grip on Onychinus, to snuff out the traitor, to keep his empire from crumbling. It consumed him, and every decision he made carried the cold, calculating precision of a leader who couldn’t afford to let his guard down.

But amidst all the chaos, one thing gnawed at the back of his mind—he hadn’t heard from you in days.

Two days. It wasn’t like you to be completely silent, not after the argument that had ended with you storming out, leaving him standing alone in your apartment. At first, he chalked it up to your stubbornness. You were angry.

You had every right to be. He hadn’t cared enough to check in, hadn’t thought to chase after you when you left. After all, that was how it had always been. You would blow up he’d brush it off and eventually things would return to the way they always were.

But something about this time was different. It lingered in the back of his mind like an itch he couldn’t scratch. Something was off.

On the third day, he finally caved. He sent Mephisto, his crow, to find you. It should’ve been easy—Mephisto never failed him. But when the bird came back, empty and restless a knot of dread settled in his chest.

His irritation mounted. He called his men, ordering them to find you. You couldn’t have gone far. He didn’t doubt your ability to survive but Onychinus wasn’t the kind of place you wandered alone for long without catching the wrong kind of attention.

As hours turned into days, his frustration grew. His men scoured the city, checking the places you frequented, talking to the few who might have seen you. But each report came back the same—nothing. No sign of you. No trace.

Until that first discovery.

The message came late in the night. One of his men, pale-faced and visibly shaken approached him in the office. Sylus didn’t look up from the mountain of paperwork, his pen scratching across the page.

“Sylus… we found something”the man stammered.

Sylus’s eyes flicked up cold and unbothered. “Spit it out.”

The man hesitated, shifting on his feet. “It’s… her fingernails, sir.”

A sharp silence followed those words. Sylus stopped mid-sentence his pen freezing in place. Slowly, he set it down, his jaw tightening. He didn’t like what was being implied. He refused to acknowledge it.

“Don’t play games with me” he said, his voice dangerously quiet. “What are you saying?”

The man swallowed stepping forward with a small bag in his trembling hands. Inside, nestled among dirt and blood, were pieces of fingernails—yours.

Sylus stared at the bag, his expression unreadable. Something dark flickered behind his eyes but he didn’t move, didn’t react, except for the faint tightening of his jaw. “This doesn’t prove anything” he said coolly, his voice sharp as glass. “She could’ve broken them off herself.”

The man flinched. “Sir… you know that’s not—”

“I said” Sylus cut him off, his eyes narrowing dangerously “it doesn’t prove anything.”

The man fell silent but the air in the room shifted, thick with unspoken dread. Sylus’s mind raced, the tension creeping into his chest. He refused to believe it. You were too strong, too smart to fall into something like this. But doubt gnawed at him. He crushed it buried it under layers of ice, refusing to let it take root.

Days passed, and more pieces were found. Little by little, pieces of you scattered across Onychinus like breadcrumbs leading to a nightmare he didn’t want to face. A lock of your hair. A fragment of your skin. The reports kept coming and Sylus’s temper grew colder, sharper. He snapped at his men at anyone who dared to mention what they all knew but didn’t dare say out loud.

“She’s fine” Sylus would say whenever another part of you was found, his voice as hard as steel. “You’re all idiots. She’s playing a game. She’ll show up.”

But he knew. Deep down, he knew.

Then came the day they found your head.

The moment Sylus laid eyes on it, something inside him snapped. Your lifeless face, pale and bloodied, with a twisted smile carved across your lips, stared back at him. His hands clenched into fists, trembling with a fury so raw it threatened to consume him. His men stood back none daring to approach knowing full well the storm that was brewing inside their leader.

And then they found the message. It was simple, scrawled in blood across a torn piece of your clothing:

“I’m always watching.”

One of his enemies. The very traitor he had been hunting lurking in the shadows had taken you from him. They had taken the one weakness he never admitted out loud not even to himself. But now, looking at your head—at the cruel mockery of your death, the message taunting him, daring him to act—he couldn’t deny it anymore.

You were his weakness. The one thing that made him feel something other than cold, ruthless control.

And now… you were gone.

For the first time in his life, Sylus felt guilt. Genuine, gut-wrenching guilt. Regret settled in his chest like a poison, choking him, making it hard to breathe. He had pushed you away. He had let his pride, his work, his goddamn arrogance get in the way and now, because of him, you had suffered. You had died. Alone.

His blood boiled, the rage building inside him, so powerful it felt like it would tear him apart from the inside. He wanted to scream, to tear the world apart with his bare hands. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. Sylus couldn’t afford to show that kind of weakness.

Instead, he stood there staring at the message, his jaw clenched so tight it hurt. His fingers twitched, longing to crush something to destroy the people who had done this. But he didn’t move. He was still. Cold. Dead inside.

“Clean it up” he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper but it held a lethal edge. “and get out.”

His men moved quickly, gathering the remains and clearing the area their eyes downcast, none daring to look at him. They knew better.

Sylus stood there, alone, his hands still trembling. For the first time he didn’t feel in control. He didn’t feel like the unshakable, unstoppable leader of Onychinus. He felt… lost. Empty.

He had always told himself that you didn’t matter. That you were just a fling, a distraction. But now, staring at the empty space where your head had been, he realized how wrong he had been.

You had mattered. You had mattered more than anything else in this godforsaken world and now… you were gone.

And it was his fault.

Sylus’s fists clenched, his nails digging into his palms until they bled. His vision blurred with rage, the weight of his mistake crushing him from all sides.

He would make them pay. Every single one of them. He would tear them apart piece by piece, just like they had done to you. He would make them suffer. But no matter how much blood he spilled, no matter how many bodies he left in his wake, it wouldn’t change the truth.

He had lost you and he would never forgive himself for that.

[leclucklerc]

Something Immortal CL16 - 01. Fate

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Wayne!reader

Summary: Bruce Wayne loves his kids. He really do. To the point he's going to buy his son a whole ass Formula One team.

Word Count: 5.6K

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It’s a fairytale-like story where a billionaire stumbled upon a baby – fresh out of her mother’s womb, still red and wrinkled – on his doorstep.

There’s a note, written by someone who he can faintly recognize as one of his one-night stands months ago. A messy note with an almost unreadable handwriting declaring that she doesn’t want to have any responsibility for this baby. That as the sperm donor, now it’s his responsibility to take care of the child.

He stared at the note before blue eyes turned their way toward the baby once again. And then, as if the baby recognized his stare, blearily eyes blinked.

It was at that moment that the man fell in love with the baby in front of him.

It was also the start of Bruce Wayne and y/n Wayne’s story.

Y/n understands that her father is not a perfect man.

He had made many wrong choices, choices that he believed were the best but in reality, it’s the choice that ended up doing more hurt than comfort. 

Communication is not his forte, as well as baring his emotion to those around him. There are many instances where her father intended to say one thing but, in the end, the words that escaped his mouth are more biting. More blunt. More heartless.

She knows it’s normal for someone to have a problem conveying their emotions. But in their family? In their family where there are far too many misunderstandings and far more unstable emotions as well as the tendency to take their own conclusion without consulting with anyone?

Well.

Jason used to call her the perfect child. The only child that grew up within the walls of the Wayne manor that ended up with a stable emotion and right mind. That she’s the perfect princess that Bruce Wayne always wanted. Unlike him, goes unheard. You’re the favorite, the one he favors the most, the one that he loves the most, goes unheard. Unlike him, once again, goes unheard.

