#and only moved the gap over instead of closing it entirely

[jayykesley]

probably sounds weird but sometimes i yearn for my front teeth gap

[spencerreidenjoyer]

please, please, please | spencer reid x reader

wc: 2.8k, rating: explicit/18+

tags/warnings: office sex, professor!spencer/student!fem!reader, age gap (20 years?), rough sex, blowjobs, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, title kink (being called sir), questionable relationship, dubious consent (they both want it but again it’s teacher/student so…)

a/n: read too many professor!spencer fics and decided i had to throw my hat in the ring. i feel crazy and i need him desperately. pls go crazy with me too. (ao3 link here!)

It doesn’t take an FBI profiler to notice how Dr. Spencer Reid fails to hide the way he stares at you in his lectures, his eyes always lingering on you even when he’s addressing the entire classroom. 

Maybe you’re just sensitive to his gaze, because he’s an extremely intelligent man whose attention you’re more than happy to have on you, given the fact that he is insanely attractive.

Maybe you’re just as attracted to him as he seems to be with you, because you absolutely preen at the attention Dr. Reid gives you in class, words of praise over your ideas often free-flowing from his lips.

Maybe because you know how hot you are, you shouldn’t have come into Dr. Reid’s office in a low-cut top and a short plaid skirt asking to discuss your final essay in his Criminal Psychology class. 

Both you and Dr. Reid know you’re more than capable of acing this paper, your in-class ideas clearly brilliant enough to impress Dr. Reid himself. And yet, you’re in his office, seemingly worried about how to get your thoughts across on paper. 

It doesn’t take an FBI profiler to notice how you’re positively bluffing, a little too eloquent to sound truly uncertain of yourself in your work for Dr. Reid’s class.

It doesn’t take an FBI profiler to notice the way Dr. Reid is staring at your tits in your top, eyes only flicking back up to your face when he realises he should be looking at you while you speak instead of at your… assets.

“Sir, did you catch what I just said?” You prod, very aware he most definitely did not hear you. You note how his eyes widen when you call him sir. 

“Um– Well, I–” Dr. Reid starts, but it’s no use. 

You stand up, putting your hands on the desk as you sigh, “Dr. Reid, I’m sorry if I’m boring you with my thought process.”

Your arms frame your tits just right, and you catch the way Dr. Reid’s eyes inevitably flit down to your cleavage. It’s so obvious when he looks back up at you, and you see his face redden. You quirk an eyebrow at him as a challenge of sorts, and he looks somewhat apologetic. 

Dr. Reid clears his throat. He avoids your eyes for a moment, as he moves to take off his blazer. “I apologise. I’m just… distracted at the moment.”

“I wonder why that is,” you hum, twirling a piece of your hair with your index finger, like you’re deep in thought. Then, like the already-obvious answer just hits you, you add, with a pout: “Oh! Do I distract you, sir?” 

“What are you doing?” Dr. Reid asks, and you can hear the way he’s trying to keep his voice steady, calm.

“I don’t know, sir,” you shrug. “Maybe you should share your thoughts with me.”

Dr. Reid blinks at you, takes the sight of you in. “Well, you’re giving me a hard time right about now.”

“Why?” You cock your head to the side. He closes his eyes and breathes in deep, just for a moment. 

Your professor’s tone biting, he answers candidly, “Your revealing clothing choice makes it difficult for me to focus. I didn’t expect you to dress like a slut when you were coming into my office for a simple consultation.”

Your sharp inhale is audible in the pindrop-silent room. Dr. Reid meets your eyes. He pauses for a moment, and you watch his tongue dart out to wet his lips. His eyes are dark. With a flick of his finger, he says, “Come here.”

You think of leaning over the desk just to fuck with him even more, but Dr. Reid looks so serious you think you might be in actual trouble. You scurry over to his side of the desk, standing next to him. He turns his chair towards you, and you can see the bulge in your professor’s pants. He’s big.

“You want this?” Dr. Reid says gently. It’s a loaded question. 

Pulling your lower lip between your teeth, you nod. “Yes, sir. I want you.”

“Good. Then get on your knees.” It’s a command, in a deep voice you’ve never heard from Dr. Reid in the past three months in his lectures. You hope your knees won’t bruise from the way you fall to them in a heartbeat.

“I didn’t think you would be such a slut.” Dr. Reid smirks, and it makes a shiver run down your spine. His hand reaches towards you, cups your cheek. He slaps your cheek gently, but the suddenness makes you gasp. “Fuck, you drive me crazy in class, but now I have you like this? I must have done something amazing in a past life to have you on your knees for me now.”

“Sir,” you exhale shakily. His touch is soft, his thumb stroking your cheek with a surprising sweetness. 

“Let’s put that mouth to good use, hmm?” Dr. Reid says, his tone warm, syrupy sweet. He reaches for his belt, the metal clink as he undoes it making heat quickly pool between your legs. The belt gets tossed aside and he unzips his fly, pulling his half-hard cock out. You watch as his large hand wraps around himself, as he strokes his cock absentmindedly. His eyes are only on you. Your body flushes hot with arousal.

Dr. Reid beckons you closer with a finger. You look up at him, and you take his cock in your hand. His eyes tell you everything you need to know. You lean forward to take him into your mouth. You wrap your lips around the head of his cock softly, the warmth of your mouth probably feeling like heaven as Dr. Reid moans quietly as you do. You swirl your tongue over his tip, tasting the saltiness of his precome.

His hand comes up to the back of your head as he watches you suck his cock. You’re kitten-licking at his tip, which doesn’t seem like enough for him. Dr. Reid pushes your head down on his cock, forcing you to take more of him into your mouth. He’s big, so the sudden fullness of your mouth coupled with the way he hits the back of your throat makes you choke slightly. You glance up at him. He’s smirking. 

“I’m sure you know how to suck cock, don’t you? Like this, sweetheart.” His tone is close to condescending, as the fist in your hair drags your head up and down on his cock. While it’s not like you don’t know how to please a man, Dr. Reid treating you this way makes you swoon – his teacherly mannerisms turning you on impossibly. 

You gag as Dr. Reid fucks your face down onto his cock, his groans mixing with your wet, choked noises. He clearly seems to enjoy this, using you how he pleases, uncaring of your own arousal. It’s so hot you feel like you might explode. You hope you’ll get more out of this than just sucking your professor off, because if he doesn’t reciprocate you might have half a mind to report him for unprofessional conduct.

But Dr. Reid is moaning into his fist, eyebrows furrowed as you blow him, and you’ve always wanted to please your professor; be it in class or right in this moment.

You reach up to grab Dr. Reid by his wrist, tapping his arm to get his attention. His eyelids flutter open, revealing his gorgeously deep brown eyes. He looks at you, slightly concerned. “What’s the matter?”

You swallow hard. “Sir, I– Will you fuck me? Please? I want- I want to feel you inside.”

Dr. Reid closes his eyes for a moment, breathes through his nose. “Holy fucking shit,” He murmurs to himself, before he says, louder, “Okay. Yes. Fuck, you’re so sexy.”

You don’t get up from your knees, not just yet. You look up at him, hands in your lap, waiting for him to tell you what to do. You smirk up at him. Dr. Reid sighs, rubbing his face with his hand, and says, “You little minx. Get up on my desk.”

He extends a hand to help you up, your legs shaky from being on your knees. You look behind you to figure out how to get yourself onto the desk, but Dr. Reid is also on his feet now, and he hoists you up onto the desk, easily getting between your spread legs. You steady yourself by placing your hands out behind you, and shudder when Dr. Reid’s big, warm hands grab at your thighs. He squeezes at the flesh, before one hand comes down to your clothed pussy. He swipes his thumb over your clit, over your hole, and he tuts. “You’re so wet already. You must be desperate.”

You shudder. Dr. Reid’s touch is not enough to feel good, as he barely teases you over your panties. “You should do something about it, Professor.”

“I will,” he says. Dr. Reid exhales, looking down between where your bodies are pressed close, his hard cock pressed against your cunt. “Look at what you’ve done to me. You’ve ruined me.”

“Sir,” you say sultrily. “You should fuck me now.”

“I will,” he repeats, his hand on your hip. He looks you up and down, and then Dr. Reid’s hand is sliding across your thigh, his fingers slipping up the hem of your skirt. You feel calloused thumbs teasing at the waistband of your panties, feel them dip past the elastic to pull them down. 

Cool air hits your cunt, as Dr. Reid slides your panties off your legs. He’s looking down at you, between your legs, clearly enjoying the view. You clear your throat, and he looks up at you, almost sheepish. He says, his voice cracking slightly, “You’re gorgeous.”

You smile. “You’re not so bad yourself, Dr. Reid.”

“Yeah?” He laughs. “I’m glad you think so.”

As you talk, Dr. Reid has mindlessly started to rut his cock along your leaking cunt, your steadily-flowing slick making the slide easy. It’s so good, even just the friction of your professor frotting against you. You hold back a moan, looking up into Dr. Reid’s eyes.

“Sir– Oh, fuck,” you moan, as his cock slips inside of you with the way he grinds against you, your hole letting him in too easily. You’re so wet that he’d just slipped in. The feeling stuns you both, wet heat around Dr. Reid’s cock. He’s still rocking his hips back and forth, which pulls him out of you and pushes him back in. The head of his cock pushes back into you, and you both moan. You cry, “More, Dr. Reid.”

Dr. Reid steadies himself as he starts to fuck you, the movement of his hips shifting as he thrusts into you proper. There’s a practised ease in his thrusts, confident as he takes you on his desk. Your head falls forward, hair in your face, as your body takes in the feeling of your professor’s cock buried inside of you.

“You feel so good,” Dr. Reid grunts, his cock fucking in and out of you. He’s filling you up just the way you need it, his thickness stretching you out so deliciously. You clench around him at the praise, and his hips stutter. “So tight for me, sweetheart.”

And then, you can’t explain what you do next. You can’t help yourself, as you wrap your arms around him and bury your face into his neck, smelling his musky perfume and sweat. You whimper. You feel so good you don’t know what else to do with your body, but Dr. Reid doesn’t push you away. One of his arms wraps around your waist, his hand on the small of your back feeling so warm through your thin top, even though you’re feeling so hot you could explode. 

You feel yourself being pushed onto your back onto the heavy wooden desk, Dr. Reid’s weight pressing down on you. Like this, you feel his cock press inside of you impossibly deeper, and it’s so good you feel like screaming – you don’t, obviously you can’t, but you muffle a moan into his shoulder instead.

“Such a good girl,” Dr. Reid murmurs softly, his cock punching deep inside of you. Each of his thrusts sends electric pleasure up your spine, through your nerves, and you’re tearing up from how good this feels. “Fuck, I wish I could hear you scream for me.”

You whimper, a broken cry pressed against his neck. “Dr. Reid–”

“Oh, I know, sweetheart,” Dr. Reid coos softly. “You’re doing so good, keeping it down for me. So good for me.”

You don’t like feeling so pathetic, but Dr. Reid makes you feel safe even while you’re vulnerable, while he’s fucking you on his office desk. You sob, “Dr. Reid, it’s too good– I’m gonna cum, I– please–”

“Come on,” he grunts, his voice laboured as he pants. “Cum for me, my darling.”

Your gasp is louder than you’d like it to be, in a professor’s office of all places, but you feel too good to remember to keep it down. You shudder through your orgasm, unable to control the way your body reacts to all the pleasure given to you. 

“Fuck,” Dr. Reid blurts, his cock sliding out of you faster than you expect. You whine, but Dr. Reid is cumming all over your cunt, thick, hot spurts all over already-slick skin. “Oh, shit. Fuck.”

You’re thankful Dr. Reid didn’t cum inside, only because he didn’t have a condom on. You feel like a mess, but Dr. Reid’s looking at you like you’re a goddess. You feel his softening cock resting on your thigh. You want to go again, to feel him inside of you again, but perhaps that’s too desperate. 

When his head is clear, Dr. Reid is quick to step back, reaching into the desk drawer. 

“Sorry, let me just–” The commandeering, dominant Dr. Reid you just met is now gone, back to his slightly silly, bumbling self. He takes two wipes out from the packet of wet wipes he had pulled out from the drawer in his haste, but his hands are gentle when he wipes you clean. His touch is soft, sweet, and you feel so special in his hands. “I’m sorry I made a mess of you.”

You chuckle. “Dr. Reid, I’m more than okay with it. I think it comes with the territory.”

He smiles, albeit a little awkwardly. “Yeah, you’re right. I just don’t do this often, I suppose.”

“Oh, please. As if you don’t have other students throwing themselves at you too, Dr. Reid,” you laugh, waving him off.

“I do, but I’ve never done anything with them. Even if they try to proposition me, I tell them to leave my office. I’ve only… It’s just you.”

You’re stunned for a moment, blinking up at him. “You… Seriously?”

He frowns slightly. “Does it seem like I sleep around with my students often?”

“No! No, I just– I didn’t expect that. I thought you would be more… experienced? Considering how readily you let me… seduce you. I guess.”

“You’re definitely convincing,” Dr. Reid smiles. “Besides, I think you’re really special. I’ve never had a student like you.”

“Oh,” you say, because what else can you say in this scenario? Should you say anything else? It’s starting to hit you now, the implications of what you’ve just done walking into your professor’s office like this. “That’s… flattering.”

He tilts his head, brows furrowing. “Your pause seems to imply you don’t really mean that.”

“Oh, no, Dr. Reid, not at all, I–” You shake your head. “I’m really flattered that you think I’m special, I just– I’m not sure how I can navigate this. We’ve had sex, and it’s really hitting me now that I should not have seduced my professor because that’s definitely a violation of conduct, and–”

“Hey, relax,” Dr. Reid says, putting his hand on your shoulder. You breathe in deep. Dr. Reid looks at you warmly, and says, “I know we probably shouldn’t have done this, but I couldn’t resist you. And besides, it’s already done. We’re close to the end of the semester anyways. If you– I– If you want to continue this… outside of campus, I’d be more than happy to.”

“Dr. Reid,” you gasp, shocked that your professor would even be interested enough in you to suggest something like that. A relationship, outside of class? Or whatever it is he was thinking of. Frankly, even if Dr. Reid wants to meet once a month just to fuck, you’d take whatever you could get, especially with a man as gorgeous as him.

“Call me Spencer. Please,” he smiles. “Outside of class, at least.”

You grin. “Okay, Spencer.”

[ssahotchnerr]

you see when you did a fic abt reader getting a lil clingy when she’s tired , can we pls have it w aaron instead. like they’re all on the jet and he just puts a hand on her knee or keeps on giving her forehead kisses every second, or even he gets so tired to the point he falls asleep w his head on her shoulder

sleep deprived

clingy aaron my beloved cw; bau!reader, fluff <3

After many years of practice, Aaron's rather proud of his resilience to remain awake and alert despite extreme fatigue.

Some cases called for either little or no sleep at all. Was it his favorite thing to do? No - it knocked his body completely off schedule, worsened with time spent on the West Coast. Had he been exhausted? Absolutely. But he could ignore the feeling well, working just as diligently as if he had gotten a full night's rest.

Frequent helpings of caffeine also assisted.

But when a case resolved and the urgency was dismissed - it was like a switch flipped in his brain. His mind and body knew before he could fully process it, and he felt it. Sleep deprived brain fog, a newly significant heaviness to his body, more irritable if certain buttons were pushed.

He couldn't wait to be home. He couldn't wait to be in the comfort of bed. He couldn't wait for you to be at his side, secure and close in sleep.

Each one of those thoughts correlated to each heavy step as he trudged up the jet's stairs, his eyes latching onto you immediately upon entry.

You were stationed at the kitchenette, head down as you prepared your favorite soothing, nighttime tea.

A wave of affection rippled through him; simply seeing you made him long for you desperately, although you were near and already his. The love he felt for you was unfathomable already, but in a sleep deprived state, it was enhanced greatly. He wanted - no, had to be as close as possible, to be entirely consumed by you.

After storing his go-bag, he swiftly (and slightly clumsily) moved behind you, hands finding your waist easily.

"Hey," you greeted, steeping your tea. Your voice was soft, and he could hear the faint smile in your voice.

"Hey," Aaron echoed in a mumble, his hands sliding forward from your hips to your abdomen. "How are you."

You hummed gently, leaning back to lightly touch your head to his, closing the tiny gap that separated the two of you. "Better now that we're going home."

With your back to his chest, you felt his agreeable chuckle shake through him.

"You want a cup?"

"No, I'm okay." Truthfully, he was certain he would fall asleep before the rim of the mug touched his lips. His head turned, pressing a long kiss to your temple, speaking into it, "Thank you though."

His lips lingered while you finished prepping your tea, adding light honey and lemon. With you in his arms, matching your evenly distributed breaths, Aaron's hold wasn't only to hold you, but to keep him standing upright. The lights on the jet had already been dimmed, as everyone settled down for the red eye flight, so that wasn't helping his tiredness either. He was just as comfortable as if he were in his bed at home.

You felt him nodding off. His arms - unknown to him, as he thought otherwise - were loosening, his figure even swaying the smallest amount. You hurried, knowing he probably wouldn't claim his seat without you at his side. And when you made your way over, Aaron followed like a lost puppy, his fingers grasping onto the back of your shirt.

Your blanket was already at your seat; after setting your tea aside, you draped it over your lap, offering half to Aaron. You even managed to pry him out of his suit jacket and tie.

His hand started out in yours, before finding home on your thigh - enjoying the comfort of contact. His fingers were splayed across the width, keeping you as close as the seats could awkwardly offer. Part of him considered persuading Reid from his usual spot, allowing the two of you a turn to lie down.

But it was Spencer's favorite spot, the rest of the team would never let him live down visibly 'cuddling', and he was too tired to move, so the regular seats would have to do.

His thumb began brushing against the fabric of your pants, the lull bringing him closer to sleep. He placed a kiss on your shoulder, then your jaw, before nestling his head on your shoulder.

A faint blush trickled onto your face, feeling warm from both the tea and the open tenderness. "Aaron?"

A very drowsy, "Hm?" came from below your ear.

You simply leaned your head against his, a contentful sigh leaving you. Under the blanket, your hand rest atop his, giving his fingers a gentle squeeze.

Aaron's eyes remained closed, but a sleepy smile made its way onto his face. In the smallest of whispers, "I love you too."

[luveline]

what if bombshell!reader proposed to Spencer? Instead of Spencer proposing to bombshell!reader? Would he be upset or just as happy? Also, I absolutely adore your writing! 🥰💕

ty for requesting!! —spencer gets a love he deserves, 1.4k, fem!reader

The first proper time that you and Spencer slept together, he wasn’t nervous. It was sort of like a high school sleepover. You’d slept in shared beds in stuffy hotels and he’d once stayed the night while he was too drunk to remember it, but the first time you invited him in with intention to just be together, he wasn’t scared. You remember being surprised. Looking back, you shouldn’t have been. 

You laid together like you are now. He wore a grey t-shirt and a pair of blue chequered pants, and he’d pushed his hair back all day leaving the front pieces limp, and he’d touched your cheek to encourage your face to his before he moved in for one polite kiss. “I love you,” he’d said, much too early and a couple years too late at the same time. 

You turn on your side now to look at him. His contacts are out, his glasses perched on the edge of his nose. He’s watching a video on his laptop and the line of his jaw is soft. Or, softer than usual. He has a very sharp jaw. 

You shift a bit to alleviate the pressure on your hip.

“You okay?” Spencer asks. He doesn’t look away from his laptop nor does he sound tuned in. It’s sort of funny that he manages to care even when he’s not paying attention.

“Yeah.” 

“Tired?” 

“Not really.” 

“Hungry at all?” 

“Just brushed my teeth.” 

“That’s not the question I was asking.” 

“Not hungry, Spencer. Can I watch too?” 

He turns the laptop toward you to the point where his view is obscured, raising the volume a touch. “It’s about Tuberculosis. Do you wanna watch something else?” 

“No, this sounds interesting.” 

