#and how they can't get enough of each other

[hencheri]

— dior girl

▸ 18+ mdni.

When Park Sunghoon wants something, he gets it no matter how hard it can be. He's not scared to get his hands dirty. If he had any morals, maybe he'd consider his obsession with you getting out of hands, but he has absolutely no morals.

| pairing. designer!sunghoon x fem!reader

| warnings. dark!sunghoon (he's not a good person lol), implied legal age gap, alcohol consumption & mention of drugs use, mention of gain weight, manipulation, corruption, violent sexual thoughts, unprotected sex, anal play, dacryphilia, aftercare because yes sunghoon's a sadist but he still has a heart.

| wc. 7.5k

| a.n.: repost from an old blog. pls forgive me for how lengthy the smut is (or thank me)!!

His studio is his sanctuary. It's the only place where he can spend hours without even noticing the moon setting or the sun rising. In his studio, it feels like time doesn't exist or that it's just a futile detail that doesn't have much importance.

When he's creating a piece, nothing around him matters. The only things he's willing to give attention to are the placements of the needles on the fabric, the little lines that form the pattern of the clothing, or the way his scissors cut through the satin material of the dress he's working on.

He's thought about this design for so long and he finally got the opportunity to make it. He's thought about the colours of the dress and of the seam, about the length of the hem and the sleeves, how deep the neckline should be and if lace would be suitable.

He doesn't even recall how many sketches he's made of that dress. At some point, it was consuming his entire mind, the only thing he could draw and think of.

Now that he's finally making it, he has the feeling that it's going to be the best piece he's ever created. He already sees everyone talking about it, saying how much of a genius Park Sunghoon is. It's going to be the design of the year—of the century.

He still misses something, though, and it might be the most important part of it all. He needs a model, the perfect body to wear his piece and present it to the fashion world.

It can't be anybody, it must be someone who's confident, who always has their head up and radiates elegance and sports a unique beauty.

Sunghoon still hasn't found this person. He constantly searches for them, but never finds them or when he thinks that he has, he discovers flaws he cannot unseen.

All the Dior models are great, but not enough. They don't spark anything in Sunghoon when he watches them strode down the catwalk. He's checked upon the apprentices and the newer models the company has hired, but he saw no one extraordinary.

Until today.

He hears steps against the wooden floor of his studio, entering the place without knocking. 

"Ah, there he is!" A manly voice exclaims and Sunghoon immediately recognizes it as his friend's, Soobin. "I have someone to introduce you."

Sunghoon raises his gaze up from his working table and looks at Soobin who's accompanied by a beautiful, young woman. He's then suddenly interested, contrary to usual where he never really cares about the many girls Soobin brings, claiming each one as the new phenomenon of the fashion industry.

When Sunghoon turns around, he eyes you up and down, barely glimpsing in Soobin's way. It's all it takes, one simple glance and he knows you're the one he needs—the one he wants and has to ruin.

Soobin introduces you both and when your name is pronounced by the man, sounding so charming and delicate, he's certain you're the model he had been waiting for since a long time.

You seem shy, arms locked behind your back, but you stand up straight and have a polite smile drawn on your face.

"I thought maybe you'd like to get to know each other, right?" Soobin raises his eyebrows in Sunghoon's direction. "Everyone's fond of her," he smiles and pats your back, encouraging you to speak up.

"Thanks," you smile back at Soobin before glancing at Sunghoon who still hasn't looked away from you. "I'm a big fan of your work, Mr. Park. You've inspired me to become a model."

The way you say his name has his cock twitching in his pants, filthy thoughts of him spanking your butt as you cry his name invading his mind.

He can sense your vulnerability, your willingness to submit. Who would he be to deny you that? Him, who is so eager to dominate the ones he's attracted to, so eager to break but also repair them.

He knows it when someone's fragile, hiding their weaknesses under fake confidence. He doesn't know you, but he recognizes the pattern almost instantly. What can be broken can also be repaired and you're asking him to break you.

"I'm glad to hear that," Sunghoon says politely, a slight smile tugging on his lips. He's not the type to smile—stretch the corner of his mouth upward to imitate the person in front of him, he finds it shallow. But for you, he'll do it, just so you trust him, so desperate to give yourself to the opposite sex. 

"Park, you were wondering who'd be part of the fall show this year," Soobin begins, looking at you like you're the most irradiant ruby in the world. "Well, you have her in front of you." 

You chuckle softly at the man's words, nodding your head at him and then looking at Sunghoon as if waiting for some praises.

Sunghoon faintly smiles, seeing your eyes glimmering and he curses himself for not finding you sooner. You'd have been his by now, his to praise, his to kiss and fuck. His to destroy. But he swears, if he happens to break you, he'll gratefully keep you safe close to him.

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"Careful," Sunghoon softly says as he catches you up before you can fall to the floor. You let out a high pitched laugh, as if all of this is a big joke, and push him back with a hand on his chest.

"I'm fine," you answer, shrugging him off with a flip of your hand. You stagger from left to right, leaning against the wall when you almost stumble. You laugh it off again, halting your steps.

Sunghoon looks at you with a cringe expression, eyeing the people behind, sporting worried looks on their faces.

You all went out after the show; models, designers, directors, stylists... everyone. It wasn't your plan to get drunk, Sunghoon knows that because you're not supposed to drink alcohol during your diet. A glass from time to time isn't so bad, but your consumption clearly surpassed just a glass tonight.

It's not really your fault, though. Technically yes, since you're the one who swallowed all of the wine, but you had a little help.

A little help from Sunghoon himself.

When you weren't looking, he poured more alcohol in your glass and to his satisfaction you noticed nothing and gulped everything down. Sure, you got a bit suspicious, wondering how you had only drank so little when you remembered swallowing more than that.

But Sunghoon assured you it was only your first glass, so you drank, and drank, and drank... 

Until you were more than tipsy.

You've received nasty looks from your colleagues, especially the other models who weren't drinking a single drop of wine, and yet, still weren't awarded with the status of the 'face of Dior'. How ironic that the drunkest girl in the room was the face of Dior and the little protégée of Mr. Park.

"I'll... I'll bring her to our room, you can go out without us," Sunghoon announces, watching you sit down on the floor in the middle of the corridor.

"Will she be okay?" 

"Of course. I'll take care of her."

He waits for everyone to be gone before he gets you up from the floor and leads you both to your hotel room. When you're in the room, he sits you down on the bed.

You don't say anything as he takes off his jacket and loosens his tie. He crouches down in front of you to remove your heels and he does the same with his shoes, leaving them by the entry.

When he comes back, he sees you quietly crying, the features of your face contorting into a sad expression. You've slightly sobered up, harshly coming back to reality, realizing how much you've embarrassed yourself tonight.

"What did I do?" You ask, looking up at him with teary eyes. "I fucked up, didn't I?"

Sunghoon sits down beside you, lifting your head up with his index under your chin and his thumb over it. "There's nothing that can't be repaired," he states in a soft voice, so low it sounds like a sweet whisper—a secret, a confession only you know. "Right?"

You sniff, wiping your tears away. You nod your head in agreement, slightly reassured, hoping Sunghoon will fix your mistakes. 

"Shh, baby, shh," he softly murmurs, cradling your head in his hands and gently laying your face against his chest. You wrap your arms around his waist, hugging him tighter.

He strokes your hair delicately, placing a sweet and warm kiss on the top of your head.

Someone as vulnerable as you contains a lot of emotions. He has to deal with them, which doesn't bother him at all. He wants you the way you are; sad and pitiful.

"Everything's going to be fine," he promises, but it's not entirely the truth. Not everything will be fine, though it'll be in the end, he thinks—he hopes.

You eventually pull away from his embrace, just enough to look at him. It seems like you're searching for something or maybe waiting for something, your eyes desperately staring at Sunghoon as if his simple presence will make all of your problems go away.

You throw yourself at him and kiss him on the lips, fingers pulling on the hair at the nape of his neck. He reciprocates it, knowing you like your kisses sloppy and messy, wanting Sunghoon everywhere on you to remind you that he's always there.

You bring him closer, wrinkling the material of his white shirt between your fists, moaning and whining as your teeth clash together at how roughly you kiss each other.

Sunghoon breaks your exchange first, both catching your breaths. His eyes observe you quietly as you look at him like you're still waiting for something.

"Did you do what I told you to?" He questions you, referring to your conversation of a few days earlier when you came to his studio to try on his dress.

You were a bit stressed out, putting on the clothing like you were scared you'd rip it. He still remembers the way the satin was sliding up your body, hugging your waist and ass perfectly. 

He was baffled at how incredibly well it suited you as if he had made it exactly for you.

And maybe it was made for you, after all.

Because when he saw his creation on you, he knew you had to wear it for the runway. It has to be you, he'll accept no one else.

Sunghoon will make you walk the runway wearing his dress—the last time you'll ever step on the catwalk. After that, he'll keep you away from the rest of the world. He'll refuse anyone to see you because you're going to be his.

His forever.

"Yes," you nod your head, trapping your bottom lip between your teeth.

"Tell me what you did," Sunghoon softly demands, holding your chin in his hand, mouths inches away from each other.

You're too shy to say it out loud and that's why he wants you to tell him. Also to be sure you did everything correctly, but mainly because he wants to see you embarrassed.

"I prepared myself for you..." you begin, holding eye contact even though you feel your face heating up just thinking about all the things you've done per his request. "I... I used lube both on me and... the toy," you continue in a shy tone, so low Sunghoon wouldn't hear you if he wasn't so close.

"Where on you, sweetheart?" He interrupts, wanting each detail, each little thing you normally wouldn't have done if it wasn't for him. 

You swallow, "On my ass, Sunghoon," you answer in a whisper. "I stretched it out for you, using the toy like you told me," you finally admit.

"Good girl," Sunghoon purrs. "Let me see it then."

You proceed to strip off of your dress, now used to be nude in front of him, and slide your panties down your thighs, discarding them away on the floor. 

You get back up on the mattress and position yourself on all fours close to the edge of the bed. Sunghoon stands up and goes behind you to have a closer look at your ass.

His veiny hands pull your cheeks apart, revealing your rim to his insatiable, sadistic eyes. You glance over your shoulder, curious of what he has in mind and what he has prepared for you. 

You softly gasp when he spits and lets the globe of spit drip down between your asscheeks, rolling over your puckered hole. You clench around nothing, relieved to have his attention, to finally feel his hands on you instead of the usual touch of yours. 

He sees that your ass is a bit more loose than the last time he saw it, but it still clearly needs more preparation to welcome his girthy cock—though it's not like he cares that much if you're prepped enough or not. 

He passes his thumb over your tight muscle, circling it and smearing his saliva over it. He wants to fuck it so bad, destroy it and do unbelievably violent things to you. Should he tonight? Should he show you his dark and evil side? 

He's choked you before—smacked your ass hard till you felt your skin stings, overstimulated you to the point your orgasms were just spasms passing through your body, fucked your throat while you were drooling all over yourself, and tied your legs and wrists together to restrict your movements. 

So fucking your ass can't be that bad, but the thing is Sunghoon wants it to be bad. He then wonders what would happen if the line is ever crossed. Would you endure it, would you defend yourself? Would you shut the fuck up and take it like you're asked to?

But you trust him so much—with all of your pathetic being—and he thinks you'd let him cross any lines he desires to. He probably already has crossed multiples, and being the poor girl that you are, you said nothing.

You truly are extraordinary. 

He gives a slight slap to one of your asscheeks, groping both of them after, feeling how soft and tender your flesh is. "You did good, sweetheart," he comments in a honeyed voice, "how about we play with it a little?" 

He lifts up a brow at you and you nod sheepishly, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip. "Yes..."

"Great," he says in a low tone, running his hands one last time over your ass before going to take something from his suitcase. 

"What is it?" You question, your curious eyes landing on the small object he's holding.

Sunghoon brings the object to you, something made of metal, the end having the shape of a cone and a pink gem placed on the top. "A gift for my princess," he replies, opening the bottle of lube he brought as well. 

He applies some lube around your tight hole and on the butt plug, and carefully pushes the head of the toy in your ass. You gasp softly, feeling it slowly stretch you, sinking in gradually as Sunghoon holds your cheeks apart.

"Feels good, Sir," you moan, arching your back and pushing your butt closer to Sunghoon. 

When the plug is all the way in, the pink gem peeking out between your two globes of flesh, he smacks your other cheek, leaving his stinging handprint on you. 

"Is that so, dirty girl?" He wonders, gripping your hips and colliding his hips with your butt, sensing his bulge pulsing under his pants. "You like it when your little ass gets stretched out?" 

"I like everything you do to me," you say with a content sigh, pussy clenching around nothing as your ass gets used to the small butt plug. 

Sunghoon genuinely thinks he can't find better than you. You were so shy in the beginning, looking like a lost puppy wherever you went. You just needed someone bigger and older to show you the way—though you were too dumb, and still are, to realize he was leading you to the wrong path.

It's not like you seem to mind, anyway. 

After all, you both got what you wanted; you, male attention, someone to rely on and be protected by, and him, a woman to break and keep with him forever. 

He lets go of your hips to unbuckle his belt, pulling the leather material out of the gold loop with the luxury Dior logo on it. He lets the two ends of the belt hang off, not bothering to remove it completely, and tucks the fly of his pants down.

He finally frees his cock from the confines of his boxers, springing up and slapping his stomach, the bit of pre-cum escaping from his tip dampening his shirt. 

"You're so good to me, princess," he praises as he wraps a hand around the base of his engorged cock, aching and begging to be nestled in your cute little pussy. 

His head pushes at your entrance, never fully entering, only teasing your hole and stimulating all of your sensitive nerves. He watches how his cock stretches your cunt, your walls expending to receive his bulbous tip and then closing down when he pulls out. 

"Sir, please, want more," you beg him, pushing your ass on him to have his dick back in you. You let out a little whimper when Sunghoon holds your hips in place, stopping you from wiggling your butt side to side against his thick cock. 

He hums and slaps your ass harshly, your skin burning after. "Want my cock in your needy little pussy, baby? Is that what you're crying for?" He asks, teasing even more by swiping the head between your pussy lips, a string of your arousal sticking to his angry tip. 

"Yes," you say back quickly and desperately, arching your back, literally presenting yourself to Sunghoon. "Been so good, don't I deserve it, Sir?" You softly murmur, still looking over your shoulder to see his gaze fixated on your quivering pussy, cock head sliding up and down over your sex. 

"You do..." He responds distractedly, licking his lips, his fingers touching the pink gem peeking out from your ass. You're always so good and obedient for him, he even wonders if you ever did something that genuinely pissed him off before. 

When he really sinks in, his head passing the barrier of your sweet pussy, he groans deeply, feeling your walls envelop him tightly. 

He bends his back over yours, running his hand up your spine, feeling all the little bumps of it until he reaches your neck and shoves your head against the mattress. 

You whine when he starts pounding into you, his girth stretching you out so well, leaving you panting and moaning loudly. His other hand holds your hip against his dick, fingers digging into your skin, leaving permanent marks on your body.

He already sets a hard and rapid pace—fucking is never soft or loving with Sunghoon, it's violent, long, and agonizing. It's a way to be himself, the real and dark version of himself he hides in public, and releases when he gets intimate with you. 

You surprisingly got accustomed to it, embracing it as if it was your destiny, the reason for your existence; to be his personal slut, the little toy he likes to play rough with. You've accepted it, like you had no other choice but to be fucked into oblivion by Sunghoon whenever he feels like it. 

"You like that, baby? Huh?" He growls, as if you're the disgusting one for liking the way he treats you, to be ravished and delighted to have his cock sliding against your walls. "You like it when I fuck you hard like this?" He repeats and grips your hair, pushing your head into the bed covers with more strength. 

You babble out something, voice caught in your throat, too out of breath to formulate a simple sentence. You then only nod, your cheek squished against the mattress, Sunghoon's hand still pushing down on your head. 

His mouth hangs open to let out heavy breaths and his eyes are focused on your face, watching the little translucent pearls fall on your face and onto the bed. Your pussy swallows all of him, clenching so tightly it has him groaning and saying profanities under his breath.

It's sick how it makes his cock so fucking hard, leaking so much pre-cum in you and twitching avidly by seeing you struggle to breathe. You hold the bed sheets between your fists, doing everything in your power to keep your ass up for Sunghoon and not slump down on the bed from the hard thrusts he's inflicting on you. 

He snaps his hips against your ass and the entirety of his length is covered in your wetness, a white ring made of your cream circling the base of his cock. 

His hand holding your head descends to your neck, enclosing it with his fingers. He squeezes a little, just a bit so you know who's in control, so you never forget Sunghoon controls you—controls your life and thoughts. 

With a grip on your hair, he brings your torso up, arched back against his chest. The material of his shirt sticks to your skin, covered in a thin layer of sweat. He continues to pound into you and as he holds you by the throat, he lewdly licks the side of your face in a long stripe. 

You shudder in desire, hair standing up on your arms. "You're my little whore, aren't you, baby?" His mouth is right beside your ear as he whispers the words to you, his lips touching your hair, damp at the nape of your neck. "So fucking compliant... You want to please me so badly like the slut that you are.”

His free hand that doesn't have a hold around your throat slides down your body, passing over your belly and reaching your puffy clit. The sharp zipper of his pants graces the flesh just under your ass, irritating your skin and making it itchy. You clench around him when his digits find your sensitive bud.

"Yes, want to please you, Sunghoon," you gasp, bucking your hips at the feeling of his rough fingertips on you. He grunts when you address him by his name, loving how it sounds on your tongue, so sweet and timid. 

He remembers the first time you moaned his name; you were sprawled across his expensive leather couch, blindfolded and hands attached together with his black tie. Intense for your first time with him, but it was also the last time he's ever been that gentle with you. 

It was when his cold fingertips graced the skin of your stomach that you let out a squeak followed by his name, said in the quietest moan. He had then stopped his movements and looked at your face, an expression of distress painted over your features. 

He had realized how frail and weak you actually were, needing your most important sense to be at ease. That's why he had blindfolded you, to show you how dependent you were on him, how impossible it was for you to live without someone to guide you. 

He pushes your jaw to the side so your lips can meet in a feverish kiss, wet tongues mingling together, drool dripping down from the corners of your mouth. He continues to ram his cock in your pussy, the sound of skin against skin resonating in the hotel room. 

He traps your bottom lip between his teeth, making you whimper and close your walls around him once again. Your hands grip the material of his trousers, keeping him close and holding on to something because the hard cadence of his hip thrusts push you forward, breasts bouncing up on your chest. 

"Fuck," he curses and he suddenly stops, steadying his hips against your butt. You let out a whiny moan as Sunghoon lets go of your face and hips. 

You're sad to have your pleasure ripped away from you so hastily, but you don't have the time to complain, Sunghoon slipping out of your cunt and pushing you down violently on the mattress. 

You turn around on your back to see him unbuttoning his dress shirt and throwing it on the floor, revealing to you his beautiful chest and milky skin. He gets rid of his pants and socks after, finally removing his boxers, the only thing remaining on him being the watch crowning his right wrist. 

His cock glistens in your juices, more pre-cum leaking from his swollen tip and twitching avidly against his stomach. Even though him fucking you while being all dressed and you completely bare is a way to humiliate and degrade you, he also likes to be naked sometimes. 

He loves skin to skin contact, how your bodies stick together because of all the sweat coating you. It's addicting, it's rougher and it creates more friction—more pain. 

He doesn't mind being naked because he knows how to dominate you either way. He doesn't find it embarrassing, on the contrary, it makes him scarier and hungrier. While you shiver without your clothes on, curled up on yourself, Sunghoon is imposing, his cock thick enough to split you in half. 

He crawls back to you, hovering over you like a predator that has caught his prey, boring his eyes into yours. You look at him in awe, always waiting patiently. You feel his cock against your thigh, your hole pathetically quivering—missing his size terribly. 

He sneaks a hand between your legs and reaches the little pink gem, ready to get it out. "Take a deep breath, sweetheart," Sunghoon instructs and you inhale deeply.

He doesn't waste a second, pulling out the butt plug out of your ass. You scrunch your eyes shut at the pain, exhaling when it's done. There's still a bit of lube left on it and around your ass. He carefully sets it on the nightstand, coming back to you after. 

He bends your legs over your stomach and looks at your ass, just begging him to fuck it, shining with lube and arousal that leaked from your pussy. His cock is so close to it and Sunghoon could slide right in with one movement of his hips. 

He lets go of one of your legs to grip his erection, a little gasp escaping your lips when he presses the head of his cock at your tight hole, threatening to sink in. 

"Sir," you sigh, not sure if you're ready for that. It always burns no matter how good you prepped before and he knows that. That's why he's so tempted, staring so obsessively at your rim. 

Will it hurt you? Will you grip his biceps in an attempt to dissuade him? He wants to see those tears falling from your eyes again, he wants to lick them and tastes your pain. He feels more blood rush down to his cock at the mere thought of hurting you. 

Give him all of your pain, he'll fucking take it whole and cherish it. He wants it—he needs it. Accuse him of having a sick and twisted mind, accuse him of everything you've ever been hurt by because he'll gladly take the blame. 

"I know you can take it," he says in a low tone, glancing up at your face as he applies just a bit more force. "Can you, baby?" Sunghoon asks, waiting for you to admit how much you want it, how badly you want him to destroy you. 

"Yes..." You whisper back, a long shiver running up your spine as his eyes pierce through you. 

"Yes what? Tell me, sweetheart," he demands, and it's as if he doesn't care about your response whatsoever because the next thing he does makes you yelp in pain. 

His tip has entered you, the burning sensation forcing you to scrunch your eyes shut. 

"Yes, I- I can..." you stutter and as expected, you dig your nails into the flesh of his biceps, only fair to hurt him in return. "I can take your cock in my ass."

You take a sharp breath, eyes slowly opening, all watery and painful. Sunghoon groans at that, stuffing more of himself into you. "Good girl," he praises.

He stretches you out completely, his dick in no comparison to the toys you've used on you. You open your mouth as he pushes himself in gradually, tears streaming down your face when you blink. 

The tears roll down the side of your face and Sunghoon can't help but love the sight, leaning in to kiss your face and collect one of your tears, tasting the saltiness of it on his tongue. 

"Sunghoon!" You look at him with the saddest and most hurtful eyes. "It burns," you add in a quiet voice, now scratching his back, leaving long red trails on his skin. 

"I know, baby, I know," he softly murmurs in your ear, a husky moan leaving his mouth when he's completely nestled in you, balls touching your ass. "You're so tight, fuck," he sucks a breath through his teeth, not moving until he estimates he's waited long enough. 

He gives warm and wet kisses to your neck, going down to your collarbones and pawing at your breasts, slowly starting to move his hips. You lock your legs behind his back, wanting him as close to you as possible despite the pain he's inflicting on you. 

He loves knowing it hurts you because it makes it more pleasurable to him somehow. The pain will go away soon anyway, that's why he doesn't bother to stop or slow down. You have to get used to the feeling first. 

The choking, the hair pulling, the smacks... He keeps it for the bedroom, but he won't lie that there's a part of him that wants to ruin your life, ruin everything you've accomplished so far just so he can see those sad eyes of yours and hear you ask him for help out of desperation. 

It's not even sexual, he just wants to break you, that's all he desires. Though your life is something he wants to destroy, it's more of a way to have you dependent on him after. If your career is no longer successful, your solution is Sunghoon because he's the only person in your life capable of taking care of you both emotionally and physically. 

His teeth chew on the tender skin of your neck while his hand travels all over your body, many veins popping out along his strong arm. His finger gently circles your clit to make the pain more bearable. 

His hand that was roaming over your body comes to close around your throat and he turns his head to your side, lips brushing over your temple. "Yeah, just like that, baby," he mutters under his breath, his nose pressing down on your hair as he murmurs the words to you. "Just like that..." 

A choked moan is all that escapes your mouth. His hot breath hits the side of your face, his chest heaving rapidly while you claw at his back, white scratches appearing on his shoulder blades.

He sweetly kisses your temple as he pounds into you, not tightening his hand around your throat, just holding you in place—making sure you know that he’s always in control. 

Your tits slightly bounce up and down on your chest, little whines coming out of you each time Sunghoon bottoms out. It starts to feel good for you—really good—and you think that this pleasure is totally worth a bit of pain at the beginning. 

You grip the hair at the nape of his neck and bring him in for a kiss. He accepts it, kissing you back as if he wants to possess your whole mouth, biting and licking your lips. You moan into his mouth, twisting his hair between your fingers.

He pulls away from you, his full lips glistening in both of your saliva, and places his two palms on your boobs. He feels your perky nipples under his hands, just loving how plushy your breasts are, fitting perfectly in his palms. 

He keeps thrusting in you as he gropes your tits and you bring your hands over his, looking into each other's eyes. He lets out a low groan, holding eye-contact with you. 

You feel his veins under your palms, your pussy clenching around nothing but air while you run your hands all over his arms. You love to feel his pulsing veins under your fingertips.

"Sunghoon..." You moan his name, throwing your head back and closing your eyes, just enjoying the feeling of his hard cock entering and exiting your tight hole. Sunghoon takes the opportunity to smooch over your neck again as you expose it to him, his lips pressing down on your throat. "I love it," you sigh pleasantly. 

He hums, the sound coming deep from his throat. He wants to hurt you, yes, but he likes it even more when you love the pain. He just knew you were exactly like him when he first saw you. He had the feeling that you needed someone like him, someone that'd push you to your limits and make you discover a new type of pleasure. 

And he was right because there's not one time where you told him to stop.

"My dirty girl," he purrs in response, bringing his lips up to your jaw. He slowly rolls your nipples between his fingertips, pinching and pulling on them. "You're stupid, but so, so good for me, baby.” 

He slowly halts his hip thrusts and he eventually pulls out of you. You gasp when he does so, already missing his cock stretching out your ass. 

Sunghoon raises himself up from you and gets out of the bed. His erection stands tall against his stomach, bouncing up as he walks to the front of the bed. 

You watch him getting away until he orders you to follow him. "Come here," he says softly and you don't make him wait. "On your knees," Sunghoon commands when you're facing him, sinking down to your knees. 

He places a hand behind your head and the other around the base of his dick, guiding the head of his cock toward your lips as he pushes down on your head. 

"Here, baby," he instructs in a low voice. "Take it in your mouth." You part your lips to welcome Sunghoon's length, his bulbous tip shining in pre-cum and your juices under the light of the room. 

He immediately moans when he enters the warmth of your mouth, his heavy cock sliding on your wet tongue. He doesn't let you have much control, pushing his dick in your mouth until your nose touches his pubic hair. 

You relax your jaw for Sunghoon, allowing him to stuff more of himself into your mouth. He looks down at you, watching at the way your lips wrap around him tightly, your eyes starting to water. 

He begins to fuck your mouth, forcing you to take him whole each time he bottoms out. He moves his hips back and forth, obsessed with the way his girth appears and reappears between your lips as he uses your mouth as he pleases. 

"Shit," he hisses when you hollow your cheeks, "you're a fucking cockslut, aren't you, baby?" He says breathily, his eyes not once leaving his cock penetrating your mouth over and over again. 

You whine around him, surely agreeing with what he said, sending vibrations throughout his entire body. He lets out a deep moan, your cheeks and eyelashes all wet because of your tears, eyes burning as Sunghoon fucks your throat roughly. 

"Stroke your clit," he manages to say between two heavy breaths. "You can get off by yourself, right? I know you're soaking wet just by letting me use that pretty mouth of yours," he mocks you, but he knows he's right. Whatever he does, your cunt is always dripping wet. 

You whimper again, doing what he told you to and sneaking a hand between your thighs to play with your pussy. You part your legs wider as you circle your clit with your finger, Sunghoon's hooded eyes lazily watching you playing with yourself. 

Your right hand is laying on his thigh while the other is operating between your legs, pleasuring yourself to the sounds of Sunghoon's moans and the feeling of his cock weighing down on your tongue. 

You do your best to breathe through your nose, swallowing around his length and flattening your tongue underneath him. Your juices drip down your inner thighs, your finger smoothly flickering over your sensitive bud.

The whole room is smelling like sex, an odour that Sunghoon can't ignore, loving it so much. Your lips glide so easily over his hard cock, completely covered in your spit and still some of your wetness, tasting yourself on him. 

"Ah, fuck," he curses, his head rolling back on his shoulders, eyes still strained down on you. He feels the familiar burning sensation at the pit of his stomach, indicating he's really close to his orgasm. "Go on the bed, baby."

You're taken aback, but you follow his order, pulling him out of your mouth and laying your back down on the mattress close to the edge. You beautifully moan when Sunghoon penetrates your pussy, bending your legs over your stomach. 

"Oh, god," you cry softly, being pounded onto the bed right away, tits moving up and down on your chest. 

His hands are positioned on each side of your shoulders, snapping his hips against yours so harshly it hurts. You keep doing circle motions on your clit, now faster and impatient to reach your high. 

You let out a high-pitched moan when Sunghoon suddenly steadies his hips over yours, dropping down to his elbows as he hides his face in the crook of your neck. "Holy fuck," he grunts, gripping the bed sheets tightly in his fists beside your head as his cock twitches in your cunt. 

"Yes, yes," you quietly exclaim, your orgasm passing through you, making you arch your back and buck your hips. 

Your pussy clenches repeatedly around him and he finally comes undone into you, shooting long, thick ropes of cum deep in you. When he slips out of you, more spurts out of his tip, landing on your pussy, covering you in his cum. 

He stays above you for some time, catching his breath and looking at the mess he made of you. 

Later, Sunghoon is in the shower, washing his hair and his body, passing a soft cloth soaked in soap over his chest. He lets the water fall over his head, wetting his black locks. He stays maybe a bit longer than normally, staring at the tiled wall. 

He thinks about you, about all the things he's planned. He revised everything in his head, imagining you walk on the podium wearing his dress, people looking at his piece with admiration in their eyes. 

He thinks about everything that will go down for you after the show, getting fired, losing your career and your fans. Many articles talking about your excessive use of alcohol and drugs, saying how tired and sad you look beside Sunghoon. 

You won't last long, you're too weak anyway. A downfall like this is unconquerable, nobody recovers from that, and surely not a model who will be thrown out of the industry as soon as you turn twenty-five. 

Sunghoon knows the industry, he's been in it for years now. He's aware of how cruel it is, how difficult and harsh it can be on fragile little girls like you. 

But that's why he's here, he'll take care of you once nobody will want you anymore. That's the goal, after all; you to be finally his—solely and completely. 

"Sunghoon?"

Your voice reaches him, turning his head in your direction, seeing you hesitantly entering the shower with him. He opens his arms, inviting you to come closer and you do, hugging him and laying your head down on his wet chest. 

"I love you, sweetheart," he softly murmurs against your hair. "I'll never leave you, you know that, right?" 

You nod your head, looking up at him and meeting his gaze. "I love you, too."

๑♡՞

The runway went incredibly well. Celebrities and journalists were all gathered for the fall show, totally amazed by every design and the models that were wearing them. 

But there was one specific piece that everyone was willing to say was the best. 

Sunghoon was satisfied to see that his name stood out amongst everyone else's, being mentioned more times than Dior itself. He predicted it; it was the creation that every guest remembered, the dress that the fans were only talking about. 

He'd take all the credit, he was the one who imagined it and then sewed it after all, but he has to admit that you contributed to the fame a lot. 

Being the beloved face of Dior only made people talk more about it and that was what Sunghoon needed. 

But every good story has an end, doesn't it? 

When Sunghoon comes back to his apartment, the place is silent except for the TV playing, as he thought it would be. You're looking through the window, the city draped in the dark, splotches of bright yellow light flashing in front of your eyes. You're sitting on the sofa, not even acknowledging his presence as he enters, getting rid of his shoes. 

You're not much of a talker since you've been fired from Dior a few days ago just after the fall show. He understands your wish of remaining silent, needing a bit of space to process everything that happened the past weeks in your head. 

It was going to happen soon or later anyway. You've been to your photoshoots completely drunk, sometimes just going in with a hangover, but of course it didn't help your case at all. 

Sunghoon was guilty for letting you drink alcohol so soon in the morning. No need to deny it, he was even the one dropping you off at work like that. Well, he had to do it if he wanted people to notice how far you've fallen. 

He doesn't feel bad, though. Your career wasn't going to last with or without Sunghoon's sabotage. He did you a favour. 

You can't handle being a model. If you could, none of that would have happened. You wouldn't have gained weight, you would have been suspicious of the amount of calories Sunghoon was feeding you. The bottles of wine wouldn't have been so tempting and smoking weed wouldn't have ever occurred to you as a good idea. 

You shouldn't be ashamed of it, sometimes things just don't work out like we would have wanted them to. 

"Did you see the article they wrote about me?" You ask, still looking outside. "You surely did, I bet that's all they're talking about..." 

He sits down beside you and you eventually turn around, facing him. You care so much about what others think of you. It must be so tiring having such a low self-esteem. He can only imagine it; seeing you look through the window like a sad puppy, your life finally making sense when Sunghoon comes home. 

"I did, but nothing of that matters to me," he answers, the most honest he's ever been. And even if he had to lie, it's not like you wouldn't have believed him. You always trust whatever he says. 

You don't reply, your head still filled with many thoughts. 

"Hey, come here," he softly tells you, patting his thigh. You straddle his lap, setting your hands on his shoulders. He cups your chin, forcing you to look at him as you keep avoiding his gaze. "Whatever they say, whatever their name is, nothing will ever be more important than you." 

Because who is he if he lets some article affect the way he sees you? He's known you since the beginning of your career and he stayed till the end of it. 

He knows you better than everyone else. He was with you during your highs and lows and he'll still be there for the next ones. There's nothing in the world that could make him leave you. After everything he's done to have you, there's no way he'll go away. 

How cowardly of him if he does. He can't leave when he's promised he'd heal you—close all of your past wounds and create other ones. He may be selfish, but there's one thing that he isn't and it's a fucking liar. He sticks to his words, and when he says he'll never leave you, that means he'll never, never abandon you—he'll never leave your side, not even once. He can't risk it.

[inkedbybarnes]

blind date

bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary: convinced that bucky will never like you back, you agree to a blind date arranged for you to forget about him.

word count: 3.7k

warnings: fluff. two idiots pining over each other (i know, i know. i love the trope). blind dates (they honestly scare me). boundaries being crossed. not so gentleman of a blind date. protective & grumpy bucky (yes, that's a warning!). pet names such as doll. lowercase writing. not proofread.

notes: happy 500 followers to us! hehe. sorry it took long, i waited until i reached that milestone and we finally did! we're growing in our small delulu home, and i love it. <3 i hope you enjoy this one!

dividers by @cafekitsune

comments, reblogs, and likes are highly appreciated. thank you! ♡

“come on! tell me more about this mystery guy.”

natasha plopped down the couch beside you while she held a pint of ice cream in her hand and a spoonful on its way to her mouth. you were talking about the blind date that sam arranged for you, and she hasn't stopped asking questions since you mentioned it.

“there's really nothing to tell besides that he's a guy looking for a date and that he's friends with sam. i'm actually surprised that sam set this all up, but i trust him, you know? maybe it'll be nice,” you answered, ignoring the fact that sam suggested this to help you get over your not-so-little crush on a super soldier.

your phone beeped, showing a message sent to you by your teammate. “speaking of the devil, sam just sent me the details but i'm really not sure if i should go. it doesn't feel right.”

“and leave the poor guy waiting? not happening." natasha stuck her spoon into her pint and set it down on the coffee table. “you feel that way because you like someone already, but nothing's going to happen if we'll sit here waiting. you're either giving this date a chance or ask bucky out. it's time you finally go out there and see someone. aren't you sick of us yet?"

“i'm quite sick of you, that's for sure.” you joked, having natasha as your room neighbour and basically your best friend. if you weren't spending your time sleeping in your room, you'd be spending it with her. “i just don't think i should be going on dates when i know i'm technically not emotionally available for others yet.”

“oh, you can't be sick of me. i'm great company." natasha replied confidently. “then why did you agree? we all know, besides barnes, that you've liked him for so long. plus, he's never been with anyone for ages. the two of you makes sense.”

you gnawed on your lower lip, hesitant to tell nat the reason why you agreed to this stupid date, but she was your best friend and also one hell of a spy to even try and hide it. “he told me that he found someone similar to bucky and that i might want to meet him. we agreed to let it be a blind date to avoid the mess of telling them that they're meeting an avenger.”

“i knew it. you're going on a rebound date!” she jumped on her seat, as if she'd solved the winning numbers to the lottery. “there was no way you'd suddenly go on a blind date without a catch. you're too hung up on bucky!”

“keep it down!” you pulled her back into the couch, nervously looking around the room to see if anyone was close by. “i'm pretty sure rebounds only apply to people i've dated. bucky's hardly a candidate for that list.”

“you've liked him for way too long that it basically feels like you had a relationship, and i'm pretty sure he likes you too,” natasha said. “trust me, my guts? golden.”

you winced at the thought. there had been zero signs that bucky liked you back. as much as you trusted natasha and her instincts, this was something you couldn't just assume.

“i don't think so, nat. i've given him enough hints. it's either he's too dense about it or he's just not interested. maybe it's just how it's supposed to be, and i can't keep myself stuck with maybes forever.” you sighed, deciding to finally go to the blind date. “help me pick an outfit?”

“like you even have to ask?” she smiled, dragging you to your room while you were still left with uncertainty in your heart.

the restaurant was one of those hole-in-the-wall places in downtown new york. it had a lot people dining inside, their noise easily heard from the outside, yet the ambiance already felt warm and welcoming. you wondered if sam suggested the place or the guy you were about to meet.

you sighed, giving your chest one last tap since it wouldn't stop beating so fast. it was a wonder how your heartbeat remained stable during a risky mission, while a harmless date had you this nervous. although with that, you felt human.

“okay, let's see where this goes,” you muttered to yourself, glancing at your watch that had a tracking device in it, as requested (or ordered) by your best friend.

natasha initially opted to come with you and seat somewhere far, but you told her that you didn't need it. so, she settled with a tracking device, as if you weren't an avenger who could defend yourself. you couldn't find it in you to complain, since this was natasha's own way of showing that she cared.

you entered the restaurant, eyes wandering around the room despite not knowing exactly what to look for. the only details you were allowed to know was that “joseph” knew where to take you, so you assumed that person was one of the staff that you had to look for.

once you found a waitress that didn't look too occupied, you approached her with a smile. “excuse me, may i know where joseph is?”

the lady looked up at you, recognition evident on her face. you were slightly worried that she knew your identity, but she gave you a warm smile and held your arm gently. “oh, he's right there by the counter. let me take you to him!”

she escorted you towards the man handling the counter that seemed to be where the orders were taken. he was shouting various orders behind him while arranging the food on the counter. by the looks of it, he could be the manager or the owner of the place.