It’s a bit funny to hear the man say that, because all her life, y/n is sure that she’s the least favorite child.

When she was a child, Dick had always been the golden boy. The perfect partner for Batman when they’re wearing masks and a charming happy child off mask. It’s a bit petty, but there was a time in y/n’s life when she felt a lot of resentment for the older. After all, she’s Bruce’s biological daughter, she’s the child that fell into Bruce’s life first, and yet-

And yet why didn’t he spend more time with her? Why didn’t he always explicitly forbid her to venture through the night like he and Dick?

Why was she never enough?

Of course, that resentment was short-lived because it’s Dick. Dick with his playful laughs and sunshine smile. Dick who always held her hands, guiding her away into some new adventure that he had created a mere minutes prior. Dick is the best big brother anyone could ever asked for. He always made time for her – even to play with her dolls or play pretend – always took care of and protected her in school, and always prioritized her over anything in his life – even Robin.

It’s hard to hate Dick, even after his huge fight with Bruce and his moving out of the Wayne manor. It’s hard to hate Dick, even though he had only hugged her in the middle of the night, muttering that he couldn’t stand living in the manor anymore, that B is beyond reasoning, and disappeared the next day.

It was hard to accept, that her perfect big brother suddenly disappeared from her life. That she was back to being the only child. That the only contact that her big brother made was the occasional phone calls or the screaming match that she sometimes heard from the cave.

What if she also wants to live with her big brother?

What if she also missed Dick?

Maybe that’s why Jason had always been so special to her. An older brother that Bruce found whilst in the middle of stealing Batmobile’s tires. She knows that Jason is not perfect. He has a potty mouth and often says rude things in a fit of anger. His temper was also extraordinarily short, and a bit unpredictable.

But Jason always tries.

He had always tried to be the older brother that y/n needed in her lonely life. He had always tried to make up all of his brash personality and short fuse. He had always tried to apologize first, always tried to keep up with all of her hobbies and interests. Always tried to be there for her. An older brother who often read her to sleep and talked sense to her father. An older brother who fills in the huge gap that Dick left behind. 

An older brother who had promised her that he would always be right by her side. That he will be there during her dance recital and her university graduation. That he will be there during her first date to give her lover a shovel talk. That he will always be there to make up for the lack of her father and their oldest brother’s presence.

To be the perfect older brother for her.

An older brother who died.

Y/n love for cars started when Jason stole one of Bruce’s Ferrari.

It’s a custom—a vintage beauty in the color of midnight and the only one that exists in the world. Her dad received it years ago as a thank-you for his massive investment in the company. Y/n knows that it’s one of her dad’s favorite cars. He rarely used it, only for special occasions, and he often came to the garage and polished it personally.

Most of your siblings shared that sentiment. Even those who don’t really care about cars appreciate their beauty.

So it’s normal for Jason – an automotive enthusiast, who has his own personalized bike and follows Formula 1 religiously – to be entranced by it. He had taken a liking to it since his Robin days when Dad once took him for a drive with that Ferrari. Many things had happened between those times and current times, but it seems his love for the car didn’t diminish.

Y/n was in the garage when Jason appeared, whistling and keys jiggling in his hand.

“I thought we’re not allowed to use that one,” pointed out the woman, grabbing his leather jacket in a sad attempt to stop him.

Jason raised an eyebrow before he raised his hand to ruffle the top of your hair. “As long as he doesn’t know I’ll be fine,” he scoffed.

“I bet Alfred knows.”

“Alfie knows everything.”

Y/n continues to stare at him as Jason reaches the Ferrari. You could practically see all the love and adoration in his eyes as he walked around the car as if he was about to inspect it.

“You know,” y/n started. “I could tell Dad.”

The older male stopped at that. “You wouldn’t,” he said, raising an eyebrow at you.

“I could,” you shrugged.

“What do you want in exchange for your silence?”

You grinned. “When you take it out for a drive, I want to go too.”

Jason seemed to contemplate that bargain for a couple of seconds before he nodded. “Deal.”

Truth to be told, it’s not like y/n was interested in automotive or cars back then. Back then, she had just seen it as an opportunity to become closer to Jason. After all, his relationship with the family is tense during the best days and downright horrible during the worst ones.

Y/n had been hesitant about approaching the man after the whole Red Hood and the… Jason being dead… thing that she had elected to stay away from him for some time. Most of the time, the man doesn’t even come to the manor if he can help it and only visits during vigilante business. Considering y/n is not a vigilante, well.

Jason had been her favorite brother. He had been the brother who understood her perfectly. The sibling that is the closest to her age.

The sibling that she had grieved for the longest.

Of course, she had been overjoyed at his return, despite all of the killings and the not-right-in-the-head part. It’s still Jason after all. It’s still the brother who likes to accompany her in the library and the brother who helps her with her English homework.

It’s still the older brother that she loves with all her heart, despite all the differences and all the things in between.

Jason still laughed with his full body, eyes still crinkling in amusement every time he found something funny. He still loves to read those cheesy romance books and believes in true love. Jason is still Jason and that’s all that matters.

That’s why she had seen it as an opportunity to once again, grow closer to Jason. To rebuild the relationship that had years ago. To become siblings once again.

She’s not even sure why Jason agreed to take her alone, not that she’s complaining. She just hopped into the car – excitement high and brimming – as she began thinking what kind of conversation they could have or if should they stop by for food afterward-

Though, in the end, both y/n and Jason crashed the car.

In both of your defenses, Jason – who was driving the car at that time – didn’t mean it. The both of you were high in euphoria and the thrill of high speed after all. And the road near the Wayne Manor is always empty considering, well, it’s also owned by the Wayne family, so no one is ever in it.

It’s not your or Jason’s fault that they didn’t predict a stray cat will pass through the road.

Y/n had screeched and Jason had cursed to hell back as he swerved. It’s only due to the man’s extensive experience as a vigilante and doing many many car chases throughout Gotham that the crash is not a horrible one.

But still, the custom Ferrari had a big dent and scratch mark on its side. Certainly not something that the both of you can hide from. 

Considering that it’s your dad’s favorite car, it’s only normal for him to be mad. But one look at your bruised forehead and Jason’s bleeding noise squashed down all of that anger and replaced it with worry and fretting. It seems his love for his children greatly overpowers any fond memories he has of that car.

However, it doesn’t mean that both of you came out of that mess scot-free. As a punishment, Bruce told both you and Jason to go fix the car.

Fixing the car is a generous term considering you and Jason only had to bring the car to something like a garage specializing in Ferrari or something. But though, it was also the moment that you started to build your relationship with Jason once again.

“Why do you like it so much though?” you had asked.

“Because it’s cool,” grunted out Jason as the both of you lounged in one of his safehouses. The TV is on, showing a Formula 1 race being broadcast. “Look, I know it just looks like cars going around in circles but you gotta watch the whole thing to understand the thrill!”

Letting out a hum, you settled once again on the sofa.

“Are you interested in it?” you asked in it. “To… you know, becoming your daytime job.”

“Dunno, being a crime lord is kind of a daytime kind of thing.”

You let out a huff of laughter at that. “You know that’s not what I mean,” you said, nudging him by the shoulder. “Dad is… you know how he’s trying to announce your revival publicly right?”