He settles in next to you. His fingers brush your chest. For a good forty five minutes, you and Spencer watch the rest of his video. He gets visibly tireder the longer it goes on, but neither of you attempt to get ready to sleep until the video’s finished. He closes the lid of his laptop, twisting in bed to deposit it gently on the floor. There’s a familiar shush of him sliding it under the bed to stop you from standing on it (a learned precaution). 

“Did you take that vitamin, the primrose?” he asks, flicking off his bedside lamp, leaving yours as the only source of light in the entire room. It’s a pink glass shade that kisses his pale skin a rosy hue. 

“Yeah, Spence.” 

He shakes the sheets back and the over you both. One minute you’re apart and the next he’s pulling you into him, confident handed, his breath warming your face as the gap between you thins. Despite his readying, he doesn’t say goodnight, or close his eyes. This is your time now. You often spend time at night just talking to each other about everything you’d meant to say that day, or nonsense conversation, until one or both of you has been lulled into a peaceful sleep. 

“I have something I want to tell you,” you say. 

“Okay.” He sounds completely trusting, no worrying, no reluctance. 

“You remember the first time you stayed at my apartment?” 

“No.” 

“The second time,” you correct. 

“Yes,” he says, grinning. “I was much less intoxicated that time.” 

“You were sober.” 

“I didn’t feel sober,” he says. 

“Nice. You’re getting so good at this.” 

“Thank you.” 

“But do you remember that?” You trace the curve of his nose. He’ll have to take his glasses off soon. They’ve already worn red crescents into his skin. “You told me you loved me.” 

“I can’t forget it,” he says, still grinning. You’ve tried to tell people —idiots— who don’t understand you and Spencer that, even without his million charms and idiosyncrasies, you’d love him for his smile. It changes his entire face. He never looks as beautiful to you as he does when he’s smiling. 

“I didn’t say it back.” 

“We’d only been together for a few days,” he says. “It was one of my moments.” 

“Spencer, I did love you, though. I should’ve told you. I knew in that moment that you really, really meant it, and I just want you to know that when you said it, I could have said it back. I should have. I loved you just as much, I promise.” 

“I know,” he whispers, eyes slightly widened. 

“I think I’ve loved you since the day we met. It’s cliche.” 

“Sometimes things are cliche because they’re good,” he says, laying his cheek more firmly into his pillow as he raises a hand to your face. His thumbs rests in the space under your chin. His fingertips brush along the skin just beside your lips. “And true. I loved you the minute you introduced yourself.” 

You savour the feeling of his hand on your cheek. 

“You’re so handsome,” you say, “and kind. You’re everything to me. You know that.” 

Spencer wraps his arm gently under your chin and behind your head as he lays closer to you. “I know. You’re everything to me. You’re my best friend in the whole world, I– didn’t even know how happy I could be before now.” 

“Me too, baby.” 

He closes his eyes. Your noses touch. 

“Spencer Reid, will you marry me?” you whisper.

Quiet. Aching, total quiet. He curls his arm behind your head until your lips are a hair’s width apart, and when he answers, it’s like he’s spoken directly to the deepest parts of you. “It’s all I want,” he says. 

“I got you a ring,” you murmur. 

The air races with your heart. The sound of your skin and clothes is the only thing to be heard between breaths. “I got you three,” he says. 

“Spencer, what for?” you ask, afraid to open your eyes and break the spell, the branching, unending feeling of connection you share. 

“I didn’t know which one you’d like.”

“You’ll marry me?” you ask. 

“Angel, I already said yes. I love you. I told you already we’d have to get married.” 

“Oh, we have to?” 

Spencer kisses you. It’s startlingly open-mouthed for a moment, but you adapt and overcome, you love him and his every touch, tilting your head to the side to allow him room to ferry in and kiss you deeply. It’s slow and measured, then quick and undecided. He turns his face one way to kiss you, then the other, back again, a hint of roughness —of hunger to it as he pulls your face to his. 

A spark of heat against your nose. 

Your eyes flutter open, a pinked path of light scored diagonally down his cheek. “Spence,” you say, feeling the weight and heat of tears gather behind your eyes, even as you smile, “don’t cry, baby.” 

“I feel like I spent my whole life waiting for someone to love me and it doesn’t feel real that it’s you,” he whispers slowly. 

“No? How do I make it more real for you, sweetheart? What can I do?” you ask sincerely. 

He shakes his head. 

You push your forehead into his. He doesn’t cry anymore than two burning hot tears, rubbing your shoulder as you yourself sniffle back your own emotion. You’re really not sad. You hurt for him, but this is one of the best things that’s ever happened to you. 

“Do you want to choose your ring?” he asks, enthusing his voice with cheer. 

“Do you want to see yours first?” 

“Did you get me a diamond?” he asks. 

“Don’t be silly, Spencer, of course I did.” 

He laughs and kisses you three times in quick succession before he sits up, wiping his face, chuckling wryly. “Sorry, I didn’t think I would react like that.” 

You tangle your fingers with his before he can get too far away. “I love you, honey. There’s nothing wrong with crying about it.” 

You aren’t expecting to start crying when he slides one of the rings he’s chosen for you over your finger. He says you can see each one in action and choose after you've seen them all, but the moment the band is over your knuckle, you know it’s the one you’ll keep. You push the ring you’d bought for him onto his finger with your cheeks still tearstained.

The diamond on his ring isn’t quite as big as the one he’d bought for you, but it looks right nestled against his pale skin. That night, you talk more than you ever have before, falling asleep only minutes after the glowing threads of morning have painted your twined hands with gold. 

[bunnys-kisses]

ash

torger "toto" wolff

cw: smut/pwp, daddydom!toto, degradation, age gap (20s/50s), smoking, drinking, oh to be young, dumb and full of cum, sugar baby au, references to recreational drug use, exhibitionism, public sex, fingering,

bunny says: be responsible, folks!

toto leaned forward and snapped his fingers, "schatzi!" then crooked a finger to make you come towards him.

while being called to like a dog was a little embarrassing to most, instead it made you wet. you came over to him and he put a hand on your ass before he shifted his leg for you to perch yourself on it.

toto took another drag of his cigarette and looked up to you, "schatzi, i need you to tell my good friend something." his hand on your back for support, "tell him my abilities haven't... degraded with age." he smelt like the lingerings of a cigarette and strong cologne.

you wrapped an arm around his shoulder and curved into him. you looked at the man he was talking to. you didn't recognize him, but then again so many faces in mercedes passed in a blur at times.

you giggled, "slow start, quick finisher."

toto looked at you and you looked at him before you grabbed him by the cheeks and moved his head around. the entire time you were giggling, it was probably all the party "favours" in your system.

"funny, girl." the other man said, his eyes lingered on you for a moment. you could tell his gaze was hungry.

you turned your attention to him, your head on top of toto's and his face in your exposed cleavage. a band-aid to the wound on his ego. you said to the other man, "i'm a bit of a comedian." you flashed him a smile, "but don't worry, sir. my toto is a real stallion."

toto pulled away from you and put the cigarette back in his mouth, "thank you, schatzi." and leaned into you when you kissed him on the forehead. he looked away from you a moment after to exhale smoke.

it felt good to curled up next to you man, the age gap was to raise an eyebrow at. but, toto silenced any concerns you had with kisses, orgasms and gifts. you were his special princess, the pretty thing in the short dress that was prancing around the party.

the man toto was speaking to asked another question, "so, schatzi." he didn't know your name, in all fairness you didn't know his. the business affairs of your toto were honestly none of your business.

you frowned and pulled yourself closer to toto, tucked under his chin as he rubbed your back lovingly.

toto noticed your frown and responded for you, "only i can call her that. she gets quite... fickle when others do it." he finished the cigarette and stamped it out in the glass ashtray.

he kept you in his lap, now more settled up against him. he kept an arm around you for support as he rambled to the other man he was speaking to. you didn't really mind too much, instead you stayed at his side like a pretty prize.

toto's hand however, did get a little sneaky as he pulled at the bottom of your already too short dress (you had argued earlier about you wearing it). he exposed more of your bare thigh to the man seated across for him.

in the low light of the party, you could see the tips of the other man's ears go red. toto spoke in an even tone, as if he wasn't about to expose your pussy to the man seated across from him. it was a weird power game that toto liked to play.

snap his jaws until the other person showed submission. also he liked showing off what was his, and you were another trophy in a large collection. but he found your sweet wet pussy nicer than any luxury car. which was why he was so close to show it to the man across from him.

his prize. his schatzi.

you tilted your head up to kiss at toto's jaw. your hands were in the fabric of his button up and you squirmed against his lap. toto's expression didn't flinch as he sank his fingers into your sweet cunt.

his talk of business was just noise to you as you felt the older man's fingers quickly pump in and out of you. you swallowed and felt your heart leap. you couldn't make too much noise or else eventually the whole party would know that you were getting finger fucked by the head principal of mercedes.

in the grand scheme of things, you probably weren't the first person to get finger fucked at a formula one after-party. probably wouldn't be the last either, not if toto had his way.

his thumb grazed your clit, thankful that he managed to "compromise" on the outfit. you could wear the short little number, but no panties. so you better be a good girl and not show off to any men that weren't toto! but he on the other hand could expose that sweet cunt of yours to whoever he pleased.

after all, he paid for every stitch on your clothes. along with the multitude of other things toto bought you. once again, another pretty thing for his collection.

you kept your face up against the older man as he played with your clit. his voice didn't waiver as he sank his ring finger into your aching pussy. his thumb still on your clit.

you wanted to bite into something to keep quiet, your stomach was in knots and your core throbbed. you felt like a toy to be shown off, an object for toto to wave in others' faces. it was wrong but it made you soaked.

the thump of the music throbbed in your skull as he continued to get his entire hand wet with your pussy slick. he could hear your pitiful moans and heavy panting. he knew his erection was becoming a problem in his slacks, but he wasn't someone to let his whiny little schatzi get in the way of talking business.

his fingers were thick in your pussy, his hands were always so big compared to you with long fingers that just sank into you. you looked so pretty perched on his lap.

he tucked some hair behind your ear and whispered to you. his voice hot in your ear, "he's asking you a question?"

you peeked your head away from toto's chest, you knew you must look like a common whore. letting yourself be put in this situation, letting a man finger fuck you and watch you fall apart piece by piece.

your panted heavily and looked at the other man across from you. if you focused your hearing enough you could hear the wet sounds of toto fingering you.

the man across from you two chuckled and had another sip of his drink. he obviously liked what he was seeing. maybe it was a little bit of overkill, but he would never say no to a pretty girl getting absolutely ruined.

"be nice to our guest, schatzi." toto whispered in your ear, "maybe when i'm done you can get him another drink."

there was an inferno in your gut that radiated through your entire body. toto's fingers still moved in and out of you, you fought the urge to pant and moan. you weren't so bitch in heat.

"she's very pretty, where did you get her?" the man across from toto was tempted to touch, but he knew better.

toto grabbed you by the jaw and made you face the other man. the head principal chuckled, "can you believe this little thing was studying at cambridge? scooped her right up after her third year ended and she's been my... helper.. these last few months." he laughed as he kissed you jaw once more.

the man across the table laughed, "well, i guess things have gone down recently. i wonder if they let her in because she was a good fuck."

toto laughed, "she was a virgin when i met her. isn't that right, schatzi?"

you swallowed, "yes, daddy."

toto groaned into your skin, his erection was hard against your behind. he knew you were close, he could feel your tension. his pretty little princess was going to cum all over her daddy's fingers in the middle of a crowded party with the undivided attention of some associate.

or whoever the hell he was!

you clung to toto tightly, your breathing was in heavy pants. you could feel their burning gazes and the sweat down your back. you panted and clutched onto toto's shirt. with another few pumps of his fingers, your face was in his shoulder.

you came around his fingers and almost bit at the collar of his button up to keep yourself from being too loud. for a moment your mind went blank and your core throbbed.

heat stuck to you like glue and you were putty in toto's hands.

the man across from toto asked, "do you want another drink, torger."

toto's fingers played with your clit for a moment long before he said, "i think i am finished for the night."

both men looked at you and you sat there acting so agreeable, like a passive little kitten. toto took his fingers away from your clit and sank them into your mouth for a moment, letting you taste yourself.

the other man looked at you two with a slack jaw.

"and next time, christian." toto said, looking at the man, "don't doubt what i can do." then then turned to you, a flustered, sweaty mess in his lap, "right, schatzi?"

you swallowed and nodded, "yes, daddy." you tried to pull your dress back down to keep some kind of modesty. but you knew the cheap garment was going to be in a pile of scrap fabrics by the time you got back to the hotel room. <3

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (32/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: Some things are better left unsaid.

Warnings: 18+ (mentions of previous smut), angst

Word Count: 2.7k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: sorry for making you wait for so long! please don't kill me. feedback is appreciated!

You feel Charles' fingers on the back of your neck as they press gently into your skin. Your forehead rests against his bare shoulder while your arms are wrapped loosely around his waist. You hold onto him, trying to get your breathing under control as your thoughts jump wildly through your head. 

In your entire life, nothing has ever felt as good as the last half hour. Like an echo, you can still feel the warmth coursing through your body as Charles helped you jump over the cliff. His hungry gaze is etched in your memory, as is the feel of his skin against yours. 

You breathe in and out deeply and Charles presses you closer to him, even though it's barely possible. As you remove your head from his shoulder, his hand slides from the nape of your neck down your back, where it joins his other hand resting slightly above your butt. 

As you look at him, he smiles lovingly. "Hi." 

There's a warm sparkle in his green eyes and you'd love to lose yourself in them and drown. He moves you a little on his leg to make it more comfortable for both of you, but you're a little sensitive between your legs so you close your eyes and scrunch up your face. 

"Are you okay?" he asks softly, brushing a strand of hair out of your face before placing his hand on your cheek. You snuggle against it and enjoy the warmth. 

"Mh-hmm." 

Charles' hands lift you up a little so that you can wrap your legs around his hips. As you sit astride him and he pulls you close to him, you feel his hard-on pressing against your crotch. As if dazed by the sensation, you open your eyes and realize that your faces are so close that the tips of your noses are almost touching. 

"I'm sorry," he apologizes softly, a blush rising to his cheeks. "Just let me -" he begins the sentence and makes an effort to push you off him, but your hands, which were still on his hips a moment ago, settle on his shoulders and hold him tight. He looks at you, a little confused, but you can only smile. 

"It's okay," you answer him. The thought that you're the reason for his condition causes the warmth that has been running through your whole body to build up between your legs again. Ashamed that you would like to jump him, this time to do more than just rub yourself over his thigh, you hang your head so you don't have to look at him. 

Charles puts his lips to your forehead. "We should go to sleep," he murmurs against your skin. "It's getting late."

Sleeping is the last thing you want to do. You want to close the gap between you and kiss him until you can't breathe. You want to feel his hands moving between your legs, his fingers pushing your shorts aside and touching you where you pulse for him and you need him the most. You want his lips on your neck, his bare skin on yours. You want to lie under him, his whole weight on you, while he makes you his own and you burn for him like the sun. 

"We should," you reluctantly agree with him, but neither of you makes any effort to break away from the other. Instead, you stay in each other's embrace, enjoying the warmth and security you give each other. You rest your cheek against his shoulder so that the tip of your nose nudges his neck and inhale his scent, which you can't seem to get enough of. 

Charles nuzzles his cheek against yours. "Are you tired?" 

You shake your head slightly. "No. Are you?"

"No," he breathes. His fingertips slip tentatively under your shirt, where they gently draw small circles on your bare skin. They travel up your back, over your side, until they stop at the swell of your breast. "There are so many things I'd rather be doing." His confession makes your blood race and you move as close to him as you can, but as your lips graze the soft skin on his neck, he takes his hands off your ribs. "But we have big plans tomorrow. And we need to be fully rested for that." 

As he pulls his hands out from under your shirt and gently pushes you off his lap, you suddenly feel cold. "What do you have planned?" you ask him, a little crestfallen, as he creates some distance between you and lies down on his side of the bed. You silently spread the blanket over you and try to restore the warmth that had enveloped you until a moment ago. But nothing compares to Charles' warmth. 

"You'll see," he smiles, resting his head on his forearm behind him. "But I think you'll like it."

You raise your eyebrow but don't respond any further, lying down instead. The distance between you both bothers you - more than you'd like to admit - but after what just happened and the conversation this morning, you don't know where you both stand. 

"I shouldn't have let it get this far," Charles said in the morning. "We're friends and the last thing I want is to lose you over this."

"Nothing changes," he promised you in the night . "We'll stay friends. I promise."

So why can't you shake the feeling that there's this insurmountable distance between you? An ocean of unspoken things that no one dares to talk about. But even if you dared, you wouldn't know what to say. 

There's no denying that you two are friends. You've both proven that to each other more than once. And, like him, you don't want to lose him as a friend under any circumstances, you're too fond of his friendship for that. 

But you can't deny that there's something else between you. Something more. More than friendship, more than roommates. You seem to be completely at the mercy of the attraction he exudes. You are powerless when it comes to Charles. But you don't know what exactly it is that draws you to him like an invisible string. 

This feeling is new to you. Not once in your relationship with Raphael did you feel the same way about someone as you do now about the man with whom you share your bed and the depths of your soul. And although this new feeling scares you, you want more. More of the feeling. More of Charles. 

You want everything with him. 

"What are you thinking about?" Charles asks after you've snuggled up in your comforter and are now staring at it. 

You can't tell him exactly what's going on in your head. You can't tell him that you miss his lips on your neck, the way his fingertips dug into your ass when you came on his thigh. You can't tell him that you long to feel him between your legs and watch him let himself go. 

And you certainly can't tell him that you want more from him than the friendship he's offering you. Because that's all you're going to get from him. But that's okay - you'll take whatever he gives you. Even if the little spark of hope inside you craves more than nightly cuddles and gentle smiles exchanged across his mother's dining table.

Especially because what you just did is definitely not something normal friends do.

You shrug your shoulders. "Christmas."

Charles turns to you. "Christmas? Why Christmas?"

You curl your lips into a thin line. Why Christmas? "'Cause it's two days away and I haven't got you a present yet." 

Charles reaches out and grabs your hand and when you place it in his without thinking about it, as if it were instinct, he pulls you close without much effort. He rests your head on his chest and wraps one arm around your middle as his hand draws circles on your back again. "I don't want a gift from you."

His warmth, which you missed a moment ago, envelops you like a warm blanket and you press closer to him without another thought. "Why not? Friends give each other presents." You place your hand on his bare chest and feel his heartbeat under your fingertips. 

"Because I don't want to." His tone is warm but firm, as if he leaves no room for discussion. 

"Why not?" you ask him, wanting to look at him but leaving your head in place. "I'd like to give you a present. For everything you've done for me."

His grip on you tightens. "When will you understand that I don't want anything in return from you? That all I want from you is your friendship?"

His heartbeat under your hand feels strange as your own stands still. 

There's a huge difference between telling yourself something to protect yourself and hearing it spoken. And that the man whose thigh you just came on, who let you sleep on him, who reaches out to touch you at every opportunity, is saying what you fear - not even the warmth of his body can stop the cold shiver that runs down your spine. 

"Are you cold?" Charles asks, wrapping you tighter in the comforter. But that doesn't stop your body from shivering. 

"It's okay," you reply and move away from him to put some distance between you. All of a sudden, it doesn't feel right to snuggle up to him. It doesn't feel right to lie next to him and want him more than is good for you, knowing that he doesn't want anything more from you than friendship. "I'm not actually tired yet," you lie and open the comforter. "I'm going to stay in the living room and watch some Netflix so you can get some sleep."

As you get up from the bed, Charles sits up too. "You can watch TV here too. I don't mind." 

You reach for a sweater lying on the floor in front of the bed and pull it over your head. Charles's smell hits your nose and you briefly regret putting it on. "That's okay. You go to sleep. I'll join you later." 

As you reach for your cell phone, which is lying next to your pillow, Charles puts his hand on yours. "Mon amour, what -" 

"Good night, Charles," you interrupt him with a smile and withdraw your hand. "Sleep well. I'll see you in the morning." Without looking back, you leave the bedroom and pull the door shut behind you. 