“she's here!” the lady beside you exclaimed, catching the full attention of joseph.

“ah, there's our special guest for tonight!” joseph walked around the counter to hug you, as if you knew each other for a long time. “come, come! we have the best spot reserved for you. it's right outside where you can enjoy the view while also having some privacy, eh? your date already arrived, but no worries. he wasn't waiting for too long.”

you were rendered speechless as he took you to the patio, not expecting your date to arrive first, and most importantly not expecting to see him right away. you thought you were early enough, but it seems that your date was an earlier bird than you were.

once outside, all you could see was an empty patio with one man sitting not so far from where you were standing. you hated how you could only see his back and not his face, since he was facing the opposite direction. although, you immediately noticed how he was dressed similarly to bucky.

similar haircut, black boots, and a black jacket. while you weren't sure if they actually looked alike, sam wasn't kidding about them having some similarities.

“how come it's empty out here?” you asked with genuine curiosity. the restaurant was oozing with customers tonight, and they could surely use the extra space outdoors.

“well, uh...” joseph scratched his head, smiling awkwardly as he looked for an answer. “oh, well, stop worrying about that! you're here to go on a date and nothing more! let us worry about that ourselves, hm? come, let's not make your date wait for too long.”

you both walked towards the only table occupied, taking a deep breath before joseph announced, “your date has arrived!”

the man turned around, eyes widened at the sudden noise, but he eventually smiled once he looked at you.

“hey, nice to finally meet you.” he stood up, extending his hand. “i'm martin.”

one look at him and you knew that your heart stubbornly stayed with someone you shouldn't be thinking about.

“i still can't believe that i'm on a date with an avenger.”

you were barely done with your meal despite being here for more than an hour, and martin hasn't been able to stop gushing about your whole avenger sideline. while you understood his excitement, this wasn't the type of date that you hoped for.

“you think i could tell my friends?” he asked, suddenly nudging his chair closer to you that he was basically sitting beside you. “they probably won't believe me, so will it be okay if we took a picture?”

oh, so that's why he moved closer.

“sure.” you forced a smile. “but don't get too close, maybe? i'm.. i'm not that comfortable yet.”

as if you said nothing, he placed an arm over your shoulder, pulling you even closer to him. you've been through worse situations than this, but you were highly uncomfortable having your boundaries crossed.

bucky wouldn't do something like this. how did sam think that any of his behaviour was similar to him?

martin already had his phone out, capturing pictures and squeezing your arm, when you decided that this isn't what you wanted, but before you could open your mouth, you felt someone pulling his arm off of you, causing martin to scream.

“what is wrong with you!?” martin shouted, standing up and stepping away while he held his aching arm. when you turned around, you felt your heart stop to find the person you least expected to be here, but wanted the most to be with.

“bucky?”

he did not look at you, his eyes still fixated on martin, nostrils flaring as he took a step closer, standing in front of you as if he was shielding you, while martin took the same amount of steps backwards. “she clearly said no. what the fuck was so hard about understanding that?”

“look, man, i don't know what you're doing here, but i think this is between me and her,” he said, his eyes showing fear as he watched the ex-assassin approach him, hearing the gears of his metal arm whirring.

“give me your phone.” bucky ordered. “now.”

martin immediately fished for his phone, nearly dropping it, and gave it to bucky. “w-what are you going to do?”

“no, this is what you're gonna do,” bucky started, crashing martin's phone with ease and carelessly throwing it to the side. “this date never happened, your friends will hear nothing about tonight, and you will get out of here before i finish counting to three. one...”

in a snap, martin was already out of your sight. if you hadn't known martin before this, you would think he idolised pietro with the way he ran so fast.

“are you okay?”

forgetting about bucky for a split second, his voice jolted you out of your thoughts. you looked up, your heart racing, to find him right in front you.

“what are you doing here?”

“that doesn't really answer my question, doll. answer mine first, will ya? then i'll answer yours.”

“i'm okay, but i can take care of myself. you didn't have to scare the guy.” you sighed, trying your best to look displeased when in fact this has been the happiest you've been tonight. “so? why are you here?”

“well, it's really hard to explain...”

“you better try, barnes, because i am very confused right now,” you said. “one moment i'm on a date with someone, then suddenly my teammate, who i told nothing about said date, appears and crushes the phone of the guy i'm with?”

“natasha told me about it.”

you frowned, not surprised with natasha's gossipy nature, but confused about what she could've said that made him go all the way here.

“i was looking for you since you're always with us during dinner, and nat told me that you were on a date. i couldn't help but ask where and with whom, but she said that she had no idea, that it was a blind date. she was more than glad to tell me where you were, so i came here looking for you.”

“why?” you asked, confused and suddenly hopeful at the same time. although, you tried to keep your hopes down, not wanting to set yourself up for a heartbreak.

“what do you mean why? that's it. i was just worried, and now you're okay. can we go home?”

he turned his back on you and walked away, you were quick enough follow him, still unsatisfied with his answer.

once you've reached a dark alley where he had his motorcycle parked, you sighed and decided to ask one more time.

“what are you actually doing here, barnes?” you asked. “i want an actual answer or i'm walking home.”

“it doesn't matter,” bucky answered shortly, frustration. written on his face. “why did you agree to this anyway? doesn't feel like something you'd do.”

“you have no idea about what i feel and what i want to do,” you answered. “and you still haven't answered my question.”

“i don't know, okay? i don't know. i just..” he sighed. “i heard the word date and everything didn't make sense. all i knew was that i wanted to follow you here and stop whatever you were doing. i didn't like it.”

“what gives you the right to stop me from going on a date?” you asked, your head jerked back in disbelief. “and why would it even bother you? this is the first time someone went on a date in the team. so what makes mine so different?”

“what do you think?” he asked, his gaze challenging and curious, waiting for your response.

you stood in silence, his question causing a sudden drift in the conversation. you could feel the tension in the air.

“sam made me go to a blind date as well,” he spoke again. “i just remembered that he was asking me where i'd take someone on a date. days after that, he said he found a girl that i might like, and that i should go on a date with her, he suggested that it should be a blind date, knowing that i'm an avenger and all.”

“why didn't you go?”

“i couldn't. i wasn't interested. i knew it wouldn't work.”

“why?”

“because i already like someone.”

your heart sank, a lump forming in your throat as the reality set in that the person you've been pining for was already interested in someone else.

so much for going on a date to forget about him.

“what about you?” he asked. “why did you go?”

because of you, you idiot.

“trying to get over someone,” you simply answered.

“you were seeing someone?” he asked, completely clueless, but suddenly looking uneasy. “i never knew you were in a relationship. i guess, we're not that close, but i thought i'd at least know abou—”

“what? no!” you replied, voice rising as you spoke. "god, i agreed to this date because i wanted to get over you!"

the words slipped out of your mouth, your eyes widening in surprise as you accidentally reveal the feelings you had kept hidden.

bucky blinked, silence hanging in the air. the confession felt heavy between you as you waited for his response.

“i didn't agree to going on a blind date because i have feelings you,” bucky finally spoke, taking a deep breath before continuing, “because i knew i wouldn't enjoy it knowing i'd be thinking of you anyway, because as convinced as i was that you had no interest in me, i'd rather keep my eyes on you than on anybody else.”

“wait, wait, what? you like me?” you repeated in a slightly disbelieving tone, searching his face for confirmation.

“why would i follow you all the way here if i didn't?”

“because you care? and it might be dangerous to go on a date with someone i've never met?” you guessed. “i mean, i think you'd also do it for everybody else, as grumpy as you look like on the outside, you can be a softie sometimes.”

“if i had no feelings for you, i wouldn't be here. you're an avenger for christ's sake. some random guy would be like a training dummy for you,” he answered. “and no, i wouldn't be doing this for anybody else. if the situation's that dangerous, maybe, but a date? you're all adults. you know what you're doing.”

you couldn't help but giggle at his answer, which earned you a glare from him. “what?”

“nothing.” you shook your head. “you sound like an old man lecturing the younger generation.”

“are we completely ignoring the fact that we like each other?”

“that's the only thing on my mind right now.” you admitted. “are you sure about what you just said? it could be the hunger talking.”

instead of answering, bucky took his phone out of his pocket, swiping and tapping on it a few times before taking your hand and placing it on your palm.

“what am i supposed to—”

“just read it.”

choosing not to argue with him, you grabbed the phone with a frown. his messages with natasha were on the screen, starting from their messages from nearly four months ago. you scrolled through their messages, and while they lasted for months, they were all short and straightforward.

three months ago

bucky:

did you arrive safely?

romanoff:

since when did you start asking?

bucky:

?

romanoff:

yes, we arrived safely.

bucky:

👍🏻

romanoff:

really???

two months ago

bucky:

is she okay?

romanoff:

ohhh, that's why you keep texting.

bucky:

answer

romanoff:

geez, barnes.

yeah, she's okay.

bucky:

ok

one month ago

bucky:

she's sick?

romanoff:

yeah, wanna visit her?

you're basically immune.

bucky:

i have a mission

romanoff:

oh yeah

oops

bucky:

are you busy?

romanoff:

nope

why?

bucky:

take my place

romanoff:

no thanks, barnes.

bucky:

i'll take your next task

and the next one as well

romanoff:

why can't you just take this one?

bucky:

nothing

romanoff:

a reason or i'm not doing it.

bucky:

she's sick

i want to stay

romanoff:

oh my god

you're such a sap

fine i'll talk to steve

bucky:

ty

romanoff:

you're using abbreviations now???

bucky:

👍🏻

one week ago

romanoff:

movie night later, don't ditch us again

bucky:

busy

romanoff:

she planned this one

she's worried you won't come

bucky:

i'll bring snacks

romanoff:

i love knowing your weakness

bring popcorn!

bucky:

she prefers pizza over popcorn

does she like popcorn?

romanoff:

nope, but some of us do.

bucky:

ok

romanoff:

so you're bringing popcorn?

bucky:

no

once you were done reading, you returned his phone back to his hand. “you do like me,” you said, the confession finally sinking in.

bucky nodded. “and you like me too.”

“where does that leave us?” you asked, hoping. “are we.. dating now?”

“no,” he answered quickly.

you felt that ache returning in your chest, but before you could say something, bucky already sensed your worries and he wasn't letting you slip away that easily.

“no because i want to do this right. i want to take you out on a date first, bring you flowers, play music and ask you for a dance, all that stuff that you deserve,” he explained, bringing his warm hand to your cheek. “but trust me that it won't take long before i call you mine. i don't think i have the patience for it at this point.”

“you promise?” you rose to your tiptoes, wrapping your arms around him. “i don't want to wait that long either.”

“you won't,” he replied, leaning into you, his lips brushing against your nose before pulling you in a kiss. “i promise.”

this was supposed to have a lil bonus when they got back to the tower, revealing the team's true involvement with the blind date, buttt i might just do it some other time as a snippet/part 2 instead. i still have a few to write anyway, woops.

if you have any requests for bucky, send them my way! 💌

[edward-munson]

just for tonight | S.H.

Summary: You and Steve can't stand each other. You always jump at each other's throats whenever you are together. You have set a goal during his birthday party, but you didn't think it would work.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x f! reader

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), p in v (protected sex), oral (m receiving), choking kink, fingering, (sort of) aftercare, a little bit of angst

Word count: 4.6k

-`♡´-

If there's something Steve hates the most besides hating you, it's the fact that Robin insisted you should come to his birthday party. And he insisted it was his birthday, and you would ruin it if you were there. He wasn't wrong, though. You made his life a living hell simply for the fun of it, but he would always make sure he did the same.

And there you were, holding the same scowl on your face as he does. Whenever he had to walk past you in his big apartment, he would try to avoid your gaze, but deep inside he wanted to show you how much he despised your presence. You couldn't give a shit about him, completely ignoring his existence as you were drinking your Piña Colada while talking to Eddie about something random.

At some point, you started to notice how Steve would go back and forth. While you were sitting in the stool of his living room with Robin and Nancy, you would notice he would stand there and huff. Now you try to pretend you're not listening to him as you look straight forward, but your left ear perks up when you listen to what he's saying. He's complaining he has been turned down twice until now. You try to hold back a snort and sip on your drink to avoid that to happen.

Pretty, golden kissed skin, perfect sat hair on his head and muscled Steve Harrington was complaining he was being denied. Twice. You thought your night wasn't going to be good at all, but the sight of him with pouty lips as he talks to his girl friends, it was worth getting out.

You lost count on how many drinks you had, you already smoked weed with Eddie, who drank more beers than he could count as well. Argyle was also in a funny state of drunkenness. You were dancing with both girls too, bumping a few times into each other as the alcohol traveled through your system. You're in a daze as you swing your body to the music, barely keeping your feet steady and Eddie has to hold your waist a few times so you won't fall on your face. You laugh at it all.

You laugh even more when you watch from afar while a girl rips herself from Steve's grip and gives him an apologetic nod, before turning her back to him. He turns his head directly at Robin, who's dancing beside you, and it's enough for him to notice you were watching all of it as well. This time, you snort and cackle. You laugh so hard, there's no reason to hide it. He rolls his eyes and walks towards you, his hands balled into fists as his face holds a scowl again.

"Is it all amusing to you?" His face gets closer to yours, his eyes are kind of blown from the weed he also smoked.

You sipped on your drink, nonchalant, and shrugged. "Well, I just think it's funny how king Steve can't seem to score on his birthday"

Robin tries scolding you with a warning look on her face.

"It's okay, Steve! Someone will like you!" She comforts him with a gentle look. Her hand rubbed his shoulder.

He's actually still shooting daggers at you, mouth closed on a thin line. His chest is kind of puffed because he feels like his body is rigid from his anger.

"You should just stop being such a brat. This is my house. Go find something better to do" He scans you up and down with disdain over his eyes and you just hold your gaze at him.

And you did.

But you never intended to stop looking his way to make sure he wasn't getting a girl. And it's not like there were many options, because it wasn't a big party anyway. You complained to Eddie about the way Steve talked to you, and he laughed it off.

He was being annoying too. He would try at all costs to bump into you whenever he got closer. Steve was trying to get on your nerves just so you could feel what it's like. And when you were left alone for a moment, he would send you this taunting sly smirk. When you were leaving his bathroom, you were caught off guard when his sudden shadow made its presence in the hallway. He passed by you, shoving his shoulder against yours when he made his way to the bedroom.

Back to the living room, when you were all dancing, he made sure he would hit his back against yours, making you stumble forward. It was getting really infuriating. You looked back over your shoulder, just to catch him mouthing a forced "sorry" with another smile. Then something switched inside of you. You weren't getting guys either, but because you didn't want to. So you decided there would be a goal tonight.

You placed both hands over Eddie's shoulders and danced to the music. You swayed your hips to the rhythm, sliding down until you were almost crouched. Your dress rode up a little, showing a little more of your skin. He was flabbergasted to see you dancing like that out of nowhere.

You stood up and kept swinging your hips left and right. Turning on your back to your friend, you couldn't help but notice how Steve's eyes would divert whenever you caught him looking. You smirked. It was working. You then moved to Robin, dancing on your back to her as she placed her hands on your hips, dancing in sync with you. You dropped your head back, leaning against her shoulder, biting your lip.

"Yeah, honey. Whoo!" She gripped your skin through the fabric and grazed your stomach.

You and Robin were always too touchy and sometimes it made people think you had a thing. Steve included. He swallowed the dry lump in his throat, growing impatient as he saw the way she was holding your ribs, fingers touching the curve of your breasts. He tried to focus on his other friends, but it was too hard when you were looking at him that way.

He waved it off, reminding himself why he hated you, why he despised you. He remembered why he didn't invite you even then, you were forced to come because of your friends. But the thought of ripping off the material and sucking on your skin was making him become annoyed.

You were twerking with Robin and Eddie, your ass bouncing to the music. Your hips rolling as your legs are tangled to Eddie's. He doesn't care if you look hot, you're like a sister to him and it's hard for him to actually sexualize you. They knew what you were doing by now. They were catching sight of Steve holding his glass of whisky tightly. Your eyes drifted to him a few times, and your tongue would slip between your fingers in a cocky way. He knew that.

There was no one in the kitchen. You went looking for a beer as the buzz of all the drinks you had was too much now. There were too many empty bottles spread through the sink, along with the bottles of booze. A few snacks were on top of the kitchen island. You were too absorbed into your own thoughts as you ate the food and sipped on your newfound beer. You didn't see when Steve came right behind you.

His frame caged you between the kitchen island, while towering over you. His big hand found your hip and he swung you around, your faces barely touching as your eyes widened. He wasn't scowling, but his brows were furrowed and his lips were pursed.

"What?" You ask in confrontation, his arms leaning against the furniture behind you. "What? You're frustrated no one would fuck you on your birthday?"

Steve didn't answer you, rather, he chuckled with sarcasm. You watched as he shook his head, looking down. When he looked up at you, one of his hands flew up to your face, he was gripping your jawline almost forcefully.

"You know it sounds like you're just jealous, right? It seems to me you wish you were the one I was hitting on".

You laughed at his words, you truly laughed. But you couldn't deny the fact that Steve Harrington was almost God's grace.

"Oh, Stevie. Not even if the world was ending" Your own hand came up to his cheek, where you left a mocking slight slap.

He reacted to that. He truly wished you didn't have to be so bitchy about it. But now it was his time to play your game. His free hand reached for your side, fingers sliding up to your ribs. His thumb stroked your skin through the dress, right under the curve of your breast.

"Are you sure?" He rasped, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. His breath hit your skin and it left goosebumps.

The ones you couldn't fucking control. He mused at your reaction. "Yeah. That's what I thought".

Your only plan was to induce him. You didn't think Steve would actually come after you at all. And now you didn't have cards to play against him. And it made him realize he was the one ahead of you this time.

"So now that you have no other options, you come crawling to me?" You spread your hands against his chest, slipping your fingers down his white t-shirt, all while he tightens his fingers around your side.

He has to hold a grunt, because you're so hot and yet adorably annoying. He hates you, yes. But he would never deny fucking you either.

"Now, you wish. Don't pretend you're not enjoying this, pretty girl" His voice is like honey when it reaches your ear.

His fingers are rough on you, but they never hurt you. His expensive cologne is not helping either. And the way his hair falls on his face makes you think you wish you could rake your fingers through them. Your legs almost close in response to the pet name, but he's pushing one of his own legs in between yours. You didn't even notice it.

"Don't be so arrogant. You may be handsome, but you're far from being worth the time".

And you lie. You don't even budge, you don't blink an eye. It makes you realize how good of a liar you are and how bad it would make you look.

But it's not like he doesn't know you well enough to see you're not saying the truth and he laughs again. There's a soft, but still hard look on his face, he pouts at you with a sided smile and tilts his head. You wish you could admit he's not worth it.

"Right. So I won't waste your time" He then leaves your skin, and steps back. You immediately miss his touch. His leg isn't between yours anymore and he gives you another look before going back to the living room.

Steve can't do this anymore. He wished for a long time he would fuck you dumb. Just to hear you say his name. So he slowly retrieves back and turns his footsteps. And he waits, for a moment, but he waits. He's walking away sluggishly from you.

And you watch him walking away. Your heart is pumping faster and your hands are gripping too tight on the edge of the kitchen island. Your knees are wobbly. For a few seconds, you think it's better this way. Maybe you won't work in bed either. Maybe it would be a disaster doing that. But your body aches for him, your stomach burns craving for his touch. You call him out in almost a whisper, but it's enough for him to hear you.

He turns his head first, the corner of his eyes peering at you. "Are you sure?" He barely sees when you just nod, still holding yourself up from all the tension. "Fuck this".

He clings to you in a rush, holding your waist with both hands as he brushes his lips against yours. "Tell me we're not gonna regret this" He breathes out.

"I know I won't" Your arms wrap around his neck, hands finally tangling between his hair.

He needed reassurance, because there was no way he would regret this either. There was a fire growing inside his chest from seeing you this night. Obviously he wished he went to bed with another woman, but there's something about you that pulls him in. He wants to drown in you. His lips finally crashed against yours, for the first seconds it was an intense rush of feelings. You let out a muffled whimper, leaving him desperate to taste more of you.

His tongue slips through your mouth, colliding against yours. He tastes your beer and you taste the bourbon he was having. It's an explosion of lust between you two, finally. Steve lifts one hand and plants it on your neck, his rub stroking your chin. You wouldn't know he was soft after all you've been through. All the bickering, all the mocking. Every time you crossed paths, there was a look of aversion at each other.

You were almost always together. There were times you refused to go out with your friend because he was going too. Or he wouldn't go to someone's house or go out either because you'd be there. It's been like that for almost two years, ever since you saw him making fun of Eddie when he was still a new friend. And you hated that. You started to hate him with a growing avoidance to be near him.

After you started to mistreat him and be ironic most of the time. Until he started to fight back. Eddie was such a sweetheart, he was the one to stop you from fighting. He said it was okay, because then he became friends with Steve. But you never agreed to that and never forgave him either.

Now you were almost turning into a puddle. He kisses like he can't get enough of you. And you battle for dominance with your tongue. You pull the nape of his hair back and he groans. He tugs at you and pushes his hips forward until you feel the bulge straining in his jeans. His thumb slips down your neck as he feels your pulse, and then squeezes your throat lightly. You breathe out against his mouth with a soft moan and he loses it.

"Fuck, you're going to kill me" His voice is hoarse. Steve opens his lids only a few inches just to look at you with lust fulfilling his eyes.

He doesn't waste anymore time as he holds you up and you wrap your legs around his waist. He makes his way to his bedroom, locking the door as he shoves both of you against it. He kisses you again and there's no romance in it. He's impatient and bites your lower lip, pulling it back gently. It's a mix of roughness and softness at the same time. He drops your weight, only to capture your ass with both hands this time. His fingertips graze over the curve of your ass, digging his nails against it.

There's a jolt on your body when he slaps your asscheek. It stings but it doesn't hurt. "You like that, huh?" He chuckles against your mouth and gives your lips a smell peck before slapping you again.

"You're such an arrogant dork" You pull back and use both hands to shove him by his chest until the back of his knees hit his bed.

He watches in awe as you bend down in front of him, small gentle hands undoing his jeans, sliding your fingers against his boxer. You feel the roughness of it, his cock being pressed by the fabric, a damp patch forming around it. You don't need to waste your time with teasing, so you immediately get rid of both at the same time, watching as his hardness springs free. Reddened tip, leaking precum. His length surprised you.

You wrap a hand around his girth, stroking him a few times. You look back at him behind your lashes, his eyes trained at you with such an unreadable expression. He doesn't seem to hate you right now. You see how his chest rises quickly, and you bite your lower lip when you notice how his eyes shut when you stroke him harder. 

Your fingers spread the liquid over his shaft before you finally get to taste him. You lick a stripe from his balls until the tip and put on a show for him. You swirl your tongue over the sensitive spot and open your mouth, sucking on it. Steve throws his head back, leaving a loud growl in reaction. You can't help but hum. You lower your head further down, bobbing it a few times until you're used to his size. You don't think you can deep throat him, but you try your best to get past half of it without gagging. 

His tip hits the back of your throat and he moans. He doesn't care if he's vocal. You use your free hand to rest it over his stomach, fingers grazing his hairs, nails scratching his skin. You use your tongue to lick him through his length, pumping him with your mouth.

He grabs a fistful of your hair, fingers tangling on it. He bucks his hips forward and fucks your mouth. He can't stop whimpering either. You hear your name slipping out of his throat every now and then. You hold his shaft and suck his cock mercilessly, saliva dripping down his skin. You pull back with a pant, looking at him straight in the eyes and he hurriedly pulls you back up. Your mouth is so wet, from the spit, from his precum.

Steve is fast when he swings you around, removing your shoes and throwing them off. He pushes you slowly to the bed so you bend over to him, your ass in the air for him. He plants his palms over your cheeks, stroking them before slapping one and you jolt forward again, leaving a mewl.

"You're such a pretty needy thing, aren't you?" His tone is raspy and it trembles from his sight. Another slap. "Always so pretty. Delicate". Another slap. "It's such a shame we hate each other. Could've had fucked you way before".

You feel his hands lifting the hem of your dress, reaching for your underwear. He rolls it off your legs, getting rid of it before opening your legs apart with one knee. The air gets knocked out of your lungs when he uses his thumb to spread your slit. His finger reaches for your clit and rubs circles around it, making your hips stutter.

"Fuck, Steve" You plead. He collects the wetness of your cunt and uses it as leverage to push into your pussy and you cry out. "Shit".

He's lightheaded, drunk on you. Steve strokes his cock as he pumps his finger inside you a few times. He rubs his thumb up and down, pressing your swollen nub. He hisses whenever you roll your hips against his finger, feeling your slippy skin against his thumb. His cock is almost bursting into a mess and he can't seem to hold it back for too long, but he tries. He picks up a condom from his drawer and rolls the plastic around his shaft.

Still on your fours, you can feel him shifting behind you, positioning himself. His free hand stays on your waist as he uses the other one to rub his dick against your slit. You bite your lip from the obscenities you want to scream.

He pushes his tip first, feeling you clench around him. He takes another second before thrusting against you once, carefully so it won't hurt. You drop your weight forward, whimpering from the sensation.

"Fuck, I'm so big for you" His hips slowly start to hit on your ass. "You okay, pretty?"

You can't formulate an answer so you just nod. Steve could never be this gentle in your head. And yet, there he was, making sure you were good. You heard his own voice proclaiming curses under his breath each time he digs his cock further into your pussy. He starts pounding on you quickly, slapping his skin against yours.

You're both a mess of moans, you can't stand on your elbows and you can't stop rolling your hips against him. He holds your waist with both hands, firmly gripping on your skin.

"Oh God, Steve. That's it. That's so good" You yelp when you feel the tip of his cock hitting you.

His hair is a mess, there's a few strands falling over his eyes as he looks down. He takes his shirt off and throws it away as well, feeling his body on fire. Sweat streamed down his hairy chest, reaching his happy trail.

"You're so fucking good" He praises.

He leans down on you, thrusting harder against your pussy. The new position makes you feel every inch of his cock, his balls slapping against your ass too. Steve carefully wraps one hand around your throat, squeezing it. It's enough for your windpipe to close a bit.

You shut your eyes and your brows crease, voice too strained from pleasure to say anything else. He can only listen to your crying moans.

He licks his lips, moving closer to your ear. "You're such a kinky girl, I see" Steve whispers, his hot breath hitting your skin. You clench around him again and he leaves a groan next to you. "Fuck, do that again".

Now you chuckle, still in a daze. He's still gripping your throat tightly, fingers digging on your neck, straining you. You cage his cock so hard with your pussy, he pushes it all inside of you. He can't move it, and the more you clench around him, the more he feels his pleasure building up.

He pounds hard once, his free hand still holding your waist for support. You throw your head back and roll your eyes. His other hand never leaves your throat. He pushes further again, hips meeting your ass, and you cry. He then decides to pull you up, leaning your back against his chest. You're feeling limp already. His tip hits a different spot inside of you and it makes you roll your hips against him.

Steve rests his head over your shoulder, and he whispers such dirty things for you but you can barely comprehend what he's saying. He's wrapped an arm around you, snapping his hips against you. The other hand slips down your body, cupping one of your breasts. His fingers pinch your hardened nipple, ripping another moan from you.

He loves the way you're falling apart for him, as much as he's glad you're doing the same for him. Even though he would love to see you riding him. He feels your legs wobbling, tension contracting your body. Your muscles are sore and there's a knot forming in your stomach.

He's clinging to you, his sweaty chest is sticking to your back. Now he's not even pounding on you anymore, he's just pushing his cock in a soft motion as he whispers into your ear.

He grazes his teeth between your earlobe and breathes against your skin. You're already clenching so hard, he thinks his cock could snap in half. "Come for me, pretty girl".

Steve spreads wet kisses against your neck, sucking on it as he trails your skin down to your shoulder. You don't want to deal with that right now, you don't want to think how soft he's being to you. There's a coil inside of you and it snaps as you cum on his cock. Your body jolts and trembles over him, legs almost faltering.

You're squirming and clenching around him as he thrusts faster when he feels his orgasm reaching its peak. He usually doesn't cum together with a partner. It's either he waits for them to cum first and he finishes minutes later, or when he's feeling needy he finishes first. But it's hard for something like that to happen.

You're still coming down from your high, he spurts into the condom, feeling his muscles contracting. He never leaves you, he groans from the pleasure over your ear and leaves marks from his fingertips on you.

He gives his final thrust, throwing his head over your shoulder. He's heaving against your back, cock still twitching inside of you. You turn your head to the side where his head is resting and kiss his temple, ripping him from his daydream, catching him off guard.

He painfully pulls back from you, missing your pussy right at the same moment. Steve disappears into his bathroom for a few seconds, walking back and picking up the clothes from the floor. You notice you're completely naked and start wondering when the fuck you got rid of your dress.

You look at Steve. Sweat coating his skin. His hair is wet, as well as his chest and his stomach. His face is flushed and his breathing is still uneven just like yours. He hands you your lace underwear and gets dressed up. You're still peering at him from the corner of your eye, watching the way he tries to fix his greasy sweaty hair with his fingers, only making you feel giddy about it.

But it surprises you when he hands out a comb for you to brush your hair. Your head immediately snapping at him, eyes wide and mouth agape. He clears his throat when he notices your reaction, sitting on his bed close to you.

"I uh– Maybe we should, you know" He gestures with his fingers, but it's unclear to you what he wants.

And you giggle, tilting your head at him. "Are you getting shy on me, Steve Harrington?"

But he waves you off, pretending he doesn't know what you're talking about. It's kind of a strange feeling to be around him without jumping at each other's throats, but at the same time, it's a good thing.

"I meant, we should talk it off. You know, hating each other. I know you never bothered to show how much you hate me because of Eddie. And I know I was a dick" Steve never even tried to apologize to you before, knowing you were never open to it.

"Let's not get through this tonight, we should try to have fun on your birthday. See if you can actually score".

He chuckles when you finish your sentence, knowing there would be no way he would fuck someone else this night. Not even if he wanted to. "So... we're kinda good tonight?"

You look down at his hand that is expectantly waiting for you to shake it. Maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea after all. "Yeah, kinda. Just for tonight".

He shakes your hand as well, flicking his eyes between your hand and your lips. God, he wanted to kiss you again. You both get up from the bed and fix your clothes before leaving the bedroom, but when you're holding the doorknob, you feel his hand wrapping around your wrist carefully.

You look to your side, to the way he's facing you in a different way. His hand slips to yours, interlocking his fingers with yours, and he pulls you closer to him. You just let him. He holds your jawline with his free hand and hovers his lips against yours lips.

"Just... let me do it one more time tonight" And he kisses you, soft tongue colliding against yours again.

There's something conflicting inside of him. Like his feelings are battling against his mind. Because to him, there was no way he was starting to have emotions towards you.

Not now, not ever.

He breaks the kiss, and when he opens his eyes he realizes something. He was fucked.

[slushfaerie]

༘⋆ CRUMBS — prelude.

childhood friend!art donaldson x reader

word count & warnings – 1k. sfw. notes – inspired by an old friendship & the way it can feel when you make eye contact with someone you haven't met, but it feels like your heart recognizes.

it's the first day of high school and you're finishing your PB&J as you hustle up the stairs and slip through the door to Mr. Hu's classroom. Geometry right after lunch was diabolical – something you wouldn't wish on your worst enemy.

Mr. Hu's class was open seating, the room filled with the sound of comfortable, easy chatter. you opt for the fourth seat from the front, nearer to the wall without windows. you didn't want to give your mind too many chances to wander off. it would probably run away if it could.

the snap of gum popping rings out in the room amidst the din of your classmates following Mr. Hu’s beginning-of-semester spiel. you hear a snicker and something murmured you can't quite make out. another bubble pops as the semester's syllabi get passed down each of the narrow rows. you turn to pass the stack to the person behind you, taking the opportunity to get a glance at the source of the noise.

Arthur Donaldson - or "just Art. please." as you'd learned from roll call - takes that exact moment to glance in your direction. a little smile creeps up the side of his face as he chews his gum, listening to whatever was being said by the person beside him. a beanie on his head unsuccessfully attempts to tame unruly curls spilling out of it. you turn away swiftly, feeling an uninvited warmth kiss your cheeks.

was that crooked smile was meant for you? you'll never know.

but something about that dimple on his cheek and the way he lights up the back corner of the room kind of makes you wish it was.

your neighborhood was textbook suburbia: a smattering of young families still with a semblance of that spark of hope in their eyes balancing out the sleepier majority, mostly nosy retirees-turned busybodies and gossips.

and Art Donaldson's grandmother, the sweet lady she was, fell into the latter category.

Mrs. Donaldson had moved in with Art and his parents when he was just a sniffly little mess of golden curls. sat under an umbrella one fated summer at the community recreation center where Art picked up a tennis racket for the first time. overly enthusiastic cheers for every point he scored were met with a dimpled smile and wave from her grandson.

now, Art was in high school. still playing tennis. and still a mess of golden curls.

high school was a different beast, consolidating the town’s two junior highs and throwing all of the students into one big pot of teenage hormones and anticipatory stress for the future.

you and Art weren't new neighbors, funny enough. you'd become neighbors in the 6th grade, when your family moved across town and left behind the first place you'd called home.

~~

Art could hazily recall the night his folks had told him a kid his age was moving into the neighborhood - they both happened to be home between business trips. admittedly, he wasn't too invested in the development at the time. was too busy thinking about his backhand or the show he was watching on TV.

"Arthur, are you even listening?" his Mother had asked, moving to grab the remote and turn the TV off herself. he never did get to see how that episode ended.

and that was the first impression you'd made on him.

beyond that, for years you'd remained siloed in the routine established by your family as long as you could remember.

you’d be dropped off by your parents on their way into work and driven home after school ended. as you sat in your Dad’s car, you’d often drive by other kids walking to the closer school nearby. but your parents decided they couldn’t have their baby walking to school. that's too dangerous.

while Art had attended Westshore for junior high, your parents had opted to keep you at Shoreside, where the kids you'd known from your younger years had all gone.

you didn't argue too much. it was easier that way.

keeping your head down and in the comfortable monotony of routine meant that you hadn't managed to see Art before. you'd remember a face like that, you think.

but he had seen you.

~~

Art had been helping his Grandmother care for her rose bushes - the way he did every Sunday morning after she’d take him to church with her - when he'd witnessed what seemed to be one of the few instances you'd be allowed out on your own.

on your own, accompanied by your family's dog, more exactly. he saw the way you walked your dog around the block, letting her choose the route you traversed like her own adventure.

and before he knew it, Art found himself beginning to hope he'd see you every time he helped his grandmother or ventured out into the neighborhood.

he’d see how you’d sometimes end your walks sitting with your dog on the grassy hill at the far end of the park nestled in the heart of your neighborhood, just visible from his front yard. you’d look up at the trees or the sky and look like you were thinking too hard about something. occasionally, you'd bring a book with you.

sometimes he’d see a flash of your laugh in the front seat of your Dad’s car driving by on your way home from school. it was like you were in your own orbit, in your own world – a world he had the privilege of occasionally getting a little glimpse of.

~~

even if Art didn't want to think too hard about it, something about the way you looked at him had his heart doing a funny dance.

Art had tried to play it cool, even pretending to care so fucking much about what Mitchell had just said to him. but he couldn't help the grin on his face.

because there you were, four seats in front and one row over to the left, turning to pass the stack of papers back. you’d held his gaze for a breath that felt like it got stuck in his chest before turning to face back front. a few stray crumbs of something on your face.

you'd finally seen him too.

thanks for reading 🤍🪽let me know what you thought if you feel moved to do so.

[pullupinarari]

I feel so cold without you [LH]

summary: Lewis' schedule has been crazy, and he can't spend much time at home. but little Grace doesn't understand why.

author's note: I am still struggling with a writer's block so I'm so sorry cause this is honestly so bad and makes no sense, but I'm trying to get my creativity flowing again so pls bear with me. this is angsty but doesn't have a destructive ending. also barely proofread

• masterlist

wc: 5531 - English is not my first language! Feedback is always appreciated

Everybody knows that Lewis’ life involves traveling a lot, to different countries, continents, all the time - that’s not new to anyone. You met him in this reality, married him with this crazy agenda, and Grace was born in the middle of what you consider to be ‘normal’ for your life beside your husband. 

As a couple, you always managed to deal with the schedules, the work trips, the races abroad. As a family, you learned how to juggle being a mum and a wife to a F1 driver, with your own work responsibilities, teaching little Grace the best you can all about why her dad has to be away so much. 

When Lewis is away for a little time, your daughter understands it. She sees her daddy racing on the television, she chants his name as if she was there in person - she knows her dad is doing what he is best at, besides being the bestest daddy ever to her.

But Grace is very, very attached to Lewis, in the exact same way that Lewis is extremely attached to his princess, and they can’t stay away from each other for long. The problem is, for the past couple of weeks, your husband hasn’t been home. 

Lewis was in Italy, preparing everything at Ferrari, and setting everything up for the day you and Grace will meet him there, at the new place that you will call ‘home’ for this new period of your life. Then, the driver had to fly with the team to Spain, to prepare for the pre-season. So, his schedule has been incredibly tight, leaving him with no chance of flying back to London, to his girls’ arms, even for just a night. 

As the weeks pass by, your daughter starts growing confused. Daddy isn’t racing on the telly, he isn’t home to play with her, so the toddler could show him how she is feeling more confident to ride her pink bike, and the only time she sees him is through a video call that he does when calling you at the end of the day. 

So, why is daddy not home to tuck Gracie into bed every night? To give her the special forehead kisses that only he knows how to do, the ones that would scare away all the monsters?

Inside the three-year-old’s brain, everything made more sense while she could see him driving his car on the television, listening to him talking on the interviews following the race, knowing for a fact that her daddy is working. And, as much as you keep telling the toddler that dad is at work, where is he working? Why can’t Grace watch him on the television now? And why can’t he come home?

It’s been too long - you know. You admit it too. But you can’t say that to your baby’s face, adding more to the exasperation living inside her confused mind. It’s already heartbreaking enough to see your daughter’s eyes growing sadder by the day, noticing how she grows quieter through the week, seeing the disappointment plastered all over her face every time you have to say ‘no’ whenever she asks ‘is daddy coming home today?’

The salty tears painting the toddler’s features when she begs her daddy to come home over the phone are enough to make yours and Lewis’ hearts sting with an indescribable pain - one that seems to never cease, no matter how hard you try to nestle her close to your chest, trying your hardest to shush her fears and insecurities, making her feel protected in the first home she ever knew - your skin. 

- You don’t love me anymore, daddy? - Grace blurts out in between sobs, her little voice sounding muffled against your skin as she hides her face on the crook of your neck. 

The words leaving her mouth were enough to make Lewis’ heart sink, making sure that question will forever be engraved in his mind, not letting him forget about this moment, about the hurt in his princess’ voice when wondering why he is not home with her.