Y/n knows Jason knows that. Practically everyone in the family knows it at this point.

“And well, for your civilian persona, maybe having a daytime job that’s not borderline illegal could help.”

Jason let out a scoff at that. “Psh,” he said. “I’m like, way too old to start my carreer in racing,” waved Jason off, though Y/n can sense a hint of disappointment on his tone. “There’s no team who wants me anyway, what with my anger issue and bout of madness.”

The female frowned at that. “You know that’s not an issue,” she said.

“The hell does that mean?”

“If you want to become a Formula One driver, or anything – really – you just only need to say it,” said the woman. “Dad will practically buy you a private island if you asked him, let alone a Formula One team.”

Her brother stared at her, eyes blinking, and y/n merely kept her gaze on the screen in front of them.

“Are you- are you being serius?” Chocked out Jason.

“Jay,” started the female. “Dad id practically building a zoo on our backyard for Damian’s pure shit and giggles,” she said, reminding the older male about the construction that had been happening for some time and Damian’s dedication to it. “If Dad thinks you being a Formula One driver can help you to your… recovery, or you being closer to the family, he’s going to buy the whole paddock at this point.”

“… You’re being serious.”

“Obviously,” said y/n. “What? You don’t want to?”

“I don’t-“ Bit out Jason, “Have any time for that.”

Jason said that he doesn’t have any time for that. Not that he doesn’t wants it.

Y/n remember Jason’s childhood bedroom back in the manor. The old Formula One poster that had faded over time. The miniature Ferrari Formula One car that had been customized gift from the company, a special gift requested by Dad all those years ago. Or that day years ago, when Dad had taken a much younger y/n and Jason to Monza to watch the race.

She stared back at the race that’s showing on the screen in front of them.

Well, she thought. It won’t be too hard to convince dad to buy a formula one team.

You see, the thing is, contrary to popular belief, Bruce Wayne doesn’t want his children to become vigilantes like him. After all, he knows best how dangerous the job can be. How with a single mistake, a single misstep, it will be your life that is in danger.

He had been a bit accepting of the idea after Dick. Bruce knows that he’s not a great father, that he has made way too many mistakes, but seeing how great of a hero Dick is, the older man had accepted the fact that he may not have been a great father, but a great mentor.

However, that kind of thought soon changed.

After Jason, after Ethiopia and its explosion, and Joker’s manic laugh, he doesn’t want any of his children to become a vigilante. He doesn’t want to lose any of his children anymore. Bruce had been scared for the day that y/n would come to him and declare her desire to become a crime-fighting vigilante to come.

And yet, that day never came. Instead, y/n had come to him holding a stack of papers that Bruce recognized as his own father’s research paper. There’s a bright grin on her face, so much like Martha Wayne’s, as you declare, “I want to become a doctor!” said the girl. “Just like Grandpa Thomas!”

Oh, Bruce loves all of his children equally. He had loved each of them with the same intensity. Yet, at this moment, all he could see was the crying baby that was left on his doorstep all those years ago—the result of a careless one-night stand when he was too young even to manage his grief properly.

Y/n had been the first child that he raised and was even under his care years before he took in Dick as his ward. Bruce was practically a child himself when y/n appeared in his life, just a crying baby that was dumped on his doorstep by a mother who didn’t want her. He had made many mistakes and actually managed a somehow decent job at the whole being a father thing due to Alfred’s helping hand. She had been his only daughter for so long and seeing her like this, wanting to become someone just like his late father-

Maybe, just maybe. Maybe Bruce did a good job in this whole fathering thing.

That happened years ago, and now fast forward to now, y/n has become the youngest professor in Thomas Wayne Hospital. Considering her achievements and who her father is, it’s a no-brainer that she will take up the director seat soon enough. She too, alongside Jason, had been the face of Wayne Industry charities where her older brother focuses on helping street children to have a more stable future, she focuses on improving Gotham’s horrid healthcare system.

And of course, her side job.

The doctor to her siblings’ recklessness.

“Ow!” Hissed out Tim as y/n began stitching his wound in the med bay. “I didn’t expect it to be that painful-“

“Of course, it’s painful,” answered the woman with a scowl. “And you’re the one that’s insisting on not using any anesthesia, so suck it up like a big boy.”

“You know I got all sleepy if I had anesthesia,” grumbled the younger male. “I need to study a case file later tonight-“

“Tim,” cut off y/n. “When did you last sleep?”

Tim blinked. “… Last night?”

“Drake is lying,” interrupted Damian as he appeared next to the girl with a glare in his eyes. “He was last asleep approximately 65 hours ago,” continues the boy, tattling his older brother without a care in the world.

“You-“

“TIMOTHY JACKSON DRAKE-WAYNE!” Yelled y/n as she finished out the stitch. “What did I tell you about the importance of sleep!?”

“Well-“

“You’re still growing! I know that you just took over the CEO position and there are case files that you need to look up to, but how many times do I have to tell you that resting your body is also equally important!?”

The younger can’t even come up with a retort as he resigned himself on the onslaught of scolding that’s being rained upon him.

Dick is laughing easily besides them, fully enjoying the whole debacle.

It didn’t took y/n long to finish up tending on her sibling injuries before she moved towards where Bruce is sitting.

“I’m not injured,” he replied, though at the same time, letting his daughter to examined him closely.

Y/n furrowed her eyebrow at that, a gesture that his own mother likes to make when she knows that Bruce is lying, before she began examining him. It was silent around them, as Dick had decided to haul Tim up to his bedroom.

“Dad,” started y/n as she bandaged a small wound on his shoulder. “Can I talk to you about something?”

Bruce hummed.

“If I ask you to buy something, are you going to do it?”

That made him raised an eyebrow. Out of all of his children, y/n is probably the one who has the largest personal income besides Tim. It’s rare for the woman to ask Bruce something ever since she has her own money.

She’s probably going to ask him buy something expensive.

“Depends,” he replied. “What do you want?”

“A Formula One team?”

Huh.

Bruce has so many questions at that. 

He knows that a few months ago that y/n and Jason had crashed his Ferrari. As a punishment, he had asked them to fixed it together. He also knows that the both of them had been bonding over it. Y/n even visited Jason often enough to know the man’s daily habit at this point.

“What’s this all of the sudden?” he asked instead. “I didn’t know that you’re that… passionate about Formula One.”

It’s not that he’s against or doesn’t have the money to buy a Formula One team. Hell, he could probably buy the entirety of Formula One and go on his merry way. Wayne Industry is trying to expand into the automotive world too these past years – something that had caused Tim a great headache lately – but his daughter who previously doesn’t have any interest in Formula One suddenly asked him to buy a team there?

“It’s not for me, obviously,” said the woman. “It’s for… Jason.”

“Jason?” Bruce blinked.

“Lately we’ve been bonding a lot,” started y/n. “It’s great to have my older brother back, and we’ve been bonding a lot over Formula One because if you remember, Jason had always liked it, even before… everything.”

Bruce does remember it. The weekend that he spent in Monza with younger Jason and y/n had always been one of his fondest memory.

“I think Jason had wanted to become a Formule One driver, once.”

That, is something that Bruce doesn’t know.

“He obviously can’t right now, but if you buy a team, he could… I don’t know, do some testing, go on a simulation, or if god’s willing, maybe even race for the team,” explained y/n. “I know that this seems like a bizzare request dad, but I think this can make Jason really happy.”