As you sit on the couch in the living room, you don't quite know what to feel. 

From the beginning, there was this connection between you that you couldn't put your finger on until you called it friendship. And even that didn't do justice to how you felt about him. There was a reason why you wanted to build that wall around your heart, brick by brick. After Raphael, you wanted to protect yourself, and Charles had managed to bring the wall down again. 

And you allowed it to happen without putting up much of a fight. 

You didn't defend yourself against his "mon amour", against his closeness, his skin on yours. You didn't resist the feeling that spread through you thanks to him because you enjoyed it. 

This new feeling that you didn't know until you met Charles. This warmth that pulses through your veins when he touches you. This feeling of home that you feel when you are close to him.

Suddenly you understand what he meant by "being touched intimately". 

You miss his fingers on your ribs, his lips on your forehead, his hand on your thigh. You miss him in the places that are only visible to him and that are only meant for him. Your neck, your nape, the curve between your legs and the arch of your bottom. Your calf, the one he grabbed in the car when you met up with Kika and Pierre. 

It feels as if he's cut into your skin, invaded you and taken up residence in your soul, burned himself into it, and changed the chemistry inside you. As if you were only breathing for him and as if your heart was only beating for him. 

You lean your head back and cross your arms in front of your face.

Your head screams at you that this feeling is not right, that it is not reasonable to feel so strongly for someone. That it's not normal to long for someone so strongly that it burns through your veins like heat and sets your heart on fire. 

When you hear footsteps in the hallway, you take your arms away from your face. Your gaze lands on Charles, who is standing anxiously in the doorway, stepping from one foot to the other. 

"I'm sorry," he whispers barely audibly. His mouth curls into a thin line and he scratches the back of his neck. "I - I went too far. I thought you -" He takes a deep breath and exhales before looking at you. "Friends don't do things like that. I'll - you go back to bed. I'll sleep on the couch." 

No. No, no, no, no. 

As you open your mouth to stop him from talking, to stop him from going on and saying the thing you're most afraid of, he raises his hand. "Don't worry. The couch is much more comfortable than the one in the other apartment. I'll be fine for the few days until my new bed arrives. I don't want you to feel uncomfortable around me."

You almost jump up from the couch and want to push him against the wall and tell him that's the last of the feelings you'd want to feel around him, but as you stand in front of him, nothing comes out of your mouth. You feel tears in the corners of your eyes and hope he can't see them. 

But he does. Hesitantly, he lifts his hand and brings it to your cheek to wipe away the one tear rolling down your skin. His touch burns like fire and you have to hold yourself back from clinging to him. "I'm sorry you feel that way. That was never my intention. Please believe that." He swallows before removing his hand from your cheek. "All I wanted was your friendship. And that's where we should go back to. Shouldn't we, mon ami?"

Without waiting for your answer, he goes back into the bedroom and reappears a short time later with his bedding in his arms. He spreads his things out on the sofa while you can only watch him. When he seems satisfied with his work, he turns back to you. A broken smile adorns his face and there's a shine in his eyes that you can't put your finger on. 

"Good night, mon ami. I'll see you in the morning."

Without answering, you flee from the living room and close the bedroom door behind you. You quickly hide under the comforter, which smells of Charles, and feel a heavy pressure building up in your chest, taking your breath away. Tears stream down your cheeks, soaking your pillow, which is far too soft, and you just hope that this rotten feeling will finally end. 

All you can think about is Charles. 

Charles, who introduced you to his mother. Charles, who makes you laugh even when you don't feel like it. Charles, who would drop everything for you to make you feel better. Charles, who is your home. 

Even though you don't want to admit it, even though you fight it because it hurts too much to admit it, it's as clear as day and so obvious that you wonder how you could have been so blind until now. 

You never wanted just Charles' friendship. You wanted him from the very beginning. From the moment he suddenly appeared in your apartment and the moment you let him as a stranger sleep on your couch. Just like he sleeps on the couch in the living room now. But now he feels further away than he did back then, which breaks your heart even more.

You love him. And there's no going back.

[honeylations]

KIM MINJEONG x FEM!READER

Prompt: your usually shy girlfriend wants to ask you to help her but your bad mood scares her off

Warnings/Notes: g!p Minjeong, subby Minjeong, riding, squirting, creampie, handjobs, blow jobs

“H-Hah I’m s-so close…N-Need to cum..” Minjeong growled, stroking her cock faster and shutting her eyes tight when she could feel herself going to the edge.

She wished you were there stroking her instead. Kissing her until she made a mess on your hand.

She needed you.

“Oh my god just fucking kill me, will you!?”

“Wah!” Poor Minjeong jumped from the couch at your sudden dramatic entrance and how the slamming of the door pretty much shook the entire apartment.

You were too pent up with your rant that you didn’t see your girlfriend rushing to pull up her boxers and pants with a red face.

“What’s with the manager being up my ass all the fucking time?! I’m only one person and it’s not my fault other people in my damn group don’t even make up one brain cell! NOT EVEN ONE!”

Minjeong stood in between the gap that separated the living room and kitchen, watching you slam your purse on the counter and pacing back and forth.

Profanity after profanity left your lips and Minjeong could see the steam coming from your ears. Your girlfriend fiddled with the sleeves of her hoodie and cleared her throat to try and get your attention.

“H-Hi babe”

“Ugh and I don’t even get paid extra for doing most of that shitty work! I might as well quit on the spot and see him cry!”

Minjeong sealed her lips and couldn’t ignore the pain in her dick, begging to be touched.

You finished your rant with a click of your tongue and saw your girlfriend standing there in fear. “Shit, I’m sorry Jeongie. I didn’t mean to scream around like that, I’m just really over my shift today”

“It’s okay, babe. Wanna sit down and talk about it?”

Aw your baby was such a sweetheart.

“No no, we can do that later. I think a nap will fix it all”

Minjeong smiled and took your hand to lead you to your shared bedroom. Being in a relationship for so long, you two always slept half naked. You being in your panties and Jeongie in her boxers.

Something about the skin to skin contact was just so comforting.

Only issue is, Minjeong’s boner was still rock hard and you managed to miss it even when you finally got under the covers with her.

But your girlfriend wouldn’t let you cuddle.

“Baby? What’s wrong?” You questioned, making her even more nervous.

“Uh it’s nothing, really..”

“Puppy, whatever it is, spill it right now” You practically ordered, eyebrow twitching.

Minjeong huffed. “ihaveabonerandineedyoutohelpmecum”

“Huh?”

Minjeong spun on her other side away from you and hugged the blanket over her head. “Haha nothing never mind! time to sleep goodnight I love you!”

Ripping the covers off your girlfriend, you made her lie on her back while you sat on her stomach. “Stop shying away pup. Tell me what you want”

“I’m gonna go get a drink of water—WAH!” Minjeong yelped at her wrists being pinned on each side of her head.

“Say it”

Your girlfriend’s pout almost made you fold but you clenched your jaw to not give in so easily.

“M-My dick is…uh very hard..”

“Uh huh…”

“A-And I n-need you to help me..cum”

You kissed her lips and smiled. “Now was that so hard?”

“Well yes! You stormed into the apartment like a mad woman!”

Now it was your turn to pout and huff. “I said I was sorry!”

Your girlfriend looked away. “You seemed really tired too so I didn’t want to bother—“

Kiss

Minjeong went redder at your sudden move. “H-Hey!”

“Don’t you ever believe you’d bother me, okay pup?”

“Yes ma’am”

“Good. Now let me suck your dick”

Minjeong couldn’t even answer since you already yanked her pants and boxers off to start playing with her dick. She watched you with parted lips, panting at the sight of your small hands working itself up and down.

“You alright there, puppy?” You smiled into her neck as her head hung back in pleasure.

“Better than alright”

You kissed her slowly and got your tongue exploring Minjeong’s mouth which she moaned into. She would pause for a moment to watch you jerk her off faster, losing the strength to keep her eyes open.

“C-Can you please suck me off, baby? Pretty please” she whimpered while looking so deep into your eyes, you were able to see Minjeong well up tears.

“Of course, my love”

You lowered your head down and quickly sucked at your girlfriend’s leaking tip before taking her entirely inside. Her hands found comfort on your head that began to move, being one of the lucky people to not have a gag reflex.

You were able to deepthroat her so easily without a problem and Minjeong was in heaven every single time.

“Fuck. Oh fuck, Y/n-ie”

The vibration from your hum triggered your girlfriend’s hips to thrust, shocking her immediately. “N-No I’m sorry! A-Are you okay?”

Keeping her cock deep inside your throat, you gently caressed her hands on your head and she took it as the green light to do as she pleases.

Minjeong relaxes more and resumed her hip movement, tucking your hair behind your ears as she hissed out profanities.

“So so fucking good, Y/n-ie. I want to cum in your mouth. Can I pretty please?”

Another approved hum from you, and your girlfriend reacted with a punched out groan at the same time she fills your mouth with cum.

“Hah…so good…”

You sat up with pride after swallowing your personal favourite liquid snack, cleaning your mouth with a simple swipe from the back of your hand. Minjeong was still catching her breath when you hovered above her lap and held her still hard length at your soaked folds.

Minjeong doesn’t even remember seeing you remove your clothes because now here you were bouncing on her cock with your plush tits in her view. She kissed the flower tattoos across your collarbones before resting her lips on your right nipple, sucking gently as her hands held your hips.

She could almost touch the tips of her fingers together from how small your waist was, her middle fingers resting on your back dimples perfectly.

“Hah fuck! My Minjeongie is so good for letting me use her cock hm?” You managed to word out despite constantly impaling yourself onto her thick and long cock.

Minjeong nodded cutely and almost choked on her saliva when your cunt seemed to tighten around her more. “U-Use me all you want, Y/n-ie”

“Fuck, feels so fucking good, Jeongie! I’m so close, help me cum baby”

Your girlfriend didn’t need to be told twice. She planted her feet on the bed and wrapped you in her arms like a bear before destroying your pussy with repeatedly hard thrusts.

The bed was constantly being driven into the wall from how fast your girlfriend was going but who were you to complain? Her cock was kissing your cervix deliciously and you immediately became mush in Minjeong’s hands, crying and moaning into her neck to the point you even started to drool.

“Oh god yes yes yes that’s it, puppy! Gonna make me cum all over your big hard cock hm?”

Minjeong painted your neck with hickies. “Mhm want to make Y/n-ie cum!”

“Fuck you’re so good to me pup. Give me all of your cum okay? Want you to fill me until my pussy aches. Can you do that?”

Minjeong’s eyes rolled back at your words. “Hah..I’m cumming!”

“That’s it, baby! Fuck I’m gonna squirt!” You bit onto your girlfriend’s broad shoulder and shook in her arms as you sprayed clear liquid all over her cock, pelvis and even the sheets.

Minjeong continued thrusting until she emptied her balls inside your drenched cunt. “Holy shit…”

You pulled your ass up slowly as Minjeong’s cock fell limp and watched thick globs of semen rain from your pussy, moaning at the sight.

After taking a quick taste of her cum, you took the covers that you pushed off earlier and hugged it over you and Minjeong’s bodies, comfortably laying on top of your girlfriend.

Minjeong brushed your hair and was about to ask how you were until she heard slight snoring. You were knocked out quick. Smiling at the sight, your girlfriend sweetly kissed your head and fell asleep with you, reminding herself to give you a good shower once you woke up.

[grandlinedreams]

|| notes: soft screaming I accidentally posted this one before it was done. Was going to just make this two parts but hey i like pain and pining. Sequel to this

|| warnings: angst, mention of nightmares, I like putting reader Through It, pining

"You're avoiding me."

Azriel watches the way you still, the tension in your shoulders before you turn towards him. You'd been busy with target practice, the soft rhythmic sink of sharp edged blades into the dummy keeping your mind blissfully blank. Until Azriel had approached.

"I'm not avoiding you," you tell him, plucking a rag from your belt and making to polish the dagger in your hand. "I've been busy."

Azriel's eyes narrow. "Rhysand doesn't send you out as often as you've been gone."

You shrug, wiping at already spotless metal. "I'm proactive," you answer as you move to walk away, halted by the black wrap of shadow around your wrist. "What do you want, Azriel?"

"Talk to me," he presses, and your chest aches at the look on his face, the uncertainty that glimmers in his eyes. "Did I do something?"

It would be easy to end things here and now. To confess how you feel, to rip the bandaid off and allow yourself that rejection. But the idea of losing him entirely hurts more, and you swallow hard.

"No, Az. You didn't do anything."

Azriel stares, expression unreadable. And when you try to tug your wrist free of his shadows, Azriel lets you go.

You don't know why you're here.

That's a lie — you do know, because it's the only reason you would ever be standing in front of Azriel's door at this hour. You shift from one foot to the other, sighing softly before looking up as the door opens.

Having been prepared to knock, it takes you a minute to register that he's in front of you, though you don't know why you're surprised. His shadows must have alerted him that you were out here.

"Nightmare?" His voice is low and far from unkind, hazel eyes probing. When you nod, he steps back.

Though your nightmares are nowhere near as frequent as they'd been when you first came to Velaris, they're still often enough that the two of you have found a routine since the first time they'd sent you scrambling for the shadowsinger's room.

Azriel's bed is far wider than your own to accommodate his wings, extended space of soft sheets and blankets that envelop you in his scent. He smells of pine and something murkier but all together familiar, soothing the frayed edge of your nerves.

He joins you once you've settled, tendrils of incorporeal black slinking over your wrists, your cheeks, your hair. Assessing you silently, then reporting their findings back to Azriel.

You wonder what they tell him. That your nightmare had been about him? About losing him, of having to shift your entire existence to his absence? It feels impossible, as intertwined as your life has become with his.

Fingers skim your skin as Azriel reaches for you, and you let him. You close the gap between you, fling one leg over his, feel his hand settle at the back of your head. It's as if nothing has changed between the two of you. "Want to talk about it?"

You study the barely visible curl of ink against his neck, let your eyes drift up to the curl of black hair that frames his face, then back down to his lips. "Not really."

You don't have to look at him to know he's watching you, can feel the weight of his gaze on your face. Probing, just as his shadows did. You wonder what answers he finds there, if he finds any at all.

"What's going on with you?" He asks instead. As if you're a misbehaving child rather than fae. And you know he means well, Mother above, you know — and it still rubs you the wrong way.

"Why do you insist on being like this?" He'd asked in your bathroom, now two weeks ago. Two weeks of skirting around him, trying to distance yourself from that ache, the words on the tip of your tongue.

"Talk to me," Azriel insists. Fingers, gentle despite their scars, graze your cheek. Your heart (wretched, selfish thing) lurches in your chest, off kilter tempo that you've gotten so used to when Azriel is involved.

This was a mistake. To think you could seek his comfort the way you always have, pretend that you aren't as helplessly in love with him as you are — that you haven't watched him look at everyone but you.

That he'll always look at anyone but you.

"I love you." The words slip clean from your mouth, a soft whisper — the way Azriel stiffens says he still heard you. You keep going, digging invisible claws in the festering wound of your chest, ripping it into something fresh and bleeding. "I've been in love with you for the last two hundred and fifty years, Azriel."

It's cathartic in a way, though it's tempered by the way Azriel is simply staring at you. You pull away from him, sliding off the bed before he speaks. "[Name]—"

"It's okay, Az." He doesn't have to say it, because you already know. You move towards the door, pausing just enough to look at him and offer him a soft smile, at odds with the mangled pulp you've made of your heart. "Good night, Azriel."

[suashii]

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ 𝒢𝒪𝒪𝒟 𝑀𝒪𝑅𝒩𝐼𝒩𝒢, 𝒮𝒰𝒩𝒮𝐻𝐼𝒩𝐸 — waking up beside them

info ⭑ includes: gojo satoru, geto suguru, itadori yuuji, fushiguro megumi ﾉ fluff :3

✰ GOJO rises with the sun which means that he’s almost always up before you. as the birds chirp outside the window and the heater kicks on with its constant hum, satoru takes the seldom moment of peace to watch your sleeping figure. you’ve wiggled your way out of his arms, only partly in his hold, lying so that you’re partially facing him on your side but in the process of rolling over onto your back. he’s tempted to close the gap, pull you close and hug you against his chest but you look too comfortable to rouse. the warm, bright rays of sunlight peek through the curtains and cast an angelic glow on half of your face. he can’t help it when his hand reaches out, lithe fingers tracing the lines of your jaw, from just beneath your ear all the way down to your chin. your eyelashes flutter against the tops of your cheeks as you begin to stir, smiling upon meeting satoru’s familiar cerulean irises. hand moving up to caress your cheek, he jokes about how lucky you are to wake up to such a handsome face every morning but behind his jesting words and signature smirk, he knows it’s the other way around. he’s the one who hit the jackpot.

✰ GETO often finds it difficult to sleep through the entire night which means he’s up while you’re still resting. he doesn’t like the thought of disturbing you so, instead of feeling around for his phone or sneaking off to the kitchen, he stays put beside you in bed. your back is facing him, unobstructed by the fabric of a shirt. he reaches out to touch you faintly, just barely making contact with your soft skin. his middle finger hovers, following the curve of your spine from your neck all the way down to the dip of your lower back. for as long as you’re still sleeping, suguru occupies himself by languidly outlining pretty patterns across your back. you wake to his feathery touch, stretching out your arms and legs before rolling over to face him. suguru greets you with a smile, his face framed by thick pieces of hair that escaped his loose bun sometime last night. you tell him good morning through a yawn as you stroke the rogue strands of hair. the both of you spend the rest of your time in bed planning the day ahead while your fingers detangle the ends of his inky hair and his fingers continue to aimlessly draw lines across the blank canvas of your back.

✰ YUUJI is a clingy sleeper; there’s never a morning when you don’t wake up to him wrapped around you like a koala bear, serving as a second blanket. you wouldn’t be able to move even if you tried, but you don’t attempt to leave his arms for a while after you wake. you cherish the warmth he envelops you in. it’s comfortable enough that you can feel yourself slipping back into a restful slumber, but you fight the urge to fall back asleep. the moment you shift as though you plan on getting up from bed, yuuji’s arms tighten around your midsection and he lets out a sleepy groan in protest. stay a little longer, he pleads, the warmth of his breath sending a chill down your spine and making the hairs on the back of your neck stand. it’s impossible to say no to him on most occasions but it’s especially difficult with that morning voice of his. so you stay put and let him snuggle into you. you can feel the smile tugging at his lips as he presses light, soft kisses to your neck and shoulders. his affection is distracting and by the time you get a glimpse of the clock, it’s long past the time you had planned on getting up.

✰ MEGUMI sleeps peacefully, as though he isn’t plagued by a problem in the world. it’s one of the few moments you can be certain he’s free from the stress that seems to follow him during the day. because he looks so tranquil, you can’t help but take a few minutes to look at him after you wake up; his pink parted lips and the long, thick lashes that brush the tops of cheeks. dark strands of hair fall over his face and you almost reach out to push them back when his gravelly voice cuts through the serene air. are you going to stare at me all morning? he asks, eyes still shut, words jumbled since his cheek is pressed up against his arm. you smile, telling him that maybe you just might. his eyes are open by now and the sleepy blue orbs meet yours. despite his words, he doesn’t mind your lingering gaze. megumi finds comfort in being the subject of your stare; not for some selfish reason like being the only person you look at in such a way, but because he can feel every ounce of love behind your eyes. and so, without any objection, he lets you comb his unruly hair back with your fingers, never once taking his eyes off of you or the warm smile you wear while doing so.

hai, it's your friendly neighborhood sua! thank you for giving this a read! if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging and/or leaving a comment! much love from me to you ❤︎

[thriftedtchotchkes]

his favorite girl, part ii

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: keeping things professional only works if both parties are in agreement. after a heated first lesson, it's clear you and joel aren't.

warnings: 18+ MDNI, no outbreak, guitar teacher!joel, age gap (30 years), slow-burn, smut, angst, m&f masturbation, mentions of regret and shame

word count: 3.6k

series masterlist | part i

Adrenaline hasn't stopped pumping through your veins since you left your guitar teacher's house. Joel's house.