The man is left speechless for a minute, feeling a bunch of hot tears threatening to spill from his eyes as well. It has, definitely, been too long since he got to have a moment just for his family, dedicating all his hours to his favourite girls. 

He knows exactly how Grace is feeling, because Lewis feels the exact same void fulfilling his days, desperate to have some free time so he can go back home as soon as possible. But unfortunately, everything has been too much, lately, and the driver’s schedule is not giving him a break. 

- Daddy loves you more than anything else in this world, princess, you know that… - Lewis’ trembling voice cuts his phrase short, swallowing the knot that’s stuck in the man’s throat as his daughter continues weeping on the other side of the line.  - Then come home! I miss you so much, daddy - Grace insists, her sobs growing louder as the little girl tries to understand why her dad can’t be by her side, right now. 

He wishes he could. Lewis feels every bone in his body frail at night, when he lays his head on the pillow and opens his camera roll, going back to every picture and video that reminds him of some moments when he genuinely felt happy and at peace - with Grace in his arms, with you by his side. 

Tonight, some silent tears are finally freed from his eyes, looking at all the pictures of his child in his phone, while his brain is still replaying the toddler’s harsh question that she let out over the call earlier today. 

Lewis feels this moment completely wrecking him, especially when he stops to think about all the videos you send him while he is away, updating him on every new achievement and discovery your daughter makes during the days, trying your best so your husband won’t feel like he is missing too much. 

But he is. And he knows it - especially when he realizes how fast time passes by, how tomorrow isn’t guaranteed for anyone. How does he know that tomorrow is coming? Your husband keeps waiting for it, hoping that a break will eventually arrive so he can go home, but he shouldn’t suppose that tomorrow is coming, because nothing in this world can assure him that there will be one. And that thought kills him, because while he is thinking about it, he realizes that it’s been five weeks since the last time he got to be home, tucking his daughter to bed. 

The excited, bubbly Grace you know has been missing lately, leaving room for a sad and confused toddler to show up in her place - one that holds tighter to you when you hug her, when you’re holding her in your arms, kissing her curls as her lips just show you a downhearted pout. 

As your child grows up, she finds new challenges in life, and dealing with new emotions definitely is one of them - and missing her daddy this much has been leading to a rollercoaster of questions to erupt in your baby’s creative mind. You tuck her into bed, but it’s not the same thing. Your kisses are sweet and protective, but they are not Lewis’ cuddles that make sure to create a shield around the little princess, making sure no monsters can reach her. 

Your days have been hard as well, trying your best to deal with Grace’s doubts and tantrums, hushing her as you assure her that you are right there for her, informing her that her daddy will be by the girl’s side in no time. But, in the silent darkness of the night, heavy sighs escape your figure as well, loud noises of concern erupt in your mind, questioning if you are doing a good job, if you’re being a good mum, if you’re supporting your husband the right way. But, sometimes, you also ask yourself: where do you stand, in the middle of all this?

The arms that hold Grace are the same ones that hold Lewis when he needs it the most, you being the pillar of your family, holding everything in place when a storm threatens to push your boat away from safe land. Either way, you know better than to complain, understanding how this entire situation is hard for your husband as well, sharing the same pain and apprehension when you talk to him over the phone. 

Feeling restless from so many sleepless nights, being haunted by the infinite thoughts running through his brain, the man finally managed to get a free day - just 24 hours, but enough for him to fly back home, accepting the short break if that means he can hold the light of his life in his arms for a bit, shushing away all the small weeps that leave the toddler’s figure. 

Arriving early in the morning, you are already waiting to see your husband walking through the door, with a cup of warm tea in your hand. You can’t deny that there’s a small glimpse of nervousness bubbling inside of your stomach, at the thought of finally seeing him again, praying that his presence will lighten up the mood and help your daughter feel better. 

You’re sipping on your tea when you hear the front door open. Shortly after, his shadow appears on the kitchen’s tiles, mere seconds before the man himself is in front of you - the shine in his eyes, the relieved smile cracking through his tired features is noticeable, as he immediately walks over to you. 

Once your figures meet, Lewis wraps his arms around your figure, holding you close without saying a word, sharing a deep, tight hug while kissing your shoulder lovingly from time to time. There’s a heavy sigh leaving his body, as if being home is the magic solution that helps improve all his problems, taking a huge weight off his shoulders. 

His face is glued to the crook of your neck for a while, as your fingers reach to caress his scalp. It feels like time has stopped, as if the world is not spinning anymore. Both of you are merged in a bubble of comfort and reassurance, almost making up for all the stress and agony that your parental hearts have been feeling lately. 

When your lips finally connect again - after so long, a deafening silence is created between your bodies, as if your kisses speak for the two of you. I miss you, I need you, things have been so hard without you by my side. Both of you feel the same, both of you know how hard the past weeks have been for your family. 

Breaking the kiss, your foreheads are still glued, the tips of your noses touching, wanting to feel the other as close as possible. 

- She’s still asleep? - your husband breaks the silence, asking about Grace. He has very little time to stay, and he wants to enjoy every second by his daughter’s side. Still, the man can’t help but bite his own tongue as he looks at the time: it’s 7:24 am, and he knows that his baby usually doesn’t wake up that early. 

He earns a nod from you. The little girl hasn’t had nice nights of sleep lately either, constantly waking up after having bad dreams, always begging you to cuddle her to sleep, to let her sleep by your side. To tell the truth, your heart softens every time that your daughter asks to sleep with you, loving how she helps you fight Lewis’ absence as well, you two cuddling each other so you don’t feel so alone without his bright, powerful presence around.  

- She’s on your side of the bed, though - you inform him. Last night wasn’t any different. Another nightmare, another cuddle session in your bed before the toddler falls asleep again. 

Lewis furrows his eyebrows at your words for a second, before remembering that you had already told him all about how Grace has been having more bad dreams than usual, especially since she started feeling so down, constantly asking if her dad doesn’t want to be around her anymore. 

Again, a deep sigh leaves his lips, filling the air surrounding you. The memories of everything that his daughter has been saying, make an incredibly heavy weight to form on his shoulders, hating how he has to stay away for work so much, how he hasn’t been able to give his princess all the attention she needs and deserves. 

Trying to shrug those thoughts away, the man serves himself a cup of coffee before reaching for your hand, guiding you to lay on the sofa with him, wanting to enjoy this day to the fullest - starting with a cuddle session with his wife, until it’s time for Grace to wake up. 

Having your husband’s arms wrapped around you again almost feels like a dream. Something that has felt so distant for the past weeks, that you were craving and needing so much. And now, you finally have him all to yourself, and as you rest your head on his chest, a comfortable silence strings your bodies along. No one dares to say a word, just focusing on how each other’s touch feels light yet soothing against the other’s skin, leaving kisses here and there, hugging tighter and closer. 

In the back of your head, there’s a small assumption that keeps itching you. As much as you want to believe that he is home to stay - at least for a week or so, unfortunately, you noticed how small is the bag that he brought with him when he arrived. An incredibly small one, the type that Lewis only uses when he is only away for a weekend or so. So, as much as you want to make the most of this, the cuddles, his presence, you know it’s something that it won’t last. 

It’s like Lewis can feel the tension that slowly creeps on your muscles the more you think about it, his hands rubbing your back to try and calm you down, showing that he is here, right by your side, trying to take your mind off of whatever is bothering you. 

But in reality, he too has been obsessively thinking about the time passing by, how he needs to leave again in the middle of the night, not even being able to sleep beside his wife for an entire night - wanting nothing more than to cuddle you and Grace to sleep in his chest, protecting the loves of his life. But he can’t. Not tonight. And he knows that he hasn’t told you about it yet, but it’s like he can’t find the courage in his body to do it, to drop the bomb in your face, to ruin the moment you’re having right now. So he decides to keep it to himself, for now. 

8:47 am, you and your husband are climbing up the stairs to your shared bedroom, where your daughter is still sleeping. Opening the door to her tiny figure wrapped in the sheets, her curls all over his pillow, truly is the sight that the man didn’t know he needed to heal every wound in his heart. 

Lewis doesn’t even hold back, his body moving on its own as he sits at the end of the bed, on his side of the mattress that now apparently belongs to Grace, so he can have a better view of his baby’s features. 

She looks gorgeous as ever, the most beautiful and precious thing that Lewis has ever laid his eyes on, the most important thing in the driver’s life, the owner of his entire heart, without a doubt. Some small tears tingle in his eyes as his fingers gently caress the toddler’s cheek, slowly nudging her so the girl can wake up. 

- Princess - he calls quietly, before landing a small kiss on his child’s hand. - Time to wake up. 

Slowly opening her eyes, the little girl rubs her features as she wakes up from her slumber. Her gaze immediately is glued to the figure in front of her, almost as if she is trying to make sense of reality, questioning if she is still dreaming. 

- Daddy? - Grace whispers, before some tears appear in her eyes as Lewis nods at her question, getting close so he can hold her small body close to him. 

Small cries escape the toddler’s figure, as she immediately wraps her arms around her dad’s neck, using all her strength to not let him go, scared that he might leave again if she breaks the hug. 

Lewis can’t even describe the feeling washing over him as he can finally hold his daughter safely in his arms, noticing the scent of her baby shampoo, how her skin still holds his favourite smell ever. He can only take deep breaths, kissing the top of Grace’s head countless times, trying to calm himself down so as to not break down crying while holding his baby.

It’s an emotional sight, even for you , now that you are watching your two favourite people reunite, feeling your heart beating stronger in your chest, as if it’s being refilled with love again, after so many insecurities pooling over your head lately. 

And your daughter’s cries quickly turn into an excited gasp that leaves her lips, forgetting about all the sadness that she was carrying lately - now being substituted by happiness, the genuine type, from having her father near her again.

Soon enough, the toddler is jumping on the mattress, giggling loud as she celebrates the fact that daddy is home again, and now he can have tea parties with her, she can show him how she has mastered all the techniques he has taught her about riding her pink bike, watch her favourite cartoons with her on the sofa, and do everything that the girl has been wanting to do with him while he was away. 

Lewis giggles for a moment, before feeling a weight sinking in his chest again, remembering how he can’t do any of that with his princess, because he will leave again in a few hours. 

- Daddy! Can we go see the cute ducks at the lake tomorrow? Mummy took me there the other day, and there are little ones now! You need to see them, they are sooo cute!! - Her excited tone, mixed with the puppy eyes that she is giving him, are enough to break the man’s heart. And he knows that his next words are about to break his daughter’s heart as well.

Sighing, he tries his hardest to find the right words to say it, but it’s like his brain just forgot every single one of them. 

- Daddy can’t make it tomorrow, love. - the little girl furrows her eyebrows, not really understanding what her dad is trying to say. - Are you tired from the trip back home, daddy? It’s okay, we can go the day after tomorrow. We can just stay home and have a tea party instead? - her cute smile is just making everything hurt even more for him.  - Bubs, daddy is only home for today. I have a day off work and came back to see you and mummy, but I have to leave again after you go to sleep tonight. - there it is, the words that he didn’t want to say, and the ones that no one in the room wanted to hear. 

Your head hangs low as you hear it. Deep down, you already knew it. You knew it, as soon as you saw the bag that clearly showed that he wasn’t going to stay for long, when neither of you wanted to talk about the day he had to leave you two again. And now, you know why. 

His words hit Grace like a million bricks, the poor little girl being met with reality once again as she tries her best to hold back the tears that still slide down her cheeks. 

- You don’t love me anymore! You don’t want to spend time with me anymore! - the toddler screams before running away from her dad, hiding in between the four safe, pink walls of her room. 

And again, Lewis is met with his daughter’s harsh words, that are enough to tear his entire world apart. He gets up from the bed, wanting to go meet his child again, only to be stopped by your hand, touching his chest in a silent ‘don’t’. He too can see the disappointment evident in your eyes before you break eye contact, turning your back on him as you go to your daughter’s room. 

Your husband sits on the edge of the bed again, his head in his hands as he rethinks every small decision that he has ever made, questioning why his schedule has to be so chaotic, why life can’t ease up on him a little more, so he can have some more time for his family. At this point, he doesn’t know what he can do to be better, to make things right, to make it easier for everybody, knowing for a fact that he has, above all, been failing his family lately: failing you as a husband, failing Grace as her father. 

Opening the door of your shared bedroom a little bit, he can hear his baby’s loud cries again, as you hold her close in your chest, trying your best to calm her down again - something that has become a part of your routine already. And the sounds, the mental picture of what’s happening behind Grace’s bedroom door is enough to break him, to make some tears fall from his eyes as well as he clenches his fist, absolutely hating this entire situation, cursing himself from having to leave his family so soon. 

Grace doesn’t know how to deal with these new emotions that have been erupting through her small figure lately. All she knows is that she is sad, very sad. And very confused with her dad’s agenda, not understanding why this is making her chest hurt, only making her cry out more, feeling scared with the discomfort that these newfound emotions provide her. 

Tired of hearing his princess cry while staying still in his bedroom without doing anything to help or to make it better, Lewis decides to step up, gaining the courage to walk to the toddler’s room.

Knocking on the door gently, he hopes to be met with a ‘come in’. But instead, he is met with a loud ‘I don’t want to see you!’ coming from his daughter’s mouth, hearing how you reprimand her due to the attitude she is giving him, now. There’s a desperate sigh escaping Lewis’ lips now, but still, he decides to ignore Grace’s words, walking inside the room. 

Once he does, the toddler immediately hides her face in your chest again, trying her best not to look at her dad’s face, keeping her words. 

- Grace, please look at me - Lewis asks her with a serious tone, crouching down so he is eye leveled with the kid. But still, all he gets in return is silence, and the girl only hides her face further into the crook of your neck. 

Rubbing his features with his hands almost desperately, he looks up at you, giving you a pleading glance, needing your help with this - begging you to forget about how sad and disappointed you are feeling at him now as well, so you can help him solve this problem with your daughter now. 

With a tired sigh, you give in. 

- Grace, look at your father - you say. Still, nothing. You know she is as stubborn as you are, but you absolutely hate when she is acting up this way. - Grace. - you say more sternly, catching the girl’s attention as she slowly turns to look at him, now. 

Once Lewis’ eyes meet his child’s again, the pain in both of their chests connects, feeling it in the exact same intensity. Taking in the sight of his daughter’s tear stained face is the worst part of it all. 

- Bubs, please listen to daddy carefully. - he starts speaking, feeling his voice cracking a bit, laced with the million different emotions surrounding his body as well.  - You know how you and mummy are going to move to the new house that daddy got in Italy, right baby? I even showed you pictures of your new room and everything - he asks Grace, trying to give her a calm, light tone. The girl nods her head, not really in the mood to talk now.  - So, daddy needs to go because I am preparing everything so you can move there as fast as possible love, so we can spend every day together again. - the thought of having his family next to him all day, every day again, makes a small smile appear in the man’s face.  - But you are never home anymore. You can leave that house and come here! And you don’t want to play with me anymore. - the toddler finally speaks up, finding a perfectly reasonable solution for the problem. 

Lewis tries to get closer to the little girl, his fingers gently touching her small hand, hoping she will give in a bit, so she can better understand what’s going on and hug him again in no time. 

- Princess, my favourite thing in this world is to play with you. Tea parties, riding our bikes, you painting my nails, watching ducks at the lake, you name it. My favourite time in this world is the time I get to spend by your side - he admits, being completely transparent as he looks right into the toddler’s eyes. - You know daddy loves you more than anything in this entire world, bubs. 

The three-year-old slowly nods her head ‘yes’. She does know that her dad loves her more than anything, but she is still hurt. 

- I promise everything will get easier, princess. I’m doing everything I can so we can be together everyday again really, really fast, okay? Please forgive me, my love. Daddy never wanted to hurt you - landing a small kiss on her cheek, his hands caress her hair as the little girl moves in your lap, stretching her small arms to hug her daddy. 

And once Lewis is able to hold his princess in his arms again, everything feels a bit more right, as if the toddler has the power to glue the pieces of his heart together. The only things that can be heard in the room are muffled ‘I love you, bubs’, ‘I love you so much’, that Lewis keeps whispering to his daughter, to which Grace quietly replies ‘I love you too, daddy’. 

Today, there were no tea parties, the kid didn’t paint her dad’s nails, they didn’t go to see the ducks at the lake. Instead, they ate the toddler’s favourite breakfast together, at home, and decided to just spend the entire day cuddling on the sofa, enjoying the time together as a family, playing some small games, singing songs, dancing in the middle of the living room, to an extent that loud giggles would erupt through the walls.

After dinner, the air grows heavy again, as the three of you know that the day

is coming to an end, and that Lewis won’t be home again once you and your daughter wake up. 

The man carries Grace safely in his arms, her tiny limbs strongly wrapped around his neck as well, as they reach the toddler’s bedroom. Now, you decided to let them have this moment to themselves, waiting downstairs for your husband to come back. 

Tucking his princess in bed as he usually does, the biggest kiss lands on the little girl’s forehead, ready to scare all monsters away, so she can have the most peaceful of sleeps, with the sweetest of dreams. 

- Have a nice night of sleep, my love - Lewis says, trying not to show how this goodbye is killing him, playing it off with a smile. 

However, he notices the kid’s big chocolate eyes looking up at him attentively. 

- Please come back fast, daddy. I feel so cold without you here. And mummy misses you too - the toddler whispers, almost on the verge of crying again. 

Lewis needs to swallow the lump forming in his throat again, staying silent for a second as he takes in his daughter’s words. 

- I promise I’ll be fast, bubs. You’ll be in your new room, in our new house, in no time. I promise - he shows her his pinky finger, knowing how serious Gracie takes pinky promises. 

The fact that her daddy is pinky promising her that they will be together again soon, makes a sparkle appear in the girl’s eyes, as she wraps her own pinky around his. 

- I love you so, so much, princess. More than anything in this world. Never doubt that - he insists, kissing her forehead again before giving her another bear hug.  - I love you too, daddy. And please make sure that my new bedroom has the right shade of pink in the walls - the three-year-old jokes, lightening the mood as her dad gets up from her bed.  - I will, baby. I will - he giggles lightly, before blowing one last kiss to his biggest reason to live, closing the door behind him. 

Lewis takes a moment before coming downstairs again, wiping away some of the tears that escaped his eyes. Saying goodbye to little Gracie is always the hardest, and definitely the worst part. 

Finally meeting you in the living room, the man completely breaks down as you engulf him in your arms, noticing how much of a wreck he is. You let him cry in your arms, staying silent as he apologizes over and over again to you. For not being home as much, for not having many days off of work, for failing you when you need him the most. 

At this moment, he starts thinking that maybe you were right all along. He should have slowed down already, he should have left F1 behind, dedicating himself to his other projects and especially to his family, which needs him so much. But he couldn’t say no to the opportunity of joining Ferrari, putting his dreams in front of everything else. 

This might only be temporary, until you and Grace finally meet him in Italy, but you are sure that you can’t keep up doing this for much longer, now. 

- Things can’t continue like this, Lewis - you tell him, hot tears sliding down your cheeks as well, now.  - I know, love. I know. I’m sorry, I promise I’ll make everything right. In a blink of an eye, the three of us will be together in our new home, baby. Please, just be a little more patient with me - he begs, his arms wrapping tighter around your silhouette as he voices his pleads. 

You sigh. You know you will end up giving in, but you can only take so much, and now, there’s not a day that you aren’t concerned about the future of your family. 

- Just don’t let this sport break you, baby. Don’t let them take you from us. We need you so, so much - you confess, seeing Lewis nod as his tears match yours, holding you in his chest as you mourn the time you had for each other. 

Before he has to leave, he makes sure to cuddle you extra close in bed, your words echoing in his mind to the point where he feels like he could drown in them, dying in your arms as you fall into a peaceful sleep in his chest, almost as if he will still be by your side once you wake up. 

But you know he will leave during the night. And so, while you have the privilege to fall asleep in his chest, you trick your mind to dream about him, so you can have him twice, making sure that, one way or another, he will still be with you once you wake up in the morning. 

In your absence, everything is suspended for Lewis. Your husband is so addicted to seeing you, that he just daydreams about your figure being right by his side, inventing you everywhere, feeding the void that the distance insists in creating between him and his family.

He hates it, he really does. But unfortunately, there’s nothing he can do right now. He wishes he could make a call and cancel all his responsibilities for the rest of the week, spending all day by his girls’ side. But he can’t. And right now, he can only pray for you to be even more patient, until the day you are together again, in your new house.

Tucking you in bed with a forehead kiss, the man leaves your shared room, feeling all the weight coming back to his shoulders as he picks up his bag, leaving his happiness behind as he travels back to his job, leaving his heart behind, in his home in the human shapes of you and Gracie, wanting to be right where his family is. 

[the-ladyrae]

I recently met a girl on Bumble, and I'm mad as hell about it because she lives less than half a mile away from me.

(Which I'm aware is like the opposite of a problem. RIP literally every other lesbian dealing with long distance. It is a privilege for me to be able to take a leisurely stroll to my gf's place [and there's a grocery store at the half way point of the walk so I can stop in and buy her flowers and snacks] and be there in no more than 15 minutes)

Anyway, I'm mad about it because I also loudly decry the effects dating apps have on human courting rituals. The comodification of intimacy to the degree of when people think of meeting someone now a days we don't think of going out to a bar, or dancing, or complimenting an interesting stranger in public. In most cases, we've actually begun to shun these things! The evolution of this in my mind began with the statement of "Women don't want to be approached in public." And for the most part, that holds true. We don't want to be bothered at work, where we have to be nice to you or risk getting fired. Or when we're out doing errands, grocery shopping, laundrymatt, whatever she's just trying to get some stuff done, leave her alone. Or at the gym, where the mindset is not really aligned with that activity. Or at the bar, we came together we leave together and keep an eye out someone might try to put something in your drink.

OK, wait, but back-up, I thought it was acceptable to approach women in social situations?

Well, it was, but doesn't that sound scary? You don't know that person that just came up to you and asked for your number. What if they're a serial killer, unlikely but wouldn't you rather have the opportunity to look into that first? Check their references so to speak.

I mean sure that sounds like a good thing, but how is this safer? I'm essentially doing what my parents told me not to my entire childhood, and meeting up with strangers from the internet.

Sure sure, sure, but this is different! We're providing a safe space where everyone is up front about who they are and their intentions! You can find exactly what you're looking for with all our magical filters (some might cost you a bit, but don't think about that yet). And then here's the kicker you can talk to them before you meet up in our messaging function, take an appropriate amount of time to learn everything you can and decide if this person is trustworthy enough to meet in person. That sounds nice doesn't it?

I guess I do like the idea of having a designated space where I know it's acceptable to approach an individual! And I mean how hard can it be to navigate one app?

Oh sorry I forgot to mention this part. It's not just one app there are like half a dozen major players that everyone kinda cycles through so you'll have to have all of them to play the field and increase the odds of you finding your one. And also because of the nature of us now giving you a haystack of options when you're looking for a needle you'll have to weed out like a dozen people at a time reality TV harem dating show style, while they do the same to you.

That doesn't exactly sound like a better system... But it clearly is, because of this system I met someone, didn't I? Well yes, but she lives half a mile away in the same neighborhood. We shop at the same grocery store, go to the same bars, have similar interests in general, and are both reasonably visibly distinct from a crowd (she's got bright pink hair, I'm a 6'1" femme who can't dress casual to save her life)

And we've both lived in this area for months without even noticing each other even though we're exactly each other's type. I don't know if any of that really made sense, but I think the point is that the dating apps are only fixing barriers to connection that they created. They are only solving problems they created, and we're paying them for it.

tumblr please stop showing me dating apps ads. i'll meet girls the old way; never

[soldiersgirl]

— 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 .ᐟ

summary — the work week was harder than expected, but it was nothing a little clubbing and some casual fun couldn't fix. but nothing about soldier boy is casual and you look delicious enough to eat.

cw — 18+, smut, p in v (wrap it), mentions of drinking and smoking, clubbing, oral (f & m receiving), fingering, teasing, nicknames (good girl, princess, sweetheart, slut), biting, cold/sweet ben. (lmk if i forgot any!)

word count — 2,241 words

the lights flashed, the drinks flowed, hips were swung and cigarettes were smoked without a care in the world. the work week at vought had been brutal; you had thought that working marketing for vought was your biggest dream, but turned out to be a nightmare in disguise.

all you needed was a way to get your frustrations out and somebody already had their sight on you; watching you like a predator stalks its prey. waiting to strike. to devour. consume.

the beat overtook your body as you danced with your girlfriends at the bar, wildly rocking your hips and laughing loudly as you held onto each other for support. your balance like a newborn fawn after the countless tequila shots and free drinks from sleazy vought business men.

1 shot, 2 shot, 3 shot, 4. one shot for each time ashley had either berated or shouted at you in the past week in front of the whole team, reducing you to nothing but a mess.

"do you really think homelander would write some fucking shit like this?" "you need to cover a-trains fucking live right now, he goes off the rails without a shitting script!" "how far is your head up your own asshole that you can't see the mistakes?"

all you wanted to do was quit, but your best friend had really stuck her neck out and gotten you the position and quitting would only fuck it up for both of you. you swallowed your pride like you swallowed the bitter alcohol and plastered on a fake smile. you couldn't work out if you were trying to convince your friends or yourself of your happiness anymore.

your eyes couldn't help but scan the crowd, it felt like something was calling out to you. craving your attention. all you could see was the heaving, starved movements of the dancers. bodies grinding against each other in desperation, sweet nothings and dirty promises whispered in ears. skin pulled, kisses shared, drinks drunk and spilt. until you noticed him.

a smirk on his face, a cigarette dangling from his plush lips framed by soft stubble, and an intimidating gaze. his stance frozen and domineering as the crowd ebbed and flowed around him like a lonesome island in a vast ocean. frozen, like the unstable fawn caught in the headlights, you are captured by his harsh gaze as he follows your every move. he notices how your breath hitches, how your heartbeat quickens, how your brain tries to make sense of where you'd seen him before.

you tug on your friends arm, tearing her attention away from some old businessman who is too eager for his own good. you hold her hands tight as your eyes frantically dart over to him, not daring to look away for too long. she catches the hint and her eyes drift to the dominating figure in the crowd and a small smirk spreads across her face.

"you want to be careful of that one." she laughs, her shoulders shaking as she glances you over.

"have you seen him before? he looks so familiar..." you shout over the bass and drum as you hesitantly follow her lead to the dance floor, your heels click-clacking in sync.

"we fucked once, i think. can't really recall. you don't recognise him?" she shouts in your ear as you reach the epicenter of the crowd and let the music flow through you. you give him one last look and shake your head. "it's......" she tries to shout, but the thrum of the bass muffles her voice. you struggle to concentrate, to listen to her warnings but your mind has fogged over. all control has been relinquished to the beat that flows over you like rain during a thunderstorm.

your body hums and tingles as you sway and swing your hips to the techno music that blasts, but all the while you feel his glare burn a hole into the nape of your neck. before you even know it you feel hands grab your hips, almost carefully, before you feel his stubble scratching against your neck. his hands travel wildly as you lean your head back to rest it on his wide shoulders and melt into the sensation of him. he grabs and spins you around. you're confronted with his infamous sage green eyes that you could drown in surrounded by a mask of intimidation and power.

soldier boy. with a big bald wolf-ish grin plastered on his face, ready to swallow you whole.

a blur. tongues and teeth clashing. hips grinding. promises whispered. dragged to a back door exit and thrown into a waiting car. all leading up to now in a dingy motel, still fully clothed and on your knees in front of him. your heart beating through your chest as you gaze up at him through your heavy lashes as he admires you, so willing to be good for him. he groans as he fully takes you in; your baited breath and your wanting eyes. "shit, sweetheart. those eyes could melt any man's heart." soldier boy sighs as he reaches forward and runs his calloused finger over your lower lip, tugging on it and eliciting a whine from you. "too bad, i lost mine years ago." he comments nonchalantly as he drags his hand away from you and rests it on his belt. "now, are you going to be a good girl? or are we going to have some fuckin' problems?" his voice is rough and cold as he watches you shake your head. "i asked you a question, i expect an answer." he sighs, louder. "i'll be good, so good." you whisper, unaware of what you've unleashed upon yourself. with a smirk, he nods as if to say "go ahead" and you waste no time reaching up, undoing his belt and tugging down his moss green supe-trousers. you marvelled at the sight of him. the veins that curled around it, the pinkish hue of the tip, the girth that could break you. instinctively, you wrap your hand around it and slowly tug on it, earning a long exhale from him as he throws his head, urging you to grip harder and go faster. you lick a stripe from the base to the tip of his hard cock and twirl your tongue around his reddened tip, the taste of salt lingering in your mouth.

before you know it, soldier boy has threaded his fingers through your soft hair and tugs on it as your lips glide up and down his length, fully taking him and relishing in his soft moans. his hips start to rock, burying himself in your throat as your nails dig into his strong thighs. the pain barely registering to him as he loses himself in the way your skilled lips and tongue work against him.

"you look so fucking good like this, sweetheart. my dick.." he grunts and pulls out, letting you breathe for a second. "down your slutty throat." he gently strokes your cheek as you catch your breath, the tears and spit glistening before guiding himself back into the comforting warmth of your mouth around him. he watches, almost adoringly, as you stroke and suck on his thick cock, your eyes never leaving his as you give into your urges.

"does it make you feel good? sucking on soldier's boy cock like this? so fuckin' desperate for me, aren't you?" he mutters with a devilish smile. "i don't even know your name and yet, you're so ready for me, baby. fuck..." his eyes roll into the back of his head as you once again deep-throat him. "fuck this." he grunts before pulling himself out of your mouth with a wet 'pop!'. he roughly grabs you by the hair on the nape of your neck, tugs you up and push you down onto his cluttered bed. he positions you how he wants and you follow willingly like his little doll as lays you on your back, with your knees bent and your pink panties on full display.

he lets out a loud groan as he notices the wet patch that had only gotten bigger and bigger since he first laid his strong hands on you in the club. you whimper as his rough fingers trace the outline of your panties, grazing against your soft thighs. the difference between his tentative touches and harsh words that make your heart soar before making it almost beat out of your chest.

"all this for me, baby? so wet just for me?" he mocks with a fake pout as his fingers finally drag over your clothed clit, pressing down on it and watching you squirm.

"soldier bo-" you start but he cuts you off with a light slap to your thigh.

"ben." he interjects, a silent warning.

"ben." you mutter. "please, please.. just touch me, fuck me. anything.." your breath quickens as you finally give in and plead; god, it was like music to his ears. he pulls off the last of his supe-suit, leaving him completely exposed as you lay still in your heels and dress, not daring to move without his permission. he nudges your legs further apart with his chin before delicately kissing the inside of your legs, his scruff scratching you as he torturously slowly makes his way to where you both want him to be. he inhales your sweet scent; the fear, uncertainty and desire rolling off of you.

finally. he hooks his fingers and yanks your panties down, exposing your slick and needy folds to him. you can hear him lowly hum as he admires the mess he's made of you. he can't hold himself back anymore. his hunger is overwhelming and you're being served on a plate to him. he tenderly kisses your clit before completely drowning himself in you and letting his tongue explore you.

his tongue prods and glides expertly into every divot and crevice as your fingers thread through his soft, chestnut brown hair and cry out from the pleasure.

"fuck, ben! oh my go-" you softly moan before his fingers slide into you with ease, your walls inviting and immediately moulding to his thick fingers. like a man starved, he swallows all you have to offer him. each moan and plea that rolls off your tongue only fuels his desire for more. more.

he struggles to pull himself back from your warm, wet cunt and your addicting taste but he can't wait anymore and neither can you. your breath hitches and your legs shake with anticipation as you realise his next move. his slick-covered mouth curls into a smirk as he towers over you, forcefully pushing your dress up and roughly lifting your hips to meet his leaking, wanting tip. a unified, grumbled moan escape you both as he effortlessly pushes himself past your slippery folds and nestles himself deeply against your mound. his cock expertly kisses your cervix before he lazily pulls back and slams into you with a force unlike any other.

pornographic moans and the squelch of your wetness fills the seedy motel room. he can't tear his eyes away from you for a second, afraid he'll miss a twitch of your lips, a deep heaving of your chest or your eyes rolling into the back of your head. both his hands curl around your throat, enjoying the feeling of your quickened heartbeat under the pad of his thumb.

"you look good enough to eat, princess." he pants. "you're so fucking tight, god.. look at it." he looks adoringly down. "just keeps suckin' me in so deep." he swears under his breath as he hitches your legs around his waist, your heels clicking together with each harsh thrust. he leans down and grazes his teeth over your chest, spilling out of your little black dress. he sighs and bites down on your breast, hard, earning a yelp from you as you try to push him away. he licks and sucks on the marked skin, right above your fluttering heart. he sucked and nibbled at the sensitive area, as if he could delve right in and eat your heart right out. you whimper his name as your orgasm builds and threatens to explode.

"ben, please- fuck, please. let me cum. i-" your words come out a jumbled mess as his pace quickens, enjoying how you fall apart so easily beneath him.

"fucking cum for me. cum on my fucking cock. let them know how good soldier boy fucks your pussy, slut." he whispers into your neck as he, somehow, manages to shove himself even deeper and your walls clamp down around him. your body jerks and a series of mewls escape you before he follows swiftly behind and fills you up. he harshly grabs your face and kisses you deeply as his thrusts turn lazy and eventually stop.

he pulls back an inch or two to brush away the hair from your face and places a soft, unexpected kiss on your forehead. but like before, his demeanour quickly shifts, and he pushes himself off of the bed, gathers your underwear and carelessly throws it to you. but you catch the way his eyes linger on you, noticing something innocent behind his hardened eyes. you knew this wouldn't be the last time you'd see him.

that boy is a monster; a beast. and you're the beauty, willing to let yourself fall prey to him and his wicked ways.

authors note — AAAHHH MY FIRST FIC EVER. what the fuck??!! please be sweet, this was a terrifying process to go through and i hope no one is disappointed 😞 — based on the banger by lady gaga that i've been listening to on repeat for 2 months straight.

[pricegouge]

the erotic pin up thought but imagine nikolai tattooing his favourite pic and surprising his lover with it :3

he's already been away for two weeks when you get a text from an unknown number. you don't need the contact to discern who it is, anyway. in istanbul. things are running long. don't expect me back so soon. you're not expecting a reply when you tell him not to worry, to just keep himself safe, but you're delighted when you get one anyway.

>>You too, milaya.

he messages you at least once a day, just to check in. you've never been able to contact him like this while he's been on mission before and you don't want to ruin it by being too needy but the temptation of your phone lays heavy in your pocket all week. you'd hate to interfere but he makes it hard when he keeps up a slow, steady means of communication. you wonder about the mission, don't dare ask. it seems unlikely that he'd let himself be so distracted if it were something high stakes, though. it's possible he's been relegated to glorified taxi while bigger pieces make their moves and you can't help but sympathize when you picture him waiting around, dining in the quaint kind of cafes he'd never really seemed to find an appreciation for - at least, not on his own. he was always happy enough to take you but it had always been very clear where his interest lied, dark eyes trained on you even as he ordered. observant, filing away each little reaction he could pull from you with savory dishes and select deserts. you flatter yourself, imagining his patience breaking, just a little more each day, just enough to text you, earlier and earlier each day until two weeks have come and gone and you've basically fallen into a constant rapport.

you ask for pictures of the city and he obliges, little peeks into the life he's living while away. yet more evidence this is some bizarrely political mission he doesn't really need to be present for. you note when he moves locales a few times but he tactfully avoids telling you his location again. he stops sending you pictures altogether when you start guessing correctly.

so you start sending him pictures instead. they start out innocent enough, testing the limits of what you're allowed to say on this line. he shows gives no intent to stop you when you show him the view from the summit of a local hike, nor even when you snap a picture outside a local restaurant, its logo left carelessly in frame. he only tells you to enjoy, doubles down when you send a selfie with your cheeks stuffed full of spanakopita.

you start to think he deserves a reward, being on the clock for nearly a month straight and still finding the time to check in with you.

his hangar is a sacred place, one you rarely enter without his accompaniment. too many expensive tools, machinery pulled apart with all its fragile bits exposed. you're always afraid to touch, afraid to break. nik had told you once that every item there was made of sterner stuff, that you couldn't hurt a swashplate if you climbed up on it. funny how you might be taking him up on the offer now.

(you wouldn't know really, the knowledge about what a swashplate even was having gone in one ear and right out the other. not your fault when he looked that good, jumpsuit folded down to reveal a sweaty, clingy tank top, wiry hair visible through the thin ribbed material.)

but you're getting ahead of yourself.

the tarp kicks up a mess when you pull it free, concrete dust having settled in nik's absence. it sends you into a sneezing fit and you curse, smudging your makeup as you try to wipe away the moisture collecting on your lash line. you decide to roll with it when you catch a glimpse of yourself in some nearby chrome, see the kind of effect it brings to your overall look.

your makeup is classic, a bright lip and exaggerated liner. even a painted on beauty mark to really knock it home. the outfit was harder to settle on, your every instinct telling you nik always appreciated when you looked your finest, all dolled up in expensive labels he'd bought for you. but ultimately you'd decided what was good for the goose was good for the gander, pilfering from his closet until you'd found what you were looking for, the exact same outfit which drove you mad.

nik's a big man, his jumpsuit made to reflect that. it drapes away from your waist when you let it hang but it's nothing that a clever safety pin corset can't fix, the top of the suit left to hang over it, hiding it away. long legs are easier to remedy, hems tucked into a pair of hiking boots you hadn't cared about in years, now painted to look the part with the same gear grease you'd smeared all over yourself, tasteful swipes meant to accentuate your soft curves, here on display under the dirty tank top you'd sworn you'd told him to get rid of, now tied tight around your waist to show off your chest. and now with your smudged makeup you think you've finally got it right, the look exactly what you'd been going for when you'd first got the notion in your head.

with the stage already set, the photoshoot goes easily enough. the poses are almost instinctual, the big wrench you wield almost natural in your hands as you lean provocatively over the engine block, tits to squished you doubt he'll ever even notice the size isn't right for the bolts in front of you. you try a couple of different styles, positions which are obviously designed with aesthetics in mind interspersed with more competent looking ones, even though it makes you feel ridiculous when you think of how obvious it will be to him that you don't know what you're doing.

you just have to remember how little he's going to mind it, all told.

editing isn't your strong suit. you're racked with doubt all the while, hyperfocused on every little flaw you spot. it gets easier when you remember the whole shoot is meant to be quite grimy and in the end you settle on a decent collection. you even remember to upload them to a file sharing site to avoid compression, sending him the link with a wink and a warning not to open in front of his comrades.

he calls you naughty immediately, but it's long hours before he can properly respond, a call that wakes you up in the middle of the night so he can pant and moan in your ear about how much he wants to bend you over that engine, peel his suit off of you and eat your cunt from the back. it's the first time you've heard his voice in weeks and the low rumble of it conspires with the slickness in your panties which never fully righted itself after your little photoshoot, the anticipation of his reaction keeping you primed for him. you come together before trading quiet reassurances. how much you miss each other, how you can't wait to see him again. he makes a vague promise to be home soon and you're still so sated that the twinge of loneliness feels like nothing really.

you think that's the end of it. that maybe he'll request more, at most. but then you wake up days later with a furnace at your back and a hairy arm draped over your side. it's still early, the sun not even up yet. you should let him sleep but you can't help rolling within the age of his arm and planting a chaste kiss on his cheek. even in the low light you can see how haggard and hollow he looks, run ragged for too long. his beard is overgrown, the short stubble he usually keeps filling out into a decent beard.

really it's unfair how handsome he looks even now.