An image of Jason appeared inside of his mind.

Of Jason scowling in front of him. Of Jason who had begged him to choose him over his killer. Of his son, laying lifeless on his arm, body cooling rapidly as the time stopped around him.

Of Jason, laughing and smiling decked in Ferrari colors in Monza all those years ago.

It’s an easy choice for Bruce Wayne- no, as Jason’s dad.

There’s a lot of hustle and bustle during the Monaco Grand Prix. This is not uncommon, considering how many celebrities or another important figures that attended that particular GP.

Though usually, Charles tuned them all out. After all, this is the Monaco GP. His home race. Monaco GP is probably the Grand Prix that matters the most to him. 

He really can’t help it. It has been his childhood dream to race in the streets of Monaco. Charles can remember vividly his childhood memories when he would watch the Monaco GP from his friends’ balcony. To watch the cars, speed up through the streets that he’s familiar with, just admiring and daydreaming about his dream as a Formula 1 driver. Years later, Charles managed to become a Formula 1 driver. Not only a Formula 1 driver but a Ferrari Formula 1 driver. It’s everything that he had ever wanted and yet-

It’s only losses after losses. Disappointments after disappointments. A string of failed races every time it’s time for him to race in his home country. People like to call it his Monaco curse. Charles personally found it ridiculous.

And yet they’re all living in a world where superheroes and supervillains roam around the land. They’re living in a world where there’s an alien and a man who dressed up as a bat posing as their heroes. Where villains who wants world domination appear every week.

So maybe, a curse is not something too far off.

Nonetheless, every time the Monaco GP turned up; it put him in a pensive mood. There are just so many things inside of his mind. The excitement of the race, all the bits of knowledge that he had to know regarding the car and the track, the fear of disappointment that kept hanging on his back over and over again.

Too many things to contemplate and brood about for him to listen to the idle chatter inside the garage. This year though, he can’t help but tune in.

“There’s an important guest in attendance,” said his manager during lunch. Charles eyed the chicken that was being served in front of his manager almost hungrily before he turned his gaze toward the sad plate of salad in front of him. “You know Bruce Wayne?”

“Ah,” said Charles in realization. Charles is not even an American and he’s very familiar with the name Bruce Wayne and the Wayne legacy. To be honest, it’s harder to not know the man considering he’s gracing every news outlet every other week. “The richest man in the world?”

“Bingo,” nodded the man. “He’ll attend the Monaco race, with some of his children,” he continued. “Apparently he’s a big fan of cars, and there’s even rumors that the Wayne Industry is going to acquire a team in Formula One soon.”

Oh, that’s news even for him. He wonders if FIA is going to expand the sport or maybe the Wayne Enterprise is going to buy one of the teams. Haas maybe?

“I see,” murmured Charles. “Is he going to stay in one of the team garages or?”

“He’ll be staying with us,” answered his manager. “His father had saved Ferrari from a financial crisis a few decades back, and Bruce Wayne is also one of the major stakeholders in Ferrari. The guy even got a custom-made Ferrari a few years ago… wonder where that went through.”

Well, if Charles also had a custom-made Ferrari, he would parade it around everywhere. But if you’re as rich as Bruce Wayne maybe a custom-made Ferrari is nothing.

Despite everything, Bruce Wayne didn’t actually show up until Sunday, the actual race day. Charles is sitting on top of tires just outside of the Ferrari garage, trying to get into the right head space when there seem to be clamors around him. He heard him before he saw him, as he could hear the increase of camera shutters and conversations.

Bruce Wayne is a large and domineering figure. He’s tall, really tall. Charles thinks there’s a couple of inches in difference in their height, but what really caught his attention is how built the guy is. Formula One drivers are expected to stay light, because the lighter they are, the faster their car will go. He has been way too used to seeing tall and lean men – the other drivers – that Bruce Wayne’s built body made him do a double-check.

Accompanying him, are a younger man and a woman – his children it seems. The man is also tall, taller than Charles but not as tall as Wayne, but he seems to compensate for it with pure muscle. He has tan skin as well as a tuft of dark hair with white streaks in front. The woman is also tall, her face showing few similarities with Wayne. Different from his father and brother who are decked in all black, the woman is wearing a red silk top. Clearly showing the whole paddock the team that she’s rooting for.

Ferrari’s chairman – John Elkann - is walking beside Wayne and is clearly pleased by the declaration from the woman.

“And of course, our driver!” said John when they were nearing the garage. Instantly all eyes were on Charles and almost automatically, a smile appeared on his lips. “Bruce, this is one of our drivers, Charles Leclerc, and Charles, you know Bruce Wayne.”

“Yes,” said Charles, increasing his charm to the max. Being on a good term with Bruce Wayne not only will benefit the racing team but Ferrari as a whole. “It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. Wayne.”

Wayne laughed cheerily at that, shaking his hand with Charles. “It’s an honor for me too,” said the man. “I’ve been a big fan of Formula One for so long, only now do I have the time to watch a race live.”

Charles doubts that. Bruce Wayne is famous for all of his vacations and playboy lifestyle – the latter part had tamed a bit in recent years, considering all the children that he had now. No doubt, if he’s really a fan of Formula One, the man would have found time to watch a race or two.

“And my children too are big fans,” grinned Wayne as he motioned for both of his children to come closer. “This is Jason, my second eldest,” he put an arm around the man who nodded his head towards Charles. “And this is y/n, my youngest daughter.”

For the first time since their arrival, Charles got a good look on their face and-

Oh.

Oh.

Y/n Wayne is probably the most beautiful woman that Charles had ever seen in his life. Perfectly styled hair, red lipstick across her lips – perfectly complimenting her pearly teeth – and how her outfit today fits her like a glove. She looks really beautiful, almost unreal. It’s a really big compliment because he had seen many beautiful women – models, influencers, celebrities – but no one seems able to compare with the ethereal beauty of Y/n Wayne.

“It’s really nice to meet you,” said Y/n with a large smile. “As you can see,” at this, she motioned her top, there was a mischievous glint in her eyes. “I’m rooting for Ferrari, so I wish you good luck during the race.”

Fuck. Her voice sounds really nice too. Charles needs to open his mouth and answer the woman, but his voice seems to be stuck in his throat. 

Finally, after a couple of second of silence, he managed to say, “Yeah,” said the driver. “Yeah, thank you.”

A snort cut through his haze, making Charles turn his eyes towards the older Wayne’s sibling. Jason Wayne stares at him with a raised eyebrow, eyes showing as if he knows something that Charles doesn’t know. 

“I hope you enjoy your stay here,” said the driver turning his attention towards Bruce Wayne, trying to steer the conversation away from his awkwardness. Away from y/n Wayne’s perfectly styled hair and a perfect smile. “I was told you will be staying in the garage, yes?”

“Yes,” answered Mr. Wayne. “I’m really excited about it, right Jason? y/n?”

“For sure,” answered Jason, talking for the first time since their arrival here. “Heard you have a shitty luck in your home race, gonna need lots of good luck, no?”

And ouch.

Charles knows that his home race curse is a bit infamous, but being told like this directly in front of his face is hurting his ego a bit. It’s not like he can give the guy a retort back considering he’s Bruce Wayne’s son – one of their biggest sponsors – but still, he can’t help the small twitch of annoyance that appeared on his lips.