It's hard to even think his name now that you know what it's like to moan it for him, to feel his body tense and tighten like nylon strings as you tune him to your pitch. The things that man could teach you with all of his experience and endless patience...wait, no. No.

How to play guitar—that's the only thing you need from Joel Miller. Nothing else. God, what the hell is wrong with you? That stupid daydream has been running through your head on a loop ever since you got home and it really shouldn’t be. It was a mistake, one that almost cost you your entire future, and yet you’re still so hung up on it.

On everything you learned during your short, disastrous guitar lesson, the intimate knowledge you’ll never be able to forget. Like the fingering for the chord he showed you, or that he makes the neediest sounds when his body's pressed up against yours and his fingers are so close to where you need him, inches away from—

Stop.

The freezing cold shower you just took is about to be rendered useless at the rate you're going, and tomorrow’s lesson won’t be far behind if you can’t get your shit together.

But you can’t stop yourself from wondering—how much of it was real? You toss your hair over your shoulder, ignoring the icy droplets trickling down your back, and the bruise you’d imagined he left isn’t there. Instead, the mirror taunts you, reflecting smooth, unmarred skin that only serves as a harsh reminder of your fuck-up.

You’re more disappointed than you should be. It would've been the only piece of physical evidence you had proving what happened earlier wasn't all in your head. That maybe he reciprocates even a fraction of what you feel. But it's for the best. Now you can move on and focus all of your mental energy on staying present tomorrow so he won't rescind his offer to continue your lessons.

You'll have to keep things totally professional. The diligent college student, eager to learn and dedicated to her studies—that’s you, all right. It shouldn’t be that hard to stay focused for one measly hour, not when those thick, talented fingers of his are so captivating and capable of so many useful things. Guiding you through the next few bars of that song, slipping beneath the waistband of your—

Fuck it, you're doomed.

There's no way you can handle this. He's just too distracting, and you're way too easily distracted. Judging by the way he reacted to your inappropriate behavior earlier, you're starting to wonder if he can handle it himself. He was a little too quick to touch you, to sit so close that you could feel every instruction he gave you rumbling in his chest.

That familiar heat’s starting to build in your belly, and you know it’ll boil over the second he’s within reach again. You have to get this in check before you see him tomorrow or you’ll be royally screwed, and not even remotely in the way you’d like to be.

But it’s getting harder by the minute. It’s all too fresh in your mind, and you can practically still feel the drag of calluses across your skin and the weight of his arm slung over your shoulder. His fingers twitching in your desperate grasp like he was just itching to trace a knuckle down the soaked fabric between your legs.

You don’t remember how or when you got into bed, but you suddenly find yourself lying on top of your damp, unfastened towel, your bare breasts exposed to the cool air of your bedroom, and your fingers grazing your hardening nipples as you snake them down your body.

The second your fingers slide through your embarrassingly wet folds, you're a lost cause. God, that's good. You're so wet for him, and he's not even here to see you, to feel what he does to you.

You press down on your clit and pretend it's his solid chest tucked against you instead of your shitty dorm mattress, and his rough fingertips swirling masterful circles around your slick nub before dipping achingly slowly inside you.

Shit, you're going to cum soon, so much quicker than you normally do. But maybe this is exactly what you need to get him out of your system. Maybe cumming as many times as you can to the thought of your hot, middle-aged guitar teacher is all it'll take for you to finally get over this stupid, dangerous schoolgirl crush. To get on with your life and earn your fucking college degree.

Joel Miller. You erupt around your fingers with his name hot and heavy on your lips, but it’s…not enough. It's fine, that's totally fine. You'll just go again. As many times as it takes.

But by your third orgasm in as many hours, you realize you’re only making it worse. The aching emptiness you feel every time you cum is almost unbearable. Even as you fuck yourself on three of your fingers, desperately trying to fill yourself up the way he would, it's still not enough.

It’s not him.

God, what are you supposed to do now? Can you really face him tomorrow knowing that you spent the entire night gushing around your fingers, pretending they were his?

And what if he tries to touch them again? Shit. Shit. You just keep making dumber and dumber decisions when it comes to him.

So...maybe you can forgive yourself for making one more. You know that you couldn't have imagined everything earlier. That dark, hungry look in his eyes when he told you flat out that he didn't pull away from you on purpose—he has to want you as much as you want him. Right?

He just needs a nudge in the right direction. A green light so he can push aside those polite, southern manners just long enough for you to both get what you need. Then, you can continue your lessons distraction-free.

After all, you did your finger exercises tonight just like he told you to, and teaching is always more effective with a little positive reinforcement.

Yeah, this will totally work.

Joel’s been rock hard ever since you left his house.

He’s still sitting on the couch in the same spot you occupied just a few hours earlier, his mind running a mile a minute, hands clenched painfully at his sides so he doesn't touch himself.

Christ, you're young. Much too young to be this desperate over or to consume his every thought the way you have since you shoved his hand between your thighs, moaning his name like his fingers were already buried in your tight cunt.

He can't do this. His own fantasies are starting to concern him. He's never this vulgar. Not since he was a stupid kid in high school, picking up girls and bragging about it to his buddies. But that's how you make him feel. Like a stupid, horny kid.

C'mon, dirty old man. Get your shit together.

This is why he never should've agreed to start taking on students. The second you walked through his front door, he should've known he was in for it. Those bright eyes, ever-observant and eager to learn, and delicate hands, clutching the handle of a guitar case much smaller than his own. He wanted to help you with your class, he really did.

Wants. He wants to help you, but he feels like he can't trust himself around you anymore, if he ever did in the first place. Still, he made his old bandmate—your professor, now, he guesses—a promise that he didn't intend to break. Not until he actually met the student in question and discovered, to his horror, that you were his every wet dream come to life.

When you picked up your tiny guitar, a baby version of his own Taylor six-string, and began to strum clumsily with your beginner's touch, he couldn't help himself.

All he could think about were those dainty fingers wrapped around his cock. Teaching you how to stroke him just right, his hand guiding yours up and down his length the way yours were shifting up and down the neck of your guitar as you hopped from fret to fret.

Shit, he's fucking hard.

It's not going away anytime soon, either. Maybe if he just...takes care of it. Jerks off, quick and dirty, thinking about the smooth pad of your thumb circling the head of his cock while he leaks precum onto your fingers. He'd cum so quickly imagining himself splattering his release across your plush lips, his name on the tip of your tongue.

His jeans are halfway down his thighs before he can think twice about it, and he hisses in a sharp breath when he finally begins to pump himself, tight and focused toward the tip just like he'd tell you to.

He was right. He's not going to last long. That's probably a good thing. The faster he can get you out of his system, the better, and then he can forget all of the things he did to you. He's more than ashamed at how quickly his balls start to tighten when he remembers how intimately you let him touch you. How fucking crazy you drove him.

The living room fills with the echoes of his stuttered groans and skin slapping against skin as he frantically fucks his fist, lost in the memory of his lips dragging across your bare shoulder and the heel of his hand grinding into your soaked, clothed pussy.

Then, he hears it so clearly through the haze of his pleasure—your voice whimpering his name, begging him to take care of you. He barely has enough time to tug up his shirt before he's cumming hard across his stomach and dribbling down his knuckles. Christ, you'd look so fucking good on your knees right now, sucking the release off his fingers.

Not good.

What the hell is happening to him? This desire, this need, it isn't who he is. And all of it over a beautiful girl. A very, very beautiful girl. He sighs, running his clean hand frustratedly down his face, fighting to ignore the cum drying uncomfortably on his skin.

It's not just that, and he knows it. It isn't your youth, either. It's...your passion. Your kindness and determination, even in the face of adversity.

It's you.

But he can't have you, no matter how much he aches to. You deserve better than an old, washed-up musician with bad knees and high blood pressure. You need someone who can really take care of you, and he's already decided that isn't him.

Come tomorrow, he'll keep things professional like he said he would. He'll keep his distance and teach you everything he has to offer. Be the guitar teacher he should've been from the beginning.

You're both adults, perfectly capable of controlling yourselves long enough to get through an hour-long lesson.

Yeah, this'll work.

You're late.

Not a great start to your second lesson, but then again, that seems to be your M.O. these days. Not this day, though. Today, all of that changes.

You take a deep, steadying breath before your fist connects with sun-bleached oak, and do your best to focus on the warm, mid-September breeze instead of the impatience and anticipation threatening to swallow you whole.

Now that you're back here, standing on his porch, you're beginning to realize you're actually excited to see him. The anxiety you felt last night has given way to a strange sense of relief and a fresh wave of want. It's like your body can sense him and all of the things you're about to learn and experience.

His broad figure comes into view through the foggy glass paneling of his front door, and then after a strenuous 24 hours, your guitar teacher is within reach again—Joel. His name is Joel. You’re going to have to get used to saying it without your breath catching in your throat or he’ll know. He'll see your intentions clear as day and you'll never get to moan it for him again.

“Hey, you, uh...ya made it," he says breathily, frowning down at his watch. He's panting, and there's a gentle flush spreading from his cheeks down to his neck, disappearing under the collar of his navy blue T-shirt. “I was startin' to get a little worried there."

You smile apologetically, turning to nod back at the piece of shit Chevy parked in his driveway. It's old as dirt and somehow always manages to act up when the weather gets too hot.

"I had some car trouble," you tell him sheepishly, throwing a disdainful look over your shoulder before facing him again. "I should've called. I'm sorry."

He shakes his head, offering you a small, if not subtly strained, smile in return. You can tell he's relieved you didn't call, even if he's too polite to say it.

"S'alright, m'just glad you're here now," he says tightly, shifting from one foot to the other as he continues to stand awkwardly in the doorway.

Well, this isn't good. You can take a pretty decent guess as to why he's acting so strange, but you're not sure how to even begin diffusing the situation. Inviting yourself in wouldn't be a terrible first step, but he already seems nervous as hell, and you're afraid he'll spook.

He's still thinking about yesterday. It's evident in his stance and the tension visibly building in his biceps and shoulders. What you wouldn't give to relieve some of that stress—but you can't do much of anything while you're still stuck at an impasse, sizing each other up for two very conflicting reasons.

Hiking your guitar case higher up on your shoulder, you gesture as delicately as you can to the door he's still hiding behind.

"Is it okay, um—should I...come inside?" you stumble over your suggestion, your words conveying none of the confidence and allure you'd hoped for.

Come on, buck up. Be the girl who made him question his self-control; the girl who made his eyes turn so dark, you thought you'd lose yourself in them and never find your way out. You meet those same eyes again with a playful darkness of your own.

"Or did you wanna continue what we started yesterday out here on your porch?"

He does startle at that, but luckily it's the push he needs to finally let you into his home.

"Y-yeah, yes. M'sorry, 'course ya can," he mutters, shaking his head as if he'd been in a trance the entire time. "Didn't mean to keep ya standin' there. Come, uh...Christ, come on in."

Good. Entranced is good.

He holds the door open for you like a perfect gentleman, and your chest drags across his as you squeeze past his large frame and into the entryway. It’s an unsubtle and potentially cheap move, but neither of you pretends it wasn’t on purpose. He sucks in a harsh breath, seizing up until you're past him and taking in the quiet comfort of his living room.

Last time, you'd been too distracted to notice all of the little details and odds and ends that make the space so distinctly Joel, but now that you're really paying attention, it's...charming. The stacks of CDs next to his guitar stand, some in cases and some not, and the varying brown tones of his shag rug and leather couch feel warm and inviting. Just like the man who spends his days and nights here.

Being here suddenly feels intimate in a different capacity than before. Heat begins to bloom in your chest instead of between your legs at the idea of creating music together, a variation all your own, heavily influenced by the history all around you. The abrupt shift takes you by surprise, but it's not unwelcome. If anything, it increases your sense of urgency.

So you let it draw you in, back to where your next lesson and, hopefully, everything you have in store for Joel will take place. That same cushy spot you dreamt about all night while you fucked yourself with your fingers, and that he, unbeknownst to you, lingered while he fucked his fist to thoughts of you.

Looking back over your shoulder, you catch him watching you. There's a curiosity there and an undercurrent of something darker that makes your stomach swoop. He's still flushed, even more so than before, despite his AC kicking to cut the heat and oppressive humidity you brought in with you.

But then he blinks and it's gone again. Left in its place are the kind, if not extremely guarded, eyes of your patient guitar teacher. He's so good at that. Maybe a little too good.

You twist around, heaving the soft case off your shoulder so you can plop down on the couch. He winces out of the corner of your eye when you land on his spot, and his fingers twitch restlessly at his sides as you pull out your guitar and set it across your lap. Lifting an eyebrow, you wait for him to make a move, but he seems stuck in place. Conflicted, almost, like he's fighting himself.

You need him closer. You need him to loosen up. Most of all, you need those thick, insistent fingers inside you before you lose your damn mind.

"Joel? You coming?" you ask expectantly, moving your hands into place over the frets and strings.

At that, he downright grimaces but nods nonetheless. He mumbles something under his breath that sounds a lot like self-admonishment as he putters across the room to pluck his guitar from its stand.

Instead of sitting beside you, he pulls up a chair in front of you, putting enough distance between himself and the couch so you can heed his instructions, but not be tempted to touch. Whether that's for his benefit or yours, you're not entirely sure, but you shiver at the thought. He notices.

"Y'need me to turn down the AC? 'Cus I can handle that real quick before we get started," he sounds a little too eager to get away from you again, so you hurriedly reach out to grab his hand before he can make his escape.

"Woah, hold your horses. It's totally okay. I'm not cold, I promise," you try to reassure him with a chuckle, attempting to soothe the palpable tension in the air. Those rough, time-hardened fingertips brush against the delicate skin of your inner wrist, and you instinctively tug him closer.

But he resists. He carefully pulls out of your grasp and sits back down, returning to a safe distance and refusing to make eye contact.

That's not a good sign. At all. You can't help but feel a little ashamed at his reaction. It was never your intention to push him, but you also hadn't expected him to be repelled by just the sight of you.

Maybe you misunderstood your last conversation? Or maybe it really was all in your head, even after you stopped daydreaming. It's entirely possible you only saw what you wanted because you wanted him. You bite your lip anxiously, shifting away to offer him more space.

"Hey, is everything okay? You seem kind of...off today," you press him hesitantly. "Look, if this is about yesterday—"

"S'nothin' like that. We agreed it was water under the bridge, right? Two adults keepin' things professional," he cuts you off, kindly yet firmly dismissing your concerns.

He meets your eyes again, and they're clearer, now. His voice, too—unwavering and more sure than it's been since you got here.

Oh. This is a reminder. A gently worded warning for both of you.

Okay, that's totally okay. It has to be. He's right, anyway. You keep forgetting how important these lessons are, and he's just being the reasonable, responsible adult who wants to keep you on track, no matter how nervous you make him.

Shit, you wish that didn't turn you on so much. You tell yourself to ignore it. Your mission's a bust, anyway, and he's clearly not interested. You ignore how badly that hurts, too, while you're at it.

"Yeah, of course. Totally professional," you repeat back dejectedly, and you will yourself to mean it. But he never makes it easy, does he?

"That's my girl," he smiles so, so handsomely, and you're forced to bite back a frustrated groan.

How he manages to look so genuine and innocent while he says things like that, you'll never understand. What's worse, you have no doubt he actually is.

Joel Miller. 56 years old. Your generous guitar teacher whose only goal is to share his craft in that syrupy sweet twang that sounds like the sweetest music to your ears.

Just your luck.

thanks for reading & stay tuned for part iii <3

(dividers by @saradika & @inklore)

[liillyliilly]

Halo

oikawa tooru x reader words; 10249 synopsis; He'd always been in love with her, it just took her a long time to feel the same.

When Oikawa was sixteen, she was eighteen.

“I swear you have a halo, just look at the way the sun curls itself around the edges of your hair. You have a halo around you.” She sat next to Oikawa and used her hands to create an imitation of a camera or frame that focused on how the sun backlit Oikawa.

The greenery of the hill they were pausing at, resting from a walk, was vibrant. The breeze filtered through the blades of grass and made a scent of earth linger around them. A setting sun was the backdrop of their conversation, she used it to flatter him.

He was so annoyed with her when she did that, his ambition was overwhelming for those around him but it never scared her off from him.

He wonders when that would change. It was a thought that remained; when would he cross a line and she would view his hunger as repulsive instead of laudable?

Oikawa scoffs, “You may think I’m an angel, but in reality, I’m just a drop in the ocean. Nothing special. One amongst many.”

“But just being counted among those many is still special. If the ocean didn’t have millions of small drops contributing and doing their part it wouldn’t exist in the first place.”

He bites his tongue. His deflections never worked on her.

She was older than him by two years, and she was best friends with his older sister. Oikawa also claimed her as a best friend.

Despite her being the younger of the duo, she was an outstanding example of poise and maturity in contrast to his older sister who was more like him, rash and immature. Oikawa could care less for his older sister’s other friends, but he loved it when she would come around. She could turn any moment into something special and memorable for him.

The halo moment with her happened when he started high school, while she was beginning the end of her journey in high school as a third-year student. His sister had already moved out and was living with her fiance.

While it was annoying that the older Oikawa sibling had asked her to watch over him, he didn’t mind her walking him to school in the mornings and her waiting at his volleyball practices to take him back home. She would always do homework or sit outside the gym and read with her headphones on.

“Let’s keep going, your mom is making katsu curry tonight.” She brushes off some grass from her school uniform, reaching out a hand for Oikawa to take so she can pull him up from the ground. He did have a halo in her eyes.

He tugs her back down, so she’s almost in his lap, “Ten more minutes.”

He likes it when she’s close to him. He’s sixteen, but he hopes that she could see beyond that. He hopes she doesn’t make this year the year she gets a boyfriend. She’s gone on dates with younger guys before, albeit, only one year younger than her. Maybe she’d make an exception for a two-year gap.

She takes her hand back from him and shoves him playfully. “You have five minutes and then we need to go.” He nods his head, staring at the mountain range that sits nearby.

She sighed, and laid back onto the ground, hands behind her head and legs crossed over each other. Her eyes were closed and she was soaking in the way the air cooled down slowly but surely as each second passed and night overtook day.

Oikawa tilted his head, resting his temple against folded arms that were lying on his knees that he had pulled up close to his chest. He just watched her.

When he was seven, she was nine. He’d felt ill when he heard that she’d be going camping instead of coming over to his house to spend time with his sister for an entire week. Just the thought of her being gone was agonizing.

That’s why during family dinner he declares a plan.

“I’m going to ask her to run away with me. It’s the only solution.” His face is covered in food and his mouth is full of mashed potatoes.

The older sister spits out her apple juice and laughs loudly. The mom chuckles from behind her napkin. She reaches over and touches Oikawa’s arm, “Honey, she’ll be gone for a week, and then back to keep playing for the rest of the summer break.”

Oikawa drags his hand down his face and complains. “That’s too long.”

His sister perks up and starts picking a fight with him, “You just want her not to leave so you can keep staring at her when she comes over here.” She makes a kissing face and puts her hands on her cheeks.

He turns red, calling for his mom to see what his sister is doing to him. Oikawa’s mom spent most of that week counting down the days until the soothing presence of a nine-year-old girl returned from camping in the woods.

Oikawa had spiraled down to the depths of volleyball sooner rather than later.

If he wanted to be the best, then he’d need to work harder than everyone else. Hours poured into practice, studying, focusing his lens on only volleyball.

In his second year of high school, he sustained a knee injury. He bottled it in. For a sport that was meant to be so much fun, he was in agony over his incapabilities at that moment. You play a sport for fun, you enjoy something for the love of it. If that was the case then why did he feel so utterly destroyed?