"go back to sleep."

you huff a laugh and press another kiss to him. lower now that you know he's awake. above his cupid's bow, your own lips drawn tight with your smile. "but it's morning."

"can't be," he counters, voice thick with exhaustion. "i only just fell asleep."

you hum, distracted as you trace the wrinkles of his forehead. was that one always there? was it new? "maybe it's not wherever you were," you concede. "where were you, by the way?"

"where wasn't i?" he sighs as he rolls away, a great puff of air that cuts through the easiness of the morning, reminds you of what exactly he's likely returned from. the culmination of the mission, even the easy one it seemed to be. he was rarely ever trotted out for emissary visits, after all.

but you don't want to think about all that so you follow him as he rolls, laying yourself across his chest to keep him grounded as you rub against his far shoulder. "well you're home now and my vote's for sleeping in."

his chest rumbles beneath you, a quiet laugh you can feel more so than you can hear. he takes your hand in his and presses a kiss to your fingers before setting it back down in favor of reaching much lower to pull you more properly onto him. your grip shifts from his shoulder to his bicep and you pause when you feel the edge of a bandage there, worry settling low in your belly as you trace the edges of it. "you're hurt?" you demand, but you don't give him a chance to respond before sitting up and leaning across him to turn the lamp on.

it takes you a moment to make sense of what you're looking at, the bandage you'd felt before nothing more than four haphazard lines of tape holding a square of black plastic against his skin. he laughs at your confusion, thumbing the furrow between your brows away as he also sits up, pulling you onto his lap as he reassures you he's not hurt.

"what's that then?" you ask, afraid to peel the edges up and see for yourself.

he's chuckling as he does it for you, the wrap pulling away to reveal the neat black lines and bold color of a traditional tattoo, a plump little pinup in a barely-hanging-on mechanic's jumpsuit, her cartoonishly circular tits squeezed between her own arms as she leaned confidently over simplified engine block. it's good work from what you can tell. his bicep is a big canvas, the tattoo itself appropriately sized, leaving the artist enough room for minute details, smudges of brown oil accentuating your curves and a wry smile below demure lids.

still.

"you didn't," you scoff, too blown away to even know if you're actually mad or not. you don't think you are, but what if he -

what if -

"well it was either this or i get you airbrushed on the side of the blackhawk, but you are mine, and i do not want just anyone to see you like that."

[goatgoesmbe]

Y/N: Torturing König for information

König: Oh... that's quite nice

Y/N: Why can't anyone take me seriously. Fuck this, Ghost can deal with this

König: NO please- I can be normal about this!

Y/N: Can you.

König: ...no

Y/N: GHOST! COME HERE!

👀👀👀👀

Alright now, hear me out anon- i hope you don't mind me turning this to 3k words porn.

big thamks to my mommy-auntie (montie?) @ahobaka-trash for beta-reading

KonigxReader + GhostxReader tw : edging, implied torture, hostage interrogation, blueballing, open ending

Ghost wasn't dumb. He knew exactly what was going on in that giant colonel's head, ever since he saw you innocently beaming at them, gesturing at your catch, a hostage.

Konig was his name, a fucking colonel. No offense to you luv, but from how everyone glanced at each other, no one believed you could take down that hunk of a mountain.

But a hostage is a hostage.

"GHOST! COME HERE!" he heard you yell. After a nod from Price, he then stepped inside the interrogation room.

You were not assigned to interrogate him at first. But Konig is tight-lipped, barely flinching at any pain, and made no sound except when he demanded your presence.

Dark brown iris lazily trailed to their hostage, who was now shirtless- well except for the shirt on his head which they couldn't get off him. It was like the colonel simply let them do what they wanted, but put his foot down when they overstepped his boundaries. Like he was in charge instead of them.

Ghost took in the cuts and bruises. They definitely looked painful, unpleasant. But from what he heard when he stood behind the one-way mirror, the soft moans and heavy breathing, it seemed like it was doing the opposite.

bastard's fucked in the 'ead, the lieutenant thought.

The usual method of torture wouldn't work on him. Ghost needed to improvise.

He said nothing and simply stood behind you before leaning down to whisper in your ear "Do you trust me, luv?".

You looked back, big doe eyes blinked at him in confusion. That innocent look on your face always made him question how the fuck did you survive working alongside them all this time.

"Um.. yes-?" a gasp slipped out your lips before you could say more, gloved hand fisting your hair and tugging back towards him. You went rigid like a kitten held by the scruff.

"Yeah?" He asked again in a low purr, the other hand trailing up your torso to squeeze your tit.

You gasped again, staying still as your eyes immediately looked at the large mirror where you knew the others were watching. Expecting anyone to say something.

Silence 

Like they were waiting for your greenlight. No interruption from your captain, nor the hostage. It was all up to you what's gonna happen next.

Silence, except for faint panting from the colonel tied up in front of you.

You nodded.

And instantly, your top was ripped off of you.

You didn't get enough time to react to it, your pants got yanked down, now pooling around your knees before slowly falling to your ankles.

"Y'gonna talk now?" Ghost asked, slipping into that persona he always used in this situation. Straight to the business and no-nonsense, nonchalant about his colleague who was now half naked in his grip.

You could see Konig's eyes darkened as his pupils dilated, his breathing was heavier than before. Then, his blown pupils glanced up at Ghost while he tilted his head as if he was taunting him.

The grip on your hair tightened and you were pushed forward just enough for Konig to lean in and tug your bra down with his teeth.

Your lips parted and you feel that clench. Mind and body against each other. You shouldn't be enjoying this, a voice in your head said, scolding you for getting your panties wet.

With your tits now exposed to the cold air of the interrogation room, your nipples perked invitingly. You held your breath when your hostage opened his mouth to have a taste, only for it to be denied when you got yanked back.

"Well?" Said a voice beside your ear, though it was directed at the man in front of you who stared unblinking at your lieutenant before trailing down to your breasts which were now being fondled by two gloved hands.

"..What do you want to know?" The colonel said, sounding serious for the first time since you've met him.

"You work for Makarov?" The question was growled at him, yet your body reacted with a shiver and you couldn't help but whimper. Red flushed your cheeks, your eyes once again darting to the mirror.

Konig simply hummed in response, and you couldn't really tell if that was a yes or a no. Ghost seemed to have the same thought since he pinched your nipples hard and pulled. 

"Please-!" You yelped out a plea, not really knowing who it was directed to.

The cloth on the hostage's head shifted, he was licking his lips under the hood. "He is a client" he finally said. You let out a sigh of relief when Ghost loosened his hold but didn't let you go, massaging your breasts more softly as his fingers rubbed your nipples as an apology.

That was a big intel, Makarov is working together with Kortac. The colonel himself confirmed it, an enemy, not some unlucky passersby.

You tried your best to take all the information, you really did. But it was really hard with how your lieutenant fingers danced on the sensitive nubs.

"You were with ���im?" Ghost asked. His voice is gruff yet steady compared to the colonel in front of you, like it's normal to use his coworker as an interrogation tool. To be honest, you are quite scared of what Ghost can do to you to make Konig talk.

And you're ashamed of yourself for how that fear brought heat to your core.

Konig didn't respond once again, a silent command for Ghost to do something. And you wondered who was really in charge here, definitely not you though.

Your train of thought was interrupted when a pair of strong arms hoisted you up, one leg raised until your knee was pressing against your chest while your other leg was left dangling. Despite the cotton panties covering your cunt, you still felt very exposed, being spread out in front of one of your enemies of all people.

A pathetic whine slipped out of your lips, which were swollen from you biting down on them previously. A thick finger rubbing between your folds through your panties. Slow yet firm, soaking  the cotton  even more.

"Were you with Makarov?" Ghost asked again, voice lowering an octave. Whether to intimidate or maybe he was just as affected by all this too.

"No" Konig responded shortly. His body shook slightly and you noticed how he tried to pull his hand out of the handcuffs behind the chair. Like he wanted to touch you, or maybe himself, from the obvious bulge in his pants.

You swallowed at the sight.

"D’you know where 'e is?" Your lieutenant asked as his finger kept rubbing you, trailing up to circle your clit through your panties which made you whine.

Konig stayed silent again. Like he didn’t want to interrupt the lewd voices you made as you slowly unraveled in your superior's hands.

Ghost clicked his tongue, feeling impatient but still played along with the game. His fingers trailed up to the waistband, trailing across the fabric slowly like he was taking his time appreciating the delicate panties before ripping it off and tossing it with your other torn garments.

Before you could have a chance to mourn the loss of your panties, two thick fingers rammed deep into your pussy. You could only squeal, throwing your head back against his shoulder. "Ah, ah, ah-" A gasping moan with each thrust aiming at your gspot.

"Where. is. Makarov?" Ghost growled, each word emphasized with a hard thrust that got you keening.

"Si- Ghost, please.." It took you a second to realize that was your own voice.

"Not up to me, sweet'eart" The lieutenant replied without taking his eyes off the hostage.

You panted, following his gaze to the colonel in front of you. His half-lidded eyes, pupils so wide with light blue outlining them, and if you focus past the wet squelching noises you can hear him breathing heavily.

"..Konig"

His whole body jerked at your plead. "Scheiße" You heard him hiss under his breath.

"I don't know, we only interacted through a third person or a call" He continued. With your mind all jumbled, you questioned for a second about who he was talking about, oh right Makarov, we're gathering intel on Makarov.

"Don’t even try lyin’" Ghost tutted and curled his fingers, pressing against that sweet spot that made you whine pathetically.

You heard Konig chuckle breathlessly. "Oh, i won't lie to this hübsche kleine schlampe. Don't want to break her heart" he shrugged.

Ghost held back from rolling his eyes and scoffed. "What’d 'e pay ya for, then?".

Expecting another silence, Ghost didn't wait for a response. Pushing you down on your knees before shoving your face onto the colonel's crotch. "Open" He whispered lowly in your ear, tilting your head just so, your lips pressing against the zipper on the hostage’s pants.

With your teeth, you tugged the zipper down. And your eyes widened when you saw his throbbing cock. You took in the veiny shaft, the pinkish tip glistening with precum under the dim lighting of the interrogation room. filthy git went full-on commando on his job.

"What’d 'e pay you to do?" Ghost asked once again as he pried your mouth open, a silent command for you to make good use it. Then you felt the colonel go rigid when you wrapped your lips around the tip.

"..Retrieving a package" The colonel answered as he tried to buck his hips, hoping to shove more of his dick into your mouth. You started to panic, you didn't know if you could take more. He was really big, too big. And that's something, since you've taken Ghost before.

"What's the package?" The lieutenant asked as he slowly pushed you down, forcing you to take more, not caring about your muffled noise.

You felt the tip nudging the back of your throat, your eyes tearing up and you whined around the girthy cock as Ghost kept urging you to keep going. This is how you're gonna die, choking on some enemy's dick.

"Verdammt- i don't know" You heard Konig say through gritted teeth when you felt your nose buried in a bush of hair, somehow managing to take all of him. Looking so pliant and pathetic, batting your wet eyelashes up at him, as you focused on remembering how to breathe.

Ghost jerked your head back, and forward, again and again. Fucking your throat with the colonel's dick, hard without mercy.

"Don't give me that bullshit" Growled the lieutenant. Though, he didn't expect a response, letting the hostage lose himself in the wetness of your mouth.

Before you were  pulled back by your hair, letting go of the cock with a wet pop. And you heard Konig whimper, his cock twitched violently, robbed from his release.

It took a while for Konig to respond, trying to regain his control back from the pleasure, steadying his breathing before speaking. "I really don't know, they told me nothing, I asked nothing. We only care about finishing the job" He said. Though, you can see his eyes glint mischievously. He was keeping something from them and felt in control because of it. Taunting your lieutenant to give him more of you in exchange for that.

It seemed that  Ghost thought of the same thing since he yanked you back up and forward. You thought he wanted you to sit on the colonel's lap and you were going to, but then he held your hip in one hand while the other still had a fistful of your hair.

Then he shifted you above Konig’s lap, until your pussy lips are rubbing against the tip of the colonel's cock. Taunting back.

"Try again" The lieutenant's voice rumbled. You didn't know if you imagined it but you could hear him smirk.

The colonel was holding back from bucking his hips. Not wanting to give in just yet so he could get more. Just a bit more. "As I said, I have no clue" He shrugged, the smugness in his voice is more obvious now.

Even though you had expected it, you still gasped. It was just the tip, but the stretch made you exhale shakily. Your legs trembled slightly, and you were sure without Ghost holding you up you would definitely fall onto the colonel's lap.

Konig sighed, whether it was in exasperation or pleasure you didn't know. Probably both.

"Missiles.. possibly nukes," The colonel said without being asked. "Overheard them talking about it, though my Russian is rusty so take it with a grain of salt" he continued.

Ghost hummed into your ear, gloved hand reaching down to toy with your sensitive clit. It was as if he was rewarding you for making the hostage give them such valuable intel.

Though, he didn't reward the man who gave the intel. Making him suffer by making you clench around his tip, not letting him sink even another millimeter of his dick inside  you.

"Where are they stored?" The lieutenant asked, lips against your ear, hot breath making you squirm. There's an itch in your core, this was torture for you too.

"Stop movin’, princess, unless ya want me to stop 'ere" He whispered lowly so only you could hear it, stopping the circling motion on your clit to pinch so hard it almost hurt. It's too much, but also not enough. And now you're dripping down an enemy's dick like a slut.

"I can pinpoint the location on your map" Their hostage hissed, his voice was a bit shaky and those bright blue iris locked in at the spot you and him were connected. "Untie me" He added, his eyes now locked onto your lieutenant's.

Ghost scoffed condescendingly. "Ain’t 'appenin'" he said.

You heard the colonel let out a dry chuckle. "Worth a shot" he murmured to himself.

"Just shoot it" Ghost demanded whilst moving his fingers on your clit. Flicking with his thumb, sliding two fingers up and down whilst squeezing the sensitive nub between them, massaging the top agonizingly slow, making tiny circles.

"Go on, tell 'im, luv" Deep voice purred sultry into your ear and you cried out when he lifted the hood of your clit and roughly rubbed the exposed underside. You started shaking, your back painfully arching with the overwhelming pleasure. Too much.

"Konig.. Konig-" You pleaded pathetically, squeezing the head of his cock inside of you. More of your slick dripping down his shaft.

Konig groaned, both at the sinful sight and the way your sweet voice sang his name. "Why should I? I don’t need you slitting my throat once youget all the information" He sneered.

A gloved hand slapped your clit and you squealed. "Please, please-" You whined. Doe eyes all teary as you locked eyes with the hostage.

You could feel Konig jerk beneath you as your channel clenched uncontrollably around his tip.

"We won't" Ghost responded. "Be daft of us to get rid of a bloody colonel just for this shite, and you know it" He added.

Konig snorted in response but said nothing.

"So?" Your lieutenant asked once again, pushing for an answer.

"I assume you would keep me here to exchange for something with Kortac, it's rude to keep your guest tied, no?" Konig said mockingly, making  Ghost narrow his eyes.

"You ain't no bloody guest" Ghost growled and pinched your clit again, tugging it painfully while his other hand pulled at your nipple in a similar way, making you go crossed-eyed. "Now, spit it out" The lieutenant added, his voice was booming compared to your little pleas "pleasepleaseplease".

The colonel sighed, like he took pity on you. "Abandoned hospital at the north" He finally said. And you could just kiss him for making Ghost let go of your sensitive nubs and rub them in a much gentler manner.

"Thought that was Al Qatala's base now" Ghost mumbled to himself, a bit too casually like he didn't just try to ruin you.

"Yeah, the Russian made a transaction with them," Konig said. Blue eyes trailing back to you, observing the state you were in.

"Now, I told you everything you need.." The colonel purred, eyes crinkling which made you think that he was smiling at you underneath the hood.

And with that, all hell let loose.

The lieutenant's hands on you started rubbing with the intention of making you come. He let go of your nipple and went south, tracing the rim of your entrance where you still have the head of the colonel's cock inside.

Your eyes widened when you felt his fingers slipping inside you again. Not caring that you were still stretched open.

Eyes crossed, toes curled. Panting and whining like a little puppy when you felt those fingers go deeper, rubbing your gspot at the same pace as his other hand on your clit.

Your thighs were trembling, your moans getting higher and higher as your climax threatened to wash over you. And then, Ghost didn't stop Konig from thrusting up this time and you lost it.

Wave after wave of pleasure, your cunt clenched uncontrollably around Konig, moaning like a whore.

Just when you wanted to grind down for more stimulation, Ghost lifted you by the back of your knees. Konig let out a string of curses in German, watching the way your pussy clenched desperately around nothing.

"..Simon" You whimpered, teary eyes looking up at him with a pout. You didn't have the capacity to care about saying his real name in front of an enemy after such orgasm. Looks like your usage for interrogations is finally over – and you are not sure whether you were useful or just looked pretty enough.

"Don't worry princess" He murmured, shifting his hold to lift you in a bridal carry. "You've been good, we'll reward you" And with that, he kissed your forehead. You didn't see the way his eyes shifted to the one-way mirror where the rest of the team had been watching from behind it.

You could only let him carry you out of the interrogation room, heavy steps from his boots filling the silence.

And Konig?

"Verdammte Hurensöhne!" Raspy voice boomed behind you before it was muffled as Ghost closed the door behind him. Not caring that the hostage still had his hard and throbbing cock out, wet from your slick and his own precum.

But of course, if you took pity on him and if you asked everyone nicely, maybe  they would let him watch- or since the interrogation had been more than successful, he could join. Letting him enjoy their leftover, to fuck everyone’s cum deeper inside your cunt.

Just say the word.

...

taglist : @partiallysame, @niazrzl, @midwesternwitchery,

[moonstonejpg]

ours (k.bakugou x reader)

"your hands are tough, but they are where mine belong in"

sum. bakugou is having a bad week, thankfully his girl is always there to make the bad days a little better

cw: a little angst, fluff at the end!

i hate hate hate paparazzi!! loosely based off of this and the song ours by taylor swift

It had been a rough week for Katsuki.

First, the hero rankings were announced, and he found himself at #15—not even in the top ten. And he swore it didn't bother him, that the rankings were just a stupid popularity contest. But you saw the way his shoulders slightly slumped in disappointment and the way his fists clenched so hard that the half-moon imprints of his nails in his skin stayed for hours after you had smoothed his fingers out.

It broke your heart to see him like that—and then yesterday he got into a silly fight with Izuku, one that was filmed and taken way out of context by thousands of people on the internet. Which in turn prompted the resurgence of people saying he didn't even deserve to be on the list at all, let alone at #15.

bakugou is mentally unstable lol

i worry about his gf tbh, those anger issues are a huuuge red flag

right?! i hope that poor girl gets out of that

she seems so sweet, he’s probably threatening her or something

It was just one hit after another for him.

And now, as he stares out the window at the crowd of paparazzi with a clenched jaw, the only thought in your mind is how this is strike three. All he wanted to do was take you out for a nice dinner to thank you for being so supportive this week, but he couldn't even do that without a swarm of media leeches waiting outside.

"Kats, we don't have to go. We can just stay here." You say quietly, worried eyes set on his tense shoulders.

"No," he growls, "I'm not letting them ruin this too." He positions himself in front of you before taking a few hesitant steps out the front door of your shared apartment building.

His warm hand envelopes your own, fingers threading through before tugging you behind him, half shielding you with his large body. The flash of the cameras and the noise of the crowd makes your vision blur, but Katsuki is moving fast, fingers tightly gripping your own while his gaze is laser focused on the awaiting black car parked on the other side of the street.

Everything is moving so fast, the shouts of the various reporters melting together around you. But you can't hear a word they say, the sound drowning out any specific words, until—

“Why him?”

And you nearly miss the step below as you freeze. The question has you rearing back as if you'd been hit, your eyes dancing towards the sound of the question. You see him right away, a male reporter who is nearly frothing at the mouth for a reaction. The reporter leans forward, eyeing you hungrily as he waits for an answer. And usually, you wouldn't give them any time of day, the daily harassment towards you and every other pro-hero and their significant other almost daily a good enough reason toignore any of their probing questions. But how could you ignore this?

“Why him?” you parrot back, white-hot anger burning through your body at a rapid rate. You don’t think twice before you’re ripping your wrist out of the blonde's hand and taking angry strides towards the reporter. You're nearly toe-to-toe with the man, and while he is a full head taller than you, he shrinks a bit from the look on your face.

Katsuki comes up beside you, gently tugging at your wrist.

“It’s not worth it.” He says lowly, looking down at you with something like sadness tinged in his eyes. And your heart cracks, picking up on the one thing he isn’t saying but you know he’s thinking.

That he’s not worth it.

And you can’t have that, you can't have Katsuki thinking that he isn’t worth any of this, because he is. He is worth everything, and despite being in each other’s lives for years now, the fact that he still doesn’t see that is devastating.  

Your body begins shaking from a mix of anger and adrenaline as you look at the crowd around you. A slow hush falls over the crowd, as if they are waiting with bated breath to see what you have to say.

“Because he is the kindest human I have ever had the pleasure of knowing; kinder than any of you will ever be. And what has he ever done to you to make you so obsessed with twisting every move he makes, every word he utters into something that makes him look like the bad guy? And for a quick buck? You all should be ashamed of yourselves.” After shooting a glare around the crowd, you keep your chin high as you grab a stunned Katsuki’s hand and drag him towards the car.

You gently push him in, keeping a hand smoothed over the back of your dress as you crawl in after him, slamming the door shut with more force than necessary.

The car ride to the restaurant is eerily quiet, and as the adrenaline begins to leak out of your body, your brain catches up to what you did. And yeah—they did need to be told off, but you start to wonder if this is something that will get him into trouble.

You weren’t a hero and you didn’t have a lick of media training, why did you think causing a scene would be a good idea? The thoughts spiral in, and you want to bury your face in your hands as dread slithers its way into your stomach.

When you get inside the building, you are ushered towards the back of the restaurant by the host, presumably to where your table is located. But before you round the corner, Katsuki is tugging you into a dimly lit closet, fingers making quick work of the lock. Even after the door is bolted shut, he stands and faces it, as you just watch the outline of the gentle rise and fall of his shoulders.

“Kats?” You say quietly, a hand hovering over his shoulder. “I’m sorry, I just—”

He shakes his head, a disbelieving laugh pushing its way out of his mouth.  

“No, you—” He shakes his head again, then turns around to face you, his body crowding you up against the wall. His eyes are dark, twinkling with emotions you can’t place. Both of his hands come up to gently cradle your face, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“Have I ever told you that I love you?”

You blink up at him, confused.

“Not only was that the hottest thing I have ever seen, but—well, that was the first time anyone has stuck up for me before.”

“I would do it again—anything for you really. You’re worth it. And I know that’s hard for you to believe, but you are. They can say whatever they want, but I know in my heart that I do not deserve you, and that you ” You say quietly, eyes locked on his. He smiles, eyes shining, before leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your temple.

“Oh, my sweet girl.” He whispers in the dark of the room, thumbs caressing your cheeks.

“I love you Kats.”

“I love you too. Now, how about we ditch this place?” He asks, leaning back to tug at his tie, before bending forward to loop it around your neck. “I think that new ice cream parlor is open. So, sundaes on me?”

You nod, a giggle escaping when he bends down and tugs the ends of the tie, your body falling into him. He lets out a gentle laugh, the sound like a gentle breeze on a hot day. It has your smile stretching across your face, your heart singing in response.

He reaches down to unlock the door, but when he flicks the lock back, nothing happens. Katsuki tries again, but again, nothing happens. It doesn’t budge, not the second time he tries or the fifth, or even the tenth time he tries. On the eleventh try his hand slips from the lock, his eyes colliding with yours.

It’s silent for a few seconds, and then a laugh bursts out of him, followed by another and another. The sound has the grin staying locked in place on your face, relief flowing through you at the change in his mood.

“We—we’re stuck.” He gasps out, hands falling on his knees as he hunches over, deep laughs spilling out of him. It isn’t long before you are on the floor next to him, trying to catch your breath around your own laughter.

[pin-k-ink]

OFF THE RECORD ⋆✦⋆ gojo satoru

synopsis ➸ you know gojo too well to believe he’s here for a quick fuck. he’s here for a favor—one you have no intention of granting. too bad he’s never been good at taking no for an answer.

tags ➸ implied former student/teacher relationship, slight age gap, friends with benefits, possessive behavior, mild dom/sub themes, power play, manipulation, daddy kink, mild objectification, dirty talking, semi-public/public sex, mention of past sexual encounters, implied blackmail (it’s really not as bad as you think)

wc ➸ 10.9k

The steamy tendrils still clung to your skin as you stepped out of the shower, toweling off with a contented sigh. Mornings like this—quiet, peaceful routines before diving headfirst into the chaotic world of jujutsu—were increasingly rare these days. So you tried to savor each precious moment while it lasted.

With the towel secured around your body, you padded toward the bedroom to get dressed for yet another long day at headquarters. However, the second you stepped over the threshold, the hairs along your nape instantly prickled upright. A presence. An unmistakable shift in the air currents that could only mean—

"Well, good morning, gorgeous! Sleep well?"

You barely stifled the startled yelp as Gojo Satoru's cheerful baritone seemed to resonate from directly behind you. Whirling around, sure enough, there he was—all towering height, shredded muscle, and bright eyes glinting with clear amusement. How someone so powerful could also be so utterly shameless sometimes, you'd never know.

Doing your best to ignore the heat flooding your cheeks, you planted your hands on your hips in a stern facsimile of composure. "Satoru...what an unexpected surprise. Here I thought teachers were supposed to set good examples about respecting boundaries, not traipsing into former students' homes unannounced."

Rather than appear even remotely chagrined, Gojo simply chuckled and leaned back against your kitchen counter as if he owned the place. You watched in mild annoyance as his gaze slowly trailed up and down your towel-clad figure with undisguised appreciation.

"Hey now, no need for such icy formalities between us old friends," he chided, the barest hints of a smirk tugging at those infuriatingly full lips. "Besides, when have I ever cared about doing what's expected of me, hm? That's like...95% of my appeal, babe."

Rolling your eyes, you huffed out a resigned sigh and crossed the room to your closet, firmly squelching the instincts that urged you to yank the towel higher and more securely over your body. Gojo had seen—and thoroughly enjoyed—far more of you than this in the past. No sense getting flustered over his blazing regard now.

"Right, so does this impromptu visit have an actual purpose?" You shot him a pointed look over your shoulder as you fished out a crisp blouse and trousers to wear to HQ. "Or are you just being a pain as usual and raiding my fridge for a sugar fix again?"

You heard Gojo's low snort of amusement before his heavy footfalls sounded, clearly bringing him closer despite your protestations. "What can I say? Your kitchen is better stocked with sweets than most convenience stores. I can't help craving a little nibble now and then..."

The sultry undercurrent in his tone triggered a fresh blaze of heat along your nape. You could practically feel the smoldering weight of Gojo's stare boring into your ass as you bent to rifle through your bottom dresser drawer.

"But you're onto something with that other theory as well," he continued in a lower, more contemplative register. All traces of levity seemed to evaporate as his presence loomed larger behind you. "I did actually come to ask a favor of my very favorite former pupil. An important one that I wouldn't bother you about if the stakes weren't so high."

Curiosity and trepidation warred within your chest at the unexpected gravity clouding Gojo's usually buoyant candor. You instinctively straightened, clutching your clothes to your chest as you slowly turned to face him once more.

And just like that, the heated tension seemed to ratchet up several palpable notches as your eyes met and held in the claustrophobic space. Gojo's sculptured features had taken on a severe, intense edge—all sharp angles and tightly leashed power that instantly siphoned the breath from your lungs.

Suddenly, his earlier "playful" flirting and teasing manner seemed less like an act and more like a fragile facade barely containing his true tempestuous nature. You swallowed hard against the liquid lick of thrilling trepidation skating down your spine as Gojo maintained that weighty, piercing stare for several moments longer.

"...Is everything okay?" You finally managed in a hushed murmur, scarcely recognizing your own voice under the abrupt spell of Gojo's domineering energy. "What could possibly have you riled up enough to ditch the flippant act?"

Rather than immediately answering, Gojo closed the remaining distance between you with two long, purposeful strides. You had to crane your head back slightly to maintain eye contact as his powerful silhouette utterly consumed your space—the scalding brand of his body heat and crisp, masculine scent enveloping you from all sides.

"Believe me, kitten...if I came here for anything even remotely fun or pleasure-oriented, you wouldn't need to ask," he rumbled at last, voice pitched low enough to instill a full-body shiver along your nerves.

One of Gojo's large hands came up, and you froze as the rough pads of his knuckles grazed a feather-light caress along the line of your jaw. His thumb swiped over the seam of your lower lip in an utterly artless, possessive sweep—smoldering gaze following the motion with incendiary focus.

"I'd already have that smart mouth wrapped around my cock doing something far more useful than talking..."

Despite the crudity of his words, you couldn't quite stifle the punched-out whimper that slipped free at the graphic implication. Gojo's pupils blew fractionally wider in answer, tongue darting out to lave his lower lip as if tasting the charged undercurrents now rippling between you.

"Lucky for you, this is actually about business," he continued in that same resonant timbre that seemed to spark straight between your thighs each time his rich cadence washed over you. "The kind of serious business that even a lazy pervert like me can't afford...distractions for at the moment, got it?"

You managed a jerky nod, too disoriented by the heady spiral of desire cloying at your senses to do much else. Gojo's expression seemed to tighten further—a muscle feathering in his chiseled jaw as if steeling himself for whatever came next as he stepped back a bit.

"Itadori Yuji is scheduled for execution..." The blunt statement punched out like a missile deployment, brutally shredding the increasingly rapacious atmosphere between you. "And one way or another, I need that sentence postponed before it's too late."

You immediately shook your head, mouth set in a grim line. "Postponing Itadori Yuji's execution? That's not going to happen, Satoru."

His brows pinched slightly at your blunt refusal. "This is serious, kitten. That kid is instrumental to—"

"Don't you think I know how serious this is?" you cut him off, firming your voice into an authoritative tone. "I work directly under the higher-ups, remember? I'm well aware of the situation with Sukuna’s vessel and the potential ramifications of his continued existence."

Squaring your shoulders, you leveled Gojo with an unwavering stare. "My answer is final. Bringing this to the elders would be pointless at best, and could potentially jeopardize my position if they see it as insubordination. I'm not sacrificing everything I've worked for just because you showed up and gave me those stupid puppy dog eyes."

Rather than back down, Gojo simply regarded you with a contemplative tilt of his head—bright gaze assessing as if turning over your words from every possible angle. You could practically see the gears turning behind those piercing blue irises as he recalibrated his approach.

"Okay, let's table the business side of things for now," he said at last, tone losing some of its previous urgency. Straightening his body, Gojo prowled a step closer—effectively reclaiming the charged atmosphere from earlier. "Maybe you just need some...persuading to see reason."

You refused to be baited so easily, keeping your expression coolly neutral even as his scalding presence flooded your personal space once more. "I'm not some hormonal teenager letting her heart sway business decisions anymore, Satoru. Those games won't work."

Gojo hummed softly in response, head cocking as his lips curved into a slow, molten smirk. "We'll see about that..."

Without warning, his hands clamped down on your hips, thumbs digging in with delicious friction as he hauled you flush against the solid wall of his torso. You couldn't withhold the tiny gasp that punched free at the sudden, searing contact—every ridge and cording muscle of Gojo's powerful physique branding itself against your towel-clad frame.

"Does this position feel...familiar to you at all, gorgeous?" he murmured in a honeyed rasp right against the whorl of your ear. His nose trailed a path along your jaw as he dipped to mouth steamy, lingering kisses down the fragrant column of your throat. "Maybe sparks a few memories of the last time you found yourself pinned underneath me...crying out for more the whole night through?"

A shudder rippled down your spine at the crude allusion to your long-ago graduation celebration with Gojo. You remembered that encounter vividly—every slick rasp of skin against skin, the sweltering tangle of limbs, the exquisite ache of being split open on his thick cock over and over until the entire room reeked of your joined passion.

Gojo merely chuckled at your flustered squirming, nosing aside the collar of your towel to lave a heated path along your collarbone. "Mmm...that's right. There were points that night where I had my cock buried so fuckin' deep in this perfect pussy of yours that you could taste it on the back of your tongue with every breath."

You bit back a shuddering whimper at the crude imagery, willpower rapidly crumbling beneath his carnal onslaught. Despite your best efforts, the memories he so skillfully stoked were stoking liquid tendrils of arousal thrumming to life between your thighs. Gojo's grin stretched wider as you unconsciously arched into his scorching frame.

"Always did love ruining you on my dick that first time," he rumbled with blatant gratification against your heated skin. "Watching those gorgeous eyes glaze over while I split you open again and again until you passed out..."

Abruptly, Gojo detached his mouth from the thundering pulse at your jugular with one final lingering sweep of his sinful tongue. Smirking down at your glazed, panting expression, he tucked an errant lock of hair behind your ear.

"But hey...while fun memories are nice, I'd rather make some new ones together after work," he said, suddenly all casual nonchalance once more as he meandered towards the door. "I'll pick you up from HQ when your shift is over and we can...discuss this Itadori thing some more in private. That sound good to you, babe?"

You blinked rapidly, trying to reassemble your scattered thoughts as the searing proximity of Gojo's presence withdrew—leaving you bereft and utterly unbalanced by the shift.

"Don't worry your pretty head over giving me an answer," Gojo called over his shoulder as he palmed the doorknob. "I already know you'll say yes when I remind you again how much that tight little pussy loves being split open on my—"

The door snapped shut with a hollow thud, cutting off the rest of his filthy promise. Though the last rakish wink he slanted your way before departing was more than enough to sear the implication deep into your psyche.

Sinking heavily back against the wall, you fought to regain your equilibrium—limbs quaking and breath escaping in ragged pants that did nothing to dissuade the rising tide of feverish arousal still gripping your core. Gojo had utterly unraveled you into a breathless, squirming mess from just a few suggestive caresses and searing endearments.

And despite your best efforts, you got the gnawing suspicion he'd made up his mind to thoroughly capitalize on—and ruthlessly extend—that molten state when you inevitably saw him again tonight.

The long hours crept by at an agonizing pace as you tried to focus on your duties at headquarters. But the memory of Gojo's heated presence that morning, his crude allusions to your long-ago passionate tryst, made it utterly impossible to concentrate.

You vividly recalled the way his powerful frame had caged you against the wall, face nuzzling along your flushed throat as that rich, smoky timbre painted filthy promises about thoroughly splitting you open again soon. Just the phantom whisper of Gojo's searing lips tracing your thundering pulse was enough to catalyze wild tremors of molten arousal deep in your core.

Each time you shifted in your seat or bent over the piles of paperwork, you could've sworn a delirious ache throbbed between your thighs—muscles fluttering with unbearable emptiness. Like they instinctively yearned to be stretched taut around the thick, punishing girth of Gojo's cock once more, just like that rapturous night of your graduation celebration.

The explicit images and flashes of sensation made concentrating an exercise in futility. Only your rigid adherence to professionalism and composure prevented you from squirming like an utter harlot right there in front of your subordinates.

By the time the evening hours finally rolled around, you felt strung as taut as a high wire—electrified nerves screaming for any sort of reprieve from Gojo's lingering psychic imprint. So you hastily packed your bags and paperwork, determined to slip out before he had a chance to accost you again.

However, the second you passed through the main entrance gates, a powerful hand shot out to clamp around your bicep in an authoritative grip. You barely contained the strangled gasp as Gojo's sheer masculine presence enveloped you, dragging you into the shadowed seclusion of a nearby alcove.

The cool stone bit into your back as he firmly levered your wrists overhead, utterly pinning you in place with his hulking silhouette. Gojo's piercing blue eyes glinted in the dim light, scorching a path down your disheveled figure with undisguised intent.

"Leaving so soon?" The deep, resonant timbre of his voice washed over you in smoky tendrils, already catalyzing a fresh blaze of arousal in your veins. "And here I was looking forward to picking up where we left off earlier..."

To emphasize his point, Gojo surged forward until every inch of his powerful frame molded against yours in a delicious, searing brand. You whimpered softly as his weight pinned you fully, feeling the unmistakable rigid line of his erection notching against your lower belly.

Gojo ducked his head with a low rumble of approval, searing lips and tongue mapping a scorching path along the fragrant hollow of your throat. You instinctively tilted your head aside to grant him better access, shuddering helplessly as he indulged in long, openmouthed draughts of your scent and flushed skin.

"F-Fuck...Satoru, not here!" The words emerged in a reedy, breathless whine against your better judgment as his wicked mouth found that sensitive bundle of nerves just below your ear. You writhed beneath the slow torment with increasing desperation. "Anyone could catch us...this is crazy!"

Rather than immediately address your token protests, Gojo merely chuckled—the warm puffs of his amusement ghosting deliciously along your tingling nerves as he mouthed a stinging graze against your racing pulse. One of his large, calloused palms slid down to engulf your hip in a possessive squeeze, already kneading and grinding you in a slow simmer of friction.

"You say that like you've never been desperate enough to beg me to fuck you right here in these hallways before..." The low, sensually-charged growl shivered your bones down to the marrow. Gojo finally pulled back enough to cage your dazed features fully within his piercing stare—lips curved in a lascivious smirk of fond reminiscence. "Multiple times, if I'm recalling correctly."

Heat flared through your cheeks as the graphic imagery took shape against your fraying resistance—lurid memories of breathless encounters where the thrill of potentially being caught by patrolling sentries only fueled the delirious flames higher. You swallowed hard against the thickness now cloying your throat, squirming in feeble denial.

Gojo's smirk deepened into something utterly sinful as he drank in your expression with clear relish. "Do you need me to refresh your memory about the last time you had me backed into a supply closet?" he rasped, leaning in until the blistering brand of his body seared you from chest to hip once more. "How hard you came when I finally pulled those thighs apart and licked straight through your soaked—"

"Enough!" you gasped out before he could fully unleash the damning words. You renewed your efforts at wriggling free in earnest, well aware your weakening restraint wouldn't last against Gojo's relentless carnal onslaught. "I-I...maybe we should actually go somewhere more appropriate first. Dinner, maybe?"