“Jason,” said y/n, nudging the elder’s side.

Jason rolled his eyes, holding his hands up in defense. 

“Sorry about that,” said y/n. “He’s a bit prickly after the long flight.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” dismissed Charles good-naturedly, not wanting to offend their guests. “My Monaco curse has its own reputation after all.”

“Don’t call it a curse,” laughed y/n. “Someone once said to me that if you acknowledge something as a curse, it will only bring bad luck.”

Charles raised an eyebrow at that. “Oh?” he said, a bit intrigued. It’s an interesting concept after all. 

“Yes,” replied the female with a smile. Her eyes crinkled, only making it far more beautiful and show-stopping. “Maybe it’s luck? Luck for me?”

“For you?”

“Well, I think if I managed to see the il Predestino first race win in Monaco I would be a really lucky girl.”

And well, Charles can’t help but bark out a laugh at that. The idea itself is a bit ridiculous, but somehow, it only warms his heart. The woman seems to be amused at his sudden bout of laughter as she too, regards him with some kind of amusement in her eyes.

“That certainly one of the ways to see it,” said the driver, amusement dripping on his tone. “Thank you though, I’ll remember your words during the race and maybe it can serve as my personal lucky charm.”

Y/n let out a laugh at that. “Please do,” replied the woman. “It’s every girl’s dream to be remembered by Charles Leclerc after all.”

“Every girl’s dream huh?” answered the driver. “Is it also yours?”

“Well, for one, I’m a woman,” said y/n grinning.

“Mhm, I can see that-”

“That’s enough of that,” Cut off Jason and it made Charles remember that it’s not only him and y/n in the room. The older of the Wayne children stared at the both of them with something akin to disapproval that made Charles flicker his eyes to where Bruce Wayne was. Thankfully, he’s deep in a conversation with John. “I really don’t want to see my sister flirting with someone,” this he made a vague gagging sound, “and Bruce is leaving, so we better get going.”

“Ah,” said y/n, turning her eyes towards where her father is. “Jason is right, it’s really nice to meet you, Charles.”

He really can’t help the twinge of disappointment that appeared inside of him. He had been enjoying their conversation after all. The driver wishes that he doesn’t have a race soon so that they can have more time just getting to know each other. “It’s also really nice to meet you, y/n.”

The woman smiled at that before she leaned closer, startling him a bit. “Let’s continue our conversation later at the after-party,” she whispered, giving him a wink before she leaned back and said again in a louder voice. “Anyway, good luck out there. We’re really looking forward to the race later.”

Soon after that, Bruce Wayne’s entourage moved on, no doubt exploring the paddock with Ferrari’s chairman, leaving Charles standing there staring.

“Stop that gawking,” muttered his managed, snapping him out of his trance. “We all know y/n Wayne is pretty.”

Charles spluttered. “I was-“ he began fumbling. “I was not gawking at her.”

“Mhm,” hummed his manager. “Anyway, get your head right on your shoulder loverboy, the race is starting soon.”

The driver grumbled as he turned around towards the garage.

He’s Charles Leclerc. He does not gawk. He’s not-

Y/n Wayne’s beautiful smile flashed across his mind.

Oh.

Well, he’s a simple man after all.

[eyelessfaces]

I don't love you like I did yesterday

poe dameron x reader

summary: it’s not because he, poe dameron, gives you more attention and affection than your own boyfriend ever will that you are in love with him — loosely inspired by this post.

warnings: angst, complicated relationships, love triangle?, mentions of marriage, break up, refusing a proposal, internal conflict, doubting your relationship, emotional infidelity? if that's a thing, alcohol consumption. reader wears a dress at some point

tags: f!reader, I don't wanna spoil too much and don't read this if you don't want to be but; mutual pining, love confessions, he fell first AND harder, fluff and,, more

word count: 5.6k

yes. mcr lyrics as a title. in 2024. I know. but don't look at me the lyrics strangely fit so,,

masterlist | taglist | ao3

updates blog: @eyelessupdates

You don’t love him; you are almost sure of that. 

It’s not because you laugh at every single one of his stupid, lame jokes made just for you to laugh and because you blush everytime you catch him staring at you from across the room that you love him. 

It’s not because he, Poe Dameron, gives you more attention and affection than your own boyfriend ever will that you are in love with him.

It’s not because your boyfriend blames you for being too close to him that you are.

It’s not because you wish it would have been Poe down on one knee proposing to you that it is the reason you told Kass you’re not ready for this yet.

And it’s not because you question your situation every single night that it means you have to change anything about it. You should be happy with Kass. You are.

Yet, you wish you were certain of all of that.

It has been two days already, and the guilt keeps eating away at you, like a bacteria gnawing at your feelings, particularly starving for the reasonable part of you that knows you said no for your own well being. 

Kass makes it worse; the dark glances thrown at you whenever you bump into each other during the day and his lame excuses to ditch you whenever you want to talk to him make you feel like a monster, and though you know that it is exactly the way he wants you to feel, you can’t help it.

The situation is hard to swallow and bury deep in the back of your mind when you’re out on missions, and though you rarely ever get distracted because you know how important attention and concentration is in your job, the whirlwind of thoughts has been floating over the surface, and your focus has been off, you know it. And you’re not the only one who knows it.

Your head turns when you feel a light nudge at your arm, having dismissed Poe’s presence in your peripheral vision due to your distraction. His eyebrows raise when you look at him, and he gazes at you like the mist of your thoughts is still present over your face and he wants to shake you awake.

“You alright?” he asks before you look back at your squadron wrapping the mission equipment, setting it back in the ships.

“Yeah,” you breathe out, burying your hands in your pockets. You should feel alright. The mission went well despite your clear lack of attention, and you’ve given your life to the Resistance at this point, so you should be thankful that you succeed in most things you do in its name, right now even, considering the situation.

Poe looks down on the floor, kicking away a small rock there that dribbles down the hill. “You've always been an awful liar” he mutters under his breath, not buying it. 

“Right” you scoff, your head dropping to shake it. He looks back up at you and you can feel his insistent gaze upon you, which eventually makes you break. “I don’t wanna bother you with my stupid problems” 

He snorts, “Come on, you know I’m always here to listen to your stupid problems” he says playfully, nudging your arm with his elbow again. “That are often not that stupid actually” he adds. 

There’s a silence settling between the both of you, and right before Poe aborts and figures you don’t wanna talk about it, you sigh. “Kass proposed.”

“Oh” the sound slips from his mouth, and accurately represents his surprise, his voice dropping a bit from the shock. He doesn’t know what to say, not really. This situation would have been on the list of things he would have never expected or even considered to happen. 

This eventuality had never, ever occurred to him somehow, not yet, and now, all at once, the fear creeps in and becomes real; he is going to have to watch you get married, going to have to sit there amongst guests, he’s going to have to watch you be happy with someone else than him.

But he wants you to be happy, with or without him, so he will watch. It isn’t like he has the choice, anyways.

He lightly clears his throat, trying to dismiss the tight knot starting to form there, and smiles. The worst thing about it is the fact that it is genuine, he is truly happy for you. You deserve this.

Maybe Kass doesn’t, though. He doesn't deserve you. You’re too good for a half assed mechanic like him that, from a professional point of view, fucks up too often to still be there; but from what Poe hears around, it tends to be the same on other levels than just the professional one.