It wouldn’t be a problem, but when his mom took him to the doctor, the doctor said it was a stress fracture. He’d been playing too intensively for too long and would need a few months of recovery if he wanted to play the rest of the season. The antiseptic environment struck him as unloving. Medicine never understood the reality of sports, the deep driving passion that wasn’t bound by science.

Even if he couldn’t do serves or jumps, he could still run. He could still stay up late watching games of his opponents. He could still linger around practices and work on his tosses. He broke some rules and did receiving practices as well. But he made sure to take Mondays off, he only did low-intensive workouts on Mondays, long walks, and extensive stretching.

Maybe it was his fault for being addicted to volleyball.

His mom called her over one night when he refused to respond to his mom’s requests for him to go to sleep. She was at college now, her first year. She enjoyed what she was studying, and she liked that she had freedom. There was still a sense of responsibility for Oikawa Tooru that she carried.

Her best friend was married now and had given birth to Takeru who was growing up faster than expected.

When she got the call asking if there was anything she could do or say to get Oikawa out of his funk, she drove over and told the worried mom to go to bed, and that she could handle it.

Could she handle him, could she mitigate the tension in his soul? She knew that Oikawa loved volleyball and that his injury had made him bitter. When his actions began to worry others though, she drew a line there. Nothing was worth the hurt of worrying.

She knocked on his door, but he didn’t respond. She opened the door, and saw him at his desk, pen in hand taking notes of a volleyball video. It was of him playing against a rival school, each time he saw something he didn’t like he clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and gritted his teeth.

She picked up his desk clock. Lightly beginning her approach to tell him to back down from his focus, “You never seem to look at the clock anymore, it’s nearly two in the morning. Tooru, you’re going to make yourself sick with all the time you spend watching those videos.” She tried to get him to look at the timekeeper in her hand. He pushed it away and she set it back on the counter.

The prodding she performed struck a cord in him.

“I can’t practice? I can’t analyze games? Do you want me to be a bad volleyball player?” Oikawa set the pen down, rubbing his eyes which felt dry and strained. The words he intended to come out as inquisitive came out accusingly instead.

“That’s not what I’m saying at all. You need to incorporate more moderation into your life. This obsessive hyperfixation on the gap between your dreams and current reality is driving you to the brink.” She rubbed a hand on his shoulder, trying to lull him away from the desk and towards his bed.

There was no use in focusing so intensely on the gaps between desire and truth. She thought he would see reason. She wanted him to understand that he needed to recover more fully before diving back into volleyball. There was nothing more important to her than helping him find out that life isn’t built upon strenuous achievement to get to the end, because the goal line was always being moved. How could Oikawa expect to get anything accomplished if the footing he was gaining would keep changing?

Oikawa slinks away, pulling his chair closer to the desk, and his face closer to the screen, “It’s the dreamer and reality face-off. And I’m losing. I’m losing and you can’t see it.”

She leans over and shuts his laptop, he spins around to her with a scowl. She puts her hands on each of the arms on his chair, boxing him in with her surrounding him from all sides.

“You are losing. You’re losing yourself. Tooru, you’re losing because you aren’t taking a step back to enjoy life right now. You think you’re losing, but no one else is playing this game with you.” She moves a hand and points to his bed, “Get out of this chair and go to bed, you dumbass.”

He feels bad that she’s here instead of in her bed sleeping. Her hair was messy and riddled with tiredness, her clothes were pajamas with a jacket over the top.

She was wearing the sandals that she got during a trip his family had taken that she went along with. When she was busy splashing around in the ocean with his big sister, he sat on a towel watching the way the water made her glow from the sun’s reflection on her skin. If only he’d gotten in the water instead of playing by himself and tossing volleyballs into the air, trying to reach the sunlight from his place in the sand.

He mumbles an agreement to her request, going to his bathroom to brush his teeth while she watches from the doorframe.

Clambering into his bed, Oikawa wraps himself in his blankets and ignores the way his body tenses up at first, but slowly eases into laying down on his bed.

There wasn’t a move from her to leave his room quite yet, but she was yawning. When she made a step forward, she stumbled a little.

He leaned up and spoke, “Can you even drive?”

Swallowing, she replies, “I’ll probably just sleep in my car, I thought I wasn’t that tired when I drove over here.” Another yawn she tries to muffle is released.

Oikawa grabs a pillow that was wedged in between his bed and the wall that it was against. He moves closer to the wall, trying to make room for her.

“Just stay.” With me.

She purses her lips. He’s still a child. He may be seventeen but he’s a child and he doesn’t know what he wants, that was her thought process. She was nineteen, she had to be the realistic one, a girl who didn’t give any kind of fake chance or inclination that would reciprocate feelings.

“I’ll see you later, Tooru. Don’t cause any more problems for your mom.”

She leaves, and he’s sitting up in his bed, hands curled up in his sheets, watching her leave.

It’s almost like she’s always the one to leave, she’s the one who puts the distance that he despises. He feels reduced to a kid. Like he’s a child that needs to be coddled and watched over. Although, he supposes his behavior did warrant a need for a babysitter.

When he was fourteen, she was sixteen. Blossoming into a young woman might have gone under the radar when it was his sister, but when it was her, he couldn’t think of anything else.

How could he think of anything else when she was right there sitting on the sidewalk making chalk drawings in a tank top and shorts? Her thighs had streaks of blue over them, and the legs of her shorts had handprints from where she rubbed off the excess chalk dust.

“Oi, Tooru! Come look at this!” She waved her hand so he’d move from his place on the porch to where she was sitting on the pavement. That’s when he noticed she’d accidentally gotten chalk handprints on the sides of her chest, standing out against the black spaghetti strap tank top. After he saw the chalk marks, naturally his eyes scanned the rest of her chest.

He almost chokes on his saliva, sticking his feet onto the panels of the front porch. “I, um, I’m good right where I am actually.” Beads of sweat were forming on his forehead and he silently prayed that his body would relax instead of shooting hot rushing blood through his body. He leaned back into the bench, trying to sink into it.

His sister knew better than that though, “Oh really? But she really wants you.” His sister had to have been pure evil, “She wants you to come over.” The slight pause between ‘come’ and ‘over’ went unnoticed by her but Oikawa hung onto the words like monkey bars.

“No, I’m sure I’m good.” He lets out a blase whistle, trying to think of anything but her body.

She throws him a thumbs up, “Sounds good.” When she goes back to drawing, her best friend leans into her ear. The laugh Oikawa’s sister lets out shocks his focus back to the pair of them.

Her eyes were darting anywhere but him and she was using a hand to slightly cover her face, using her other hand to bring the front of her top up a little more. He could’ve passed away from mortification right then and there.

When the pair of friends finally came back into the house, and Oikawa was playing video games with Iwaizumi who had come over, his ears were burning. She leaned into the living room to see what game they were playing, giving her input on the game, “Mario Kart is the best.” Her little chuckles at the way Iwaizumi was goading Oikawa had him addicted.

She laughed when Oikawa spun out of the track from spending just a little too much time looking at her rather than the screen.

Iwaizumi had left the house after an hour or so, and Oikawa’s sister was taking her turn in the tub. She was staying the night for a sleepover, waiting in the living room. Oikawa had forgotten to clean up the controllers so his mom told him to go clean up the TV area, only to be faced with her playing on her flip phone in the center of the couch.

He tried to pivot to avoid any more embarrassing exchanges between the two of them, but she told him to freeze where he was.

“Sit down.” She patted the space next to her.

Sitting down, he attempted to leave a huge canyon width of space.

She cleared her throat, “It’s okay that you think I’m attractive. Don’t be ashamed at all, it's perfectly fine and natural. As much as your sister does tease you, don’t let it make you feel gross or anything.”

He covered his face with his hands and groaned a little. The fact that they were even having this conversation made him want to go back in time and tell his parents to never have kids.

“You’re cute.” She ruffled his hair.

He blinked a few times and felt confidence flood in. “You think I’m cute?”

“Sure, you got pretty eyes and your hair is always super soft.” She crossed her legs, still messing with his hair as he slowly reclined on the couch.

Oikawa figures he’d been teased enough for one day, so it wouldn’t hurt to be just a little flirty back. “I think you should always have your hands in my hair. Feels like heaven.”

Her laughs run around his head before settling into his heart. “I’ll see what I can do about that then.”

“Great, that way I don’t have to ask you. You can just see me and know I want you to run your hands through my soft hair by default.” He wiggled his head a little from side to side, amplifying his attempt at charisma.

She just smiled at him in response.

Repressed feelings and self-loathing were most likely why his next fit was so soon after she had first pried him away from his screen during his second year. It was now nearing the end of his second year, and his injury had mostly recovered, it would never be the same knee, but it would function close to regularly again.

Much too late at night, once again, she’s knocking on his bedroom door, and he’s watching volleyball. Her voice is scratchy from a concert she attended the day before, with some guy who liked the same music as her. Oikawa never understood why people would want to date those who had the same music tastes. Maybe it was because he didn’t care all that much for music.

Iwaizumi was a music lover, and Oikawa just listened to whatever Iwaizumi played. Oikawa liked her music though. It was usually the sad kind of piano music. Her other favorite type of music was the kind of music that screams out into the universe and declares, no, demands, a presence.

She sounded scared. “Tooru. Open the door. I can hear your counterclock ticking. I’m listening to the ticking of the clock and I can’t hear you at all.” She wonders if he had escaped out the window to make stupid and rash teenage mistakes.

He sighed deeply, hoping she would hear that. She does. Oikawa had failed to make it to Nationals yet again, he had spent too much time this year working for his team to make it.

Ushijima had gone up to him and told him that Oikawa would have a better chance at making it further if he’d joined a different school. Ushijima knew nothing. Oikawa knew he was a good player, but why did every attempt to advance become reduced to another failure? Oikawa wanted to win with his team, with Iwaizumi, Takahiro, and Matsukawa. They were his team and Oikawa wanted to provide them an opportunity unlike any other.

It was an insult that Ushijima presented. The conditional offer to conceptualize the fact that Oikawa was not enough to bring his team through the games to a victory. That he couldn’t magically make a chance for them to fight on the main stage at Nationals. Ushijima had essentially told Oikawa that Oikawa was a talentless, worthless player, and if he wanted to win then he would’ve needed to join a team that could win with or without him. Oikawa was an inconsequential factor in the game of volleyball.

At least, that was how Oikawa interpreted the discussion with Ushijima after the tournament.

He’d have to work harder, he reasoned.

The door isn’t locked, so she finally enters. It isn’t quite as late as midnight, but it’s dark outside and the shadows slink into his room through the window. The moon casts a light in the center of his room.

He’s not sure if he’s crying or not. He’s cross-legged on his bed.

“Hey.” She scrutinizes his face, she can’t determine if she sees tears or if it's just the reminiscence of fear on his face. He makes a noise of acknowledgment. She sits on the corner of his bed.

He pours out his thoughts. The conversation with Ushijima, the way he feels his team looked at him, the way he hated his knee for being a physical reminder of his lack of talent.

She puts a hand on his face, guiding him to look at her.

“Do I see tears? Or is it just that the fear dwelling within you is making an annoying appearance again?” He shakes his head and uses his hand to wipe away at his face in case there are tears. Her thumb traces the bridge of his nose.

Anyone could tell that he seemed scared. But it was a deeper worry than just scared, it was a deep-rooted fear of lacking the abilities to be a good volleyball player. The ego he held close to his lungs was shattering and leaving shards, affecting his breathing.

He knew his internal locus of control wasn’t enough. He wanted to control more than was within his ability. Oikawa wanted the world on his shoulders, but he could barely balance it with open hands.

His chest starts to heave again, and his bottom lip wavers. She tries to shush him, but he lets out a strangled sob. Pulling him into her, she runs a hand on his head, soothing him by running her hand through his hair. She just keeps saying his name, pressing light kisses to the top of his head. The front of her shirt was covered in wet spots from how he had his face in her neck.

Shakily, he brings her into his lap, wraps his arms around her, and hugs her tightly.

“I’m sorry.” He kisses her with his whole heart, bumping their noses into each other. He kisses with too much force, but it conveys all the feelings he has. Love, pain, turmoil, affection.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He leans in again, but she puts a hand on his chest, putting space between them.

Patting his head, she tells him that she has to go back home. She thought that he just needed to get the kiss out of his system and that it didn’t mean anything.

When she pulls out of the driveway he yells into his pillow. His mom comes into his room and sees him hugging himself. Oikawa’s mom decides to leave well enough alone. She had only come to check on him again because Oikawa’s mom had asked, but it was all dependent on Oikawa and how he took what she said or did.

They never talk about the kiss in person. Oikawa thinks about it every day. It crosses her mind frequently enough to warrant a quick rant to Oikawa’s sister, replacing Oikawa with a differently named seventeen-year-old boy who used her as an emotional crutch.

In response to the rant, Oikawa’s sister had told her to let the boy off gently and to ghost him.

How could she ghost Oikawa Tooru though? Especially when he texted her and kept saying he was sorry for what he did and that all he wants is for them to be friends again.

She devours her pride and accepts his offer. They could be friends. Oikawa didn’t want just friendliness, he wanted love. He wanted her love.

When he was fifteen, she was seventeen. A third year in middle school, Oikawa had settled into the personality that he crafted. He wanted to be everything that a girl would like, charming, suave, and flippant. He wanted to be everything he thought she would like.

If it wasn’t for that annoying first-year genius, then Oikawa definitely would have had a chance to see if he could finally have a shot with her. Not necessarily ready to date her, but sensing if he at least was on a roster list for her.

She came to most of the games if she wasn’t busy with her part-time job or with schoolwork. He recalls how he had tossed her one of his backup Kitagawa Daiichi jerseys, with the captain’s mark and a shining number one on the front and back. He told her that if she was going to come to the games, she might as well show off who she was going to watch play.

She had said that the jersey would make it seem like she attended the junior high instead of her actual high school, he shrugged and said it didn’t matter. But each game that she went to, her wearing that jersey demonstrated how much it did matter to him. Beaming at her when he finally caught her eyes in the stands.

Oftentimes, Oikawa’s mom needed her to pick up Oikawa after practice since his older sister was out with her boyfriend. She didn’t mind going to Kitagawa Daiichi to pick him up since she liked the route to drive there. Covered in trees and a smooth straight road where she could go just a little over the speed limit and no cops cared enough to make her slow down.

Waiting at the entrance, she saw Oikawa cleaning up the gym. A black-haired boy had turned the corner and bumped into her.

“Ah, sorry.” He stood awkwardly like there was a ruler against his back preventing him from slouching at all.

“It’s all good!” She noticed his uniform, “You’re on this team aren’t you? What position are you?”

“I’m a setter.” Instinctively, the boy tries out a smile, it doesn’t look quite legitimate, but she dismisses the strangeness of it. He gives her his name, Kageyama Tobio. He questions her, “Who are you?”

She explains her relationship to Oikawa, being his older sister’s best friend. “Although, I’m another sister to him at this point.”

“A sister?” Kageyama makes a slightly bitter face, “You’re not blood-related though right?”

“No, no, just friends. But I’ve known him since he was in diapers.”

“Ahh, that’s why he was talking to Iwaizumi-san about what to get you for White Day.”

Furrowing an eyebrow, she thinks out loud, “I didn’t get him anything for Valentine’s Day this year though?”

Oikawa had rushed over once he saw Kageyama with her, shoving the mop into the closet and quickly getting to them. The floor was still wet though, so when she heard a thud and a string of curses, turning her head she saw Oikawa rubbing his back with a scrunched-up face.

She waved Kageyama off, going to Oikawa and crouching down next to him.

“Tooru, I think the floor is still wet.”

“No, really?” The words are laced with sarcasm. She giggles a little before giving him a hand, he takes it and stands up, still rubbing his backside.

As they made their way to her car, an old beater car that she had made into her dream car of sorts, she asked Oikawa what he was going to do on March 14th. Checking her review mirrors, and messing with the keychains she had hanging from the mirror, she backed the car up so she could get onto the main road.

“March 14th?” Oikawa faked dumb. “Nothing is happening on March 14th.” He folds his arms and settles into his seat. He wonders what Kageyama had told her during their conversation and if that had anything to do with her questioning his White Day plans.

“Okay good, I’ll be with Ito that day, so don’t have anything in mind.”

Oikawa grimaced. Ito Yuuta went to a different school than Aoba Johsai but was still way too involved in her life for Oikawa’s liking. His sister had shown Oikawa photos of Ito and her together at various hangouts.

“Ito Yuuta? The one that smells like he drowned in a forest?”

“Is that what she said he smells like? Yes, he does smell like evergreens. However, you betcha I love the smell of trees. He’s yummy.” She didn’t realize that she had begun to discuss someone she was interested in with someone who was extremely interested in her. “And his hair? Ugh, the way he gels it has me nearly weak in the knees.”

She pulled into his driveway, waiting for Oikawa to hop out. He didn’t.

“Tooru, we’re at your house?”

“Don’t leave yet, I have something for you.” Oikawa exits the car but keeps the door open so she can’t reverse.

He tossed a small box at her, and she barely caught it in her hands. She tugged at the small white ribbon on top of the blue box. “Wait!” She looked at him, “Don’t open it yet. Open it when you get home, okay?”

After he shut her car door and went to his room, he bounced his knee and waited for a text message from her.

Inside the white box was a card of course, but also a bracelet. It was a thin chain, with several charms attached to it. She picked up the card, and on the front was a legend of sorts, describing what each charm was for.

A key represented his wish for her to always have security and safety. A book charm was to show that he thought she was super smart. Her favorite charm though was the star, because he intended for it to mean how much she shined in his eyes.

The inside contents of the card were short, just about how glad he was to have her in his life. The other drafts of the card had been continually vetoed by Iwaizumi. Stealing poetry from Shakespeare would not have gotten the right emotion across. And confessing that he thought about her all the time would’ve come off as too stalker-ish. The best option Iwaizumi said was to go with the K.I.S.S method. And the K.I.S.S methodology went as follows, ‘Keep it simple, stupid.’

(tooru, thank you for the present.)

He saw that she was typing, and another message was loading.

(it’s sweet that you thought of getting me this for white day.)

He bit at the inside of his mouth. She had sent a photo of her holding up a peace sign, her wrist had the the bracelet on display.

(love you! 💛)

He sighed, falling back onto his bed. He wondered how embarrassing it would be if anyone knew he was fifteen and still kicked his feet a little to physically convey his blend of elation and how much fondness he had for her.

He hadn’t officially given her a White Day present, because he gave her the gift on March 12th. Which he thought was probably better than any sort of White Day gift. His present was special because of his simple desire to get her something rather than the bracelet being for a yearning for her to reciprocate something like a White Day confession.

The third year of high school was supposed to be his year. He bounced back from his second-year depression, using the time off of school to hone his skills, to practice being perfect. He felt as if he was close to attaining the perfection he aimed for. He still loses out on a chance to get to the Nationals. Losing to Karasuno in a devastatingly close game.

During the game, she saw him land on his bad knee and she almost jumped out of her seat. After the game, and watching how all the third years were struggling to hold back their tears, or the way that Oikawa harshly slapped Iwaizumi’s back to get him to line up, she appreciated volleyball just a little more.

When Oikawa threw his white kneepad into a garbage bin unceremoniously, she held back any comments or questions. His kneepad being thrown away was the end of a chapter for him. His mom got after him for throwing away a perfectly good kneepad, but she just gently put a hand on Oikawa’s mom’s shoulder and made an expression to not push the kneepad incident further. It’s not until a month after that loss to Karasuno that Oikawa and her get into an argument.

At the dinner party his parents throw annually Oikawa sneaks a glass of beer and sips it outside on the balcony. People chatter inside the house, talking about how much Takeru has grown up and what a lovely couple Oikawa’s sister and her husband are.

She comes out to the balcony to escape the adults asking her about her life. Too many questions about boys, books, and her future for her to have a settled stomach. Outdoor air always calmed her stomach down.

“Tooru, being naughty are you?” She puts a finger on the rim of his red plastic cup. He turns his head away to hide his blush. She just laughs a little in response.