Despite your sudden meek suggestion, you couldn't quite mask the desperation laced through the plaintive request. Gojo's eyes seemed to glitter brighter at the shift in your demeanor, clearly scenting weakness in the offing as he allowed his grip to relax somewhat.

"Dinner first, huh?" He pursed those full lips into an exaggerated pout of contemplation before relenting with a dramatic sigh. "Well, I suppose that's only fair since I'm the one working up an appetite here..."

With one last blistering look that robbed you of breath entirely, Gojo stepped back and pivoted on his heel to swagger away down the narrow thoroughfare like a man supremely assured of victory. You could only sag back against the alcove wall, chest heaving with exertion as the towering remnants of arousal slowly ebbed.

However, there remained little doubt in your overwrought psyche that this temporary reprieve from your joining was little more than the universe's taunting cruelty. You'd awoken Gojo's darkest, most lascivious appetites earlier that morning.

And if the way he slanted one final look over his powerful shoulder—bright irises already blown wide and jaw clenching subtly around what had to be punishing levels of restraint—then the true feasting was only just about to begin in earnest. With your achingly empty body as the main course.

The opulent restaurant oozed sophistication from every polished surface and perfectly-starched linen. The sommelier's formal bow and crisp recitation of the evening's premier wine offerings seemed utterly wasted on the two of you.

You eyed Gojo over the rim of your glass, the dry Cabernet doing little to dull the lingering tension still thrumming between your joined frames. As always, he looked utterly nonplussed about the lavish indulgences surrounding you—crisp white dress shirt straining across his muscular torso and sharp jawline rasped by the beginnings of late evening stubble. Like a predator eternally at ease, regardless of situation.

Gojo's piercing gaze roamed over you with the same slow, assessing intensity one might reserve for an exquisite delicacy awaiting consumption. You tried not to squirm under that molten scrutiny, clearing your throat pointedly.

"I'm assuming there was some purpose behind corralling me into this place," you remarked in your best professional tone. "Beyond getting me liquored up for some inappropriate table exhibition, that is."

Rather than rebuff your dig, Gojo simply angled his head in a catlike tilt—lips curling into a devilish smirk that telegraphed his carnal interest crystal clear. Leaning further back in his chair, he allowed one broad palm to splay suggestively over the crisp linen covering his lap, fingertips drumming out an idle staccato.

"Well now, I certainly wouldn't say no to having those gorgeous lips wrapped around something else for a change." His deep timbre emerged laced with sin and smoky insinuation. "You always did look like an utter vision stuffed under these fancy tabletops sucking me off..."

Heat blossomed across your cheeks despite your best efforts at composure. You knocked back another bracing swallow of wine, struggling not to dwell on the searing flashes his words evoked—memories of delirious encounters where Gojo had hauled you under secluded tables to properly appreciate your skills with relentless, undisguised gratification.

Swallowing thickly, you gripped your fork with slightly more force than necessary."I'd ask if you're always this disgracefully crass and lascivious in public these days...but then I remembered who I'm talking to," you said dryly. "So in the interest of not causing a scene, why don't we get to the point of this little ambush?"

One brow arched infinitesimally as Gojo cocked his head further, clearly drinking in your prim and vaguely irritated state with evident relish. "You seem awfully anxious to rush right to business," he murmured, fingertips continuing their idle rhythm against the tablecloth. "Where's that simmering self-restraint and haughty composure I remember enjoying unraveling piece...by...delicious...piece so thoroughly back in the day?"

You opened your mouth to fire back a scathing retort, only for Gojo to cut you off with a low, lush rumble. "Unless you've simply decided being insatiably thirsty for this cock is more your speed these days..."

With that quiet taunt, his free hand disappeared beneath the pristine linen swathe in a heavy, meaningful descent. You swallowed convulsively as his fingertips slid along the unmistakable ridge of his thick cock straining against the unforgiving fabric of his slacks. Every knuckle undulated in a deliberate, stroking glide that tightened your throat like a vise around trapped breaths and unspoken pleas.

"Can practically already taste how soaked you're getting beneath those prim layers just from the thought alone..." Gojo continued in a molten rasp heavy with undisguised gratification. "Imagining that filthy little mouth stretched wide around my girth again, glazing yourself in my cum right here in front of god and all these polite company..."

A tiny, reedy sound slipped unbidden from your constricted chest despite your best efforts at locking it down. Gojo's lascivious smirk turned rapacious as he correctly scented the spike of liquid want now cloying the humid space between you.

"So what do you say, gorgeous?" He pitched his timbre slightly lower, allowing each gravelled syllable to curl around your senses with lashes of pure elemental sin. "Going to be a good little famished cocksleeve and give me a hand under the table before we get down to—"

You cut across his brazen soliloquy with a forceful rap of your fork against the tabletop. Pulling yourself together, you fixed Gojo with a severe glower that finally seemed to give him pause.

"If you can't conduct yourself with any semblance of decorum befitting your station, then I'm through entertaining these adolescent displays," you bit out in a hushed tone edged with adamant warning. "I'm not some wide-eyed underling fresh off the training fields anymore, Satoru. I have higher standing and responsibility than you seem to grasp."

Silence stretched between you for a weighted beat—Gojo's heated gaze flickering over you with renewed focus you couldn't quite decipher. When he finally spoke again, there was a note of uncharacteristic control underpinning his typically buoyant candor. Clearly, he'd grasped the need to change tactics once more.

"You're absolutely right," he said after a prolonged pause. "Part of me forgets just how much you've grown and ascended the ranks over the years." One side of his mouth curved higher in a lopsided ghost of his usual smirk. "Clearly earned the elders' respect and esteem far beyond that of a simple 'secretary' as I put it earlier."

Before you could retort, Gojo pressed onwards—hand sliding almost absently back into view to wrap around the stem of his wine flute. "Which is exactly why your assistance is pivotal to turning the tide regarding Yuji's current...perilous circumstances."

There was a grim finality in his words that snapped you back to the seriousness of the moment like a sobering slap to the face. You shifted fractionally taller in your seat, expression hardening as Gojo continued in low, adamant tones.

"Whether you're fully aware or care to admit it right now, that kid is destined to be pivotal for the upcoming events on the horizon," he rumbled with quiet conviction. "Leaving him to get executed off the books tomorrow morning would be tantamount to losing our most powerful asset before the real battles even begin."

Swirling his wine idly, Gojo paused to take an unhurried pull directly from the bottle before continuing. "Which is why I'm going to need to call in more than a few favors getting his sentence postponed tonight. Starting with you, of course..."

There was a new current of steely focus glinting in his gaze as it bored into you with ruthless intensity. For several protracted beats, you simply held each other's stares—gauging the lengths and motivations rumbling beneath the surface beyond petty physical exploits.

Finally, you pursed your lips and shook your head in a solemn negation. "I'm sorry, but I can't overstep protocol and abuse my influence with the elders like that," you stated, quietly adamant. "Not even for you, Satoru. The ramifications could unravel everything I've worked decades to attain if word got out I went rogue."

Rather than exploding in his usual flashes of arrogance or wounded pride, Gojo merely raked you with a glower of narrowed, simmering intent. His next words emerged more pointed and resonating than any innuendo or filthy endearment preceding it.

"Are you sure about that stance?" he intoned darkly. "Because if memory serves, there are a few distinct...indiscretions we've engaged in that could certainly be construed as 'unraveling' by the elders' view, wouldn't you agree?"

The waiter's polished footsteps faded as he departed to fetch their entrees, leaving you and Gojo in a weighted silence. You could practically taste the undercurrent of tension simmering in the air between you both.

Sipping his wine slowly, Gojo dragged his incandescent stare over your features with undisguised intensity. "I'm serious about this," he stated in a low, firm rumble that brooked no further evasion. "We're talking everything from inappropriate use of jujutsu techniques to conduct we both know crosses so many lines..."

He trailed off meaningfully, leaving the implications to hang heavy as his tongue slicked over his lower lip. You swallowed hard against the rising heat prickling across your cheeks and neck.

"Like that night in the east gardens behind the training halls," Gojo continued, voice dropping into a deeper, more intimate register that curled straight between your thighs. "Where I pinned you down in the grass and ate you out until you came all over my face. And then I fucked you so hard, you nearly passed out before we got caught."

Despite yourself, a tremulous shiver raked through your nerves as the visceral flashes assaulted your mind's eye—the frantic rasp of his calloused palms roaming and kneading, the slick motions of his tongue probing and savoring parts of you meant for far more intimate settings.

Gojo noticed your reaction with a dark chuckle, clearly satisfied he'd reeled you back in completely. "Or what about the time you wrapped those pretty lips around my cock in the maintenance closet and let me rail your throat until you choked on my load? How many rules was just that one encounter bending, hm?"

The directness of his words scorched through you with dizzying potency, making you flush and squirm. You parted your lips on a shaky exhale, determined to regain some semblance of control.

But Gojo smirked knowingly and pressed his verbal advantage in a low, filthy rumble. "Face it, I've got enough material on you ruining me with that greedy little mouth and pussy all over campus to get you defrocked hard." His hooded azure gaze practically seared into your core. "And yet you really wanna risk me airing all those dirty details to the elders? Leaving Itadori's fate to chance like that?"

Your mouth felt suddenly dry as you wrestled with the undeniable truth behind his taunting words. For several fraught beats, the frustration and righteous indignation warred with your embedded sense of duty to the cause. Finally, you released a shuddery breath and lifted your chin.

"I'll...see what I can do about swaying things in your favor," you muttered in a low, slightly strained tone. "No promises, but I'll try discussing options with the higher-ups."

Rather than seem appeased, Gojo's expression only hardened further—carved features settling into a granite mask of tenacious stubbornness and smoldering impatience. "'Not good enough, kitten," he rumbled, forearms tensing atop the table. "This mission is too fucking important for halfhearted measures. I need you to outright insist on a stay of execution being granted, got it? No more stammering 'I'll try' bullshit that lets them sidestep."

His unyielding stare pinned you with the intensity of a physical force, raising your hackles slightly despite your attempt at diplomacy. Still, looking into those blazing blue embers, you got the distinct impression that you'd sooner achieve moving a mountain with vocal commands than sway Gojo on this matter. That steely resolve would accept nothing less than complete victory in postponing Itadori's fate.

Just as you began resigning yourself to digging in for another round of heated back-and-forth across the fancy tablecloth, the arrival of the main courses mercifully broke the combative spell between you. Gojo seemed to settle back imperceptibly as the waiter swept in—that scorching intensity banking down to a more companionable smolder for the time being.

Still, you recognized the temporary reprieve for what it was as you tucked into your meal with far less gusto than anticipated. Despite his best efforts to gloss over the previous tension with idle banter and lighter conversational tones, it remained silently understood that the evening's main purpose still hung unresolved and delicate between you until matters were final.

So it was with an undercurrent of somber expectation that you finally settled the check and rose to follow Gojo from the opulent dining hall at evening's end. A subtle snap of his fingers triggered a curiously disorienting sensation of compression and vertigo—only to release you blinking in surprise mere heartbeats later, finding yourself suddenly standing in the familiar living quarters you called home.

"I'd say you're handling that little trick with far more aplomb these days," Gojo remarked with a lopsided grin, clearly drinking in your adjustment to his impromptu teleportation with amusement. "Remember when I first started zipping you around like that? Pretty sure you heaved your guts all over those ugly penny loafers you used to wear back in the day."

Huffing out a noise of semi-fond exasperation, you aimed a swat at his sculpted arm without malice. "Yes, well I suppose youth and naivety breed certain...overzealous behaviors, don't they?" you retorted before immediately sobering once more. "Like making reckless judgment calls that imperil an entire system..."

Gojo's expression remained impassive, giving no outward indication whether your choice of words struck any particular chord with him. However, you caught the faintest glimmer flickering behind those incandescent blue irises - the barest hint that perhaps you'd underestimated just how much gravitas your dissenting opinion potentially held with the higher-ups.

After all, you were Gojo Satoru's first and most distinguished pupil back when he initially ascended to teaching status, weren't you? Not only that, but your judicious control and prime mastery of your innate techniques embodied many of the fundamental philosophies and fighting styles the old guard so staunchly valued. On numerous occasions, your skills had been cited as quintessential examples to uphold for future generations...

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard as the weighty truth of your potential sway with leadership gradually bobbed to the surface of your consciousness like drift debris after a storm. This entire evening, Gojo might have simply been maneuvering to forcibly realign your perspective on leveraging the hidden influence you apparently wielded without ever fully grasping it.

To truly comprehend the magnitude of the gambit he intended to play using your standing as the key gambit.

Before you could properly parse that sobering epiphany, however, Gojo had already closed what little distance remained between your frames with purposeful strides. The blistering heat of his body all but blanketed yours as he leaned in with that familiar aura of prowling, casual intensity that always made your breath stall.

"So..." he murmured, voice pitching into a lower register that seemed to slither straight down your spine. "Does that mean you're gonna be a good girl and invite me inside so we can continue this intriguing conversation in more...comfortable accommodations?"

Gojo punctuated the brazen implication by cocking one arm against the doorframe, effectively caging you between the cool wood and the searing, masculine planes of his torso and hips. You were abruptly overwhelmed by the reality of his proximity - each subtly shifting ripple of sinew and musculature utterly inescapable from this range.

That distinctly virile, elemental musk that always set your senses clamoring was back in full force as well. You swallowed hard, nostrils flaring fractionally as the delirious essence of Gojo's body heat and clean, faintly spiced perspiration flooded your olfactory receptors. Despite your most ardent efforts, you felt your lids grow heavy and mouth part unconsciously as liquid frissons of pure, burgeoning temptation licked through your veins.

Just like that, with a few deftly aimed strokes, Gojo had reeled you back to the precipice of helpless surrender once more. Still, you summoned the dregs of your stern resolve and planted your palms squarely against his chest, levering back an inch to preserve some semblance of boundaries.

"Subtle as ever, I see," you managed in a tone you hoped came across more dryly exasperated than outright breathless. "I should've guessed the moment we arrived you'd be angling to make yourself at home uninvited."

One brow arched higher, though you didn't miss the slight crinkling at the corners of Gojo's stupidly pretty eyes betraying his hushed amusement. "Oof, someone has their defenses wound just a tad tightly if they think I require permission these days," he shot back with a wry rumble.

Before you could summon a retort, that leonine physique surged forward in a slow, sensual undulation—once again pinning you fully against the unyielding wooden slab with the scorching brand of his larger frame. Gojo's free hand drifted down to palm the generous curve of your hip with sinful insistence, hips canting forward until there could be no mistaking the ridge of his erection notching against your lower belly.

"Better question might be..." His voice dropped several delirious octaves into those sandpaper-rough timbres that seemed to sizzle straight through your nerve endings. "Why even bother pretending at token protests when we both know how this little dance is gonna end...?"

Those incandescent azure irises flickered down to where his fingertips were already stroking teasing swirls against the exposed strip of skin between your top and waistband, silently daring you to rebuff such an implicit capitulation.

"So why delay the inevitable any longer, gorgeous?" Gojo rumbled against your lips, voice dropping into that gravelly timbre designed to liquefy your restraint. "Let's get down to stripping off all these formalities once and for—"

"You haven't even kissed me yet today," you blurted out, cutting across his heated soliloquy.

Gojo's pale brows pinched infinitesimally as the words seemed to momentarily stall his single-minded determination. You could practically see the gears turning behind those hooded azure irises as he processed your statement—likely running back through every provocative encounter and instance of attempted seduction throughout the evening.

When his piercing stare finally snapped back to yours, there was the faintest glimmer of sheepish realization burning there. "...Huh. You're right," he remarked in a slightly lower, more subdued tone. "Here I've been working overtime to rile you up, and I haven't even had the balls to properly lay one on you yet."

You tried not to visibly preen under the gratifying acknowledgment, but couldn't quite suppress the tiny quirk tugging at the corners of your mouth. Sensing a rare window of opportunity, you shifted your weight more fully against the solid contours of Gojo's frame, allowing your fingers to trail upwards in delicate spirals.

"Well?" You arched one brow in playful challenge, throat bobbing on a swallow as your digits mapped higher along the tendons of his powerful neck. "Are you going to actually follow through, or am I going to have to take the initiative here?"

For one heated beat, Gojo simply held your pointed stare in taut suspension—the atmosphere between you both seeming to atomize down into charged ionization particles awaiting the slightest catalyst to detonate. Then, his lips curved higher in a lopsided smirk you'd come to recognize as pure, unrepentant recklessness sublimating into physical form.

"You're going to have to come and get it, gorgeous," he rumbled, the raspy undercurrents sending delicious frissons shivering along your nerves. "Show me just how badly you've been starving for a real taste all evening."

His dexterous fingers slid up to cup the line of your jaw, thumb sweeping suggestively across your lower lip in a searing caress. You struggled not to whimper at the electrifying friction as Gojo leaned further into your personal space.

However, rather than ducking his head the final few scant inches to seal his mouth hungrily over yours, the insufferable tease merely arched backward—body undulating in a slow, sinuous retreat until he towered over you at his full impressive stature. The tip of his tongue darted out to lave his lower lip in clear relish, eyes glinting with wicked invitation as he silently dared you to make good on rising to his heated gauntlet.

A thrill of excitement and determination lanced through your chest as you instantly grasped the game afoot. With purposeful, unhurried movements, you allowed your palms to splay across the granite warmth of his abdomen before slowly, teasingly tracking higher in a worshiping glide. Every rippling corde and sinewy groove of his musculature became briefly profiled as you glided your touch upwards - mapping the scorching acreage in ardent appreciation.

Gojo watched your journey with blown pupils and ragged breaths, torso visibly expanding with each shuddering inhalation he dragged against his impressive restraint. You didn't miss the flex and bunching of his arms and shoulders as you passed over his pectorals, clearly fighting not to haul you bodily against him right then and simply crush your pliant frames back into mutual rapture.

But still, he remained steadfast and motionless—a living marble statue gloriously chiseled from pure virile perfection, awaiting your reverent indulgences with a banked smolder burning behind his hooded stare.

Finally, your fingertips dusted across the sharp angles of his jaw and cheekbones, body arching and straining upwards in your single-minded pursuit of that elusive, smug mouth you craved with mounting desperation. Try as you might to extend yourself onto the balls of your feet and go fully up on tiptoes, Gojo maintained a scant whisper of distance—always hovering just out of your reach with an expression of blatant masculine gratification at your squirming efforts.

A huff of breathy frustration nearly slipped free at the persistent denial, only to be silenced by the way Gojo instinctively dipped lower as if to grant your wish...only to arc back with a low, filthy chuckle that reverberated against your now-thundering pulse. It was as much a sensual dance of control and restraint as a taunt or test of wills at this juncture—simply savoring the delirious friction generated as your pliant, questing form sought to twine and pull him down into decadent oblivion, inch by maddening inch.

"Easy there, kitten..." he rasped in a low, smoky cadence designed to further short-circuit your resolve. "Why don't you try dropping to those pretty knees for me? Might give you better leverage and angles to play with in reaching those tempting lips that have been tormenting that insatiable appetite of yours..."

You answered with a full-body shudder and a needy keen spilling free from your very marrow—all thoughts of recalcitrance and willpower now thoroughly banished beneath the inescapable gravity well of Gojo's hypnotic presence and unholy temptations.

You whined out loud, an unguarded noise of pure pleading desire that seemed to momentarily crack through your usually reserved demeanor. "Satoru...please, wanna kiss you so badly."

The raw, plaintive tone of your entreaty hung in the air between you, heavy with naked yearning in a way that gave even Gojo pause. His brilliant eyes seemed to smolder brighter for an instant, no doubt dredging up fond recollections of past occasions where he'd so thoroughly unraveled your ironclad poise and reduced you to this state.

Rather than pounce on your vulnerability or tease further, however, Gojo's expression softened ever so slightly. One broad palm cradled the back of your skull as he ducked in closer, guiding your trembling frame until your brows nearly brushed.

"Since you asked so nicely..." he murmured, deep timbre emerging somewhere between a graveled purr and heated rumble.

You barely managed a shuddering inhalation before Gojo sealed his mouth over yours in a searing brand of possession. The initial clash of lips and tongue was something closer to an elemental force than a mere intimate exchange—not at all gentle, but rife with pent-up longing and ravenous need finally given free rein.

Your fingers instinctively knotted in the soft fabric of his shirt as Gojo laid an utterly thorough claim upon your senses. He swallowed each desperate little noise and whimper that punched free as if savoring the most delectable of delicacies. One thick forearm banded around your lower back to anchor you fully against his solid frame as he deepened the devouring cadence with relentless intensity.

A husky growl of clear approval and gratification rumbled against your slick, swollen mouth as Gojo momentarily allowed a scant parting for air. "Fuck...I'd almost forgotten how greedy and eager this talented little tongue can get," he grated with clear relish.

You could only pant and squirm fitfully in answer, thoughts scattered like dandelion seeds on a breeze. Gojo simply chuckled richly—the timbre vibrating straight through your very cells in a way that somehow untethered your feet from the ground entirely.

The next thing you clearly registered were his powerful arms banding beneath the backs of your thighs to haul you securely against his body in one smooth, easy motion. Your startled yelp melted into a tremulous sigh as the bunching plains of his torso and abdomen braced your arched spine in a sublime full-body embrace.

"Don't go passing out on me before the real fun starts," Gojo husked against the thundering pulse at your nape, even as his long strides carried you across the threshold of your apartment. "I've got plans for putting that gifted mouth to far better uses than just kissing..."

With your legs now locked around his narrow hips, you could feel every delicious ridge and twitch of his growing erection grinding against your dampening heat through the flimsy barriers separating you. A piteous whine slipped free as the swaying rhythm of his determined gait threatened to unravel you down to your very foundation.

"That's it, let me hear just how desperate I've got you aching to taste me properly again," Gojo growled against the whorl of your ear, each guttural rasp sparking fresh convulsions of need between your thighs. "Been waiting all fucking day to unwrap this gorgeous little prize and savor you inch...by...inch."

Gojo punctuated the lascivious promise by swiveling to carefully lay you out amidst the rumpled linens and cushions—each flickering shadow casting his chiseled features into harsh relief. No more levity or evasion glossed his expression, only the stark severity and zero-compromises focus of a predator fully engaged.

Rather than pounce on you immediately, however, Gojo seemed to pause and simply drink in the sight of your breathless, disheveled state with smoldering intent. His bright eyes roamed over every inch of your upturned features and the generous curves left tantalizingly displayed by your askew clothing.

"Goddamn..." he rumbled in a deep timbre thick with undisguised yearning. "Look at you splayed out for me, practically begging to get worked over already."

You swallowed hard, unable to tear your gaze away from the pure masculine intensity blazing in his stare. There was an undercurrent of restrained hunger there that made your pulse thunder—heady and distinctly feral even as Gojo slowly prowled over your prone body.

Rather than immediately claim you in a reckless flurry of lust, his calloused palms mapped your sides in a languid, purposeful glide all the way up to your rib cage. You arched instinctively into his maddening caresses, whimpering softly in anticipation.

"Easy there, baby..." Gojo murmured in a low rasp against the whorl of your ear. His nose trailed along the thrumming tendons of your neck, clearly savoring the scent of your desire. "You act like it's been months since this pretty pussy has been spread out and stuffed full. And after all the time I spent working you into this gorgeous, wrecked state..."

You squirmed fitfully beneath his unyielding weight, needy whines spilling past your parted lips as Gojo continued leisurely nuzzling and nipping along your jawline and throat. Despite the unhurried leisure of his attentions, you were rapidly spiraling into molten delirium between his hoarse endearments and the tantalizing friction where your bodies met.

"What, so impatient you can't even let me take a second to savor this?" Gojo husked out in a gravel-rough rasp that made you shiver. "I had to spend all damn day thinking about bending you over the second we were alone...so you'll excuse me if I take things slow now that I've got you all wound up and drenched for it."

Emphasizing his point, Gojo slotted one thick, muscular thigh between your parted legs, rocking forward in a slow grind that dragged the solid length of his cock against your molten entrance through the thin barrier separating you. You cried out sharply at the delicious friction, back bowing as frantic nails scoured tracks down his flexing shoulder blades in desperation.

"Yeah...that's it, squirm and moan for me like a good girl," Gojo growled in clear approval, tongue laving a wet path along the fragrant hollow of your throat. "Keep making those filthy sounds and just MAYBE I'll finally give you what you've been gagging for all night."

You could only whimper raggedly in compliance as his mouth moved lower, searing a path from collarbone to the generous swell of your breasts. His large hands cradled and kneaded the soft flesh with relish before tugging the stretchy fabric aside to bare one nipple to the calloused heat of his lips and tongue.

"That's right...let Daddy get his fill and reacquaint himself with every lush goddamn inch," Gojo growled around the rosy peak, sending lightning bolts of sensation zinging straight to your molten core. "Been thinking about sucking and biting these perfect tits all over again ever since you walked into that restaurant looking like a goddamn meal..."

Despite his crude admission, there was an undercurrent of clear reverence and tender devotion laced through his ragged cadences now. Gojo laved and nuzzled at your breasts with all the ardent indulgence of a penitent savoring their last meal before execution. His hooded azure gaze seemed to blaze brighter with each piteous keen and arch you offered up in answer to his lavishing.

Just as you felt yourself ascending the spiraling crescendo toward mindless bliss under his skilled attentions, Gojo abruptly detached from your saturated nipple with a low noise of harsh restraint. You whined plaintively, eyes glassy as your hands reflexively fisted in the front of his shirt—silently pleading for him to resume lapping away at the fiery deprivation swiftly devouring you inside out.

"Easy, baby..." he rasped through gritted teeth, clearly suppressing his own spiraling ardor through sheer force of iron will. "I didn't wait this long to absolutely wreck you just to blow it all on some half-assed foreplay."

Slanting his mouth over yours in another scorching, possessive claim, Gojo cradled your overwrought features between those rough, calloused palms with surprising tenderness.

His thumb smoothed along your cheekbone as the kiss gradually shifted into a slow, sensual undulation.

"Tell me what you want," he murmured against the seam of your lips. "Let Daddy hear you ask for it nice and loud."

The command emerged as a gravelly whisper, though his blazing stare held an unmistakable glint of command. Still, the blatant carnal hunger etched into his expression made you feel positively giddy and invincible as your fingertips trailed along the corded lines of his powerful throat.

"I want you inside me, Sensei," you pleaded, voice pitching into a breathy whine. "Please, I need to feel you filling me up again."

Gojo groaned, clearly relishing the shameless admission and the way your thighs clenched reflexively around his hips. You could feel the rigid contours of his cock twitching eagerly against your slickened folds through the layers separating you.

"Fuck, the mouth on you," he rasped, nipping lightly at the underside of your jaw. "You know what it does to me when you call me that."

"Good," you purred, allowing your fingers to trail higher until they carded through the silky soft strands of his hair. "Now, are you going to stop stalling and show me how much better you are at playing teacher in bed?"

Your bold retort earned a snarl of pure male approval, though the sound quickly tapered into a groan as you deliberately canted your hips to drag the seeping damp of your panties against his throbbing erection. Gojo's fingers instinctively curled tighter around your neck, pinning you into place as he bucked and rolled his pelvis forward to reciprocate the delicious friction.

"Alright then, smartass..." he rasped, pupils blown nearly black with ravenous need as he stared down at your upturned, flushed face. "If that's how you wanna play it, I'm gonna make damn sure you're thoroughly re-educated on who exactly holds the reins here."

Without further ado, his hands drifted down to tug insistently at your waistband, practically shredding the flimsy fabric in his haste to free you from the rest of your clothing. You shivered at the way the cool evening air instantly pebbled across your newly exposed skin, though any instinctive modesty was quickly chased away by the hungry stare drinking in your naked form.

Gojo's expression shifted into a predatory leer, the sight sending another jolt of electric anticipation shooting through your already-jangling nerve endings. "That's better," he rumbled, broad palm skating a path up your inner thigh with unhurried reverence. "Nothing should be allowed to hide such a perfect view of my favorite fucking dessert."

You bit back a whimper at the possessive timbres lacing his gravel-rough voice, thighs twitching restlessly as Gojo's touch continued mapping higher. Finally, his questing fingertips slid into the sticky slick coating your swollen folds, dragging the copious evidence of your desire back to where your clit throbbed with need.

"Oh, look at that..." Gojo practically cooed, the filthy delight and awe laced through his voice sending a fresh rush of warmth spilling out against his dexterous ministrations. "Daddy's been neglecting his baby girl, and she's absolutely soaking wet already. How long has my gorgeous kitten been aching like this, hmm?"

The words emerged somewhere between a teasing croon and a gravelly growl, and you could only shudder and keen as Gojo continued rubbing maddening circles over your hypersensitive bud. The friction was already pushing you rapidly to the edge, and judging by the way Gojo's hooded gaze flickered up to watch your rapture, he could tell as much.

"Ah-ah...no cumming until you beg Daddy to fuck you properly," he rasped, even as his index and ring fingers dipped shallowly into your fluttering channel—teasing and stretching the seeping velvet heat in a way that made you sob out loud. "Don't make me have to punish you for being so naughty, kitten. You know I can keep you on the edge all night if I need to."

Your spine bowed and back arched as you writhed and thrashed beneath his touch, a litany of breathy whimpers and pleas falling from your kiss-swollen lips. "Please, please, Daddy, don't tease me," you begged shamelessly, the words nearly slurring together with raw need. "I'll be a good girl, I swear. Please, please just fuck me..."

Gojo's gaze sharpened with clear gratification as you entreated his mercy, and he finally eased off on the merciless friction between your thighs. Your lungs burned with the force of gulping down ragged lungfuls of air, but you were given scant reprieve before his hands gripped and lifted your thighs, effortlessly hauling you closer and spreading them wide.

"There's my good girl," he murmured, the raw timbre of his voice sending delicious frissons shivering across your fever-warm skin. "Such a sweet little angel when you finally submit."

With one more brief nip at the delicate flesh of your inner thigh, Gojo began working the fly of his trousers open, finally freeing his massive erection. He stroked and pumped his straining shaft a few times for good measure, eyes raking across your splayed, naked form with clear relish.

"Look at how pretty this tight little pussy is, dripping all over my fingers and cock just begging to get filled," he grunted, lining the bulbous crown against your quivering entrance and rubbing it back and forth through the sticky arousal saturating your folds.

A pitiful keen slipped past your parted lips at the taunting pressure, and you could feel a fresh gush of slickness welling up in response to his crass praise. Gojo smirked at the telltale reaction, one calloused palm sliding down to part the plush folds of your pussy even further.

"Goddamn, look how wet and greedy this is for me," he rumbled in a low tone thick with pure male satisfaction. "Bet you were fantasizing about having Daddy's cock stuffing this pretty cunt the whole time we were sitting there in that restaurant. Isn't that right, kitten?"

Your brain was barely capable of stringing together a coherent thought, much less a snarky comeback, but somehow the words slipped free despite the mindless delirium clouding your head. "Y-you were the one who wouldn't stop teasing," you moaned, squirming fitfully against the delicious pressure poised at your molten core. "Can't say I wasn't tempted to drag you into the bathroom and suck you off..."

The words dissolved into a keening cry as Gojo abruptly slammed into the hilt, filling you to the brim and beyond in one brutal, unyielding stroke. Your legs reflexively locked around his hips and lower back as he immediately began pounding into your clenching walls, each powerful thrust punching the breath from your lungs.

"Is that so, sweetheart?" Gojo gritted out, hissing through clenched teeth as the clutching vice of your inner walls seemed to squeeze the very life from his engorged shaft. "You were just planning on being a dirty little tease the whole time we were at dinner? What a fucking minx..."

Gojo punctuated the statement by angling your hips upward to drill even deeper, each merciless thrust nudging the sensitive spot at the very end of your channel until the pressure sent stars exploding behind your eyelids. The only sounds that could emerge were a series of broken mewls and wordless whines, utterly incapable of doing anything but lay there and take the exquisite torment of his unrelenting, devastating pace.

"Yeah, that's it, let me feel just how desperately you've been needing this," he snarled, large hands gripping your waist as his pelvis hammered a merciless rhythm against your overstimulated sex. "Soak this fucking cock like a good little kitten. Don't hold back on me, baby. Show me how much you missed Daddy's cock and I might let you cum."

You could barely process the filth spilling free from his mouth at this point, each syllable dissolving into an electric buzz as his ruthless assault stoked the pressure mounting inside you. It was a familiar, heady rush of sensation—a coiling tension that seemed to grow tighter and more unbearable with every punishing roll of Gojo's hips against yours.

He was driving you toward a cliff's edge without pause or quarter, and the sheer force of his intensity was dizzying. Yet, despite the frantic, almost savage cadence, you could feel the subtle shift in his grip and angle as Gojo's gaze bored into your face. Even in the midst of his own delirium, the sheer focus and attentiveness in his stare was intoxicating.

"F-fuck, I'm so close," you gasped out, feeling your core spasming and clutching against the rigid pistoning length impaling you. You feebly reached out, desperate for any kind of anchor amidst the relentless tidal wave of sensation threatening to pull you under. "Satoru...please, want you to kiss me again."

Without missing a beat, Gojo's hands shifted, scooping you up until you were practically cradled in his lap. Your legs reflexively locked around his hips and midsection, ankles hooking together as his thrusts never paused. The new position left your torso arching up toward his chest, and Gojo quickly took advantage, slanting his mouth over yours with renewed hunger.

Each slide and curl of his tongue seemed perfectly in time with the driving roll of his hips, and the added closeness was swiftly becoming too much. You were hurtling toward the edge of the abyss, and this time, Gojo seemed intent on taking you down with him.

"My perfect girl, taking my cock like such a good little slut," he gritted out, one hand tangling in your hair while the other braced your back, keeping your bodies fused together. "Been dreaming about this tight cunt for fucking days, and it's even better than I remember. Now be a good kitten and soak Daddy's cock for me."

You could feel yourself tumbling over the precipice even before Gojo's hand snaked down to thumb your clit, and the dual assault was all it took to send you reeling into blinding euphoria. Your climax hit like a freight train, ripping through you with an almost painful intensity that left your toes curling and vision blurring.

Gojo continued thrusting his full length in a rapid-fire tempo, hissing out a strangled groan as the spasms of your inner walls finally dragged him into the depths of oblivion alongside you. Your limbs felt like jelly, and you were grateful for his grip holding you steady as the waves of rapture subsided.

He didn't release you, though, not right away. Rather, Gojo simply held you in his arms, his cheek pressed to the side of your head and the slow rise and fall of his chest syncing with yours. The two of you remained silent for a long moment, simply breathing together as the room gradually stopped spinning around you.

Eventually, Gojo pulled back enough to cup your jaw and slant his mouth over yours in another gentle, exploratory kiss. It was nothing like the devouring claims and searing conquests that had preceded it, and the tenderness in the simple press of lips left you feeling utterly weightless.

When Gojo finally withdrew, the smirk curling his lips was positively self-satisfied. "I'd say that’s enough foreplay, wouldn't you, baby?"

You could only huff a soft laugh in response, shaking your head as the residual tremors of bliss faded. "You consider thatforeplay?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, was I too gentle?" he retorted, feigning a look of innocent confusion. "Maybe we should try round two, then. I'll give you a chance to demonstrate what you meant about sucking me off."

The words emerged in a low, silky murmur as his large hands gripped and squeezed the supple curves of your ass, eliciting a soft squeal from you. You smacked at his broad chest ineffectually, unable to fight the grin tugging at your own mouth.

"You're incorrigible."

"That's not a no," Gojo pointed out, his smug expression practically radiating his unrepentant satisfaction. "And if you keep acting all cute and sassy, I can't promise I'll be able to resist the urge to bend you over and remind you exactly who's in charge."

Your stomach fluttered at the casual, nonchalant admission. It was an undeniable thrill knowing just how badly Gojo craved this—craved you. The thought alone was enough to send a fresh wave of warmth flooding through your veins.

"Maybe I'm not opposed to the idea," you murmured, biting down on your lower lip as you glanced up through your lashes.

The look was clearly too much for Gojo's self-control. His eyes darkened with fresh desire, and his grip shifted to lift and turn you so that you were sprawled facedown across the rumpled cushions.

"Well, in that case," he growled, the heat and weight of his body blanketing yours as his hips pressed flush to the swell of your backside. "Let's see just how filthy this mouth is, shall we?"

The room seemed to exist in its own hushed, velvety cocoon of tranquility - a stark contrast to the ferocious passion that had consumed every inch mere moments ago. You lay draped languidly across Gojo's powerful frame with your cheek pillowed on the rises and valleys of his chest. The steady thrum of his heartbeat reverberated through your lashes in a soothing cadence.

One of your hands traced idle, featherlight patterns over the expanse of his toned abdomen - mapping the ridges and grooves so recently sheened and flexing under your ardent worshiping. Gojo remained equally at peace beneath your sprawled embrace, those brilliant azure irises at half-mast while he reclined with one arm crooked behind his head.

Despite the palpable aura of repletion surrounding you both, a new undercurrent began to gradually assert itself in the weighted stillness. You felt compelled to disturb the quietude to address what this entire evening had truly culminated towards - the deal quietly brokered between heated sheets and joined bodies.

"I'll contact the elders first thing," you murmured, the words seeming to slip free before your mind fully grasped their implication. "About postponing Itadori Yuji's case, like you wanted."

Gojo's chest expanded minutely on a slow inhale, but otherwise his statuesque form remained comfortably inert as your words hung in the air between you. After several beats, you felt the subtle weight of his stare alighting on your upturned features.

"Yeah?" His resonant timbre emerged in a low, stripped rasp - sounding as thoroughly unraveled as the rest of his carefully compartmentalized composure. "They'll actually listen to your stance on something so high-stakes?"

You allowed your own eyes to slip shut in a protracted blink, thoughts rapidly trying to align and process how to even begin verbalizing the sheer revelations that had bloomed open tonight about your place within the jujutsu hierarchy.

"I didn't fully grasp it at first," you admitted, voice coming out slightly roughened from earlier exertions. "But now I'm starting to understand the actual leverage my positioning and reputation has afforded without me even noticing."

Rather than respond directly, the only sound came from a protracted exhalation through Gojo's nose - seeming to signal his grasp of the situation finally mapping out as well. You hoped he also understood just how monumental a gambit he'd set into motion by hammering the truth home in his uniquely heated approach tonight. Not to induce guilt, per se...but perhaps a smidgeon more humility about the harrowing stakes being juggled.