“Well, that’s great! Congrats,” his half cheerful voice wavers a little, but you don’t seem to notice as your lips form a polite smile that slightly turns perplexed, uncomfortable. “What’s wrong about that” he asks now, concerned when he sees your frown. 

Your teeth graze your bottom lip. “I said no.”

“Oh” he watches as you raise your eyebrows, nodding. “I’m sorry” he adds. “I mean–”

“Yeah” you exhale.

“Why?”

That is the real question. Why? Why wouldn’t you want to marry your boyfriend you are supposed to be in love with? Why did you feel so awful at the feeling of his hand over yours when he shot the question?

“I don’t–” you start, thoughts running around your head. You’re not really sure about what you want to say, you’re not even precisely sure why you said no. There were so many reasons, but you couldn’t pick the exact one. “I think I’m not ready.”

Poe doesn't say anything. You stay there upon the small hill you watch your respective teams from. They’re almost done putting everything back.

You think you want to cry. You’re not really sure why. You think you want to dig a hole in that hill and stay hidden there for the rest of time.

“Poe, I don't think I wanna spend the rest of my life with him.” you mutter, looking ahead as if your confession would make you feel less guilty if you didn’t look your friend in the eye. “Is that wrong?” you ask as you turn to him. 

“Yeah, well I don’t blame you” he scoffs, and you do too, knowing how Poe feels about Kass. 

You should have known, it should have been a sign. Poe is kind, compassionate, and when he doesn’t like someone, it is because he has reasons to.

“That’s not wrong.” he continues, his tone serious now. “It would have been wrong if you said yes even though you knew damn well you didn’t want to marry him” he nods. “It's not the end of the galaxy if you said no. He'll get over it”

“Yeah” you sigh. “He keeps acting like it's my fault”

“Really?” he asks, raising an eyebrow in astoundment. He shouldn’t be surprised.

“Yeah. He avoids me and sends me death glares like I murdered his family or something” you snort, realizing the stupidity of it all now that you say it out loud. Kass has always been somehow childish, but this exceeds everything you could expect from him.

“Wow okay” Poe shakes his head, a small exhale of desperation escaping his mouth before he speaks again. “Well, you know how I feel about him, sweetheart.”

“I know” you confirm, sending him a weak smile. He answers you with a pinched one, and as your squad finishes their tasks and starts to gather together, Poe reaches out and squeezes your shoulder reassuringly before turning to join them.

He turns back to you quickly, “You know what? My squadron is having drinks on Coruscant tonight to have some fun before we leave for the week. You should join us” 

You nod and watch him go, and feel the need to take one fat fucking breath before eventually joining everyone else.

—

Even though it is almost dry by now, the stain over your dress is still ridiculously visible. If the girl that had spilled it over you earlier hadn’t profusely apologized for it you would have most likely have had a go at her because of the awful mental state you were in – you were yourself surprised to notice how blatantly dismissive and weary you had been of that incident – it had been nothing compared to the past few days you just had. 

Poe looks over at you, your gaze planted onto your glass of Black Hole as your fingers absentmindedly drum against the table; your choice of drink says it all, and though you might want to get properly drunk, Poe is strictly against it if it means you plan on moping all night long. He finishes his drink, planting a hand over your shoulder as he leans closer to you.

“Wanna go dance now?” Poe shouts in your ear, trying to overlap the loud music blasting. You scoff and shake your head, “I’m not really in the mood”

“That's exactly why we need to,” he affirms with his usual charismatic grin as he takes a hold of your hand and pulls you to the middle of the room anyway. “Come on!” you give in when you realize he’s not really asking, dragging you through the crowd. “You know I'm leaving tomorrow morning, you owe me a dance”

“Okay” you laugh as you put your hands over his shoulders, his coming to rest at either side of your waist. 

You move stiffly at first, your eyes rolling playfully when Poe gives way more energy into it than you do, and despite yourself, you start to smile, and make an effort to match his energy.

Poe spins you around, his movements confident as he tries to cheer you up. "Just follow my lead, okay?" he says, his voice warm and encouraging. He twirls you under his arm smoothly, and you can’t help but laugh as he dips you dramatically, catching you with ease; he’s intimidatingly close to your face before he leans to your ear. “See? I’m not an awful dancer”

“Is there even something you’re not good at at this point,” you rhetorically ask as you both stand straight again, the movement making your head spin a little because of the alcohol. 

“Following orders, probably” he jokes, still swaying with you. You laugh and let your forehead rest over his shoulder, your eyes shutting as you take a deep breath; it might have been the only moment in those past few days where you genuinely let go of all your worries.

“Hey, we should go outside, it’s hot in here. And loud” Poe proposes as you both still sway, his hand gently cradling your back.

“Sure” you nod with a smile. “Wait– I’ll join you there, I’m gonna get us drinks”

There’s a grin plastered over his face and a glint in his eyes as he glances at you when you join him outside, your drinks in hands. The cool night air is a welcome change from the overwhelming warmth inside the cantina.

“What?” you scoff, looking down at yourself, trying to figure out the reason behind his amused expression.

“Nothing” he shrugs off, taking his drink from you, but not before you catch the way his eyes linger on you.

“It’s the stain, isn’t it” you whine and sigh as you pull at the fabric of your dress to observe it. “Didn’t realize it looked that stupid”

He giggles as his mouth is still full of his drink. “It’s stylish” he admits with a cheeky grin.

You scoff and roll your eyes, your giggle fading as you both take a sip of your drinks, the silence between you comfortable as the muffled hum of the cantina’s activity buzzes just behind you. Then, out of nowhere, just as you’re about to talk again, Poe breathes out your name, his expression changing, becoming more serious as you glance at him expectantly.

“I’m in love with you.” he blurts out, like words are falling out of his mouth from being held there for too long. 

You huff out a laugh. “No,” you laugh, the taste of your drink still warm in your throat. You frown a bit when you notice he doesn't waver, doesn't flinch, doesn't drop his expression to admit this is some kind of joke now that he knows it's not working on you. 

“Yes I am” he declares, as serious as he is when he needs to be in his job.

You chuckle, still not fully believing what he's saying. “Are you drunk Poe?” 

“Wha– no– no I’m not” he frowns, his eyebrows knitting together in earnest. “I mean it. I'm in love with you.” he affirms, his eyes searching yours with a seriousness that makes your heart skip a beat.

You pause, taken aback by the tone of his voice – he's sincere, he's not playing around. “You can’t.”

“I know.” he declares with a nod, his gaze never leaving yours. “I just couldn’t keep it to myself anymore” he admits as his expression softens. “I don’t want this to ruin our relationship” he says, his voice calmer now. “And I know you can’t feel the same” he nods, “And that’s okay.” 

You pinch your lips together. You're not sure what to say. You nod eventually, acknowledging it all, processing his declaration. “Well” you say finally, your voice barely louder than a whisper. “I, uh, I’ll go get another drink.”

Your glass is still mostly full.

Poe nods, swallowing with difficulty as he watches you turn and head back inside.

The sounds of laughter as you enter the cantina again make you sick to your stomach.

—

This went awful. He didn’t expect any less. He didn’t expect anything in the first place; his impulsiveness finally got the best of him.