“Are you ready to be done with high school?” She asks. Leaning over the railing, her hands clasp onto each other. Elbows splayed out on the metal railing, and Oikawa copies her so that his elbow is touching hers.

“I think so.” He answers. Oikawa takes a drink from his cup, the starchiness coating his throat uncomfortably. “I’ll be going away after graduation. Argentina.”

He wants her to ask him to not go.

“That’s amazing! Tooru, I’m so glad that you’ve found a path to follow.” Her smile betrays the way her stomach can hardly take the news. She’s just the friend of his older sister, she’s just someone who watches out for him. Why would he, a brilliant person, ever halt his destiny for her?

“Yeah, I’ll be playing for a team that I think could be fun.”

She forces another smile.

He forces a smile back. But then he gets upset. Why should he have to pretend like everything is fine? He thinks she deserves to know how he feels.

“You know, I’d be more fun if you were there too. With me.”

“You’re funny, did you know that?” She fakes a laugh, “Me in Argentina? I hate summers here, imagine how I’d react to the weather in Argentina.”

“You’d adapt. You always do.”

“That’s kind of you to say.”

He turns to her, putting the hand that wasn’t holding his drink on her hip. She tries to detach from him, but he just grips her tighter, linking a finger through her jean loop and tugging her into him closer. He loves it when she’s close to him. She relaxes into the hold he has on her.

“I want to offer you so much more than just kindness.”

Biting on her lip, it was her turn to move her face away from his stare, hiding the way her eyes kept flickering across his face and landing on his lips.

She wasn’t unaware that Oikawa felt something towards her, but she diminished his feelings as a crush that kids have on older girls. Each time they met, she realized that that wasn’t the truth. He saw her and she didn’t appreciate the way that he would look at her. He looked at her like she was his lifeline.

“I think your sister is calling for me.” Oikawa’s sister was in her old room putting her son to sleep.

Oikawa kept pulling her into him, their hips fully touching now. He ran a hand over her arm, from her elbow to her wrist. “You can’t keep avoiding me.” It’s a tone that is lightly sing-song but also carries a grittiness.

She hadn’t been around his house as frequently as of late. Using school or work as an excuse to not watch movies or let him try to teach her volleyball again.

“I’m not avoiding you.” She wriggled, trying to escape him but not putting much effort into her withdrawal.

“Don’t lie.” His tone now balances on the edge of a knife, one side was a typical cheeky silly tone, and the other was an abrasively tormented tone.

“I’m not interested in you like that, Tooru.” It was a last-ditch attempt to see how far he was willing to go. How close he was going to come to ripping apart their fragile friendship. She didn’t have any sewing materials left in store to repair what was going to occur.

He swallows thickly, eyes searing into hers. “You’re being mean.” His tone had fallen over and landed flat on the tormented side.

He lets the words sting her, not softening their blow. Oikawa wonders if she’s lying or telling the truth. It was a fine line between whether he should urge the issue to finally crack her shell or if she was being honest and she was totally out of his reach.

Managing to finally break away from the way Oikawa lured her in, she went into the main kitchen that opened into the living room where everyone was making conversation. He downs the rest of his alcohol and tosses the plastic cup into the outdoor trash can.

Oikawa doesn’t know how many more drinks he steals from the kitchen, watching her talk to people and gently touch shoulders in acknowledgment and understanding.

The moment Oikawa accidentally and drunkenly breaks a vase with zinnias, primroses, and calla lilies, his parents shut down the party. His sister heads out, asking her best friend if she needs a ride home. She says that she’s good, she’ll enjoy the February blossoms on a walk home.

Oikawa’s mom asks if she’ll check on Oikawa before she leaves. She says she doesn’t know if that would be a good idea, but Oikawa’s mom begs to differ. As it turns out, when she was outside the house, talking to her best friend, Oikawa hit his hand against the concrete wall of his house. His mom had bandaged most of the scrapes, but she couldn’t do anything about the way his eyes seemed empty.

She wonders if his aversion to her right now had anything to do with his earlier confession and her adamant rejection. Or if his anger is all due to his volleyball woes. She reasons that it ultimately has to be the loss to Karasuno.

“You’re letting yourself get bothered? You’re letting this moment tick you off and you go and punch a wall?” She’s knocking harder on his door. “Get off your ass and face me.”

“Go away.”

“You’re falling down a path that I can’t save you from. Tooru, listen to me please.” He doesn’t respond. She hears the ticking of the clock in his room from where she sits outside his bedroom door, her head resting against the wood.

On the other side of the door, he’s hugging his legs on his bed, his face on top of his knees as he glares at the doorknob where the lock is turned. His stubborn, obstinate, unyielding pride prevents him from getting up and opening the door so he can cry everything out and so she can hold him. He just wants her to hold him.

This fit isn’t about volleyball anymore, it’s about them. She knows it. The way that he sealed her into his life and now that she wants to be unstitched. He feels wounded.

She investigates. “Are you ready for whatever you’ll go through throughout your life? People will probe you, instigate you, and deride you infinitely worse than what I’ve ever said to you.” People will be able to say they love you and I can’t.

He opens the door, “No one will ever hurt me more than you hurt me. You hold so much more power over me than anyone else,” He waves his hand that’s wrapped in white cloth to emphasize his point. “You make me feel like this. Like every emotion is dialed to one hundred.”

“I can’t choose how you feel. I can’t make you feel anything.” She pokes him in the chest. “You’re a child and you’re acting like it too, get over your facade and get over your surface-level crush on me. You don’t know me and don’t you ever pretend like you do.”

He raises his hand, she reacts with a flinch. He finished the motion, he was going to run his hand through his hair. His stomach drops and he realizes that she just thought he was going to slap her.

It's a whisper of, “I’d never hurt you.”

He backs into his room, wanting to disappear from the exchange. The argument ended there.

“I know, I just reacted, it’s okay.” Hearing his barely audible whimpers, she crosses the threshold of his door. A suitcase is half-filled in the corner, with clothes hanging out of the case. A book on speaking Spanish is on top of his laptop.

The silence is cut with the shuffles of their feet on his carpet and intermittent sniffles.

His chest tightens, short releases of air paired with overzealous inhales. “I miss you even when you’re around. How is that possible?”

“I don’t know.” She sits on his bed, and he curls into her side, rubbing his nose on her shoulder. “I’m sorry. My words failed me, I’m a liar. Tooru, you know me better than my family does.”

He kisses her shoulder, wrapping his arms around her neck. Hot breath is on the side of her face.

“I need you to let me go. I’m not your person.” She wishes she was, but she felt like she just wasn’t.

Oikawa can’t help the crack in his voice, “Why do you get to decide that?”

“I don’t know. I don’t have all the answers.”

“To me you do, you have all my answers.”

They begin to cry at the same time.

He replicates what he remembers her doing to him so many times. Caressing her hair and pressing his lips to the top of her head repeatedly. She seems so much smaller than him nowadays. He’s been six feet tall for a while now but only when she began to seem removed did he realize that he’s bigger than her.

“Tooru.”

He mutters in response. They had begun to lay in his bed, with Oikawa pulling blankets up to cover the both of them, his arm encasing her waist and keeping her close to him. His ceiling fan kept spinning overhead. He had his head on the pillow and wanted her to just release the stiffness in her body and soften into his touch.

“Tooru?” She tries to sit up, but he’s tired of that and refuses to let her go. She faces him, twisting around in the embrace. Both their heads are on pillows now, he keeps his eyes closed. “I want you to know that I do love you.”

He raises his eyebrows in wariness, unsure of where she’s taking her words.

“I love you but I can’t be what you want. I can be a sister figure, I can be a best friend, I can be someone you can talk to, but I cannot be a lover.”

Oikawa wanted to hug her tighter, but he was already leaving imprints on her waist that were sure to leave light bruises and tenderness the next day. All he can say in response is a hum.

As soon as Oikawa had fallen asleep, she left.

The dreamer and reality face-off was Oikawa’s least favorite thing. The way that he could dream all he wanted, but reality failed to match those expectations. People always say that the future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams, but where’s the beauty in knowing that your future is sullied because of being born in the wrong year? For being born in the wrong life this time. For being born as the person she wasn’t going to end up with.

The spring after his graduation, Oikawa was messing around with her. He had to have been. Their fight at the dinner party weighed on them, but more so on her.

She wonders if she made the right choice. Her feelings had flipped on her and she knew it. Instead of pushing him away due to her unease about the age difference, she pushed him away because she was afraid of how deeply she would fall.

All the times her friends had teased her about being a cradle-robber, or a cougar for having such a smitten boy around her, she had let those comments get to her. It was ironic, the same hyperfixation that Oikawa had for volleyball was matched in her hyperfixation on the way she was older than him and tried to always act like it too.

Oikawa decided to stay persistent. He knew that she still appreciated that quality about him. He wanted to put his ambition to good use.

He lounged without a shirt around his sister’s place when she was there to visit. He’d caught her looking at him once, or three times, and the way he could see her begin to play with her fingers, wringing them out was more than enough for him to embrace a level of confidence he hadn’t shown to her before. He was on the older end of eighteen, she was on the cusp of twenty into twenty-one.

She had been looking at pictures, trying to avoid where Oikawa took up space in the living room. It had been ten minutes since his sister had left and she hadn’t said anything to him, not even a greeting. He did not appreciate that.

If she was so insistent on being anything to him but a lover, then he would treat her like that.

Wrapping arms around her may have been the breaking point, but he committed to the final blow, “Hey best friend.” She rattled out a titter, but any move she made would result in her brushing against the bare skin of his arms, or his chest, or worst-case his stomach.

He rests his chin on her shoulder, “Oh wait, you wanted to be called sister yeah?”

She gritted her teeth, still trying to decode a breakaway moment. Oikawa’s sister was stuck in traffic from picking up some fast food. Takeru was at daycare, the husband was at work. It would be just Oikawa and her for another twenty minutes or so. She hoped he wouldn’t be so insistent to keep touching her for the entire duration until his older sister returned.

“My name works perfectly fine Oikawa.”

He turns her around, still grasping her, “Oikawa?” He tisks, sliding his hands from her back to her waist. “That doesn’t sound right to me.”

Within her shoes, she kept wiggling her toes uncomfortably.

“I know your name, and you know mine,” He lowers his voice, “So use my name.”

Shaking her head she closes her eyes.

“C’mon, it’s just two syllables. Too-ru. Your turn.”

Adamantly she leaned away from where she could feel his breath, increasing the span between them.

“Sisters and brothers use each other's given names.” He tightens his hold, one hand on the small of her back and the other on her waist still. He leveraged his lack of a shirt to see how close he could get, knowing she didn’t want to touch him. She’d let him get away with slipping around her while she stayed frozen in place.

“Stop it! We are not related!” She opened her eyes and stomped her foot a little. Her jaw was clenched and her eyes were wide.

“Good. Never wanted you as a sister anyway.” He wanted her in extremely not sisterly ways.

“Tooru quit it.”

“Why? Isn’t this what best friends do? They tease, they taunt, they play.” Oikawa grips her face, smushing it gently in his left hand. He smiles at her. His grip was so delicate but his touch was heated.

The best response had to have been dishing up what he was serving. So she slid her hand over his chest, resting on his pectoral. He could feel the vein in his neck pulsing. He drops his hold on her and takes a step back, his calf hitting the coffee table. Her step forward to him is calculated.

He wishes he was wearing his shirt now.

“We can play whatever you want Tooru.”

He stutters.

“How cute.” She pinches his cheek, then puts her hand back on his chest.

The door handle turns and she drops her hand, fixing her shirt a little from where Oikawa had grabbed at her. Oikawa doesn’t even notice her move to pick up a book and scan through the pages in the far corner of the living room.

Oikawa’s sister had bags of greasy food and she jutted out her hip, “I got the good stuff.” His sister scans the room, “Put a shirt on. Is it too hot in here? You’re red from the ears down.”

“I’m good.”

“Weirdo.” Oikawa’s sister rolls her eyes at him, “Now, let’s eat.”

Their dynamic bounced between them. Oikawa pushing and pulling in various directions, while she tried her best to stay still. He did settle down, calming his nerves.

Could say he did everything if he didn’t give one last attempt for her heart?

He’s twenty now, and she’s twenty-two. He asked if she would go on a car ride with him. She agreed. Piling snacks and drinks into her passenger side, she asked where they would be going. He sidetracks.

They end up at a beach, far along the coastline. There’s a rocky platform, but they crawl down to the sandy area, where the water laps up the seashells trying to bring them home to the cold ocean.

He postponed Argentina for two years. One month was left on his pause before going where he knew he needed to be. His club would only wait so long for him before his spot would be filled.

He sits on the large towel he brought. She’s picking through seashells, squatting by the water.

An idea runs through his head. He doesn’t let it die out. He’s just a kid after all.

He pushes her into the water with a laugh, she splashes him by lifting her cupped hands and dumping salty water over his head. He catches her by the torso, but she manages an escape and starts going further into the water, he just follows after her.

They shiver as they stand both waist-deep in the ocean. His hair is sticking to his forehead, and her teeth chatter but it doesn’t detract from the way she’s smiling.

Oikawa swims closer to her. There’s maybe an inch between them. He lays all his cards on the table when he holds her face in his hands. Goosebumps riddle the expanse of their bodies.

“Since I can’t have you in this life, I want just one more memory with you.” A shiver runs through her. Oikawa continues, “So before I leave, I need you to promise that we’ll find each other in the next life regardless of who we are?”

“We’ll find each other, in every life. Just like how we found each other in this one.” She’s quiet, but he can hear her perfectly. She’s trying to make herself seem older with her words, more mature. She grasping onto straws making it seem like she isn’t wrecked by what he’s asking.

She moves her fingers through the water, he takes his hands away from her face so he can position her hands onto his shoulders. He goes back to cupping her face. She wraps her arms around his neck and lets their bodies mold against each other.

Their clothes are soaked through, her long sleeve is getting stretched out from the waves. Sweatpants absorb the icy water and stick to their legs. His shirt is clinging to him and leaving an exact outline of his torso.

Oikawa’s a little choked up but he wants her to know what he’s thinking so he gets the words out. “Promise we’ll end up together in the next life?” He moves his head so their foreheads are touching.

“How we are right now, again?” She splays her fingers, intertwining the hair at his nape between each finger, he shudders from the contact.

“No. Like we were meant to be. Like we were made for each other. I want to find us as lovers.”

She lets the weight of her head fall into his hands and he lets out a short muted sigh of relief at how the tip of her nose hits his.

“Okay.”

His eyes flicker to her lips, she notices. He brings his head down a little, “Just once? Once where you kiss back?”

She’s softer with how she kisses than he is. She’s more experienced, but she goes slower than Oikawa expects. It’s just pecks, and he wants more. When he licks her bottom lip, it’s salty from the ocean, but he thinks she tastes perfect. He can’t help the way that he moans into the kiss or the way he grabs her thighs and makes them wrap around his hips.

It’s all in the way she’s the first one to slide her tongue into his mouth slightly.

He wants to consume each noise she makes. He hardly notices the way he runs out of breath when he starts moving from her lips to her jaw and then back to her mouth. When she backs her head away, his head keeps coming to follow hers, trailing her lips with his.

Pressing a hand right below his neck, her fingers touching his shoulderbone, she makes distance between them so she can force Oikawa to pause and get some air.

“I lied.” Oikawa’s eyes are blown out, pupils dark and filling in his irises. She purses her lips, and she goes to loosen the way her legs are around him, but he holds her where he wants her. Legs still around him. “I lied because I know I can’t wait until our next life. I need you in this life, and all the other ones.”

She goes to speak, but he keeps going. “I’ll make it work, I’ll make everything work out the way it should. I just want you to say yes. I want you to want to say yes. I need you to say yes to me because I don’t think my soul could take anything less than your entirety.”

He pauses and she opens her mouth again, Oikawa doesn’t know when to stop and the words rush out, “One more- I’ll be quick.” He steals an open-mouthed kiss, running his tongue over hers.

She rolls her eyes, and Oikawa steals another peck on her lips.

“Okay, two more.” He shrugs a little, “I’m not any sort of genius, yet, but I know that I was meant to be yours. Maybe I knew it when I was seven, maybe I knew it when you shoved that stupid counterclock in my asinine face and told me to go to bed. But I know it.”

The sun officially setting made the water so much colder, so she tucked her head into his neck, “I love everything you’re saying right now but I’m freezing.”

“You love what I’m saying?”

“I’m cold Tooru. Focus please.” He lets out a sound of understanding. It’s cute how she waddles out of the water, but he realizes he’s probably doing the same side to side penguin walk.

He picks up the towel and waves it out so the sand gets off the fibers, then he wraps it around her shoulders. He’s hugging her from behind and pressing small kisses to the side of her face. Attempting to get back up to the car with him attached like a koala is difficult but not impossible.

The engine of the car is running, and he fidgets with the heater. He has a tic where he’ll mess with the amount of air blowing, then the level of heat, and then go back to the amount of air. Each knob he twists changes the temperature until he finally settles on a lull of heat.

Her head is resting against the window, getting slightly rocked by the movement of the car on the road. The towel was still wrapped around her. Oikawa had found another one in the trunk and had it wrapped around his waist, he had forgone a shirt since the heater was working just right and he didn’t want a wet t-shirt on anymore.

“I meant what I said you know.” Oikawa had one hand on the wheel and one hand on her armrest. “I’m going to make everything work out the way it needs to work out.”

“Mm-hm.”

“I’m yours now.” Oikawa lets his smug smile roam on his face.

“Mine? No title? Not boyfriend?”

Oikawa moves the hand from the armrest onto her thigh, “The title I’m settling for is husband or soulmate. Take your pick. I’ll propose soon, don’t worry angel.”

She tilts her head up and laughs. He rubs his thumb over her knee.

In contrast to the way his hair had a halo in the sun, she had a halo made of stars and the moon. Instead of creating an outline of her hair, the night sky embedded itself and adorned her. Rather than trying to amplify her, the moon and stars realized she naturally had a halo around her and wanted to say congratulations by shining through her rather than on her.

Although she declines the first four proposals, she accepts the one right before he leaves. Oikawa would never tell her but he was relieved that she accepted, he couldn’t handle the idea of him not being around and her getting moved in on by some other guy- despite her telling him consistently that she would turn other guys down.

The ring didn’t act like a perfect deterrent, but it made him feel secure. He liked that she wore all the stuff he got her on the same hand, his ring and his bracelet from way long ago.

Oikawa sends her a new jersey almost every month, with his signature across the front near his player number. He also sends all sorts of knick-knacks he finds in Argentina. He makes a point of calling when she’s eating lunch, and he’s about to go to bed so that she doesn’t have to stay awake to answer his calls. His mom and sister get annoyed that he spends hours talking to her but only minutes talking to them. He tells them that true love takes precedence over family.

She has to chastise him to get him to actually stay on call with his mom for longer than thirty minutes.

They fight a few times about where to live. He wins the argument and she moves to Argentina once she officially graduates college.

An apartment filled with her stuff and his stuff side by side makes him giddy. But he especially gets excited with the fact that he gets the side of the bed closest to the bedroom door, and she gets the side furthest away from the bedroom door.

Sometimes he’ll stay up much too late, his back against the headboard of their bed watching volleyball videos.

“Tooru, go to bed.” She nuzzles against her pillow a little more, her back towards him as she tries to avoid the light of the laptop screen on his legs.

“One more video.” He clicks on a replay of a match that goes all the way to five sets with commentary during each timeout instead of the video cutting to the next play.

When he chuckles a little, she turns over and shuts the laptop. “Bedtime.” She makes a fake sleeping sound. Oikawa sets the laptop on his side table, turning the table light off.

She lifts her head so Oikawa can put his arm under her head. She presses a kiss to his bicep.

“What’s the clock say?”

He slings his leg over her torso and puts his other arm across her stomach.

“It’s not even midnight yet.” She clicks her tongue and he fixes his response. “It’s 23:14.”

He kisses the corner of her mouth. When she doesn’t say anything, he gives her a real kiss. Still no response and he licks the length of her jaw to her chin. She lets out a small din of disgust.