As if sensing the direction of your thoughts, Gojo abruptly shifted his weight until you were rolled over onto your back - his solid bulk carefully blanketing yours without pressure. When your gazes met and locked, you felt that simmering connection arc back into incandescence once more between your joined frames.

"You continue underestimating yourself," he murmured in a timbre now rendered warm gravel thanks to its gravelly softness. He cupped the side of your jaw, thumb tracing the bow of your lips in a barely-there caress that spoke to so much more than surface motions. "Which is exactly why I'm never going to stop knocking some sense into that stubborn head of yours..."

With that throaty declaration, Gojo dipped his chiseled features lower until your foreheads brushed - noses scanting along one another in an electrifying gossamer graze. The intimacy of the motion seemed to steal your very breath straight from your lungs as he carried on in a husked rasp.

"So thank you. For listening to reason and actually wielding your power for once when it really mattered..."

Unable to resist the unspoken pull between your joined gravities any longer, you surged up to seal Gojo's mouth in a slow, simmering clash of satin flesh and indulgent possession. All the unvoiced sentiments and roiling tides of turbulence hovered for a suspended eternity within that singular nexus point before gradually dispersing into peaceful becalm once more.

Eventually Gojo broke away with the barest hint of a crooked smile tugging at those stupidly perfect lips, clearly satisfied with your acquiescence for the time being. The two of you simply basked in silence for a while longer, relishing in this well-earned moment of bonded lassitude.

That is, until the first stirrings of Gojo's impish irreverence inevitably bubbled back up in the form of his rich baritone laced with none-too-subtle swagger:

"So...I take it this means I get to thoroughly ruin you again before breakfast? No more insufferable teasing about you not putting out until your higher-up buddies get their precious signatures?"

You scoffed out a long-suffering sound of semi-amused exasperation, already anticipating the thick cloud of smug virility about to descend. Sure enough, Gojo's chest puffed with unrepentant satisfaction as he slung one heavy arm around your waist and lightly squeezed.

"That's what I thought. Face it kitten, that pretty pussy has officially been drafted into service under my uncompromising authority until further notice..."

He punctuated the lewd declaration by slanting his mouth over yours in a deliriously thorough deluge of hunger and virility, effectively stealing your very breath for a second rapturous cycle before exhaustion could dare creep back in.

And as your joined frames spiraled back into the delirious vortex of blissful dissipation once more, you couldn't help hazarding one last, bemused thought: somehow, you got the distinct impression Gojo would be exercising his latest "authority" over you with particularly unrestrained enthusiasm this time around.

[moonlight-alexia]

Kyra has been off lately, so Steph and the others arange for tiny to surprise her. (When tiny is at lyon, like in your blurb.)

going through my asks and just got a bit of motivation to write this little blurb :)

reunited - kyra cooney-cross x catley!reader

With yours and Kyra's schedules combined with being in two different countries, the last month there had been an inevitable distance between the two of you. Neither of you meant for it to happen, it was just hard to navigate and work out a long distance relationship initially.

You'd gone from playing together, seeing each other all the time, to only being able to facetime when you were both free and half the time it ended up being at night where you or Kyra would fall asleep so quickly.

Kyra understood, but it didn't make any of it easier. Especially when you got injured. It wasn't anything serious or long-term but it was enough to put you out of the team for the next few weeks. But it also meant you'd miss the next international camp.

Kyra saw it happen before you'd even had the chance to tell her yourself. Not being able to be there and to help you made it worse for her. It wasn't your fault you got injured or that Kyra felt this way, she couldn't help it.

Kyra's change in mood was very noticeable. She'd gone from being her goofy, silly and annoying self to quiet and sulking whenever she had the chance.

'Is Kyra okay?' You asked Steph, you decided to call her since Kyra hadn't answered you in a few days.

'Well she's alive and going to training,' Steph trailed off a little, unsure of how to answer. She didn't want to worry her sister but she didn't want to lie to her either.

'But is she okay?' Your voice came through more firmly.

Steph hesitated, you hadn't taken everything when you moved to Lyon most of your room at her place was untouched, staring through the wall like she could see into your room.

She knew Kyra was there, she had been every day this past week. With a sigh your older sister told you everything, you already had a feeling but she confirmed it.

'Long time no see. Lyon's already roughing you up,' Leah nudged your shoulder gently once you'd made your way through the airport. Not easy since you were back on crutches trying your best not to be knocked over by the people rushing around the airport.

'Bet you're happy 'bout this, means arsenal won't lose by as much as now in the first leg,' You joked around, Leah took your backpack from you making it a bit easy to get around.

'You watch it, I'll leave you here,' You knew Leah was all talk and wouldn't actually, but you still played along.

'And then have to face my sister after you abandoned her poor helpless little sister,' Giving Leah a pout and a faux helpless look, one that she just rolled her eyes to and kept on walking.

You had a few days off and got the okay to be able to travel back to England to surprise Kyra. You did get a half hearted message yesterday from her, you were a little bit nervous.

What if Kyra didn't actually want to see you. Steph and Leah both put those worries to rest, reassuring you that your visit would be good for Kyra. Good for the both of you.

'Ellie and Daan said they'd take care of you, now look at you,' Steph gave you a tight hug, you didn't realise how much you'd missed your older sister.

'They are Stephy, can't blame them for this,' You laughed, 'In my room?' Steph nodded her head and you made your way towards your room. It was weird to be back here, felt like no time had passed but it had been months since you called Steph's apartment your home.

'Hey Ky,' You whispered, opening the door to your room. Kyra's eyes widened and she looked up at you. Rubbing her eyes, making sure you were actually in front of her and not just a hallucination.

Her eyes softened when she noticed the crutches and immediately went to you. Kyra’s arms wrapping around you tightly, you struggling to get your arms free of the crutches to hug her back. 

You both stayed like that for a while. Enjoying being in each other's embrace, Kyra’s arms that you desperately missed, ‘I missed you,’ You whispered against Kyra’s neck.

‘I missed you too,’ Eventually you both pulled away from each other enough to be able to make your way to your bed. The one Kyra had been living in when she wasn’t at training. One of your hoodies on a pillow, you smiled slightly but didn’t comment on it knowing Kyra would get slightly embarrassed over it.

Kyra laid with her back against the headboard, you were laying between her legs, your head against her chest. Making sure you were keeping your injured leg in a way that wouldn’t hurt it further. Your hand was tangled with Kyra’s, gently rubbing and playing with her fingers.

‘I know it’s hard but you can’t shut me out. Please don’t do that Ky,’ You pressed yourself closer to Kyra, afraid she might disappear from you if you had any distance between you both.

‘I promise I’ll do better,’ Kyra whispered against the top of your head, pressing her lips against your forehead, ‘I’m glad you’re here with me right now,’

[xomakara]

Baby Don't Stop

SUMMARY | You run into your old college crush, Johnny Suh, at the gym after ten years. You used to hook up back in the day, and sparks fly again. To celebrate Johnny's birthday, you go out for drinks with friends, but the night takes a turn when you confess your feelings for each other. PAIRINGS |  Johnny x Reader RATING |  Mature, NSFW, EXPLICIT, MDNI, 18+, Any Minors and Ageless Blogs will be blocked GENRE |  smut, romance, birthday, old flames, random fluff/comedy  CONTENT/WARNINGS | nightclub vibes, profanity, drinking, flirting, teasing, birthday sex, unprotective sex, public sex, oral sex (both male/female receiving and giving), fingering, marking, shoulder biting, hair grabbing, creampies, daddy kink, breeding/impregnation kink LENGTH |  12,974 words TAGLIST |  @lovetaroandtaemin NETWORKS |  @k-vanity @ksmutsociety AUTHOR’S NOTE |  Thank you to both @unholywriters, and @lovetaroandtaemin for beta-reading this.I really appreciate the both of you for reading this! Thank you @aaagustd for the gorgeous banner! I appreciate you all so much! Happy 30th Birthday to my man, Johnny! 💚💚

NCT Main Masterlist

"Hottie alert!" your friend darts her eyes in the direction of the man that just walked into the gym, but you ignore her gaze and keep running at your current speed, steadily jogging on the treadmill. 

It's as if your sole purpose for existing is just to get the hell on a treadmill every day and then promptly leave. You start slowing down, your mind beginning to wander as the smell of sweat and metal engulfs your senses, and your feet pounding the black material begin to slow until the belt under your feet comes to a full halt.

"Okay Miss Hot Bod," Misun rolls her eyes. "Can you stop exercising long enough to even check a guy out once? You know you need to get laid, babe."

"I don't need your help with that," you quip and shake your head.

"Well obviously, but seriously, look. He's totally your type," Misun points across the room, where he stands in a loose sleeveless tee. His biceps are well defined; his left arm adorned in tats, and he runs his fingers through his dark hair while holding a water bottle in his other hand. "That man's body is literally the definition of fuckable. Look how sculpted he is!"

Okay, you have to admit he is very easy to look at. As you stand there, your breathing slowing and the buzz of the cardio still surging through your veins, the dark haired man looks across the room right in your direction and suddenly, time feels like it's crawling as Misun's words echo through your head. He cocks his head in acknowledgement of his surroundings, as if he were trying to pick out exactly where you were amidst the sea of equipment.

You know this man from somewhere, but you can't put your finger on it. It isn't until he gets up, sets the bottle down on a mat and strides over towards you, and you spot the sunflower tattoo on his left upper forearm that recognition slaps you in the face.

Johnny. 

Johnny fucking Suh. 

The boy that was the object of your crushes back in college. But he was no longer a boy; the past decade had been kind to his body, and the subtle changes between a younger Johnny and an older Johnny just made your panties want to slide off and flutter to the ground.

He’s still as tall as you remember him being, but instead of being lean muscle, he now has a slightly larger frame to fit it. His facial features haven't really changed, but everything is just a bit sharper, a little more rugged. The moment Johnny spots you, his mouth gapes in disbelief. He chuckles, breaking into a wide grin and quickly enveloping you with a bear hug.

"Y/N! Long time no see!" He steps back, his eyes roaming the rest of your figure. You've gotten more confident than your younger self, and your gym gear only serves to highlight just that. Your form fitting workout gear leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination, and Johnny's eyes rake over every curve on your body. He lingers a fraction too long on the tight sports bra stretching against your chest, trying his best not to blatantly stare. He grins and breaks the silence. 

"Wow! I mean, holy shit you look so... so different," he compliments, clearly surprised at the change since the last time he'd seen you.

Back in college, the two of you used to fuck around every once in awhile; never anything serious though. You didn't have any real commitment to one another. You'd go to frat parties together, and you'd sometimes go out with mutual friends. You'd dance a bit, and you’d fuck each other silly once the alcohol kicked in, but nothing more and nothing less. And there was certainly a point in time where you really started to fall hard, because deep down you knew that you were hopelessly pining for him. But, you knew better. Johnny didn't do relationships, and Johnny certainly didn't do serious, at least not that's what you gathered, and you never felt like it was really worth bringing up either.

"Different in a good way?" you tease back.

"Oh yeah, a very good way," he checks out the new you one more time before breaking the gaze. "Wow, the past decade did you good."

"I could say the same about you, Suh," you shoot back, meeting his stare. You scan over him just as he did to you. Time and life has definitely treated him well. "Gosh, you've gotten so-"

"Different?" He laughs. "Yeah. The past few years have done my body good; the diet's improved, the job is stressful, but..." Johnny pauses for a minute and smiles fondly, and you notice the glimmer of nostalgia flicker in his eye as memories flash through his mind. He thinks for a while before speaking again. "Anyway," he breaks into a big grin and shrugs. "The past decade hasn't been half bad."

 "How's life treating you?" you ask him.

"Well I'm back in Seoul permanently now, so that's pretty exciting," he nods and greets you with another easy, kind smile. "You still hang out with Doyoung and the guys?"

"I hang out with Doyoung's wife more than I do with him now," you pointed at Misun and she waved back. You laugh softly. "But yeah, I see the guys every weekend. We're all doing well. Pretty settled down and all."

"Doyoung's married? Holy crap," Johnny's eyes widen and it's a surprise for him to hear. He bites his lip and raises his brows. "How'd I miss that?"

"Life is pretty fast, dude," you grin.

"And you? Are you married?" Johnny tilts his head. "Couple of kids?"

Your face heats up slightly. Kids and marriage were the last thing on your mind right now, and you definitely had no partner. "Nope. Definitely single right now, and zero kids."

"I bet guys would be lining up for miles to have you," he answers. You swallow the saliva collecting in your mouth and look at Johnny for a moment. Perhaps his way was just complimenting everything and everyone, and he meant nothing by his words. That's the most likely case. 

“Nope,” you chuckle. “I don’t see a line anywhere.”

"Good, because I'm gonna ask for your number," his gaze is stern and full of resolve, a mischievous smirk playing upon his lips.

"Huh?" you ask him, feeling a slight lump form in your throat.

"I'd really like to go get a cup of coffee sometime, if you're up for it," his voice is earnest, and he grins widely before speaking again. "Maybe get with the guys some night for drinks? It's not everyday you come back and bump into the old crew."

Ahhhh, he wants to catch up with the old gang. Of course he wants to catch up with everyone and relive the college days or something. It doesn't take a genius to put two and two together.

"Yeah sure," you mumble and dig your phone out. Johnny passes you his and you both add your contact information. "That would actually be a lot of fun."

"Let me know a couple dates that work for you," Johnny says in his silky smooth voice. "Or, let me know what days you're free. If it's during the work week, we can even get dinner after we finish up late at night."

"O...kay, I'll let you know,” you said.

"Sweet. Well it was nice to catch up," Johnny beams and starts walking in the other direction. He suddenly stops, spins, and turns back around. "Don't be a stranger, yeah? Give me a call whenever!"

"Yeah..." you nodded.

Johnny gives you an eager nod before taking his leave. As you watch his sculpted back muscles through the fabric of his loose shirt, Misun runs right over to you.

"Aghhh," she screeches excitedly, almost kicking her leg in an attempt to demonstrate how excited she was. "He totally hit on you!"

"Did he, though?" you tilt your head and smile slightly, grabbing your gym bag, before heading to the bathroom. "We kind of used to hang out with the same circle of people and—"

"Wait—so you already knew him? He's not just a guy you met today?" Misun follows you out, nearly stepping on your shoes because she's following your every movement like a hawk. She stares you down as if she were trying to dissect your body right there in the locker room, like a science experiment gone horribly, horribly right.

"We've sort of been casually acquainted since my college days," you explain as you pull your leggings off. "He's one of your husband's friends. Not someone I'd say he’s super close with, though. Just casual acquaintances."

"You guys fucked, didn't you?" Misun presses, her eyes bulging out of her eye sockets.

"Hey hey hey," you put a finger over your lips and lower your voice, checking the surrounding area for other people in the vicinity. You confirm the coast is clear before continuing, but you continue to whisper, nonetheless. "Keep it down will you?"

Misun smacks her lips together as a cheeky smirk spreads across her face. "Damn."

You begin changing out of your gym clothes before speaking again. "To be completely honest with you, Misun... Johnny was probably the most attractive guy I was ever with. By far. In fact, he's probably the most attractive guy I'll ever be with..." you say a bit melancholy, trailing off as your mind drifts back to those wild college nights.

"Then why the hell haven't you hit that in like a decade then, hon? I mean damn," Misun places her hand over her heart and you can practically see the gears spinning in her brain. "He's hot. You're hot. It's a win-win."

"Things are just...complicated," you answer vaguely, but you know exactly what your friend's picking up on.

"Darling," Misun wraps an arm around your shoulder. "Life is complicated. Relationships are complicated. But sex is the easiest thing ever to understand. I promise."

You simply wave her comment off and close up the door to your locker. Maybe she has a point, but you honestly don't know how you should feel. Things were so much simpler back when you and Johnny first hooked up. Back then, no feelings were involved, and everything was clear and defined. Now? Who the fuck knows.

All you could think about at that moment was Johnny. Johnny's body, Johnny's grin, Johnny's laughter, and everything in-between. There's an awkward tightening sensation in your core, and you shake your head. This isn't something that would normally bother you. Sure, you found him hot back in college, but the lust was purely physical. Something felt...different this time.

And, something about Johnny has changed, and you know it. Maybe it was just that time itself had changed, maybe he'd matured since your early twenties. Maybe the dynamic between you and Johnny would be entirely different now.

"Johnny's back in town," Taeyong tells you and Doyoung over lunch one day as he sips his americano.

You swallow your bite and nod. "Yeah, I know. I ran into him at the gym."

"What?" His eyes grow wider than saucers as he puts down his coffee cup. "No way!"

"Yeah, Misun was there," Doyoung laughs and gives you a cheeky look. "My lovely wife saw Johnny and Y/N make googly eyes at each other before exchanging contact info."

"Oh?" Taeyong raises his eyebrows and perks up in interest. "What happened next?"

You shove another piece of chicken into your mouth and sigh. "We exchanged numbers."

"AND?" both men yell impatiently.

"We. Exchanged. Numbers," you make a large circle with your hands in an exasperated fashion and then stare at both of them. "He wants to catch up with everyone, that's all. Go get a drink, reminisce about our younger days."

"Damn," Taeyong swears and laughs. "That's disappointing."

"You two would have such beautiful babies," Doyoung mutters.

"Who's gonna have babies?" Jaehyun cuts in, carrying a tray of drinks.

"Our darling Y/N and Suh," Taeyong explains, putting the last bite of food in his mouth. "Wanna go get drinks with Johnny and our lovely Y/N sometime this week?"

"Johnny's back in town?" Jaehyun seems intrigued.

"He’s here to stay," Doyoung looks at Jaehyun with raised eyebrows. “Y/N and Johnny exchanged numbers.”

"Oh, really?" Jaehyun looks mildly interested and smirks as he places your drink down in front of you. "You're hot. Johnny's hot. Good call. Hook it up."

"I literally think you guys are reading into this waaaay too much," you sigh and shake your head. "It was not even close to how you're putting it. No chemistry involved."

"Johnny Suh wouldn't have gotten your number if he was the sort of man to 'just catch up' with old college friends," Taeyong argues, making an air quote gesture.

"FINE," you roll your eyes. "Well, he asked me for coffee. BUT," you interject quickly and put a finger up when they're all ready to burst. "That doesn't necessarily mean he's asking me out on a date! Coffee doesn't necessarily mean romance."

"Uh, it totally does!" Taeyong cries, Jaehyun snickering along with him. "How do you think Misun and Doyoung got married? They brewed their love."

Doyoung slaps a hand over his face and rolls his eyes, muttering under his breath.

"Who are you and what have you done with the Lee Taeyong I once knew, God-knows-when, from God-knows-where," you grimace at his horrible choice in word play.

"Say it, Y/N. You know I'm a hundred percent right, and you can't deny it," Taeyong goes on. "How do you feel about Suh?"

"It's been ten years, Taeyong! What should I even say? Do I even have the same feelings for him as I had back in college?" You roll your eyes.

"Maybe? Maybe not. Only you know. But... Do you?" Doyoung folds his arms and glares at you.

You throw your head back, running your hands across the side of your hair. You make a dramatic gesture of screaming silently while the boys sit back and wait, leaning forward as they anticipate your answer. You stop making a ruckus and shoot them a defeated, resigned look, your shoulders slumping, your mouth drooping, and a little twinkle sparkles in your eyes.

You purse your lips together. "Possibly. Maybe. A bit."

"I mean," Jaehyun started, "you guys did fuck for a good year in college—"

"How did you know that!?" You feel the embarrassment color your cheeks.

Jaehyun bursts out laughing. "Who didn't know? You guys were fuckin' around a LOT."

You sink lower in your chair, sinking your teeth into the flesh of your lip. Of course they'd have known.

"So what's the problem then?" Taeyong presses for the details. "You're single, right?"

"Yeah but..." you sigh. "What if he's not? Or what if he's with someone right now?"

"He's single," Taeyong points at you with a decisive air, nodding with pride. "I asked."

"Why am I not surprised, you little gossiping bastard," you fold your hands across your chest. "Of course you asked."

"Anyway," Taeyong shakes his head. "Think of it this way. Say you get your little date on. If nothing comes out of it, then no biggie! Nothing ventured, nothing gained. But, if anything happens… if," he puts a hand to his heart, "if a wonderful spark ignites between you and Johnny… then wouldn't it have been worth trying?"

He does make an excellent point.

Johnny's wearing a button down silk shirt, open to the fourth button so his sharp clavicle and smooth, flawless, chest were peeking out. His leather pants were molded around him; the expensive belt showing off just how defined his waist was. He sits back in his chair and gives a hearty laugh as Haechan talks animatedly, gesturing and using both of his hands for emphasis as he recounts a story about Jaehyun pranking Taeyong.

You're sitting next to him, his arm draped casually against the top of the chair you're sitting on, a smug, playful smirk dancing across his lips, and his eyes flashing and sparkling under the light of the low lit room. You try not to stare at how well dressed he is, how nice the scent of his cologne is and how he looks like an absolute snack from this proximity. It’s difficult not to notice just how nice looking this man is. It's been more than ten years since you've been near one another, after all. And the past decade has been exceedingly good to him, that much was evident.

It was Johnny's birthday celebration; the crew wanted to go out and give him the greatest time, since he was back in Seoul after so long, and Johnny was the type to really enjoy himself when surrounded by good company. Dressed in a long, skin-tight black dress that dipped low in the back, showing the length of your spine and cut to expose one leg up to the upper thigh, the crew went hard for this bar crawl night and they went all out for Johnny. 

When Yuta suggested this nightclub and sent everyone the address, the boys responded with immediate acceptance, while your immediate reaction was pure disbelief. You hate nightclubs; you were never interested in them. This was never your scene back in college, let alone right now. Sure, you loved a nice drink after work, and you've been dragged to enough bars with your friends, but you were not remotely interested in this clubbing scene.

There are too many sweaty people, a plethora of obnoxious dudes trying to pick up girls, and so much wasted energy. Why not just go to a bar where you can have a more relaxed vibe and a way better selection of drinks? That would be a better fit for you, really. You can have a drink, lounge, and enjoy music that is quiet enough to allow you to hear your friends’ voices.

But nope, here you are. Surrounded by a sea of people who are half-naked, grinding or shouting about the lack of people grinding against them. You felt old in the sea of young bodies in here, so out of place in a world filled with loud music and zero room to talk to anybody, given the loud and throbbing base filling the entirety of the room.

"Hey Y/N," Johnny leans in and whispers right into your ear, his breath warm and tickling.

"Hmm," you try to keep it casual, even though his sudden movements have put you into an unannounced trance.

"Wanna get out of here?" He's closer to you now, his soft lips barely even brushing against the outer shell of your earlobe.

"Excuse me?" your face heats up a few degrees, wondering if what you're thinking is what he means, or what you're hoping for.

"We're going to hit another place," Jaehyun says from your other side.

"The vibe here is awful," Johnny groans. "Let's go somewhere more chill where we can all just talk."

"I knew this club thing was a bad idea. I should've fought Nakamoto on his decision," you get out of your seat and smile in response. "Plus it's better for Doyoung. We don't need any single birds flirting with him. Misun's liable to punch somebody in the face if anyone gets close."

Everyone chuckles as you all head out. Yuta merely shrugged when you told him about changing locations and led the crew out into the evening air, looking for a new bar to go to. The whole lot of you move at the pace of Jaehyun and Johnny, whose strides are equally long, as they attempt to seek a spot of their liking. After passing a few establishments, you find yourself nearing a lounge with a slightly different ambiance, one that doesn't reek of desperation and wasted energy. It was relatively quiet when you got close, and the interior looked cozy. You instantly liked the change in scenery and noticed how your tension melted away.

Everyone shuffled inside, pushing tables together.

"C'mon babe, you're sitting over here," Misun gently coaxed you into the seat next to Johnny, which just makes you wonder what she's scheming now, what new ridiculousness has filled her mind. "This place has a way better atmosphere, right?"

You had to admit, this was a much better choice than the night club that Yuta brought everyone to earlier. This was cozy and just loud enough for everyone to be heard without needing to yell their lungs out.

"Y'know..." Jungwoo starts, getting your attention as you lean forward across the table. "I don't think Yuta was really trying."

Everyone, except Yuta, started guffawing in unison, and Doyoung did his best not to fall off of his stool.

"To be fair," Yuta stands in the corner, attempting to defend his character, a pout forming upon his lips. "I didn't have time to go scout a location out! Work's been busy! Cut me some slack."

"First rounds on you then," Mark cracks up, slapping Yuta hard on the back.

"Feeling better already, babe?" Doyoung gave his wife a quick peck before speaking and patted the seat to his left.

Misun nodded eagerly and took the offered seat, watching you and Johnny with intense interest, a far too satisfied grin playing on her lips.

“This place is nice,” Misun started. “It’s intimate and cozy. And the sound levels here are great. Perfect place for a little celebration.”

You give Misun a questioning glance but you decide to shrug and leave it at that for now. Besides, this wouldn't hurt anyone.

"First things first!" Yuta announced after everyone got comfortable, raising a glass high. Everyone paused and gave Yuta their undivided attention. "A toast! To Johnny, Happy Birthday again!"

You grab ahold of your drink and raise the glass high into the air to follow the boys.

"Cheers!" everyone shouts and the sound echoes throughout the space as everyone takes a sip of their drinks.

"Thanks, man, really," Johnny grins widely, patting Yuta's shoulder and shaking his friend's hand. He faces you and locks your gaze. "Now that we're not deafened by shitty club music, I just wanted to say how great it was to see you all again. I really did miss this."

Everyone's beaming at him with their hearts on their sleeves. Even you.

"I never stopped missing you guys. Truly," he raised his glass and everyone mimicked his gesture. He holds his cup out to toast, the smile on his face wide. "Now let's take it easy and catch up."

You spend hours laughing, reminiscing, and recounting old stories. Misun's stomach hurts so badly she can't help but lay down on Doyoung's lap, rubbing at her stomach, with tears coming out of her eyes as she tells Haechan and Jungwoo not to make her laugh anymore.

Johnny's presence is intoxicating and comforting; his hand is placed across the back of your chair throughout most of the night, only removing it to grab drinks or help pass things across the table.

He's exactly as you remembered from college: warm and charming. So goddamn easy on the eyes. His timbre was so delicious, you wished that he'd whisper sweet nothings to you, hold you in his embrace and tell you you were the most beautiful woman in the entire world. And maybe his kisses were exactly as sweet, perhaps even sweeter, as they once were back in the good ol' days.

You notice that Misun was talking to one of the employees, whispering, glancing at you and Johnny every now and then, but you honestly can't bring yourself to care. Not tonight at least. Not when Johnny's near you, especially, because no man has ever looked at you the way Johnny Suh does tonight. You can feel those brown pools devouring every inch of you as you converse with the rest of the crew, hanging off of everyone's every word.

Johnny's intense gaze has always made you feel self-conscious, yet exhilarated. He looks at you like you're the most incredible thing he's ever seen, and it's captivating. Reconnecting after a decade, you realize these feelings are rushing back. The Johnny from college is different from the man he is now; he's matured in every sense of the word.

"You don't expect me to really believe that you met Johnny at the gym, right?" Mark asks, a giant grin plastered on his face as he wondered how you ran into Johnny after all this time.

"I didn't plan anything at all! I was just working out! I swear!" You raise your hands, palms facing up in innocence, and chuckle as you see the curious and expectant looks on their faces. "I can't control what random encounters my life brings, you guys."

"It's true. I saw her running on the treadmill and came over. Completely unplanned and innocent," Johnny's cool demeanor is calm, but he still has his typical Cheshire cat-like smile plastered onto his face. "Are we done being grilled here? Or are you all gonna keep up with this interrogation?"

Everyone laughs and turns their attention to their new round of drinks that just arrived. The lounge started to get rowdy and loud, the quiet, ambient area turned into a hotspot for those who wanted some post-work release. There were throngs of office people, students and party goers filing in. It was much different from the peaceful, mellow scene just minutes ago.

Misun's grinning like a fool when you stand up. "And where are you off to?"

"Bathroom. Give me a sec," you answer.

She gives you an enthusiastic thumbs-up and watches you walk across the length of the table. Misun and Doyoung slide a keycard in Johnny's direction, nudging their heads toward your receding back.

"What's this?" Johnny frowns slightly, grabbing it in his hand as the couple tries their hardest not to stare.

"Our present to you," Misun answers smoothly, Johnny raising his eyebrows. "We all know that you and Y/N used to have a... thing. So, we figured, you deserved to celebrate in private, without any company."

Johnny looks around at the group. "You guys all know-"

"That you and Y/N hooked up for a full year?" Mark cackles. "Well, duh. We all know. Not really sure how you two think you could possibly be lowkey or discreet about it."

"How could we miss the looks the two of you have been giving each other or the times you both snuck off campus on some weekends?" Jungwoo chimes in.

"And you thought we didn't know?" Yuta rolls his eyes and laughs.

"The worst kept secret of your life, if you ask me," Taeyong added with a laugh before slapping his back. "Reconnect, man. Who knows? Maybe sparks could reignite."

"That would be fucking wild," Haechan laughs as a fresh set of drinks is laid upon the table and clinks his glass with Mark's.

"Johnny!" Yuta smacks Johnny's shoulder. "Don't let another decade slip by wondering what could have been."

"Go to the private room and make out or something," Taeyong wiggled his eyebrows. "And whatever happens afterwards is totally none of our business."

Johnny stares at the card again, eyeing the shiny material before shooting a confused gaze back at Doyoung and Misun. "I... really don't know what to say. This is unexpected, honestly."

Doyoung smiles. "If anyone deserves something this nice, it's you, Johnny. Go get her, man."

After returning from the ladies room and taking a brief moment to fix your lipstick in the mirror, you check the time and see the numbers, 9:45pm. You run your hands over the black dress and fix your hair, spraying a bit of perfume before exiting the bathroom and re-entering the busy lounge.

Your eyes wander about the space and see everyone else standing up and conversing as you make your way back. The lounge has become noisier, packed with several bodies, more than you anticipated it to have, but it wasn't as loud or stifling as the last place. You shuffle and slide around to navigate through the masses, spotting the crew around the table. Johnny stood out like a sore thumb with his tall, sculpted figure, and even if he didn't, Misun caught your gaze, making a point to shove the guys to the side and call you over.

You let out a small laugh as you joined your friends.

"Where were you? You took so long," Misun gasped, lurching a bit forward, dramatically pulling you down to sit into your original spot.

"Took forever to line up in the bathroom," you roll your eyes and chuckle at her as the guys slide a drink in your direction.

Misun smirks, leaning in to whisper in your ear. "Are you wearing sexy panties or boy shorts tonight?"

"Oh, no," you pull away and glower, giving a slight laugh. "Don't even start."

"You're not gonna give Suh a show tonight?" she presses, pouting.

You smirk and try not to burst into laughter. You decide it best to not tell her that you didn't think it was gonna happen in the first place, and that her efforts will be fruitless anyway. You smirk, take a deep breath and say, "You're crazy. Why would I do that?"

"You're wearing perfume, you've fixed yourself up..." Misun answered.

"Misun, look around," you gesture around the venue. "There's plenty of girls out tonight. This place is a real hottie central," you say, watching some girls clad in skintight dresses and very high heels saunter by in an attempt to not sound offended by her insinuation. "I was literally in the bathroom. Why wouldn't I wear perfume or freshen up?"

Misun playfully frowns, but continues to gape at you as Doyoung checks something on his phone and reaches out to grab his glass, gulping his cocktail.  "I wanna dance," Misun gets up and tugs Doyoung off of the chair. "C'mon hon, let's go have some fun."

"Behave," Doyoung kisses his wife on her nose before following her onto the small dance floor. Everyone else seemed to scatter, leaving you and Johnny to be the last ones remaining at the table.

"And then there were two," he remarks, bringing his beer to his lips to take a swig, a smirk curling upwards.

"Looks like it," you reply, taking your own cup.

"I'm not complaining, not in the slightest," Johnny says, shifting in his seat to get more comfortable. His thigh now lightly brushes against your leg. "I missed this. Just spending time with friends."

"No girlfriends or lovers back home, Johnny boy?" You ask, glancing at the man, who smiled.

"Nah, it hasn't really worked out in that department... at all. Kinda just me right now," his laugh was music to your ears. You try not to focus on his large frame beside you, or his muscular thigh pressed up against you, or the way his cologne smells so good up-close.

"Really now?" you laugh. "Handsome like that, body like that. Surely the girls must be all over you back in Chicago. So you never had a chance?"

"They're out there," Johnny admits. "I guess I'm picky. Plus," he gives you an intense look, tilting his head forward, as his leg moves and presses against yours in a way that wasn't accidental. His hands slide to his lap. "I haven't had anyone I liked for a while now."

"For some reason, I just don't believe that..." you laugh, finding it hard to maintain eye contact now. 

"What about you? I find it hard to believe that no guy has snatched you up." He leans in further, turning to face your direction now. "What's the story behind your single ass?"

"I never found that spark, I guess. Plus work's been hectic," you respond, sucking your lower lip in.

"Life works in mysterious ways, huh?" His smile is endearing and gentle. "So many people cross our path every day and you never know who it could be, really." He pauses, and puts a hand on yours, which had been resting against the side of the table. His fingertips send jolts through your body.

Johnny's touch was electric. His fingers, his entire hand envelopes yours, leaving you at his complete mercy.

"Maybe you'll end up meeting someone again? The perfect match?" he added, his hand not moving or leaving yours.

"That would be nice," you said, and took a large swig of your drink. You give him a friendly smile and laugh to yourself, relaxing as the pounding music and the vibrations start to drown out everything else in the lounge. You notice a few younger women eyeing your handsome companion with interest, shooting furtive glances and hopeful smiles his way. Their body language is easy for you to pick up on; you're no novice at this game.

Johnny catches sight of the girls who are looking over at him and does absolutely nothing about it. In fact, his hand snakes across your lower back and his fingers are pressing into your back with a possessive grip, not even bothering to acknowledge any of the women gawking his way. Your breath hitches at the feeling of his strong, firm hands massaging your lower spine.

"Oh?" You turn your gaze away from the girls and stare at him. "They seem very interested."

"They got nothing on you," he replies smoothly, and a dangerous glint appears in his eye, and then he's slowly and methodically raking his gaze over every part of your exposed skin. "Absolutely nothing."

You felt heat coiling within your gut as he did this.

"Even after a decade?" You blink rapidly, cheeks burning. You down the rest of your drink, hoping that the booze would quell the emotions rushing through your body.

Johnny leaned closer and locked your gaze. His scent, a delicious mix of his own natural musk and expensive cologne, invades your nostrils and a shudder rolls up and down your spine. The intensity of his chocolate brown eyes left you a bit speechless and frozen in place.

"A decade is such a long time," he murmured, reaching his free hand over and gently resting his palm against your cheek. Johnny's expression, and voice, turned a bit tender. "But to me, you're the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known, and nothing has changed that. Maybe I'm biased," he chuckles and you couldn't help but reciprocate his sweet laugh, leaning in and enjoying his closeness. "But there's no woman that comes anywhere close to you. You've held my attention since day one."

"What am I supposed to do with you, Suh?" you cock an eyebrow his way.

"Anything you want," Johnny takes his free hand and moves it to brush his thumb lightly along your cheekbone.

"What if I wanted to...continue this..." your throat goes dry and you feel a lump in your throat as you swallow your fear. "Where would we even begin?"

"Right here," his words are just as smooth and confident. "Can I tell you something?"

"Sure, what is it?" you ask, blinking and waiting in anticipation.

"I fucking miss this. Spending time together, talking, laughing. I've missed you," his thumb gently rubs circles along your cheekbone, making you shudder under his touch. He begins to shift again, allowing his free hand to rub up and down your arm in slow strokes.

His touches weren't necessarily foreign, but it's been a damn decade of no Johnny contact. It felt like years of pent up electricity had just exploded in your heart and your belly, and all you could do was stare at him in response, hypnotized by him. 

"I fucking miss you too," you croak, and lean into him for a kiss. 

His lips meet yours, slowly and softly, before they move and become more hungry and fierce, just as they used to be back in college. You feel his tongue slipping past the seal of your lips and teeth, deepening the kiss, making you moan in pleasure as he savours the sweet taste of your mouth. Your body wants him more, desperately needs him after all these years. You don't pull away from him because it feels too damn good, so you reach both arms over his broad shoulders as if he was going to leave.

"Fuck," he groans in frustration, pulling away abruptly and abruptly breaks off the kiss, gasping for breath, forehead leaning on top of yours. "I miss kissing you."

You stay in place, enjoying how it feels to be in his arms, surrounded by his presence. You watch him fiddle with the empty glass, his hands busy, his focus entirely on the beverage in front of him. There are a few moments of silence, allowing the music of the bar to fill your ears. The light sounds of chatter and music of the bar carry their own rhythm as they blend into an enjoyable soundtrack to the night.

"So…" you begin again, searching his gaze, searching for an indication. A sign of where to take this.

"Why did we stop?" he muses, shifting again and crossing one leg over the other, still rubbing circles on your lower back with his fingertips. "We could have worked it out back then."

"You didn't do relationships, remember? Not your type," you try to remind him gently, reaching for another sip. 

"Did I say that?" he raises an eyebrow.

"Among other things. Lots of other things," you admit and shift in your chair so you could better angle yourself to face him.

"But did you know you were the only girl that I hooked up with for an entire year?" Johnny turns, facing you and presses his hand lightly to your thigh. "Don't get me wrong," he's quick to clarify. "I dated loads. But...You. It was just you, that whole year."

"What are you saying, Johnny?" you blinked.

"I'm saying..." His deep chocolate brown eyes search yours as his words form slowly. "That maybe... Just maybe... You were more than just a fuck to me."

"Pause. Rewind, go back. Rewind ten steps. Because I'm quite sure I heard you wrong," you joke.

"Come on, babe. Seriously. It was only you," Johnny reiterates and he brings his thumb back up to your cheek, stroking your cheek again, softer, gentler and slower, giving you more time to take it all in. His hand holds your jaw gently as he presses his lips back to yours, sweet, sensual and slowly building to a burning, aching desire. "After that year, no other girl could live up to what you gave me. I didn't bother anymore after you. I... It just wasn't the same."

"Oh, come off it, Johnny," you snorted and rolled your eyes, brushing off his comment.

"It's the truth, baby," he grabs your chin gently, and his brown eyes seem so sincere. "And I hate that it's taken me ten years to realize this," Johnny breathes. "But fuck me, if that's not the truth."

His lips connect to yours again,his tongue finding its way inside and licking the sides of your mouth, swirling and caressing until all you can taste is his beer and his want for you, while his fingers travel upwards and weave their way through your hair. His breath catches and he presses his forehead to yours again. Your heart races at his declaration, beating madly in your ears, like a drumbeat pounding against your chest.