Having to swallow it down and play it like it didn’t happen felt more humbling than every time he has had to admit he made a mistake. Jessika’s story about the maintenance issues with her X-wing is slowly starting to blur, and Poe isn’t even sure she’s still on that topic of that – at this point – one sided discussion, as he can’t help but glance over at you, talking to Karé until he eventually realizes you aren’t there with him anymore. 

“Poe!” Jessika scolds him, making him turn back to her. She sighs, “You’re not even listening”

“Sorry” he apologizes, looking around the room to figure out if you’re still there. “I gotta go, keep that story for later” he nods, patting her shoulder before turning away.

“I just finished telling it,” she huffs out in disbelief, Poe’s repeated apology fading with the music as he disappears through the crowd.

You’re not in the cantina, not anymore. Karé tells him you went out for fresh air, and he finds you on the flight of stairs on the side of the building, hidden from everyone.

"I was looking for you," he halts– you're crying; you're there, sitting on the stairs, looking up from where you were hiding your face in your hands crying. "What's wrong?" he asks, his voice wavering with surprise; he thought you were having a good night despite everything, having fun with Karé, he thought he had been able to make you forget about your problems for a moment. But no, and he obviously knows what’s wrong, because he managed to fuck it all up by confessing his feelings for you without thinking about it twice.

You pinch your lips, trying to repress new tears as you wipe away the ones rolling down your face. "Nothing," you mumble, shaking your head. "It's alright."

Poe sighs softly, walking up to you and sitting down with you. 

He softly nudges your shoulder with his own, “You're rocking that stain,” he says, a small grin over his face. “For what it’s worth, you could even rock a First Order suit, so,” he smiles as he watches you laugh between sniffles. “You don't have to worry about that.”

He sighs, and his tone grows more serious. "I'm sorry I said everything I said. I shouldn't have burdened you with my feelings" he admits. His voice is filled with regret. He should have kept that for himself, for now anyway. “I was caught up in the moment and I didn’t realize it would hurt you more. It was stupid. It was unfair to you." his voice weakens. He looks back at your face. You blink your tears away silently. “I do realize it was possibly the worst moment I could choose to tell you this” 

Poe gently wipes your tears away, before they can reach the bottom of your face.

“I don’t expect anything back from you, you don’t have to worry about that. This doesn’t have to change anything about us”

He kisses your cheek before leaving.

—

If you had to point out positive points about your indirect fight with Kass following his proposal, the fact that you weren’t living with him would be one of them.

The silence in your quarters alone was surely more bearable than the silence that would fill the space if he were there with you, you were sure of that.

And even if it’s been three days already since you rejected his proposal, you have barely talked to him despite going out of your way to try to; he has been hurt by your rejection, and he is keen on making you understand.

You can’t help but wonder if you would have been happier if you had said yes; maybe it would have been easier and maybe you wouldn’t feel so bad even though you still wouldn’t want to marry him, even if it is exactly the way Kass wants you to feel. Maybe saying yes would have been the right decision, after all, and maybe you would be set about your feelings for good with the prospect that you would allegedly spend the rest of your life with him.

Then there's Poe, his words. 

Poe and his words that keep rolling around your head over and over again no matter what you’re doing and no matter what time of the day it is; those about the confession of his love towards you, and those that assured you that Kass would get over your rejection, that it’s not the end of everything, not the end of your relationship with him even if right now, it seems like a deadlock. 

And almost as if it was staged, Kass steps through your door.

“Hey,” he speaks, hands in his pockets. You repeat the same thing quietly, looking at him expectantly, waiting for him to say anything, apologize maybe. He looks around your place before chuckling, pointing and walking over to the table. “It’s just– I forgot my gloves last time I came here and I need them”

“Oh, so that’s it.” you snort darkly, following him close. 

“Yeah, that’s it.” he mutters nonchalantly as he picks up the pair. “What do you even mean” he frowns as he turns back at you, shoving his gloves in his jacket pocket. 

“I mean you've been avoiding me all week and you think it's okay to casually come here just to pick up your stupid pair of gloves?”

“Well, they’re still mine, so” he shrugs. “And again, what do you want me to do” 

You frown. “I don’t know, maybe apologize for your attitude for these past few days first. You’ve been childish”

“I’m childish? You’re the one who’s not ready for marriage.”

You chuckle in disbelief, “Yeah well, I’m sorry for not wanting assured long term with someone that behaves the way you do.” you say, looking at him in the eyes though you would rather be looking everywhere but here at the moment. 

“You know,” you start, readjusting your position onto your feet. “I’ve been wondering, asking myself all of those questions, what was wrong with me for rejecting you.” he looks at you, hand still stuck in his pocket, waiting for you to make your point.

“And that’s what you wanted, right? But the one thing I really asked myself was ‘Why did he even propose’, because you don’t even care that much about me, so I don’t understand” you shake your head. “You shouldn’t have asked the question if you weren’t ready for the other answer”

He sighs, eyebrows raising slightly as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, I shouldn’t have asked at all, you’re right.” he scoffs. “I realized that, and I should have realized when we started to drift away” you frown softly, waiting for him to continue. You’re not sure what he truly means beyond that. “I asked you to marry me to be sure”

“Sure of what”

He chuckles and huffs out your name like what he means to say is evident; “You’re in love with Poe” his eyes soften, his expression relaxing as yours hardens. “Don’t try to tell me otherwise or I’ll go crazy” he laughs nervously.

“Look, I get it. He looks pretty damn close to perfect. But you should have done something about it. I shouldn’t have been the one to realize it.” he says. You sigh softly, taken aback. “This is why I’ve been avoiding you. To try to come to terms with it. Accept it.” 

Knowing this is the reason Kass proposed somehow makes it simultaneously better and worse. But he’s right; he’s fucking right, you’re in love with Poe and that is exactly why you were crying on those stairs the night before Poe left for his mission, maybe it is time to face it for good and to stop trying to convince yourself that you’re just confused because of everything that has been happening in your relationship lately.

“I’m sorry” your voice is poisoned by guilt. If it feels awful for you, it must be even worse for him. He scratches his forehead awkwardly, not really knowing what to say to you. “I tried to deny it to keep it fair for you. But I think you’re right.” admitting it to him, the man you’re supposed to be with and have feelings for feels even worse than having to realize it yourself. “I’m sorry Kass.”

Kass pinches his lips in a defeated smile, “I can’t hold you back.” he huffs out in evidence. “He is too” he adds after a pause. “In love with you, I mean. It’s so blatantly obvious” 

You scoff, shaking your head. “I know” 

“So you can work this out” he declares with a weak smile. “I won’t be an asshole about it” he mumbles. “I should be angry but I’ve tried to accept it for a while.”

You nod, somehow grateful he is so understanding, feeling sorry that it’s been so transparent for him for so long. Not everyone would let it play like this. "Thank you, Kass."

He nods in return before sighing deeply, the weight of the past few days lifting slightly from his shoulders. “I wish you well. I mean it”

You nod again, tears welling up in your eyes. “You too.”

Your heart tightens when his look lingers over you before he turns away and exits your quarters; both relief and guilt weigh over you, and the silence that fills your room now feels much different than before.

—

You don’t love him; you are sure of that. It feels wrong and even though you still feel some sort of affection towards him, you’re not sure you can be friends anymore given how you left things off.