“Fine! Goodnight Tooru.”

He whines a little.

She groans. She sits up a little and leans over him, ruining the positioning she had spent minutes working on. She rests the length of her arms on either side of his head, her face right above his.

One of her hands begins to play with his hair, which begins to twirl around her fingers, softly grazing her palm. He uses his arm to force her back down so that her chest is pressed to his, he lets out a coo to express gratification when her weight is on top of him.

“I love you, my pretty boy.” She kisses his cheek, “Handsome, intelligent, angelic, slightly egotistical-” He nips her bottom lip. “I love you, goodnight, I’ll be here in the morning.”

He’s living his dream. There’s no difference between his dreams and reality now. No gaps to fight against. Only a pair of invisible halos for the rest of their lives.

[cloudiinumaki]

thank you, darling. — satoru gojo

SCENARIO . . . — when you compliment him.

NOTES ! — i feel like i could also write this scenario for the other characters but idk if im bothered ngl

WARNINGS ! — none tbh, gender-neutral as always.

REQUESTS OPEN !

i think his reaction would be quite unsurprising, he's the strongest, after all— so of course, you'd feel like complimenting him. his reaction would be some teasing remark said in that usual cheerful and amused tone of his, because satoru gojo is nothing if not full of bravado.

he's heard so many compliments before, it's hard for this one to be particularly unique or heart-warming, but that may just be because he's not partial to compliments about his strength at all.

calling him powerful, the strongest, anything like that just feels dull in a way that's difficult to explain. he's heard it so many times before, and those words often just cross over into acknowledging his power, only reminding him of the insurmountable gap he'd tried so hard to bridge.

he'll accept the compliment in that nonchalant, arrogant way of his, but it's not as if it means much to him, honestly. if you want the compliment to actually touch him, to actually have an effect on him, it cannot be a compliment about that.

instead, compliment him about something almost mundane, like how you like it when he does some random thing. notice something that most wouldn't be bothered to pick out against all the usual confidence he exudes, and his other various talents and gifts.

those will be words he hasn't heard often, and you'll notice him still slightly as you say it, a near imperceptible thing that you notice and cherish nonetheless. telling him something like that is much more likely to have an effect on him, and his self-assured grin will widen, albeit with a more genuine look of appreciation in his cerulean blue eyes.

people weren't lying when they said that the eyes were the window to the soul.

as for when it comes to complimenting his looks, again, he's not going to lie and say that nobody's ever bothered to do so (because many have bothered, and it's been a recurring ego boost for him)— but, he will say that those same words feel warmer, more touching when it's you saying them.

like, during your late night conversations, offhandedly mentioning how pretty his eyes are as you curl up next to him, your eyes crinkling along with your gentle smile as your hand traces against the contours of his jaw. the reassuring knowledge that, as you compliment his eyes, it's not out of any calculated consideration for his six eyes ability, but instead simply appreciating it as a feature of his. appreciating it in just the same way as you appreciate his pale, ivory eyelashes, or his soft, pink lips, always seeming glossed.

faint moonlight spills into the room, past the sheer curtains that tremble slightly from the open window and cool night air, and you pull further into him subconsciously.

he should close the window, his mind reminds him, but he's not sure if he's bothered to move.

"so pretty," you murmur again softly, almost entrancing to him— as if it's just necessary that you tell him that again, no matter how much you have before. your hand falls away from tracing his jaw, and instead, you wrap your arms around him entirely, finding a comfortable position to rest properly.

from those two words, satoru can already tell you're becoming sleepier, your words more unabashed than in the day. your earlier conversation with him, always about the most random topics, had ceased for the most part; and, he briefly wonders why you still insist on them if you'll always fall asleep halfway through.

he doesn't mind, though. and, as he lets you embrace him, loosely returning the same gesture, he hopes that you probably won't remember how he's practically preening at your words, putty in your hands.

(somehow, you always do).

[potatomountain]

Bittersweet Neighbors

💝 Pairing/AU: Single dad Seonghwa x afab neighbor

💝 Genre: Angst, some fluff, single dad au, smut, Rate M for mature audiences

💝 Word Count: 14.1k

💝 Warnings: Mentions and implications of abuse, threats, baby trapping, alcohol consumption, smut warnings under cut, Seonghwa is aged up (roughly early 30s) so slight age gap (5-8 years-ish)

💝 In collab with @daemour Fluff/Angst Dilf Hwa-

💝 Their half of the collab, Fluffy Dilf Hwa, is "I Can See You"

💝 Network: @pirateeznet

💝 Smut warnings: oral (m & f receiving), unprotected sex, slightly intoxicated sex, big dick Hwa, long tongue hwa, pussy drunk hwa

Kids weren’t your thing- single dad’s with young kids were most definitely not your thing- but something about this one had you pause.

Your new neighbor: Park Seonghwa. 

He looked far too pretty to be moving into the somewhat rundown apartment building you were in, but the young girl with him was probably the reason why. She had to be about seven almost? Maybe eight? The first time meeting them was brief as he just knocked on your door and introduced himself and his daughter Eun-byeol as your new neighbors, then moved on to the apartment across from his.

They were both polite and quiet, almost meek. He wore dull clothes while she was dressed in new and bright clothes, clearly more cared for than her father. Something about that had your heart melting a bit for them.

It was the second time you interacted where you really got curious about them; about him. You caught sight of them at the diner just down the street from your apartment, he was giving her all of his attention and smiling in such a loving way your own heart reacted. You had debated on asking to join them, but didn't want to ruin the cute daddy-daughter date that was going on. 

Instead you sat at the bar and just watched, only to get caught staring when he had leaned over to wipe some sauce off Eun-byeol's cheek. His smile seemed a little more closed off but still friendly, sending you a wave before he turned his attention back to his daughter.

Soft guys like that also weren't your type but it took some time to get your cheeks to stop burning. It was obvious he was a good dad who adored and cared for his daughter with his entire wellbeing, even if this was the second time you encountered him.

But the third time you were just down right concerned. The young girl had knocked on your door, alone, which made you several levels of uncomfortable and confused. 

She pointed at her apartment, where you could now make out yelling from the cracked door: a female yelling. The young girl looked up at you with eyes that matched her father's, filled with innocent worry. “Can you help Daddy?”

You didn't get a chance to ask what she meant, the man in question calling out for her and stepping out. He swept her up in his arms, relief heavy in his tone. “Don't do that Eun-byeol… I was worried.” He checked her over, relief visibly settling his features before he turned to you for an apology. “I'm sorry for the disturbance, I'll talk to Eun-byeol about it.”

“It's no problem- really.” You somehow managed to get out naturally despite your sudden rigid posture. It was blazingly obvious why the little girl had said what she did, a marked cheek and busted lip marred his pretty features. The need to know what was going on was overwhelming, urging your next words. “May I ask what she is concerned about?” 

Seonghwa looked taken aback, glancing down at his daughter who was clearly worried, but neither got a chance to reply before someone else was stepping out of the apartment. “Seonghwa I wasn’t fucking done talking to you- oh.” 

All eyes moved to the woman standing there, head to toe in designer clothes, looking as if she just stepped out of a runway show. She narrowed her eyes on you, looking you over and clearly sneering at your outfit; you weren’t dressed to accept company after all. “Did you really run off mid conversation to bother this?”

“N-no Soojin, Eunbyeol had a question for her.” The panic in his eyes squeezed your heart but not as much as the protective hold he had on the little girl.

You stepped forward, forcing a friendly smile as so much made sense suddenly. “She was just asking me if I was still going to bake some treats for her. I told her to remind me before the weekend.” The lie fell off your lips with ease, and thankfully Seonghwa didn’t let his shock show. “Right Eunbyeol? That's what you were coming over for? I’m sure you wanted to know if I was going to make enough to share right?”

Eunbyeol did look confused, glancing over at the woman before nodding. “Y-yes. Wanted to give some to Mommy.”

Soojin seemed to relax a bit at that, smiling at the girl. “Aw baby, you were just thinking about me?” She stepped over, reaching for the girl who, even to your eyes, seemed a little hesitant to climb into the woman’s arms. “Mmm then I would definitely like some. But you’re coming to Mommy’s house tonight right?”

“I can have them ready for when you get back. Although I wasn’t told when?”

“Sunday. Eunbyeol goes with her mother every other weekend.” Seonghwa didn’t tear his eyes off the girl in question and you could see the sadness in them. “Soojin came to pick her up today.”

You nodded, watching the woman fret over Eunbyeol’s appearance while murmuring about getting her some new things and about shopping. “Daddy is giving Mommy some extra money to get you some more school clothes- and a little for Mommy too. Are you excited?” She giggled, turning on her heel to head back inside. When she looked up at Seonghwa she sneered again. “You are, right?”

“Y-yes. Just tell me how much.” He mumbled, pulling out his tattered wallet. He opened it to quite a lot of cash there, which once more had you wondering why he was living in this shit end apartment.

“All of it.” Soojin held her perfectly manicured hand out. “Nothing less for our Princess right?”

As he handed over every bill, you didn’t think much of that was going towards Eunbyeol at all. Never before had you disliked a person so fast. In fact, your blood boiled and you decided you hated this woman.

She counted the bills in her hands after setting Eunbyeol down, seemingly not that satisfied with the amount. “You think this is enough?”

“I’m sorry, her school fees came out this week.” He muttered, not looking at the angry woman’s face. 

She scoffed, grabbed Eunbyeol’s hand and pulled her into the apartment. “Then find a way to make enough. Deadbeat fucking man.” 

Once she disappeared into the apartment you turned your full attention to Seonghwa, heart shattering at the worn out saddened expression on his face. “H-Hey, Seonghwa? What kind of cookies do you and Eunbyeol like?”

“They like Mint chocolate and Eunbyeol isn’t picky otherwise.” He muttered, avoiding your gaze.

You scoffed, leaning down to capture his gaze. “I asked what cookies you and your daughter like, not her and her… mother.” You could hardly call her that with a straight face.

“I…” He seemed genuinely surprised by your interest, lifting his head to reply when he was called by Soojin. “Strawberry treats… We both love those.” He whispered like it was a secret before rushing into his apartment with a quick wave, saying goodbye to you.

Stepping back into your apartment, you started a google search for easy strawberry baked treats. Now you didn’t bake much, but that was now your plan for the weekend. 

You were going to bake by yourself, but something had been nagging at you. It kept you up all night almost, leaving you a bit restless the next day. One thing was for certain, if Eunbyeol was gone what was Seonghwa doing?

It was obvious the life he had now, the struggle on his shoulders, and you could not turn your head away and ignore him. Not when he looked at Eunbyeol like she was his entire world. Not when that little girl was clearly worried about her father, who definitely needed help. But who were you to tell him what to do? 

You were just the neighbor. 

Instead of being disheartened by that, the next morning you knocked on his door, tapping your foot impatiently. He looked a bit perplexed when he opened up, but offered you a friendly small smile. “Yes?”

“Are you free today?” You blurted out, taking in the baggy sweater he wore before meeting his gaze. “I have to go to the store to get some things, and then I’m gonna bake. Was thinking if you are free, you could come with?”

It seemed to take him a moment to realize you were asking him to accompany you, but when it hit he was smiling with such pure happiness your heart fluttered. “I’d love to.”

Seonghwa was even sweeter and softer than you had thought, so shy at first but by the end of the day he seemed plenty comfortable in your presence: all it took was offering Eunbyeol up as a topic and he had an awful lot to say. He was animated, happy, and just down right adorable talking about his daughter. The only time it dampened was when the subject of her mother came into the picture.

You found out he and Soojin had been college sweethearts and separated for about a year now. He didn’t disclose why the two of you split up, but you didn’t need him to answer it: the way the two interacted yesterday spoke volumes on why.

You hadn’t wanted the day to end with just shopping so you convinced him to help you bake, informing him you really didn’t know how. The laugh he gave was music to your ears, and you spent the better part of the evening messing up your kitchen to try and hear it again.

Not wanting it to end, you offered to do this again. “I work from home so I don’t really have a social life, so whenever Eunbyeol is away maybe we can make something for her? Together?”

He seemed genuinely happy, nodding without a second of hesitation. “Please?” The beady eyes he sent your way made it hard to believe he was in his early thirties.

The next day Eun-byeol was back in the morning, knocking on your door with her mother and some of the treats in hand. You had a feeling Soojin wasn't going to let Seonghwa have any, so you had made sure he had his fill last night. You were glad you did now that the entire leftover batch was in the hands of the two before you. “I see you got the treats?”

“Mm yes, Eun-byeol wanted to thank you. Didn't you Princess? You wanted to have a nice conversation with the nice lady? Maybe watch something with her?” Soojin not-so-gently pushed her forehead, which had you frowning a bit. Her attempt of panning the child off was obvious, and if you didn't like the father of said child you would decline.

But you didn't want to send the wrathful woman onto him and the young girl, so you opened your door wider. “I actually wanted to show you something Eun-byeol, so come on in. I'm sure your father won't mind if I steal you for a bit?” You smiled down sweetly, hoping to ease the young girl's worries.

Eun-byeol relaxed and nodded, stepping into your apartment and waving at her mother. “Bye mom.”

“Mm bye sweetie. Daddy will come get you shortly.” She didn't say anything else as she headed into the apartment next door, and you hoped Seonghwa wasn't going to have another bruise on his face.

Shutting the door you glanced down at the once more awkward girl. Sighing, you bent down to her eye level and held out a hand. “Say Eun-byeol, what do you like to watch?”

“Animal crossing or Lego videos. Daddy likes to watch them when he's sad.” She admitted, playing with the bag of cookies in her hand. “B-but I want to watch those with him.”

You nodded sympathetically, thinking it over. Eun-byeol was Seonghwa's whole world, but you had a feeling that was mutual for the little girl before you. “I understand, and I'm sure your dad can come join us when your Mom leaves. Why don't we get everything set up, maybe find some snacks, and surprise him with it?”

She lit up at the idea, the same way Seonghwa lit up when talking about her. It was endearing how much the two were alike, and under other circumstances you might tease them for it. “Yes please!” Just like with her father, it was easy to get her to open up when talking about the other person. 

Eun-byeol helped you set up your couch with extra blankets and some of the plushies you had- which for the eight-year-old (she had clarified) the plushies had been a very serious decision. The pink bunny you had was ultimately her favorite and she had gotten cozy on the couch while you started prepping snacks. The atmosphere was pretty nice between the two of you, kind of cozy, until there was a slight bang on your apartment wall that drew your attention. 

It was of course the wall connecting you to Seonghwa's apartment. Frowning, you stepped over to the wall, telling Eun-byeol not to worry and instead look at the YouTube videos and find a nice one. Your TV was on the opposite end of your living room, the wall that was connected to your bedroom, so the sound helped the young girl from hearing the next noises that you heard.

Moans.

You had to press your ear to the wall to hear it a little better, but it was mostly a woman. Your eyes went wide, making out something she said that had your blood heating up and running cold at once. 

“You'll really do anything to keep her won't you? Pathetic.”

Stepping away quickly you went back to grabbing snacks- which really was just your usual assortment that you brought to the coffee table and sat them down. With the video playing you couldn't hear what was going on in the apartment besides the occasional bang. And when you heard that- you tried not to think about the matter.

It wasn't your place, even if you were watching their child.

The bangs didn't last for long and you easily got sucked into the videos, snacking away with Eunbyeol right next to you, mimicking some of the sounds from the animal crossing characters. When there was a knock on your door you went to grab it, not wanting to disturb the young girl. You already knew it was Seonghwa.

He stood there freshly showered and damp hair still sticking to his forehead, looking away as soon as he saw you. “I'm here to get Eunbyeol… I'm sorry you were asked to watch her so suddenly.”

With an easygoing smile you opened the door wider. “It's not an issue, really, she's quite nice to be around. Though I did promise her we would all enjoy some snacks and videos and I would hate to disappoint. So come in?”

Hesitantly he did, shoes pulled off as he stuck his head in and spotted his daughter looking over the back of the couch like a meerkat. Watching their faces both light up the same way at seeing each other you couldn't help but smile fondly. 

Eunbyeol did a good job convincing him to get comfortable and enjoy the snacks, playing another video she had found and then asking you to sit down with her. You gave the two space, and as the video continued you found yourself watching them more than the video. They were in their own world almost, though they would pull you in occasionally to point out something on the screen.

Despite your concerns over awkwardness, there was none. A few hours past and you ordered take out on your dime. The three of you ate and they stayed until Eunbyeol was falling asleep on his lap.

“Thank you for this. It really means a lot that you did.” Seonghwa was picking up the sleeping girl in his arms, her small arms loosely wrapped around his neck as she drooled on his shoulder.

“Again, it was nice having some company. I told you I work from home so I don't go out much. Can I ask you something though Seonghwa?” You were picking up the blankets, your plush forever glued to the little girl's hands so you made no effort to take it.

He nodded, attempting to help you with cleaning up but you gently swatted at his hand. “Ask me anything I can answer.”

“Is this normal for you? Your ex-wife dropping your daughter off and sending her away so she can have adult time with you?” It came out easier than you expected, but you couldn't look him in the eye either. So instead you focused on picking up the snacks.

Seonghwa had gone rigid, his hand halting on Eunbyeol’s back. “Did Eunbyeol-”

“No she didn't hear anything, I kept her by the TV when I first heard it.” You explained, taking the snacks to the kitchen. “Does it happen often?”

When he didn't reply right away you glanced up, heart sinking as you realized he had tears in her eyes. “N-not every time, but whenever she isn't dating anyone or I don't give her enough money. Usually Eunbyeol is sent to her room and told to listen to music or something. I ask her to be quiet but-”

“You don't have to go into details.” You could tell it upset him just to think about it. “She doesn't like that it happens, she can tell that you are sad after. It was her suggestion for the videos.” You made your way over, eyes on the little girl. “I know it's not my place but… the next time, let's do this again.”

He softened at your proposal, nodding. “Thank you, I'd like that.” 

And like that it became routine. Every other weekend would be the same. Eunbyeol would stop by your apartment Friday afternoon and tell you what treat she would like as an excuse to say goodbye. Saturday you and Seonghwa would go shopping, and then bake together. Sunday morning Eunbyeol would knock on your door and the two of you would prepare the living area for video time until Seonghwa would arrive freshly showered and with fresh hickies on his neck. You would order dinner and they would leave once Eunbyeol fell asleep.

It happened for about four more months before Seonghwa's work had him take on overtime, in which you were kindly asked to pick up from school and watch Eunbyeol three days a week. You didn't mind, the two of you had gotten rather close with how sweet she was.

You didn't think it would get old comparing the two of them, the many ways Eun-byeol was like her father, and you did get comfortable enough with them to tease them for it. It had made Seonghwa incredibly proud but also flustered and it was the first time you saw him blush so cutesy. You couldn't tell him you suspected that Eun-byeol mimicked him on purpose just to make him happy, there was perhaps a chance he knew that already.

Soojin never got likable but you hadn't seen another bruise on Seonghwa's face since that first Friday. So you didn't try and butt in. Seonghwa and Eunbyeol were not happy with the woman but it was only every other weekend right? And you did your best to make them smile in your free time.

It wasn't until Seonghwa invited you out onto one of their Saturday daddy-daughter dates that you realized how close you had gotten with them. It meant a lot to you, the three of you sitting at that diner you saw him before, each eating the usual you had separately but this time together.

You both laughed as Eun-byeol got sauce on her cheek, and before Seonghwa could do so, you were wiping it off with your thumb much like a mother would. You hadn't even realized you did it until you were sitting back and caught Seonghwa's bewildered expression. “Oops, I took your favorite part huh?” You teased, only to watch him soften.

With a fond smile, he shook his head. “You just made it better is all.”

His simple admission had heat rushing to both your cheeks, eyes now downcast as you thought of the implications of that statement… and how they made you feel.