You bite down on his lower lip and he moans deeply in the back of his throat, sucking it between his own teeth. You sigh contentedly as he kisses the sensitive spot under your chin, letting you nibble at his neck and ear, tracing his features with your fingers as though he would vanish and disappear like a shadow.

The air surrounding the two of you has heated up, and so has the tension that hangs between your bodies. His hands roam freely underneath your clothing, running fingers and palms up and down your body as if he has every right to. 

"Want to get out of here, get somewhere...more private?" he mumbles, voice low and hoarse, vibrations transferring through the heat of the embrace to your lips, pressed against his collarbone. You feel light-headed and hazy as the effects of the alcohol and the hot atmosphere are really starting to sink in.

"God yes," you breathe, barely even pausing. The throb between your legs hasn't let up; in fact, it's almost gotten worse now. And as much as you enjoy the flirtatious banter and light teasing, all you can think about is just how badly you want to be touched right now.

He grabs your hand and leads you up to a private room with tinted windows that spanned from the ceiling to the floor, a beautiful view of the city to be taken in. You follow him, buzzed enough to be ready to go wherever and do whatever, confident and unafraid.

"When did you manage to reserve this?" you asked him as he closes and locks the door and turns to you, eyes glinting.

"Apparently Misun planned this. She talked to the owner, told them it was my birthday, and this private room was ready and set up for us," Johnny gently comes up behind you and slides his strong arms around your middle, kissing the back of your neck before resting his chin on your shoulder. "We can go elsewhere if you want. I just want to spend some alone time with you. No distractions and no prying eyes."

You turn to face him, and his beautiful chocolate eyes have grown darker. His face has taken a stern,serious expression. It sends goosebumps down the back of your arms, butterflies straight to the pit of your stomach, and a sharp ache through the depths of your belly. 

"Let's stay here. This is good. It's private," you whisper. You turn away from him to face the view of the skyline, his embrace feeling warm and secure.

He holds you like this for several silent seconds, kissing the shell of your ear gently while you look out. Neither one of you dares to move; you both are at peace and enjoy the feeling and presence of one another, basking in it, letting yourselves indulge in it.

"I have to admit something," you whisper quietly as he holds you close.

"Hm?" he hums, playing with your hands and swaying your hips, embracing his body even closer to yours.

"Back then, you said no attachments and no feelings," you sigh, not daring to look him in the eye as you think back to when you last saw him in college. "The thing is, that whole year that we were hooking up... that whole year, Johnny, I was crazy in love with you."

You hear him inhale and squeeze your body tight, fingers gently digging into the fabric of your dress. You stay still and feel the warm puffs of air blow across the back of your neck as Johnny processes. After a moment, you feel him press a long, gentle kiss on the back of your neck, hands roaming across your skin, leaving tingling trails of goosebumps in their wake.

"We can take this however you want. If you're just looking for something casual, I'm okay with that," he whispers with a hint of a chuckle. He kisses you softly and continues, "But if you're open to something more... if you'd give me another chance..."

You turn slowly in his arms, meeting his warm, caramel-colored gaze. The city lights twinkle behind him, highlighting his chiseled features. He cups your face gently in his large hands, his eyelids lowering at the closeness. "I'll always go at your pace," his voice drops low.

Your hands land on either side of his face and you draw him close, feeling his body melt against yours. "Let's pick up from where we left off, 1o years ago. But this time," you pause and give him an affirmative smile before leaning into his awaiting lips. "I want all of it, Johnny. The dates, the sex, the arguing, the compromising and the intense makeup sex, waking up next to you and feeling like home. All of it."

"Fuck, me too. I want it all, all of you," he grins as his words dripped from his mouth and onto your lips, holding your body tightly to his.

"Oh my god, stop talking and kiss me already," you whisper into his lips.

The moon shines, hanging above the busy streets and city buildings below, lighting up the sky with an ethereal glow. The low rumbling of cars moving down the city streets and people mingling and dancing the night away is distant; the two of you are lost to your own world, content to explore each other with your hands and lips.

Your breathing turns ragged, hitching every time his lips attach to a particularly sensitive spot. He backs you up, slowly, with his arms wrapped around your waist, until the backs of your thighs meet the wall and his broad torso, pinned tightly to yours.

"When's the last time I told you, you're gorgeous as hell?" He says in your ear, nibbling his way down the side of your neck.

"ten years ago? God, stop talking. We've wasted so much time already," you breathed, tangling your fingers into his hair, earning a pleasured groan from the man.

You feel his hot tongue laving over the smooth flesh and relishing how your back arches, your breathing getting heavier. Your pulse raced when he found a certain spot beneath your ear, near your collarbone, that made you let out a weak little cry when he sucked and kissed it. "Feels good?" he mumbles into your skin.

"Very," you hum, placing your hands on the solid chest and shoulder muscles he's grown since college. His once lithe and lanky frame, replaced with solid muscle and definition, a jawline that could cut diamonds, and eyes dark and filled with desire. "Age has really been good to you."

Johnny laughs, and it reverberates against your body, shaking the two of you with its deep vibrations. "Says you. You grew up a lot."

He trails one hand up to the fabric covering your breast and kneads one, plucking at your nipple until you gasp.

"They've definitely gotten a little fuller," Johnny rumbles into your ear, "If I recall correctly." His tongue darts out and traces a path up from your collarbone, hot and wet, swirling against the vein in your neck.

All you can do is let out a whimper in affirmation and dig your nails deeper into his back. Your body is trembling beneath his touch, the delicious feeling of his mouth latched onto that area of your neck, sucking and nibbling the soft skin until he's had his fill. Your head rolls back and the noises escaping your throat become desperate; you claw at his shoulder blades and groan again and again.

"I guess that hasn't changed," he teases with a smirk, voice rumbling across your skin in waves.

"Oh fuck," your entire body trembles, "You've always been able to get me to beg for you. Way too well."

He pulls away from the wet patch of flesh between your neck and shoulder with a small pop and leans his head against yours, trying to slow his breathing.

"Can we continue this someplace with less...window?" Johnny mumbles after a long period of comfortable silence. His deep chocolate brown gaze is languid as his hands caress up and down the side of your body, savoring every curve and edge. "Not that I wouldn't totally have sex in this room with you... But a bed would definitely be more ideal for us, no?"

"Because we're old?" You chuckle. "Sounds about right. We should take our old asses somewhere more comfortable and quiet."

"Who are you calling old?" he murmurs, laughing into your lips. "We're just mature," he insists as his tongue runs along the crease of your lips, gaining entrance.

"Old," you retort back with a gasp and then laugh, feeling his teeth clamp onto your tongue lightly. His laughter is low, rumbling deep from within his chest, resonating off your own and mixing.

"Will you spend the night with me? Back at mine? I mean it. All of it," Johnny clarifies. "Mess around? Curl in bed. Wake up and cuddle? I've missed cuddling you," his face becomes serious, turning from teasing and flirty to longing and sincere, with a gentle tenderness showing across his eyes and face. He brings his hand up to cup the side of your face, staring into your eyes, searching, willing for you to agree.

"I don't know if I can wait, I kind of just want to jump you right now," you respond back.

"Yeah?" Johnny huffs out a laugh, looking around the private room. "Right now?"

"I mean, there's a couch right here," you joke and tilt your head to the cushy leather sofa sitting at the side. "Can I at least suck you off here, and then we go back to yours to continue the night?" you ask softly, slowly pushing him backward towards the seating. "Then maybe," your hands land on his belt buckle, gently slipping your thumbs between the leather strap, pulling it away from his body and giving you the chance to remove the metal piece. "Maybe later we can take our time? Go slow or fast, soft or hard...in your bed..."

"Fuck. Sure, sure. Anything," Johnny responds breathily, not putting up any resistance as he is guided back onto the leather seating, scooting backwards until his back is resting against the cushion. "Whatever you want."

Your eyes drop from his, and your eyelashes flutter softly, focusing on the belt unclasping, buttons being opened and the zipper being slowly lowered.

"Jesus christ," Johnny's voice is hushed. "How do you still fucking do this to me? Even ten years later?"

Your heart melts at his statement, and you pull yourself closer and wrap your fingers around his waistband, peeling the material down his hips and freeing his thick member, causing Johnny to audibly groan when his erection sprang out, now pressed tightly against his stomach.

The smell of his intoxicating musk fills your nostrils, and your head immediately becomes woozy. Your heart picks up, almost skipping a beat, and the rush of blood starts to make you dizzy. You've almost forgotten the effect his cock and his arousal had on you. The thick vein underneath and how it'd pulse against your hand. The swollen, red tip and the liquid pearl leaking out.

"Damn, I missed this cock. So fucking much," you whispered before lowering your head to give the leaking tip an experimental kitten-lick.

"Fuck," his legs twitch from the action, and he bites back a curse. Then he growls, "Go ahead, put those pretty lips around me like the good girl I remember."

Without another word, you flatten your tongue at the base of his member and slowly move up towards the tip. He stiffens further and his breathing picks up and his pupils dilate, enraptured with watching you.

With half lidded eyes, you lock gazes with him, never once looking away as you begin to lower your mouth onto him. He twitches slightly as you swirl your tongue around him, bobbing up and down at a steadily increasing pace. A bit salty, but also fresh and earthy, your taste buds get an alluring hit, just a small sample of what he would taste like when you have him completely. Your nails gently dig into his outer thighs and he sucks in a breath, trying and failing not to buck up into your hot, slick heat.

"Feel better than you remembered?" You tease.

"Mmm, the same and different," he replies. "A lot…dirtier than you were back then."

"Yeah?" Your hand grips the shaft and begins pumping up and down the velvety hot length, thumb running up and down his length, pressing your fingers into the areas you know drive Johnny crazy.

"Baby," he hisses in a low, throaty grunt, eyes sliding shut, languidly rolling his hips and driving further up into your hand. He enjoys the smooth, tight pressure, and the way your grip firms when his cock grows to its fullest, leaking thick beads of pre cum. You swallow and suck, hollowing your cheeks as you swirl your tongue in an obscene motion along the leaking head. "Baby, don't stop. God, that feels good. Just like that."

With a sly, glinting look, you press open-mouthed kisses and long licks to the sides of his cock and balls. With your free hand you slowly reach out to rub over the spot behind his testicles, massaging and stroking, and you drag him back into the present with the touch. Johnny makes an involuntary jerk and then quickly relaxes back against the seat. Your stomach flutters with anticipation, unable to stop the wide smirk spreading across your face as you enjoy this, having his hot length stretching your lips wide and stuffed down your throat. His groans sound like music to your ears.

Johnny threads his hands into the locks of your hair as the only warning you would get before yanking your face against his groin and keeping you in place as his cock jerked inside the confines of your cheeks, sending a thick white ribbon of semen straight to the back of your throat. You feel his hot sticky cum coming up to coat the back of your throat, spurting it straight down. His hips rock in erratic jerks as his hand wraps itself firmly around the back of your neck, rubbing comforting little circles onto your skin.

"That's my girl," Johnny coo's sweetly. "Swallow it for daddy." He watches in arousal and satisfaction, enjoying the show, as you open your mouth and stick out your tongue. It’s covered with ropes of thick white cum, and there's some lingering inside. But you did a thorough job of swallowing his load down like you always did.

"Daddy?" you question with a playful eyebrow raised. "That's a new one."

"We're older now," he remarks and leans forward. Johnny wipes at the corner of your lips, cleaning the remnants off your face, as well as the trail of saliva and his arousal that are pooling at the edge of your lips. "It would have been weird for a twenty year old me to ask a twenty year old you to call me daddy. Ten years later, older Johnny can't help himself," Johnny admits with a goofy grin.

"Fair, though. We are thirty. Older and wiser," you shrug your shoulders as if agreeing. "It's kinda hot."

Johnny shoots you a pleased grin. "Good," is his only response before helping you tuck him back into his underwear and pants. His eyes wander back to your red-swollen lips and a low chuckle comes out. "Shit, you look so tempting," he admires, getting a hard-on all over again at the mere thought. "Do you want more, baby?"

"Yessir," you whine, feeling his lips drag wet and languid all across the sides of your exposed neck. "Let's go back to your place and do something about this," you whisper, grabbing the edge of his hand and pulling it gently to your wet core. "I feel empty without you, and you're the only thing that'll fix it. Think you're up for the task, Daddy?"

"Fuck baby, I think I just got even harder," Johnny growls, desire surging through him at your bold, straightforward statement.

It didn't take long for Johnny to close his apartment door with his foot and roughly shove you against the wooden material, hand slithering through the inside of your thigh and tugging up, urging your leg around his hip as his fingers bury themselves between your drenched folds.

"God you're soaked," he moans into your collarbone. He peppers you with kisses as he slips his fingers under your panties and against your dripping core. You groan and drop your head back. He shoves his tongue down your throat when his long index finger finds and begins to rub in small circles at the swollen bundle of nerves, drawing a raspy moan from your chest.

"Tell me what you want," he demands huskily into your mouth. "I'm not moving unless you say it."

"Johnny," you grind down against the finger, seeking out more friction and chasing after the feeling of being pleasured by his touch, a sensation you have missed for over a decade and had forgotten just how addictive it could be. You whine, desperately trying to keep your balance on one foot, still holding onto the fabric of his shirt in your hands, trying to find a way to let out your frustration. "Please!"

"Mm? I'm listening..." he hums with a smirk. His chocolate brown orbs have darkened and gleamed with hunger. Johnny presses his palm against your pelvic bone and applies more pressure. "Come on. You can do better than that. What do you want daddy to do?" he asks. "Use your words baby girl. It's not very nice to keep me waiting, now is it? Especially not after all these years and a special birthday celebration for me."

"Johnny..." his name is a moan falling past your lips.

"Yes, that's me. What do you want, sweet thing?" He coos. "Come on, tell Daddy. Tell me what you've been wanting for ten years," Johnny keeps his hand and the rest of his body still. The only thing moving, continuing its stimulating assault on your poor aching core, is that damnable, tortuous finger rubbing back and forth.

"Fuck me," you hiss in reply, grinding against his hand with abandon.

His breath catches in his throat and you watch him visibly react at the admission, eyes clouding over and narrowing on your figure pressed tightly against him, against the door. "Say it again," he repeats.

"Fuck me. Fill me up. Put your dick in me. Do whatever the hell you want. But do it already!" Your words spill from your lips frantically in desperation and he complies, immediately, lifting you up by your ass, feeling you instinctively wrapping your legs and arms around him, and depositing you onto the bed.

He undresses himself before collapsing on top of you, a broad smile adorning his flushed features as his strong hands brush away the hair from your face.

"If I remember right," he begins, mouth dangerously close to yours, sharing breaths. His forehead rests against yours, and his eyes flutter shut, bringing a hand down and slipping two fingers back under the fabric of your underwear, pressing his knuckles against your swollen bundle of nerves, alternating between pinching and stroking.

 "You're sensitive," his breath dances across your skin as his skilled digits work at building you back up. "Here especially," he states and kisses your parted lips, coaxing his tongue against yours in a tender, sensual way that does little to quell the throb in the lower region of your belly.

You gasp as his middle finger finally slips between your drenched lips, he swirled your arousal around your entrance before gliding upwards.

"And this," Johnny draws his hand back, staring intently into your blown-out eyes while his fingers disappear inside his mouth. A guttural sound that seems like a cross between a grunt and growl rolls from his throat, sucking his own fingers. "Tastes just as good as the last time. Ten years have done nothing to ruin your taste."

"Johnny..." you gasp.

"Yeah baby, I'm here," he wastes no time shimmying your dress down to your waist, nipping along the valley of your breasts. Your fingers grip at his hair and a giggle leaves your lips.

He lifts himself from the valley of your chest and sits up, face hovering above your own. One of his hands reaches out to cradle your jaw and gently hold your chin. The thumb of his other hand slips into your mouth, forcing your lips to part further. "Suck."

A burst of something feral awakens deep inside you, and your gaze becomes dark, needy and craving. You part your lips further and roll the soft pad of his thumb around and along your teeth, swirling your tongue, drawing circles and moving up and down across its width.

He inhales sharply as the same feral emotion, the need and want, passes through him. You look absolutely angelic with those hooded eyelids and the sinfully lustful look in your eyes, locked onto his. 

"Let me eat you out," Johnny finally breaks the spell, breathing labored as he loses the fight to maintain the upper hand. "And after that, I'm gonna bury myself deep inside of you and fill you up just like how you asked me to, again and again until morning. Until both of us can't fucking stand,  walk straight or form coherent sentences. Can I?" he rasps.

You simply nod your head enthusiastically. "Yes," you croak. "Please Johnny."

Johnny lets go of the finger in your mouth and drags down the soft swell of your breast, leaving red welts and hickies in his wake. With a satisfied grin, he presses a kiss to the mark and continues trailing the wet trail, dragging your dress all the way down and pulling your soaked panties off.

"Here baby," Johnny taps a finger against your inner thigh and lays flat on the bed, positioning his broad shoulders between your spread thighs. "Thighs, please," he says in a commanding tone and the hint of authority causes a gush to form between your thighs and coat them.

You bite your lip and make no objections and instead position yourself, your thighs pressed against his shoulders, his head positioned comfortably in between, and then his tongue is on you, and your brain short-circuits. You couldn't remember ever being as close or feeling this turned on, the feeling of being completely raw and vulnerable. He adds his two thick fingers alongside his tongue, probing and exploring, and in combination with his sucking mouth, they are expertly playing your pussy like a fucking symphony.

"Good?" he looks up and licks a broad, long stripe, pausing to wrap his lips around your bundle of nerves and then moves back down to tease around your hole. "Tell daddy. How does my girl feel?" He slowly pushes his fingers deep in you and presses and rotates against a particular spot inside, causing you to shiver involuntarily.

"Don't stop!" you demand hoarsely.

"Gonna cum for me?" he continues languidly and brings up his thumb, massaging it gently into your clit in tight, circular motions. "Is my baby going to squeeze her thighs around my head and choke her daddy? Let him suffocate in her cunt?"

"Oh fuck," his lewd words have your insides squirming. "So good, don't stop, just...ugh, keep, just.."

"Your pussy tastes so fucking good. Wish you could see this pretty thing drippin' in front of my face. And the way it's dripping wet," a loud slurp sounds. "So perfect. Would stay between these legs all day. Missed eating this pussy, feeling it pulse against my face as I got it to cum all over me. Goddamn, you feel so perfect," Johnny exhales out another strained grunt, losing his mind, eating you with an unchecked thirst, lapping, biting, and kissing his way around your insides like a starving man, drinking every last drop. His fingers dig into your hips, holding you firmly against him as your thighs try to squeeze him and shut his face between them.

One hand grabs a fistful of the back of his hair and you push him up closer between your legs. The fingers of your other hand reach up to steady yourself against the headboard and brace yourself against his savage ministrations.

"Right there, please!" your voice cracks at the strain, rolling your hips into his face. "Mm, yes. Y-you're so good with your fucking tongue," you let out a keening moan, gripping the back of his head tightly. You can feel him laughing against your skin, fingers still thrusting and scissoring inside you. Your hips thrust upwards with no rhyme or rhythm.

The tell-tale fluttering against his fingertips causes Johnny's tongue to speed up, focusing on your bundle of nerves, and rubbing it until a long, drawn-out whine falls past your lips. "Yes! Oh fuck. Johnny!"

"That's it, sweetheart," his encouraging growl rumbles straight through your sensitive body and has your stomach flip-flopping around the best orgasm you've had in years. "Good girl, ride the waves for daddy. Cum for me. Let me see you fall apart," a grunt escapes his lips, his muscles tense against you. "Wanna feel you like this everyday. Wanna be your fuck toy, wanna be the only one between these legs and in this pussy and your mind. Use me however you fucking want, baby."

Johnny rides you through the waves of orgasms, slowing his movements but not stopping. It takes a while before your lungs work again and before your heartbeat settles from being in your ears and into your chest. When you finally calm, Johnny lowers his mouth from your pulsing sex and offers an endearing chuckle at the state he left you in, still recovering and struggling for breath, sweating with limbs spread out and panting.

"Now tell daddy," his voice is low, taking the position above you, leaning all his weight onto his hands and looking straight at you. His eyes are so intense, you could drown in his dark, fiery chocolate irises. "How does she want to be fucked tonight?" Johnny leans in closer, the tip of his cock rubbing against you. "She can have me anyway she'd like," he languidly thrusts forward, once. Twice.

The wet noises your arousal is making and the light buzz coursing through you from the previous orgasm, combined with his relentless teasing and talking has your mouth working on its own. "I should be asking you since this is a special day for you. It's your birthday, what do you want, old man?"

"Just you. You’re the gift, and that's enough for me," he exhales a low, soft groan at the sensation.

"Sappy," you croak, mustering a soft huff in between breaths and smiling as his shaft glides into your wet, heated folds.

"Baby, if it means I could stay this way," his fingers tap at the spot right above your pelvis and press. "This close and deep in you," a groan escapes him at the thought of what the future could possibly hold. "I want to spend every damn birthday I have inside you." His breath tickles your nose, and his lips graze against your ear before planting a searing, hot kiss against the pulse point. "Think we could make that happen?"

"Depends," your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, holding him flush to your hips and you shudder against the sensation when you feel the length of him drag deliciously across your walls.

"On what?" He asks, fully seated within your slick warmth.

"Whether you could keep it up and give it to me like I like," you taunt back in a husky voice.

"Watch your words," Johnny growls in a warning tone, unable to hide his amusement. He picks up his pace, fucking you deeper into the sheets, as your fingernails dig into his back and shoulders.

"Come on Daddy," you purred against his ear, leaning over to graze his cartilage with your teeth, delighting in his short grunt. "Fuck your birthday present as hard as you can. This gift is not going anywhere," you waggled your eyebrows and couldn't resist, placing your thumb against the tip of his nose and swiping it. "That is, unless you're too old..."

His eyes narrowed. "Guess I'll just have to shut that smartass mouth of yours. Because, oh baby, it's gonna be a long night."

He thrust into you deeply, bottoming out.

"Mmph!" you moaned against his shoulder, struggling to breathe at the sudden overwhelming fullness.

"We'll start with you being quiet," Johnny shifts the position, grasping your leg and guiding it higher up his waist, allowing his hips to sink lower. "That's right," his breathy voice pants against the skin of your neck, licking his way towards the hollow space at the base. "Be good, be quiet, or you won't get this cock back until you've learned some manners."

This was different, so different from the young Johnny. You whimper quietly, as your mouth refuses to form words to respond, choosing to bite into the fleshy part of his shoulders to stop the string of sounds, your lips are unwilling to be controlled.

"Much better," there's no mistaking the pleased tone in his voice.

In this position, his thrusts feel deeper than before and are a much slower, drawn out pace. There's more control. You can't do a single thing except grasp at his muscular arms and hang on as he works on destroying you completely, and he enjoys every moment. Johnny keeps at an almost painfully slow pace, grinding deeply into you before withdrawing excruciatingly slowly, until only his swollen head remains in your opening.

You turn to whisper an endearingly loud "Fuck," in his ear when his large hands seize your wrists and pin them together above your head, and he stops thrusting completely. "Nuh-uh." his nose brushes against your neck.

"What are the rules?" Johnny inquires smoothly. "I won't move a muscle unless you tell me."

"Johnny...I can't.." you gripped his shoulder. "Feels so good. I don't know if I can keep quiet."

"Try for me, baby," he murmurs in response. "Try, and I promise, it'll be worth the wait," Johnny re-assures. "And then our next round, I'll have you screaming and moaning whatever obscenities you want. All you have to do is try to be a good girl, keep quiet while I ruin you for any other cock but mine. Can you do that, sweet girl?"

All you could do in response was nod desperately.

"Good girl," he says and the phrase lights you up inside in a way that's not humanly possible to handle. He then goes back to fucking the ever living shit out of you, increasing the intensity and pace. The sound of the mattress squeaking, the groaning, the banging of the bedpost against the wall, your quiet whimpers and Johnny's filthy grunts fill the air.

"Fuck!" Johnny lets go of your hands and grabs hold of the headboard to brace himself, pounding mercilessly into your slick pussy. "God I love you. You have no idea how much I've missed this pussy, missed you." His forehead rests on the side of your jaw, lips tracing along your exposed throat. "Go ahead, baby. Make all the noise you want."

At the explicit permission, your hand reaches up and clasps onto his arm. Johnny hears the soft inhales of oxygen leaving your lungs. Your heartbeat pounds in your chest at the overwhelming feeling. It wasn't going to take long. 

"Close," you manage to squeeze the words out in a broken croak, slithering your fingers into his sweaty tangle of hair.

Johnny entwined his fingers with yours, his touch sending a surge of warmth through you. "Y/N," he whispered, his voice husky, "look at me." 

You look at him, your breath getting trapped inside your lungs. With a deliberate brush of his fingertips against your skin, he picks up a strand of loose hair. You could never grow tired of the sight of his long eyelashes fluttering, gazing lovingly and tenderly at you as if you're the most precious and most important thing in the entire universe.

"Keep them on me, no matter what. If you do that, baby girl," the dark, intoxicating gleam in his hooded eyes paired with the absolutely feral way he is staring at you is almost too much. "I'll give you whatever you ask. But don't come without me." 

He groans loudly and snaps his hips even more rapidly. "Fuck baby, keep tightening against me like that and I'm going to fill you up, make your belly swell full," he huffs out another deep moan, losing the steady pace and falling victim to the pulsing clenching of your walls. "Give you all I've got."

"Cum in me," your rasp is followed by an even louder cry, completely overcome with sensations that seem to be converging. "P-please..fuck. Fill me. Put that seed deep inside, give me that cum, daddy. Fill me with it."

At this, all hell seems to break loose, and his hips begin slamming into you so rapidly, you swear your teeth are rattling. Johnny releases one of his hands from the headboard and slides it between your joined hands. 

"Keep looking at me," his command is broken and erratic, clearly affected by your begging. The neediness dripping from your tone and the want in your blown out, lust filled eyes has him aching to grant you your wish. His free fingers dig into the flesh of your hips, anchoring him to the world. 

"Goddamnit, baby, you want my load, you'll get it. Going to paint these walls white and then plug your pussy full of my cock. Stretch you around my base. Keep that cum there and locked tight inside of you, while I flip you over and do it all over again, just for you," he rasped. "Again and again, and again. Gonna pump you full until your tummy is so swollen you can't move."

You cry out at the possibility, tightening your fingers with his. Johnny continues his rhythm, using his entire body to pleasure you, his pelvis grinding mercilessly and bringing his mouth against the pulsing in the apex of your neck and shoulder. 

Johnny pants. "Put a baby inside that beautiful womb of yours," his voice trails off, his head dips low. "Mm, and if not this time, well, we'll just have to keep trying. Won't we, baby?"

You hear the squeak of the wood groaning at the strength the two of you are exerting in this position and you clench at his words.

"Let Daddy breed you, hmm?" Johnny murmurs in an airy voice, pulling back just enough to have his face hovering near yours. "You want daddy's babies? Make your tummy all swollen and beautiful for me?" he whispered against your lips, kissing you and nibbling, suckling the sensitive skin.

That does it, and it sets you off. A half-sob, half scream tears through your throat as your core tightens, the pulsing, spasms spreading from the center. Johnny moans in your ear, his teeth grazing your neck, and his hips continuing to thrust despite your own are what pulls him over the edge after you.

"Fuck," he swears and grunts your name in an unfamiliar, desperate rasp. Johnny grinds against you a little longer, helping the both of you through the last aftershocks. His lips return to yours, latching on softly. "That's right baby girl, such a good girl. Mm, coming for me the way I knew you could." He gently praises as his hands explore the sweaty expanse of your skin, hips still jerking ever so slightly with each spurt and moan of relief. 

You cannot find the strength, physically, to return the words. Instead, you nuzzle into his sweaty neck, drinking in the smell, committing it to your memories and mind forever, wrapping your limbs tight around his body like a sloth. He wraps his hands behind you, cradling and steadying you, mindful of the dizzying bliss that courses through you, his warm forehead on yours. Johnny holds you firmly. 

"You've done well," he said lovingly. "Just breathe, good girl."

Johnny pulls back a moment to settle beside you, with your head against the firmness of his arm and peppered several more kisses. "Good?" he questions softly.

"Did you feel good?" Your mouth parts in a toothy grin as you use every bit of strength you have to turn into his shoulder, pushing the damp strands away from his forehead. "Is my old man satisfied with his birthday gift?" you exhaled and caressed his face.

Johnny lets out a deep, satisfying sound that's a cross between a laugh and grunt, eyes flashing as they lock onto yours. "Could've done without the 'old man' crack, but yes," his thick fingers slowly brush over your temple and jawline. "I'm thrilled and completely satisfied with my gift. Fuck baby," Johnny presses a kiss onto the sensitive tip of your nose, which in turn wrinkles. "We should have been doing this a helluva lot longer."

"It's okay," you reassured him, taking his palm and entangling your fingers through his. "We have our whole lifetime now to make up for those missed years." You giggle. "Because like it or not, Johnny Suh, you're stuck with me. No takesies-backsies."

"Noted," his smile reaches his eyes, creasing and sparking at your silliness. He notices your eyes beginning to droop and an amused sigh escapes him, slowly guiding your body on top of his. "I know that was a lot for you. Are you sore? Tired? We can have a bath and have you resting before the sun rises, how about that?"

"Bath and then snuggling sound perfect," you nudge the side of your face into his chest, drawing on an even breathing.

"That's my girl," he coos, slipping the unruly tendrils of hair, hanging into the front of your face and tickling him, behind your ear. "I love you. Today has been the best birthday I've ever had."

"Happy birthday, Johnny," you're practically vibrating with content, draping yourself even more comfortably, perfectly content to fall asleep right where you are. "I love you too."

[mochacoda]

night d(r)ive | yjh

Pairing: Yoon Jeonghan x GN!Reader

Synopsis: Jeonghan is the kind of guy who would drive 40 minutes out of his way just to pick you up, but also wouldn’t yield the last ramen at the local convenience store to you. He’s also the kind of guy people are quick to fall for, only to get crushed by his indifference for dating. As a close friend of the most sought-after man on campus, you’d like to think that you know Jeonghan well enough to predict his thoughts on romance and his territoriality over ramen. (Spoiler: You don't.)

Content: Angst, Fluff, Comfort | Friends to Lovers | College AU

Tags: short hair jeonghan, extreme pining, liking ramen as a plot device, crying, being losers for each other, insecure reader, lots of konglish w/ translations, overly indulgent kissing, no "y/n,” this is for everyone who voted jeonghan in the poll <3

Word Count: 5.8K

Masterlist

You‘d like to think that you know Yoon Jeonghan well. Surely, you do! Over the years, you‘ve come across—and committed to memory—dozens, if not hundreds, of his little oddities. You’ve witnessed his personality change with the length of his hair, and learned the hard way that cheating at card games is like second nature to him. At this point, you can recite more information about his pet rock than ramen, which is somewhat terrifying if you dwell on it for too long, considering that ramen is your favorite food. 

But despite Jeonghan’s chaotic personality, you also know that he’s incredibly smart, having sat next to him in countless college lectures and trivia events. 

Honestly, it can’t possibly be a stretch to say that you know the man too well, can't it? And at times, it feels a bit unfair that you can only reply, “oh, I know him,” when people fleetingly mention him in conversation. It hurts that you can’t clarify that you know him—that you can’t ramble on about how he made the stupidest joke to make you laugh when you were upset about your most recent midterm, or handmade you the sweetest present for your birthday, or let you choose your favorite film for movie night for the third time in a row—because no one wants to nor needs to hear about it.

But, unfortunately, that’s all you can think about these days. 

Because, unfortunately, Yoon Jeonghan is simultaneously the funniest, weirdest, kindest, and most devastatingly handsome man you’ve ever met. 

Yoon Jeonghan is the kind of guy who would drive 40 minutes out of his way just to pick you up, but also wouldn’t yield the last ramen at the local convenience store to you. Though he gives into his internal demands for petty possessiveness quite often, he cares deeply for his friends. 

He’s also the kind of guy people are quick to fall for, only to get crushed by his nonchalant but somewhat firm indifference for dating. You’ve witnessed him casually turn down far too many objectively gorgeous and incredibly intelligent people, which has convinced you that his standards are impossibly high. And if you were honest with yourself, based on the people he’d already rejected, it would be laughable for you to even think about confessing to him.

And so, as a close friend of the most sought-after man on campus, you’d like to think you know Jeonghan well enough to predict his thoughts on romance and his territoriality over ramen.

In fact, you’re sure about the ramen issue, because you’re witnessing it happen right now.

You’re staring at his smirking face in the instant food aisle of the convenience store, both of you gripping the last Neoguri cup like it’s a trophy.

“You gotta learn patience,” Jeonghan tuts, his lips upturned infuriatingly at one corner. 

“No, you should learn patience. 손 빼, [Take your hand off,]” you demand, grasping the cup tighter.

“싫은데? [Don’t wanna,]” he says in a sing-song voice, raising his chin in defiance.

The ramen cup creaks slightly under the pressure of your combined grip, and a terrible thought forms in your head. Your hand is sandwiched between his hand and the cup, making you feel the heat radiating from his body. It’s something you’re afraid you could get used to. 

You narrow your eyes, targeting his ridiculous, perfect lazy smile. “Take it off while I’m being nice.”

“Nah,” he replies immediately, smiling wider, his tongue sliding to the right. 

Your heart lurches at the sight. 

“치사하게 진짜 이럴 거야? [You’re so petty, are you really going to be like this?]” You chew on your bottom lip, eyes flitting between his face and his hand. 

Jeonghan tilts his head slightly, his dark eyes sharp and steady on yours. He’s not really looking at the ramen anymore, and the intensity of his gaze makes your cheeks feel like they’re on fire.

“내가 여기서 이 옷을 입고 있는데, [I’m wearing these clothes here,]” he says, using his free hand to pinch the fabric of the expensive suit he always wears at his internship. “굳이 라면 하나 때문에 나랑 싸운다고? 그냥 빨리 가자, 음? [You’re really gonna fight with me over just one ramen cup? Let’s just go now, hmm?]”

You press your lips together and jut your chin in defiance. 

He sighs dramatically, shaking his head. His shaggy, dark hair flows with it, and you can’t help but think that he looks princely like this, standing in the middle of this convenience store with his stupidly gorgeous face, and that dumb suit and tie. 

“양보해. [Give it up.] I’ll give you whatever you want,” he says, his voice dipping lower. It feels less like an offer and more like a taunt, a challenge. His tone sends a small shiver through you, and for a second, you’re not sure if he’s teasing or serious.

You have to take a slow, deep breath to calm yourself down before even considering what to say next. You’re grateful for the ride (and his company), of course, but that doesn’t mean he can steal your rightful claim under your nose, in the same casual manner he has when letting one of his fans down. 

You’ve always given into him. Because he means everything to you, of course. 

But you’ve had enough of letting him have his way so easily, not with your precious ramen at risk.

You boldly step closer to him, cutting the distance between the two of you in half. You’re close enough to see your reflection in his eyes, now. 

“I’m not letting go, 하니 [Hannie].” You firmly shake your head. You wouldn’t let him win this time. “I don’t want anything but this,” you add, stubbornly.

Tugging hard, you try to pull the cup toward you, but it frustratingly remains stuck on the shelf between the two of you. Looking back up, you see that he isn’t even straining to keep the ramen in place! You frown, wondering when your best friend got so strong.

He leans in just a fraction closer. “Keep trying,” he murmurs, and he’s so close that you can feel his warm breath tickling your face. 

The world narrows to Jeonghan, and the faint scent of the cologne he only wears on weekends. It’s dizzying.

“야아아! [Hey!] I was here first!” you weakly defend, voice embarrassingly squeaky.

And then Jeonghan does something that completely short-circuits your brain.

His free hand lifts and brushes your hair away to your back, before resting on the divot between your neck and collarbone, where his thumb caresses the side of your neck. Feather-light, his touch is gentle, and his fingers are impossibly warm, a stark contrast to this slightly chilly convenience store. You just about choke on your surprise, your heart kicking into overdrive at the sheer intimacy of the gesture. 

God, how is it that you never get a rest day with Jeonghan? How is it that he’s always flirting, always disregarding the boundaries of platonic and romantic love, always making you confused? And how is it that you just let it happen, that you just take whatever affection he gives you? How is it that you’re drawn into his dangerous touch like a moth to a flame? Except that analogy doesn’t really work, because at least moths don’t know that they’re in danger when they reach fire—you know what you’re getting into, and you know all too well that Jeonghan will never be yours. 

“Please?” he whispers.

Your breath hitches, suddenly aware that even for your overly-touchy friend, this level of skinship is extreme. 

Does he know? Has he found out that you’re in love with him, that you’ve been keeping this ungodly secret from him for far too long? Does he know that every time he lets someone down, that every time he complains to you about people confessing and crying over him, you give him superficial laughs as you swallow your own feelings? 

Does he know that you feel like sinking into the ground every time he entertains a random girl flirting with him, and that every time he crosses boundaries with you, it hammers in the fact that he thinks you’re a joke? 

Does he know that you’ve spent over a year trying to convince yourself that you don’t have feelings for him, only to fail miserably, because there is no such thing as cutting Yoon Jeonghan out of your life, because he makes you feel so, so alive? 

He must know. He must be making fun of you, now.

Your eyes widen, frantically searching his face for an ounce of malice. And you expect to see the look he always has when shredding the hearts of the brave people who confess to him, the face he makes when he casually tells someone that he doesn’t feel the same way. You expect to see an almost-cruel, blank stare paired with apologetic lips pressed together. 

You expect him to crush your heart. 

But instead, he’s staring at you with a gaze so, so, very soft, you wonder if you’ve hallucinated it. Shining eyes, raised eyebrows, mouth parted—he looks devastatingly beautiful. 

You can’t even bring yourself to blink, afraid that it might disappear before you can commit it to memory.

Technically, he’s looked like this before—you’ve seen it a handful of times on movie nights when you leaned against his shoulder, sleepily rambling about the bad decisions the main character had made. You’ve always figured that it was just the face he made when he was running on eight percent battery, tired and only half-registering the words coming out of your mouth. 

But now, seeing this version of Jeonghan out of its usual context, your heart stops. 

Your grip slackens.

In an instant, Jeonghan takes advantage of your daze. He snatches the ramen, links his arm through yours, and drags you to the counter. Your feet stumble, but his hold on you is firm, keeping you stable throughout the entire sudden exchange. He sets a bill on the counter, and then you’re being ushered out of the convenience store. 

The freezing cold bites at your cheeks as you stand in a haze of confusion by the passenger seat of Jeonghan’s car, unable to do anything but just watch as he starts the engine and unlocks the door. He stares at you through the window, waiting. 

If you could move a muscle on your face, you’d furrow your brows, wondering what he’s waiting for. But you’re still frozen, and before you can really think about it, Jeonghan gets tired of waiting. 