On the other side, when Poe hops off his X-Wing ladder after a week of being away, you don't know how to act around him anymore. You don’t know if you should go ahead and tell him everything you’ve ever wanted to tell him or if you should just pick the opposite option and avoid him as much as possible to try to ease your conscience a little. 

And you do. You busy yourself with work as much as possible, avoiding running into him as much as possible, but eventually, he doesn’t really give you a choice. 

“Are we okay? You didn’t even welcome me back. It’s been four days” it hasn’t even been twenty seconds since the meeting ended; the meeting you spent all your time trying to focus on instead of him. 

His stupid flight suit is opened in a way that reveals his gray tank top and lets the chain around his neck slightly peek, and suddenly nothing about the First Order supply depot infiltration matters anymore. 

“We are. I was busy” you affirm – you’re technically not lying. Though you were keeping yourself busy on purpose.

“I bet you were”

You frown. “Hey what do you m–”

“Kass talked to me.” he dodges. 

“Oh” your voice drops, the idea of that scene so unnatural. “What did he say”

He shrugs slightly. “I think you know” 

That’s a good thing they talked, somehow, no matter how much the idea terrifies you. It lifts a weight off your shoulders to know you won’t have to explain to Poe how you left things off with Kass, because you would almost rather get interrogated by the First Order than have to think about it again. “He was pretty mature about it, I’ll give him credit for that.” Poe affirms with a grin, causing you to huff out a laugh. “He also said he's resigning from the Resistance. ‘Says it has nothing to do with you, he's been thinking about it for a while” he nods with a pinch of his lips.

“Oh, okay” your eyebrows raise in surprise. “Well, ships will suddenly do better magically” 

He snorts. “I’m just glad I never let him take care of mine. I think Jess was complaining about that the other day” you laugh, and he smiles at you endearingly as he watches you. “So, are we okay?” he asks more seriously, though a faint smile lingers over his face.

“Yeah, yeah, we are.” you nod, weakly smiling back at him. “It’s just been a rough couple of weeks” you admit as he gives you an empathetic smile in response.

“I know what I want but I don’t know if I’m ready,” you eventually declare cautiously, not wanting to hurt him or make him feel like you're trying to push him away. “It has all gone so fast and I think I want things to slow down a bit.” he nods understandingly before being obliged to turn when someone in the briefing room calls his name; he holds his hand up to have them wait and rests that same hand over your shoulder when he turns back to you, his gaze holding yours.

“Look– I don’t want you to jump right into this if you’re not a hundred percent sure about it.”  he declares with as much conviction he has when he fights for what’s right.

“This is my thing– to jump head first into everything. That's why I acted the way I did the other night. And it was stupid considering the situation and some part of you probably hates me for it somehow so you have to be smarter about this” he insists. “And I know you will be. And even if it’s in one week or one year or five, I can handle it”

“Okay,” you mutter feebly, his firm gaze over you making your stomach flutter.

He turns back and glances at the person who was calling for him earlier, turning back to you. He hesitates, looking like he wants to say more but is unsure if he should.

“Alright. I got stuff to take care of” he eventually says with a faint sigh, like being teared out of that conversation with you physically hurts him.

“Okay Commander” you grin teasingly. He smiles and kisses the top of your head, your hand instinctively resting over his arm despite your decision to maintain some distance for the moment. 

"You know where to find me if you need anything," he says quietly, his hand lingering on your shoulder for a moment longer before he steps away.

You’re still not sure what you really want as you watch him walk away, sending easy smiles to his peers as he reviews details with them for the next mission. 

You think about it all over again, as you remain here in the back of the room, leaning against the wall; the way he looked at you, the understanding in his eyes, his patience and willingness to wait – it all seems so easy with him that jumping right in suddenly doesn’t make you so afraid anymore.

—

The sky isn’t particularly clear tonight. One could have picked a more scenic place to come rest to, one where clouds wouldn’t be covering D’Qar’s two moons like a thin, old veil ripped to shreds.

Poe turns at the unexpected sound of boots ruffling against the grass, a small smile growing over his face when you grunt softly as you sit down next to him.

“You lied when you said I’d know where to find you, because I’ve looked for you everywhere before finally finding you out there” you sigh softly, drawing a laugh out of him, his eyes crinkling softly.

He shrugs, “You still found me, so I technically didn't lie” he says with a smile.

“You've got a point,” you huff out, settling beside him. The air is cool, cooler than it has been those past few days. You can’t help your lips turning into a smile as Poe's face softly glows in the faint light of both moons, his gaze gentle as he looks over at you.

His eyes twinkle with amusement when he talks again, interrupted when you shift to press your lips to his, his words quickly lost on both of you. His voice fades into a small sigh against your mouth as his hand immediately, almost instinctively cups the side of your face. Your hands grip the lapel of his shirt tightly, gently pulling him closer to deepen the kiss; Poe’s chuckle vibrates against your lips as you pull away, a slight flush visible over his cheeks.

“What is this?” he asks amused, the look of surprise genuine over his face. This goes against everything you told him you wanted with him for now.

“This is me being smarter about this, being the bigger person.” you affirm in an attempt to sound confident, but you’re still slightly out of breath, your heart racing.

Poe looks at you with a teasing, feigned impressed expression before he goes in and kisses you back, the press of his lips soft yet firm against yours. 

Everything around you seems to fade away as you make out for a beat, losing yourselves in this, the soft breeze of the evening tickling both of your faces though your face heats up even more when his thumb traces your cheek.

When he finally pulls back, Poe's hand is quick to find your own, his fingers fiddling and lacing with yours, his gaze on you still intense. “So much for going slow, huh?”

You chuckle, “Yeah, fuck that” you reply with a grin, feeling lighter than you have in weeks.

You both fall silent for a while; it is rare for Poe Dameron to not run his mouth for longer than a few minutes, but the back and forth of his thumb over your hand and your head leaning over his shoulder seems to be enough for him at this moment.

You shatter the silence the moment the question crosses your mind. “What would you have done if I actually married him?”

He takes a deep breath, like the weight of the question takes a toll on him.

He smirks, “This would have probably made me join the First Order” he jokes in an attempt to lighten the mood. You huff out a laugh. 

“Honestly?” he asks, his tone serious now. He doesn’t speak, he doesn’t really know. What would have been the best option? The least worst? “I don’t know. But I would have skipped the wedding for sure.” you softly smile at him with a look of compassion, momentarily rendered speechless by his revelation. 

He pinches his lips in a weak, beaten smile as he clearly pictures the scene in his mind again, just the way he did when you announced to him that Kass had proposed before eventually telling him you had refused. “Sorry. it would have hurt my poor loverboy heart way too much” he scoffs light heartedly though it’s barely a joke, just the truth.

“Well, next time I get married you’ll be the first person I invite” you promise with a light nudge at him, your hand reassuringly squeezing his.

“Next time huh?” he retorts with a playful smile, one that you mirror before the gentle push of his lips renders you breathless again. “Not if I invite you first sweetheart,” he jokes with one last kiss, your laugh barely audible.

Poe’s thumb traces circles on the back of your hand when he notices your gaze is there now, a faint smile remaining over your face. “Hey” he calls, urging you to look up at him. “One day at the time, okay?” he cocks his head forward, his voice barely above a whisper. “We don’t have to figure everything out right now.”

There’s no rush with him, no doubt, just the certainty that whatever happens, it will seem like the easier thing in the world; 

Because you love him; you are sure of that.

—

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