He gets out of the car and walks over to you, squeezing your shoulders as he shifts you a little to the left. Withdrawing one of his hands from your shoulders, he opens the door, and then maneuvers you inside, using the same hand to cover the top frame of the door. You bump your forehead slightly against it, and he buckles you into the passenger seat—all without a word.

When you blink owlishly at him, he just ruffles your hair and shuts the door carefully, then walks over to the driver’s side. 

Dazed, you literally have nothing to say. 

When Jeonghan gets back into the car, he looks over at you with an unreadable gaze, then reaches his hand over the console to you, this time holding an object out. Your eyes flicker downward, then shoot up at him immediately.

The ramen?

You squint at his outstretched hand, eyebrows furrowed in disbelief. 

Jeonghan never yields. 

“Take it,” he says simply, airily, as if his giving up was obvious all along.

You hesitate, finger lightly tracing the top of the cup. 

“Come on,” he insists, his eyes still intensely trained on yours. “I… it was always yours.”

Your fingers close over the cup, brushing his hand. He exhales softly, the corners of his lips twitching.

Averting your eyes from him and his strange actions, you drop the ramen in your lap, then settle for staring outside the window at the night sky, finding it unbearable to look at him. Drumming your fingers against the border of the window, you get lost in thought. You’re not sure you can handle it if Jeonghan tries to flirt with you again. Every time he does it, it just hammers in the crushing idea that you’re nothing but a friend to him. That you’re just someone to practice on while he waits for the goddess of his dreams to appear, or something.

And then a strange thought occurs to you. A silly thought, really. When Jeonghan said that the ramen was always yours, he didn’t use the “ih” sound that the word “it” has. No, he used the pronoun “I” first, before correcting himself. A faint, pitiful smile makes its way to your lips as your heart pangs. 

Just what would you give to hear him say “I was always yours” someday?

Oh, maybe everything. 

────୨ৎ────

The gentle hum of the car engine fills the silence from the lack of conversation between the two of you. The moon and the stars are beautiful tonight, and you’re content with staring at them instead of the man driving the car. You prop your head up with your elbow against the window, closing your eyes with every lull of the engine. If Jeonghan ever looked over at you at a red light, you wouldn’t know, preoccupied with pretending to be asleep. 

When you feel the car come to a complete stop, you’re still feigning sleep, but you can’t help but furrow your eyebrows slightly. Surely, 40 minutes haven’t already passed? It seems way too soon. Had you actually dozed off at some point between staring out the window and faking sleep?

You peek one eye open, only to startle at Jeonghan’s gaze trained on you already, immediately opening the other. He seems completely at ease, with one hand gripping the steering wheel and the other resting on the gear shift. He stretches his fingers, accentuating the veins on his forearms, and you have to avert your eyes for a moment. 

“잘 잤니? [Sleep well?]” he asks casually. 

You look back at him, and see a strand of his dark hair fall into his eyes. Fingers twitching, you fight the urge to brush it behind his ear. 

You answer him with a nod and flush, wondering if he could tell you were acting the entire time. Hands itching for something to do, you fiddle with your seatbelt.

“야, 나 좀 보고 말해봐, 음? [Hey, can’t you look at me and talk, hmm?]”

You glance at Jeonghan out of the corner of your eye, then shy away again. He looks too good right now, too much like a doting boyfriend. You pick at a loose thread from the bottom hem of your shirt.

“자꾸 나를 안 보니까 섭섭하네. [You keep not looking at me, I’m sad.]”

You faintly laugh. In all your years of knowing the man, you’ve yet to see Yoon Jeonghan truly sad. He’s always, always composed. He never says anything without thinking about it first, and he doesn’t have to lift a single finger that he doesn’t want to, because he knows that people will jump just to fall at his feet. It’s funny that Jeonghan now just assumes that with a few pretty words, he’ll get his way. 

But your resentment is growing. It started with the ramen, and built up with how he won at the end of the fight. And it peaked when he gloated under the guise of kindly yielding the cup to you, leaving you stranded in your confusion, leaving you to sort out your racing mind and heart. What’s worse is, he has a history of doing this to you. But you never learn. Because he also has a history of giving the best, warmest, longest hugs. And he tells you all the time that he wants to be with you forever, that even when you’re 80 and wrinkly, he’ll come over every day to sing duets using your karaoke machine. And he has a bad habit of staring into your eyes with so much adoration, that you mistake it for real love. 

He has a history of making you think that his flirting might actually mean something real to him. But he never confesses any feelings, because they don’t exist, and you feel the pain of being used as romantic practice all the same. 

You’ve tried to convince yourself to just accept his affections as platonic love, but it has become increasingly more difficult to ignore it. How can you, when you get a rush of serotonin from seeing how bright his smile is when he whispers an inside joke to you in the middle of your fatally boring math discussion? How can you, when Jeonghan insists on picking you up from work even though it’s a waste of time and gas for him to make the far drive here and back? Your heart has grown to accommodate, and even expect, the constant fluttering it feels in his presence. 

So, to be exact, it’s not that you feel resentment toward him—it’s resentment for your lack of a backbone when it comes to all things Yoon Jeonghan. It happens all the time; you get mad at him, and the consequences last for all of five seconds before your will caves. 

“근대, 안 섭섭하잖아, [You’re not sad, though],” you softly say, eyes now tracing the glow of the crescent moon. 

Jeonghan shifts in his seat, questioning your words. ”What? Why would you say that?”

“아니야, [No,] forget it.” You sigh, eyes falling to your hands again. Picking at a hangnail, you inhale deeply. 

“Why wouldn’t I be sad? I love talking to you.” He removes his hands from the wheel and gear shift, then reaches out for yours.

You flinch, and he freezes. 

“Hey, did I… do something wrong?” His voice shakes, suddenly sounding strained. It’s the complete opposite of how he was just three seconds ago.

You swallow thickly. No, he didn’t do anything wrong. “아니, [No,] it’s my fault.”

He frowns. “What did I do? Please, tell me. I’m sorry, whatever it is, I can fix it, I promise.” He looks at you so earnestly, your heart sinks. 

“그건 불가능해, 정한아. [That’s not possible, Jeonghan.]” The words come out slowly and breathily, as if it’s taken you half of your life force to say them. You stare out the window again, this time at the stars, and add, “We should really get back, now. Why’d you stop here, anyway?”

“I figured you didn’t eat yet,” he says carefully. “I thought you’d want to get Thai. When you’re hangry, you yell at the TV more, and I get complaints from my neighbors.”

You blink, turning your attention down to the stores lining the street rather than the night sky. Jeonghan really had driven to your favorite Thai restaurant. “Oh. I didn’t know I did that, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he replies softly. “I never liked my neighbors anyway.”

Your eyes close, remembering when one of your classmates, who happened to be his neighbor, confessed to him. He had vented to you about friends needing to understand when not to cross lines. The memory makes you smile weakly again, acknowledging how strong you’ve been for managing not to confess so far. 

Jeonghan continues, “But hey, your neighbors don’t like me, either. Remember when they banged on your door because we were singing too loud?”

You laugh this time, and it’s fleeting but it’s not forced. “언제 쯤 얘기야? [How long ago was that?] That was like two years ago.”

Jeonghan smiles. “You were wearing those teddy bear pajama pants, and I had my Cookie Monster pants on. They were like 70, and told us to stop being childish and grow up.”

“Maybe they had a point,” you say with a sigh, running a hand through your hair. “I didn’t know that you paid attention to those things,” you add offhandedly. 

“Pay attention to what?”

“You know, just… the stuff I wear, the random shit I do,” you say, picking at your split ends. 

Jeonghan’s wide eyes narrow, and you feel too hot under his intense gaze.

“Why wouldn’t I?” he asks, voice deep and tinged with something you can’t quite put a finger on. The question feels strangely charged. With what, you don’t know. 

You gnaw on your lip. 

“Answer me. Why shouldn’t I?” 

“I don’t know,” you shrug, feeling put on the spot. “I’m just your friend. Shouldn’t you be spending your energy remembering weird stuff about a girlfriend? Like a serious romantic partner, or something?”

Jeonghan groans, running a hand through his hair, before it comes down on the console with a light thud. Your eyes widen at his unexpected physical display of emotion, taking in his clenched fists and heaving chest. 

“하니? [Hannie?]” you say softly, concerned. He doesn’t normally resort to physical exertions when frustrated, probably because he doesn’t get frustrated very often at all.

Your hand reaches out to his right bicep, where you rub the muscle soothingly. 

“Now you’re calling me 하니 [Hannie] again,” he says with a marginally more relieved, deep sigh. 

You furrow your brows. “What?”

“Now you’re calling me 하니 [Hannie] again,” he repeats. “Please, don’t call me 정한 [Jeonghan]. Only 하니 [Hannie].”

“Okay?” you say tentatively, unsure where this is going.

“You know I love you, right?” he says suddenly, staring at his hands. 

You blink rapidly. “Of course. I love you, too.” He’s your best friend, but you’re probably not his best friend. 

Jeonghan jolts, looking at you directly in the eyes now. “You know I love you more, right?”

He looks a bit crazed like this, his frantic chocolate brown eyes searching deeply for something in your face. At a loss for words, you gape your mouth at him like a fish out of water. 

“I’m not sure that’s possible,” you manage to say. “I bet I love you a lot more.” 

The statement is accompanied by a rather self-deprecating laugh from you, the kind that digs deep into your heart even as you try your best to seem casual. 

“No, no,” he says, reaching with his left hand to grasp the hand you’ve been patting his right bicep with. This time, you don’t pull away. “You don’t get it. I love you.” 

What?

Your heartbeat begins to beat so loudly that the sound of it pumping overwhelms your thoughts. Your chest tightens, and you’re half-sure that you just hallucinated it.

“뭐라고? [What did you just say?]”

“사랑한다고, [That I love you,]” he chokes out, his voice thick with the one emotion you’ve been dreaming of him reciprocating. 

You gasp.

“Please,” he whispers. “Please don’t be mad at me.”

Oh.

Crestfallen, your heart drops. You pull your hand away from him. 

This must be his new way to get you to relieve your “anger.” He doesn’t actually love you romantically, he just wants you to go back to acting like you normally do. He’ll never feel the same way that you do, in the crushing way that drives you insane every day, in the way that—

“설마, 나 지금 무시하는 거야? [No way, are you ignoring me right now?]” Jeonghan’s wounded gaze strikes you like lightning. “아니면, 나 못 믿는거야? [Or, are you not believing me?]”

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. 

Is this real? A dream, maybe? The real Jeonghan would never say this. He would never, ever entertain the idea that you could ever be more than—

“내가 사랑한다고 했는데, 왜 아무 말이 없어? [I just said I love you, why won’t you say anything?]” Jeonghan’s voice quakes, and you’re taken aback by his pained, strained eyebrows and glittering eyes. 

Jeonghan’s eyes well with tears. He swallows thickly, “나… 아니야? [Am I… not it for you?]”

Your breath catches. He’s crying. Yoon Jeonghan—Yoon Jeonghan is crying? You’ve never even seen him sad, let alone crying. He’s always been untouchable, effortless in the way he teases and flirts with you, so sure of himself. So nonchalant and casual with his affection, that you’d always thought he never truly meant anything by it. But here he is, raw and vulnerable in front of you, holding his heart out with both hands—eyes rimmed red, voice breaking, mouth trembling. All because of you? 

He really means it, huh? The realization slams into you so hard you feel like you can’t breathe, let alone speak, your chest constricting like you’re having a heart attack. All those lingering touches, all these years. The way he’s always made you the center of his jokes, how he has the softest shifts in his voice when someone mentions your name—it wasn’t all a game to him? It was never just practice for someone else, for someone better? 

It was love?

God, you had been so overwhelmed with self doubt and insecurity that you’d convinced yourself that you had no chance, all while he was giving you clues through his proud affections, every day.

The man in question looks at you like you’ve just shattered his fragile heart, tears fully trailing down to his chin, now.

Feeling like your entire body has been engulfed in flames, you reach a trembling hand out past the gear shift. It trembles despite yourself as your arm extends to caress his cheek, where you carefully rub his tears away. 

Jeonghan shudders when your hand touches him, and he shuts his eyes. More tears fall.

“하니, [Hannie],” you breathe shallowly, still feeling an immense pressure in your chest. “Look at me.” When he doesn’t open his eyes, you swallow roughly. “하니, [Hannie], please?”

Stubbornly, Jeonghan keeps his eyes closed, and you shakily sigh. You want to tell him—no, you need to tell him that you love him with every fiber of your being, but you need to see his eyes to register whether he understands you. He needs to open those beautiful, brown eyes of his. 

You’ve never told him that you love him in Korean before. Something about it always felt too intimate, while “I love you” in English felt less charged. But you think he needs to hear it now.

Withdrawing your hand from his cheek, you unbuckle your seatbelt at last. Finally freed, you shift your legs until you're sitting on the back of your calves, facing the stunning, devastated man in the driver’s seat.

“하니야, [Hannie],” you say softly, his name a prayer on your lips, your face coming near his. 

You raise your hands up to tenderly brush the tears away from the soft tissue right under his eyes. Trembling, your right hand brushes a strand of hair out of his face, then rests on the back of his neck. 

Heart threatening to jump out of your chest, you hesitantly move closer, and closer, until your lips gently meet his forehead in a kiss so light, you foolishly wonder if he even feels your lips there at all.

“하니야, 사랑해. [Hannie, I love you.]” 

Jeonghan stills immediately. You can feel his hot breath catch against your neck, and you feel a shiver come down your spine. 

“I don’t want anyone else. Just you,” you say choppily, each word spilling out before you can think about what you really just said. 

When you retreat an inch or two back from his forehead, you can see that he has finally opened his eyes. 

“You mean it?” he asks, voice high-pitched in disbelief. 

Not trusting your voice, you nod three times. 

“Say it again,” he begs, his red-rimmed eyes downturned.

“사랑해, 하니야 [I love you, Hannie]. I tried so hard not to. 내 마음을 접고 다른 사람을 바라보고 싶었어. 싶었는데… [I wanted to let go of my feelings for you and search for someone else. That’s what I wanted, but…]”

Jeonghan inhales sharply. Distressed, his Adam's apple bobs up and down. Your heart aches at the sight of him so exposed, and your thumb moves to rub soothing circles by his collarbone. 

You assure him, “근데 그게 진짜 그냥 안 된거야. 도저히 너를 포기할 수 없었어. [But that really just didn’t work. There was no way I could bring myself to give you up.]”

Your fingers close to his neck, you feel Jeonghan’s pulse racing. Trying to help his heart settle down, you press another light kiss to his forehead, cradling the back of his head with your other hand. His breath shudders against your cheek. 

“마음이 하니한테 만 끌리니까, 뭐… 포기하려고 노력을 했는데 소용이 없었어. [My heart was only drawn to you, Hannie, and well… no matter how hard I tried to give you up, it was no use.]”

Jeonghan blinks up at you with watery eyes. 

“You’re it for me, 하니 [Hannie]. Okay?” Sheepish, you feel a bit embarrassed at having been so honest. 

Now that you’ve bared your heart and soul to him, you take the opportunity to really look at him, since you were distracted with telling your part for the past few minutes—and, oh. 

His pupils are so dilated, his eyes look almost black. His breathing has slowed down compared to earlier, but his fists are still clenched, like he’s holding something back. 

In a low voice, so deep that it wouldn’t have been audible if you weren’t practically pressed against him, Jeonghan finally responds to your confession. 

“You love me,” he says hesitantly, like he’s asking to confirm. 

The corners up your lip turn up, and he grins. “You love me,” he says again, only louder this time, and then he’s leaning forward into you. 

His hands find you first, clinging to your neck and waist sweetly yet firmly, like he’s afraid to let you go now that he finally has you.

When his lips meet yours, you melt into the kiss. His lips are warm, softer than you expected, moving against yours with an aching tenderness. Your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt as his hands tighten around your waist, pulling you in like he’s afraid you’ll slip away.

He tilts his head slightly, deepening the kiss, and a shiver runs down your spine when his thumb brushes along the curve of your jaw. The touch is so careful, so reverent, like he’s memorizing every part of you.

Then, he pulls back just an inch—just enough for his breath to fan across your lips, his forehead resting against yours. His eyes, dark and unreadable, search yours as if needing confirmation.

"You love me? 진심이지? [You’re serious, right?]" His voice is barely above a whisper.

Your chest tightens at the sheer vulnerability in his expression. You cup his cheek, brushing your thumb against his damp skin, and nod. "사랑해, 하니야. [I love you, Hannie.] 진짜, [Really,] I always have."

A sound escapes him—somewhere between a laugh and a sigh of relief—before he leans in again, kissing you with more urgency this time. His hands tangle into your hair, fingers curling at the nape of your neck as he presses you impossibly closer. The kiss is deeper now, more certain. He parts his lips slightly, and you do the same, the heat between you growing into something undeniable.

Your hands wander—one slipping into his hair, the other trailing down his shoulder. He shudders under your touch, and you feel the tension slowly unraveling from his body, like he’s finally letting himself believe this is real.

When you finally part for air, he lets out a shaky laugh, thumb ghosting over your kiss-swollen lips. "You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this," he murmurs, his voice husky.

Your heart swells at the confession. "Actually, I think I do," you whisper back before pulling him into another kiss, this time knowing—without a doubt—that neither of you are going anywhere.

────୨ৎ──── 

“하니, [Hannie,]” you say, leaning against him on the sofa in your apartment, drawing random shapes on his chest with your right hand. “We should go on a drive again.”

“Mm, a drive?” he says, distracted by his fascination with observing your left hand, holding it like a precious gem. 

“Yeah, 바람 좀 새자 [let’s get some air]. A night drive.”

His hands stall, lips curling up at the corners. “Oh, a night drive, huh? 역사적인 거네. [How historic.]”

You bury your face in his chest. “Mmh,” you say to his shirt.

“You know, you said 사랑해 [I love you] to me for the first time on a night drive,” he says casually. His hands let go of your left hand, then make their way to your head, patting your hair gently. 

You prop your chin up on his stomach, expecting to see Jeonghan’s pure smile. But instead, he’s smirking at you. 

“You wanted me so bad.” He sighs dramatically. “What else could I do, but accept your love?”

You can’t help but smile. “I think you’re misremembering things a little, 하니 [Hannie].”

“Oh, am I?” he gasps, wide-eyed and open-mouthed. 

If he were anyone else, he’d look stupid feigning ignorance. Fortunately for you, though, he isn’t anyone else—he’s the love of your life, and he makes everything look good. 

“Ugh,” you say, eyes shining. “You look dumb, stop it.”

“You love it,” he says cheekily, arms falling from your head to wrap around you in a big hug. 

“Mmfph,” you say in response, relishing in the warmth radiating from his body. 

“Not denying it, I see,” he says. “Overwhelmed by your love for me, you dove at my poor, innocent self in the car, kissing me all over!”

“Pfft,” you laugh. “No, that was you!”

“No,” Jeonghan pouts.

“I happen to remember a little crybaby confessing first,” you say with an upside down smile, hugging him tighter.

Jeonghan’s eyes look up at the ceiling. “무슨 말인지… [I don’t know what you’re talking about…]”

“야아! [Hey!]” your hand slaps his chest lightly. “나 좀 봐봐, 음? [Look at me, hmm?]”

“싫은데? [Don’t wanna,]” he says, pouting. 

“사랑해도 안 볼 거야? 섭섭하네… [Even if I love you, you won’t look at me? I’m sad…]” you huff, burying your face into the sofa pillows instead of Jeonghan’s chest. “하니가 안 사랑해주면 난 갈 거야. [If you don’t love me I’m gonna leave.]”

Jeonghan laughs, “가긴 어딜가, 여기 너네 집이잖아. [Leave? What do you mean, leave? This is your house.]” 

Jeonghan hugs you tighter, then suddenly sits up, taking you with him. 

“사랑해, [I love you,]” he says earnestly, staring deeply into your eyes, as if he wants to dive into the depths of your iris. Your name leaves his lips fervently, like a prayer.

“사랑해, 하니야, [I love you, Hannie,]” you say back, and you mean it. 

Because Yoon Jeonghan is simultaneously the funniest, weirdest, kindest, most devastatingly handsome man you’ve ever met. And he’s yours.

Masterlist

Author's Note: here’s a big literary hug <3

Disclaimer: nothing i write is representative of how svt acts off camera, take their names as stand-ins for oc's!!

Taglist: @syluslittlecrows - @junplusone - @fragmentof-indifference - @junniesoleilkth - @woncheecks - @peachypie97 - @viciousdarlings - @11zzyy

[deliciousangelfestival]

Change Of Heart - 5 (Edited ver.)

Character: Bucky x Female! Reader

Theme: Angst, tragedy, romance.

Summary: The interviewer asked her a provocative question:

“If you were offered a million dollars, would you leave your partner?”

Without hesitation, she replied with a smirk, “Give me one dollar, and I’ll leave him this second.”

True to her word, she walked away, leaving the man stunned and searching for answers. Now, he’s desperately trying to find her, grappling with the haunting question—why would she leave him so easily?

And is there more to her departure than a single dollar could ever explain?

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4 , Part 5.

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

By the way, I publish my book Arrogant Ex-Husband and Dad, I Can't Let You Go by Alina C. Bing on Kindle.

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

Bucky stood near the dock, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his coat. The waves lapped gently against the wooden posts, a rhythmic sound that did little to soothe the restlessness inside him. The sky had begun to darken, shades of deep blue swallowing the last traces of daylight.

"Sir, it's getting dark," his secretary reminded him softly, standing a few steps behind.

Bucky didn't respond immediately. Instead, he exhaled, his breath visible in the cold air. Then, out of nowhere, he asked, "Did your parents divorce?"

The secretary blinked at the sudden question. "No, sir. But my sister did. She divorced her first husband."

Bucky hummed, his gaze fixed on the horizon where the ocean stretched endlessly. "Was it the right choice?"

"I think so," the secretary admitted. "She smiles more with her second husband. He was divorced too. Somehow, they complete each other. It’s like they both learned from their past mistakes."

Bucky finally turned to look at him. "How long have they been together now?"

"Five years."

Silence settled between them. Bucky lowered his gaze, staring at the ground as if lost in thought. His parents divorced when he was young. His father changed wives like the seasons, to where Bucky had lost count of how many stepmothers he'd had. And his mother—she had become a well-known rich cougar, the kind who made headlines.

When two broken people come together, they begin to heal. But what happened between him and you... something still hurts deep down. Though both of you completed each other, seeing you leave felt like it wasn’t enough.

Bucky had spent years running from his past, avoiding the feelings he buried deep within himself. He'd been afraid of truly connecting, terrified that giving in to love would mean vulnerability—and he’d never allowed himself to be vulnerable. But with you, something changed.

He started to open up, piece by piece. He had found solace in your presence, a kind of comfort he never thought he’d experience. You made him feel like maybe it was okay to be human.

But even as the wounds began to heal, a part of him remained fractured. The scars weren’t completely gone. And as he watched you walk away, that deep-seated fear—of losing someone, of being left behind—came rushing back. He realized he wasn’t as whole as he thought he was.

Without another word, Bucky pulled out his phone. His fingers hovered over the screen momentarily before he made the call. He held the device to his ear and started walking, his steps slow and aimless as he paced along the dimly lit dock. A few streetlights flickered, casting long shadows over the worn planks beneath his feet.

The therapist answered after a few rings.

"My advice?" The voice on the other end was calm. "Let her go. Don't stop her. If she wants to come back, she will."

Bucky’s jaw clenched. His grip on the phone tightened. He didn’t agree.

"Do you have any sexual desire toward her?"

"No," he answered without hesitation.

"Do you feel safe when you're around her?"

"...Yes."

"Do you want to come home faster when you know she's waiting there?"

Bucky exhaled through his nose. "Yes."

The therapist paused before asking the last question.

"Do you have feelings for her?"

This time, Bucky hesitated. His lips parted, but the words didn't come as easily. "...No." But his voice lacked conviction.

The therapist remained silent for a beat before finally speaking.

"It will grow on you. Just wait and see."

Bucky lowered the phone, staring at the dark waters ahead. The wind picked up, tousling his hair, but he barely noticed. His chest felt tight, the answer lingering in his mind.

Had he really meant it?

The Next Day

Bucky followed you.

He shouldn’t have, but he did.

He was already waiting by the dock when you returned from your scuba diving lesson. You looked different—lighter, freer. The usual quiet presence he was familiar with had been replaced by someone more expressive, more alive. You laughed while talking to strangers, engaging with them in a way he had never seen before. When you were with him, you spoke to his colleagues, sure, but never like this. With them, it was polite conversation, surface-level. But now? You were glowing.

And Bucky didn't know how to feel about that.

You spotted him standing near the railing, and your smile faltered for just a second before returning. Surprise flickered in your eyes, but there was something else too—relief, maybe.

"You're still here," you said, your voice carrying a mix of disbelief and quiet gladness.

Bucky was about to respond, but then his gaze caught on you peeling off your wetsuit.

He froze.

It wasn’t like you were undressing provocatively—you were simply taking off your gear. But in the two years you'd been together, neither of you had ever seen the other completely bare. You had shared a home, a bed even, but always with an unspoken distance.

His throat went dry, and he forced himself to turn away, his jaw tightening.

Bucky had seen countless women undress before, but this—this was different. This was you. And it was as if some part of his brain refused to process it. He waited in silence, staring at the dark water until he heard your footsteps approaching.

You had changed into dry clothes and now stood beside him, leaning against the dock railing.

“I guess Grandpa won’t allow you to come home,” you said.

Bucky let out a dry chuckle. “How did you know?”

“Just a hunch.”

He exhaled sharply, shoving his hands into his pockets. “You’re right. But I guess… I failed. You don’t want to come back.”

“Not yet.”

Silence. The waves rolled in and out, filling the space between you.

You looked out at the sea, your expression unreadable. Then, as if speaking more to yourself than to him, you asked, “Do you ever wonder why we’re compatible?”

It was a good question. Because in truth, on paper, you shouldn’t be.

Most marriage contracts like yours didn’t last. Some couples couldn’t even stand each other for the duration of their agreement. They broke it off before the ink had dried.

You exhaled through your nose, then said with a smirk, “Because both of us are ambitious as fuck.”

Bucky scoffed. He almost laughed, but he held it in, shaking his head instead.

Then, in a quieter voice, he asked, “If you love me, why are you leaving?”

You turned your head to look at him. Your eyes were softer now, but firm, steady.

“Bucky, I know you’re not ready for this. And I won’t push you. You need to figure it out yourself.”

His chest tightened.

He had spent years figuring himself out. Years battling the demons that kept him tethered to his past. But had he actually moved forward?

“I used this marriage contract to get money,” you admitted. “To have a higher status than my father. Feeling superior to him gave me satisfaction.”

Bucky swallowed hard. He understood that. He understood it too well.

He had never wanted to be in a relationship—not out of fear, but as an act of rebellion. His parents' marriage had been a disaster, a revolving door of broken vows and replacements. His father cycled through wives like a man cycling through business investments. His mother had responded by becoming one of the most infamous rich cougars in town, collecting younger lovers as if to prove something to the world.

Love, as far as Bucky had seen, was nothing more than a transaction.

He had despised it.

But now, standing here, he wasn’t so sure.

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “So this is goodbye, then?”

“For now,” you said, your voice gentle. “I just want to do what I’ve been holding back. I want to grow up.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow at that. “What do you mean? We’re already in our thirties.”

You smiled, but it wasn’t a happy smile. It was knowing, understanding.

“I mean growing up from the trauma.” Your voice softened. “Bucky, both of us were stuck as kids because of what happened to us. Our pasts kept us frozen in time. But I don’t want to stay stuck anymore. I want to move forward. I want to leave the trauma behind.”

Bucky didn’t say anything. He couldn't.

“The reason I didn’t come back,” you continued, “is because I still love you. And that terrifies me. I’m running away because I can’t be near you without feeling everything too much.”

Bucky sucked in a slow breath.

This was the first time anyone had ever said those words to him like this—with honesty, with vulnerability. It was the first time he had ever received a love confession that wasn’t transactional, that wasn’t tied to expectations.

And he didn’t know what to do with it.

You stepped back. “I hope that the next time we meet, everything will be different.”

Bucky watched as you walked away, disappearing into the crowd. He didn’t move, didn’t breathe for a long moment. Then, slowly, he let out a shaky exhale.

Something was shifting inside him, something he didn’t have a name for. It wasn’t just loss. It wasn’t just regret.

It was something deeper.

A few moments later, he pulled out his phone and dialed his therapist.

When the call connected, his voice came out rough, almost reluctant.

“I think I’m starting to have… sexual desires toward her.”

There was silence on the other end.

Then, finally, his therapist sighed.

“Well, Bucky,” they said, “it looks like you’re finally catching up to your emotions.”

He decided to leave you alone, but that didn’t mean he stopped caring. No matter what, you had been there for him for two years. Marriage contract or not, you left a lasting impression on his life.

When he returned, his grandfather was waiting for him, clearly hoping you would step off the plane with Bucky.

When he saw Bucky coming down alone, Tom clicked his tongue. “You’re an idiot.”

Bucky sighed. “Give her time. She’ll be back.” Even though he's not sure when you'll be back.

🌸🌸🌸🌸

One Year Later

The café inside the park was quiet, tucked away between tall trees and winding pathways. The morning sun filtered through the leaves, casting dappled light onto the wooden tables.

Bucky sat alone, a tablet in one hand, a coffee cup in the other. He scrolled through reports, half-reading, half-listening to the sounds around him—the soft chatter of other patrons, the occasional bark of a dog, the rustling of leaves in the breeze.

Then, a voice behind him made him nearly drop his tablet.

“I see you’re still a workaholic.”

His heart clenched. He knew that voice.

Slowly, he turned around—and there you were.

You stood before him, looking different yet familiar. Your skin was sun-kissed, your hair slightly lighter, and your presence felt… freer. There was an ease in your posture, a confidence in your stance that hadn’t been there before.

For a moment, Bucky just stared, as if making sure you were real. Then, a small smile tugged at his lips.

“I don’t work as much as I used to,” he admitted.

You raised an eyebrow, smirking as you pulled out a chair and sat across from him. “Really? Who’s been keeping up with all your work, then?”

“My parents.”

That made you pause. “Your parents?”

He nodded, setting down his tablet. “Yeah. I finally faced it. The whole mess.”

And it had been a mess. For years, he had avoided confronting the real cause of his fears—his childhood. He thought that refusing to engage in relationships was an act of defiance, proof that he had broken free from his parents' toxic cycle. But in reality, he had been trapped just like them. Stuck in the same story, just playing a different role.

It wasn’t fair.

They had lived their lives—moving on, getting remarried, collecting younger lovers, burning through money—while he had been the one frozen in time, afraid to take a single step forward.

So he had done something drastic.

He had cut them off.

No more allowances, no more endless funds. Their luxurious lifestyles had been fueled by company profits, and Bucky had put an end to it.

“This company is not a charity,” he had told them. “You’ve used its assets to fund your lifestyles for too long. If I let this continue, we’ll go down in history as the first corporation to bankrupt itself paying alimony.”

His father had been furious. His mother had scoffed. But in the end, they had no choice. They had to start working.

They had been terrible parents. But, ironically, they turned out to be decent employees.

"Both of them have stopped acting childish," he said. His parents had also stopped playing the roles of sugar daddy and cougar. It turned out money was the solution.

Now, here he was, sitting across from the one person he had waited a year to see again.

"I fixed my relationship with my parents, especially my dad," you replied.

"That's good to hear," he responded.

After spending some time with your dad, you realized that without the rivalry, he's an easygoing person. You started contacting him daily.

“Why did you come back?” he asked, his voice quieter now. “Does this mean you don’t love me anymore?”

Your gaze softened. “No. I never stopped loving you.” You smiled, almost shyly. “I just had a feeling this time would be different.”

Bucky exhaled slowly, leaning back in his chair. “I see. So you’ve completed your self-discovery?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

The conversation between you flowed effortlessly, lighter than it had ever been. You talked about your travels, the people you had met, and the experiences that had changed you. Bucky listened, occasionally throwing in a sarcastic remark or a teasing comment, making you laugh. It felt easy—natural.

Then, as if it were nothing, you casually said, “I broke my leg climbing down a mountain.”

“What?!” His eyes widened, panic flashing through them.

You laughed, waving a hand dismissively. “I’m fine. Some nuns from a nearby chapel helped me. They took care of me for a month.”

Bucky frowned, his mind racing. So that’s why you didn’t post an update for a month.

You nodded. “Yeah. They prayed for me.” Then, after a pause, you admitted, “I’ve never prayed before. But I started to. Admitting my anger, my sins… it made the weight feel lighter. I guess I’m sharing my burdens with God now.” You studied his reaction carefully. “Do you think I’ve turned into a religious freak?”

Bucky shook his head. “No. As long as you found peace.”

Silence settled between you, but it was a comfortable one.

Eventually, he cleared his throat. “Do you want something to drink?”

You grinned. “Yes.”

“Caramel Macchiato, hot, less sugar… right?”

You blinked, then gave him a thumbs-up. He smirked before getting up and heading toward the cashier.

When he returned, he placed the coffee in front of you, watching as you took a small sip.

Then you said, “On my way here, I passed by a cinema playing Interstellar.”

Bucky’s eyes flickered with interest. That was his favorite movie—the one he always watched when he had time alone.

“Really?”

“You interested?” You pulled out two tickets and held them up.

Bucky chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. “Let’s go.”

As you both walked side by side, he glanced at you.

“You know,” he said, “you could share your burdens with me too.”

You turned to him, your expression unreadable.

Was that… a proposal?

Bucky continued, his tone calm but firm. “We’ve known each other for two years. You left for one. And yet, you came back with the same feelings. And I waited a year for you to come back.”

Your heart pounded.

This time, it wasn’t just a contract. It wasn’t a transaction.

It was something real. Something earned.

And for the first time, you weren’t afraid of it.

This time, there was a difference between them.

Before, they had been trapped—chained to the past, repeating old patterns, clinging to wounds that refused to heal. They had mistaken their pain for identity, their fears for inevitability.

But now, they had changed.

Not because time had passed, but because they had made the choice to move forward.

They had faced their demons, made peace with their scars, and learned to let go. Bucky was no longer a man protesting love out of spite. And you were no longer someone running away to find yourself.

You had both found your own way—separately.

And yet, in the end, that path had led you back to each other.

-The End-

Epilogue:

Bucky suddenly remembered something. “I should call Grandpa to let him know you’re back.”

You chuckled. “Oh, I already met him when I landed. That’s how I knew where to find you.”

Bucky smiled and shook his head. Even after a year, you still cared about Tom.

After watching the movie, he will take you to meet Tom. His grandpa will welcome you with open arms and finally stop calling him an "idiot."

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[treatbuckywkisses]

The yearning and tension are so well written:( this made my tummy hurt in the best way😭😭 all mixed in with a very enticing side story this was so incredible it felt like I was really there in the room !!!! 

     Your stomach twisted at the words, the culpability of your actions threatening to eat away at it. Even after everything you said, even after running away from him and deserting him at the fair, he still only wanted to know you were safe. There were so many things you wanted to say. Nothing, however, was a good enough response in your mind. There was nothing you could say that wouldn’t leave a door open for more. No matter what you told him it would either crush his heart or give him hope.      You didn’t dare do either. :( when we start with the angst it really gets me😭 the last part of this is SO good 

     Natasha sighed, her lips in a tight line,” Y/n, you’re joking right? You two have already been something more to each other for a long time now. Please, none of us are blind to how you two favor each other over the rest of us.” You took a second to let her words sink in. idiots in love 💕 I'm a SUCKER 

     But in this case, it was okay, because at least in this case you were the bad guy. You were the heartbreaker and everyone can hate you. No one has to pick sides because you made it easy for them to choose Bucky, and you were okay with that.  baby:( this paragraph punched me in the gut so hard

     Bucky was one of those people. When your eyes locked as you looked out into the sea of the trial audience he sent you a small smile and gave you an encouraging nod. That was all you needed to knock your closing statement out of the park. UGH WHEN IS THE LOVE COMING I'M SICK THEY ARE SO IDIOTS IN LOVE😭😭

     “You’re scared of things changing, but can't you see they already did?” iconic nat always so smart

     There was a slight shifting sound on the other side of the door before he spoke, “Look, these past few weeks I tried really hard to push my feelings away, but I was only getting more frustrated with myself. In pushing my feelings away, I pushed you away and I don’t want that. I miss you,” his voice broke toward the end and he paused before continuing, “I want you—no, I need you to be a part of my life even if it's just as friends. Y/n, don't think for one second I regret taking you on that date because I don’t, but I can’t keep going on acting like we don’t know each other anymore.” shutup im crying:( this is sooooo precious:(((((( my heart is HURTING for him

     You were in love with Detective James Buchanan Barnes. GOOD YES FINALLY😭😭😭😭 IT'S LIKE I CAN BREATHE AGAIN

      The cookies were to sweeten up your apology, which was a long thought-out one you wrote in the notes app on your phone before going to bed. It could honestly rival any speeches you had ever given in court. so relatable (I live in my notes app) 

     The apologies, the loneliness, the anger, the sadness, the frustration, and everything in between melted away leaving only the love that was blossoming between you two behind. I love angst with a happy ending ( this made me physically ill and if I didn't read love soon I would DIE ) this is so cute I love them: ( even though it hurt

love them love you🫶🏻

Conflict of Interest - II

Pairing: Detective!Bucky Barnes x Lawyer!Reader

Summary: After deserting Bucky at the fair, you are left dealing with the consequences. This becomes difficult as you are all assigned to a new case. 

Word Count: 8.5k

Warning(s): crime show level of violence / homicide investigation details / drinking / angst / fluff / mentions of a car accident and injuries, but no major details / slight cursing / anxiety / overthinking / insecurities / lots of back and forth / misunderstandings / angst with a happy ending 

a/n: It has been a while, but part 2 of this beautiful duo is finally out! ❤️ I hope the length of part 2 can make up for how long it took me to finally finish writing it. It’s angsty with a happy ending, although the happy ending doesn’t come so easily. 👀 Thank you for reading! ❤️ Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!! 💕

➵ Prequel Drabble // ➵ Part I 

     You tossed and turned in your bed once more, the sunlight peeking through your blinds, disturbing your sleep. The events of last Saturday weighed heavy on you. So much so, that you hadn’t gone to work in the past two days—today would be the third. You claimed you came down with the flu, putting on the best performance you could when Natasha called you. You were never able to lie to her face, but over the phone wasn’t as hard. Eventually, however, you would have to go back. 

     Eventually, you would have to face him. 

     Bucky called you a few times that night after you deserted him at the fair. The guilt set in almost immediately and you were too ashamed to answer him. You managed to read one message before silencing all of the notifications on your phone.

     Can you at least let me know you got home safely?

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