You buried those feelings until the next Saturday when you two were attempting to make homemade frosting for a cake. You held out the spatula to him, demanding he get the first taste. In his struggle to refuse some of it got on his cheek and you laughed, pulling the same move again and swiping off the frosting. “Just like your Princess.” You teased, bringing your thumb to your mouth to taste it.

But he grabbed your hand and pulled you forward, locking eyes with you as he wrapped his lips around your thumb, licking the frosting off. There was a heat in his gaze you had never seen before that had lust pooling in the pit of your stomach and halting your breath in your throat. When he pulled away his tongue darted out, your eyes following the motion and realizing he had quite a long tongue… shaking off the direction those thoughts were headed you pulled away.

The air sparked between you two with heavy tension, but neither of you said anything, just stared for a moment. It was the oven going off that broke the spell and you turned quickly, grabbing the mitts and getting the cake out of the oven. You turned all your focus onto that, and when he realized you did, his focus followed.

You dreaded the next day, not because Eunbyeol would come home but because you knew what he would do when she did; and for the first time the thought made you sick to your stomach.

You were distracted as you sat with the young girl, volume up higher than normal so you wouldn't hear the bangs. But you still did, practically flinching with each one as it rammed the realization into you over and over: you were in love with Park Seonghwa.

Being in love with him didn’t mean you wanted to step up and be more than what you were now, not with the relationship he had with his ex-wife. And even without Soojin in the picture, you knew you weren’t going to be a priority to him: His whole world was sitting right next to you on the couch, you didn’t want to take from that.

That didn’t exactly make it easy to look at him. When you heard the knock on the door you paused the tv, forcing a smile down at the confused Eunbyeol. “I’m not feeling too good so I’m going to lay down. You want to head home and watch it with your Daddy alone today?”

The concern on her features tugged at your heartstrings but you didn’t want to get any more attached. She nodded after a moment of watching you, slipping off the sofa and rushing to the door. You could hear her passing your message on to Seonghwa, his concern evident in his tone but he took Eunbyeol and left. That was the first night you cried over him.

You made an effort to avoid Seonghwa since then, declining his offer to join them at the diner the next Saturday, but kept picking up Eunbyeol from school and letting you stay with her. You found yourself dreading the next weekend, no sooner to having your feelings sorted out than the day you discovered them. 

So of course, you broke some hearts. The saddened look on Eunbyeol’s face when you told her you didn’t have the time to bake anything this weekend once more pulled your heartstrings and you wanted to give in right then and there- but if you were going to bake, Seonghwa was going to join you on that endeavor and you couldn’t handle being alone with him. Not right now.

Maybe not ever.

Seonghwa had a different plan, ushering Eunbyeol back to their apartment but not moving from your doorway. When she was out of sight, the question tumbled from his lips. “What sort of plans do you have this weekend?”

You shrugged. “Got some things I got to catch up on work wise and friends to hang out with. Things like that.” Well now you couldn’t just hold yourself up in your apartment all weekend like you had hoped, although being out Sunday morning was beginning to seem like a wonderful idea. “I’ll be out Saturday night, not sure when I’ll be back Sunday so just a heads up on that too.”

“Oh…” Dejectedly he looked away, guilt slamming into your chest because you didn’t think he could make that sort of expression.

Angry more so at yourself, you bristled. “What? I do have other people I see and talk to, you know.” 

Gosh did you have to be so harsh? He literally flinched at your words. “R-right, of course. Well, have fun then.”

You shut the door and relaxed against it, panic beginning to well up. Should you go and apologize? Say it was all a lie? But then you would have to admit why and that was something you most certainly couldn't do. So make the lie the truth then? Who did you know who would be welcoming to your sudden interest in making plans?

There really was just one person, and you dialed their number before much of a thought. He of course picked up, albeit voice thick with sleep. “Hey Wooyoung, can we uh, hang out this weekend?”

“Uh… I have plans to go clubbing tomorrow… I know that's not your thing Cousin.” You could hear another voice grumbling in the background, which had you feeling even more awkward. Was he dating someone?

God, could you be any more alone? “That's fine, I'll go with you. I've been cooped up too much, it feels like I'm going insane. Some chaotic fun and maybe a hookup sounds nice.” If it got your neighbor off your mind then yes, you'd gladly hook up with a stranger.

Wooyoung was just happy you wanted to hang out. “Sure! Want me to pick you up or send you the address? No, I'm coming over and helping you pick a fit. I'm bringing my friends too, including that one I told you is so your type!” He was giddy. “Sannie, my cousin finally agreed to come join us!”

Oh, how could you forget San? His long term best friend and makeshift lover? And of course the friend in question: Jeong Yunho.

Maybe this wasn’t going to be a good idea. “Fine, what time should I expect you?”

“Eight should be good, we’ll head out clubbing about 10. Need food? We can make a stop and knowing you, you live off instant ramen and quick cooking meals.” He huffed out, more shuffling on his side. “Might have some leftovers.”

You knew he was right, at least he had been. One look at your kitchen cabinets and you knew you would find more than that now: meals for Eunbyeol, healthier snacks and your fridge had quite a bit of leftovers from Seonghwa that he often dropped by after noticing the same predicament.

What would Wooyoung say if he knew that? You didn’t want to find out. “Sure whatever you want Wooyo. I’ll see you tomorrow at eight.” You hung up before he got to reply, you had things to do.

And by things: wallowing in guilt and self-pity for a night. You could keep yourself busy tomorrow, drag yourself out to- to what? Were your weekends, your life, really so bland before Seonghwa came along? Just more reason to sulk it seemed. Get it out of your system before you try to think of a solution.

Things just had to change.

Eight rolled around rather quickly the next day, spending most of it like a spa day- you were attempting to get laid tonight after all. As usual, your cousin arrived and didn’t give you time to really think about anything else. It had been months since you last talked to him but he didn’t let it show at all, talking about his life and catching you up as he had you try on half your closet before settling on a dress he had gotten you before that you had never worn. He made sure you had the leftovers he brought, letting you finish before San took over for makeup and he did your hair.

Shortly after nine, you were freshly dolled up and the two were beaming over you. “May I present the lovely centerpiece of our entourage tonight!” Wooyoung happily announced, pulling you out of your room and encouraging you to model the fit for the other two friends they had brought: Yunho and Mingi. Two tall and seemingly intimidating men that Wooyoung assured you were sweethearts.

Now they were the ones that were your typical type. And the lack of pitter patter of your heart at the sight of them was heavily disappointing. Both were only a little older than you, single, no kids, and pretty chill but gave the vibe they could rock your world and take care of you if you let them.

Yet Seonghwa was the one you were thinking about. Damn, you really had it bad. “Well! No more wasting time yeah? Show me what I’m missing in my life dear cousin and company.” You winked over at the two giants, still determined to banish Seonghwa out of your mind.

Once more, easier said than done. Stepping out of your apartment, making such a racket, he was right there. Right there looking like he was ready for bed in cute pjs and messy hair and bare face, holding some garbage away from his body. He was a stark contrast to your party of 5, ready to dance the night away.

His expression did nothing to help the guilt that still sat in the pit of your stomach, almost like a wounded puppy. He muttered your name, drawing the attention of Wooyoung who was fiddling with your hair. 

“Oh who is this? When did you get a hottie in your complex?” Wooyoung wiggled his brows but you gently hit him. “What? He is!”

Scoffing, you entwined your arm with his and pulled him along. “He's got a kid Wooyo, be nice.”

“That was me being nice.” He whined, waving at Seonghwa. “Hi I'm Wooyoung-”

“And we don't have time for this. Come on, I want some fun.” You tugged a little harder, causing him to stumble into you a bit and San to laugh.

“He looks fun-”

“He's just a neighbor San, now let's go.” You cut off the other man, harsher with your words as the five of you did leave. You didn't look back, you couldn't handle it if you did and saw the hurt clear as day on his features.

Wooyoung whistled as the five of you climbed into the car, he and San on either side of you while the two taller sat up front; Yunho in the driver seat. “Well, that was mighty rude of you Darling, what beef do you have with that neighbor?”

You rolled your eyes at him, crossing your arms as he flung his over the seat behind you. “There is no beef.”

San lifted a brow, holding Wooyoung’s hand behind your head. “Oh then a crush?”

“There is no crush!”

“Sure sounds like it. Guess she’s off the market, Yun.” Mingi chuckled, gently tapping the other on his shoulder as he pulled the car away from the curve and into traffic

“No I’m not! He has a kid and an ex wife, like hell I want to get involved with that.” You continued to protest but Wooyoung couldn't miss the flustered way you whined.

“It’s okay, we can all still have a good time here.” Yunho shrugged off the insinuations, smiling at you in the mirror and calling your name. “Right?”

“Right!” They thankfully dropped the subject for the night and to your surprise did make it a fun night for you.

They learned that you were quite the chaotic drunk as well, and quite the dancer, spending most of the time with a drink in your hand or dancing with one of the four. All just to forget the very domesticated routine you had with Seonghwa and your feelings for him. 

This was fun, a part of your life you missed and opted out of after college as your friends had gotten married or focused so wholly on their careers you decided to do the latter as well. But working from home? That didn’t really give you a social life did it?

Besides, Wooyoung and his boyfriend were cute, his friends were easy going and had you feeling included: part of their group. They genuinely seemed to care, enough that even in your deliriously drunken state you vaguely remember Yunho carrying you to his car and having a conversation with Wooyoung about getting you home safely.

You weren’t aware of what had fully happened until the next morning, slipping out of bed with a bit of a headache (okay a big bit) and still in the dress from last night. At least your face was clean and shoes were off, but you had no recollection of getting home or to bed. It was the sound of muffled voices and your front door that had you stumbling out of your bedroom.

Finding Eunbyeol staring up at Yunho was perhaps the last thing you expected, but there she was, looking as confused as you felt. “Wha-?”

Eunbyeol cried out your name and rushed over to you, wrapping her small arms around your waist while Yunho watched with his brows pushed up. “The strange man said you weren’t here though…”

“Uh…” Gently patting Eunbyeol’s back, you tilted your head in confusion towards Yunho. “Can you… explain please? I don’t even remember getting home.”

Clearing his throat, Yunho headed for your kitchen. “Well, you didn’t want to. Said some interesting things as I carried you up here, some of it makes sense now.” The pained smile he turned towards Eunbyeol had you questioning just what you did say. “I hope you don’t mind that I stayed over, you were pretty wasted last night. As for the kid- well, I tried to tell her mother no but she was rather… insistent.”

So Soojin brought her over? And what, didn’t even listen to Yunho about your whereabouts? Just forced Eunbyeol onto him? Your blood boiled, glancing down at Eunbyeol only for your heart to lodge in your throat. “Oh honey- don’t cry.” Kneeling down, you brought your hands to her cheeks, quickly wiping away the tears that were falling freely from her face.

“I-I know it’s mean of me but I… I hate my mommy! She’s always yelling at Daddy and taking his money and making him so sad! I don’t like it when she hits him, Daddy tries to hide it from me but I’m not stupid. I’m eight now and I'm plenty smart! I don’t need Mommy but he says I do, that all kids need both their parents but I don’t want that kind of Mommy!” She threw her arms around your neck and sobbed into your shoulder. “She yelled at your friend too, so much, I didn’t want to cry in front of her-”

“H-hey Eunbyeol, it’s okay. It’ll be okay.” You pulled her against you, trying to comfort the child as best you could. She’s never cried in front of you before, not even when she would fall and scrape her knee she would fight off the tears and say she was a big girl. But here she was, so fed up with her own mother she couldn’t stop crying. She was so upset for her father, and ashamed of the way Yunho was treated.

The little girl was taking on far too much in the battle between her parents, and it wasn’t even a battle, Seonghwa was just trying to keep Eunbyeol as happy as he could. He was doing everything he thought he could for her and that was one of the reasons you had fallen for him- but it was also one of the reasons why you didn’t want to act on these feelings.

However, Eunbyeol had other ideas. “Why can’t you be my mommy? We’re happier with you.”

That was one way to have your heart absolutely crushed. “That’s not how things work sweetie.” This was not something you wanted Yunho to be witness to either. “Um Yunho, I’m going to take her to my room and calm her down for a second. Don’t go anywhere, I still want to know what happened.” Standing up you took the girl’s small hand in yours and brought her back to your room.

Once there, you freshened up and let her choose out your clothes as a way to comfort her. Her words had shaken you to your core but you did your best not to let it show. She was just a child, a very hurt and lost child and was seeking comfort in you; you didn’t want to take that from her by letting her see your own turmoil.

She calmed down rather quickly, quite emotionally mature for her age and that just hurt your heart even more. She shouldn’t have to go through this. Was Seonghwa even aware?

Of course he was, she was his world and he was constantly attuned to her.

When the two of you stepped out again, Yunho looked rather pale, glancing at the wall furthest from your room. You didn’t need a verbal explanation to know what he heard. “Yeah, I’m surprised I didn’t tell you about that.” You mumbled in his direction before setting up Youtube on your tv for the young girl and turning the volume up to drown out the sounds for her, “Yunho and I have to talk for a second in the other room, will you be okay out here sweetie?”

Only after Eunbyoel nodded did you lead Yunho to your room and shut the door with a heavy sign. “So um, sorry… that you got dragged into this first of all.”

“Did you get dragged into it?” He didn’t seem the least bit annoyed, instead features twisted with concern as he watched you. Damn, why couldn’t you have fallen for this guy?

You shrugged, sitting down on your bed and holding a hand to your temple, the whole situation just adding to the constant throbbing. “Yes and no? They certainly didn’t try and hide their dynamic and I didn’t want the kid to get into trouble. I just kept offering my time and company and it just… it escalated I guess?”

“Do you have any idea why he puts up with it? Like I just met the woman and kid- it’s clearly not a healthy situation.”

Once more you shrugged, watching as he sat down next to you. “I never asked, didn’t think it was my place to know. He never indulged either and Eunbyeol doesn’t like talking about her mother. She clams up if she is mentioned or when her dad has a fresh bruise.”

“She really hits him? And he still… fucks her? Holy shit, that doesn’t sit right with me.” Yunho was just as perplexed by the whole situation. “I’m sorry, this must be difficult for you to talk about as well.”

“It’s- yeah, just a bit. But what can I do? Don’t answer that actually. How about you enlighten me to what the hell happened last night.” Changing the subject you stared him down with as much menacing aura as you could muster. 

The soft puppy smile told you it definitely didn’t work. “Well, Wooyoung and San caught an uber and I dropped Mingi off. Was going to just drop you off but I had to carry you upstairs here and you begged me to stay. Told me you didn’t want to hear it, and were crying. I couldn’t just leave you like that could I?”

Rolling your eyes you fought off the heat rising to your cheeks. “Wow, such a gentleman.”

The two of you shared a light laugh. “Mm, I would be if I didn’t have my own intentions. Was hoping to win a pretty damsel over, but you really are taken.”

“There isn’t anything between the two of us, I told you all that last night.”  You protested, gently slapping his forearm.

Now he rolled his eyes. “But you want there to be. I saw the way you teared up when that little girl wanted you to be her mom. It honestly seems like you’re in too deep to back away.”

“Okay fine, then what am I supposed to do about the crazy abusive mother and ex-wife?” Deflating at your words, you got up and headed to your bathroom for some aspirin.

“You don’t do anything.” Yunho followed you. “That’s on him. If you are as important to him as you are to that little girl, then he either needs to step up and do something about her, or risk what he has with you.”

“I can’t ask him to make that choice.” Not only because you were scared of him choosing Soojin just because she was Eunbyeol’s mother, but also if he did choose you: It would feel like you manipulated him, even if you didn’t.

After you swallowed the pills, Yunho stepped closer. “You don’t have to ask him, just show him. I can show you, if you’ll trust me?”

Trust him? You had only met him last night… Yet here you were asking him for advice on your extremely complicated love life. Taking a moment to think it over, you nodded. “Fine, but this stays between me and you okay? Don’t tell Wooyoung about it. Love him to pieces but he will try and meddle.”

He chuckled, nodding in agreement. “Oh I know. I can thank him for a lot of meddlesome situations.”

The two of you shared another laugh before you led him out to the living room. He went over to Eunbyeol and asked to join her. She allowed it while you went about your usual task of getting her a snack. You couldn’t hear anything from the other side of the wall so you assumed Seonghwa would be stopping by soon enough. Would he be taking Eunbyeol right away? Or would he ask to stay and continue your usual routine? Would that even work with Yunho here?

You glanced over at the two on the couch, smiling softly as the tall man made himself small next to her, asking all sorts of questions about the characters on the tv, getting her animated and lively. He too was good with kids, and would make a good father.

Apparently that was your type: Good Dad. You just never dated an actual father before. You couldn’t decide if that thought was comforting or worrying, and you didn’t need to: the knock at the door drew your attention. 

Of course Seonghwa was standing there, freshly showered and wearing a turtleneck that seemed awfully suspicious. You tried to force a smile, instead wincing at a sudden throb in your temple. “Eunbyeol is in her usual spot.”

“Thank you… I’m sorry Soojin bothered you with this again, I tried to tell her that you probably weren’t here today- oh…” He had taken a few steps in, only to freeze up at the sight of Yunho on the sofa, lifting his smile from Eunbyeol over to him. “You have… company.”

Yunho got up from the couch with a friendly smile. “Sorry we didn’t get properly introduced last night, I’m Jeung Yunho.” He made his way over as Eunbyeol watched from the couch, a mixture of emotions from fear to curiosity on her face. You could relate, worried about how this situation was going to go. When Yunho winked in your direction, that just doubled your growing anxiety.

“I’m uh, Park Seonghwa. I hope Eunbyeol didn’t give you any trouble?” He was wide eyed as he stared up at the taller man, but glanced at his daughter when mentioned.

Yunho shook his head. “Oh no, she was an absolute sweetheart, and she got so excited when she saw her too, so cute.” He chuckled, motioning towards you. “Really, I don’t want to pull them apart, so I probably should get going. Just wanted to stick around to see how my girl was doing anyway.” He hummed out, making his way over to you and wrapping his arm suddenly around your waist. “Get some rest, you had it a little too rough last night.” He lowered his voice so the young girl couldn’t hear before dipping his head and whispering in your ear. “Don’t fight me on this Damsel, and I’m apologizing in advance. I just want to be a little selfish with this.”

You had no idea what he would be apologizing for, not until his lips were on yours and he was turning you out of sight from Eunbyeol. Oh he could kiss, your knees weak from the combined hangover and feel of him. He pulled away quickly, leaving you stunned as he said bye to Eunbyeol, hoping to see her again, then he was gone.

The only sound for several moments as you fought your heated cheeks was the tv, both Seonghwa and Eunbyeol watching you with anxious expressions. When you locked eyes with Seonghwa, the kiss with Yunho was already forgotten: he looked devastated, even broken, and you wanted nothing more than to comfort him.

But why did you have to? Why would he be hurt by your kiss with Yunho? Maybe for the same reason you were hurt when you heard him fucking his ex-wife? The idea gave you too much hope.

Eunbyeol thankfully came in with the save, calling out for her father. “Should we go home? Miss needs her sleep right? Mister Yunho said she had a rough night, they were up really late.”

Or she didn’t help at all. Clearing his throat, Seonghwa nodded. “Uh yeah, we’ll get out of your hair. Come on sweetie.” They left almost as fast as Yunho did.

Was this the right play? Hurting him like that?

You would just have to see… the damage was already done.

Things were definitely tense between you two, but you were making no efforts to avoid him. He never asked for clarification on you and the tall man Yunho, but Yunho was definitely brought up: by Eunbyeol. She would ask when you picked her up from school, wondering if the tall man was going to be there. After the first no, she didn’t ask until the weekend, boldly asking if you were going to spend time with him again… this time in front of her father as they were heading out to the diner. 

You shook your head, offering a smile. “Not until next weekend Sweetie.” You had already messaged Wooyoung for Yunho’s number, the two of you planning a so-called date. You only agreed because he offered to pay for food, and at a nice restaurant as well, while also stressing that you two were just going to talk game plan further.

It still shook you to your core to think he was so eager to help you out with your forlorn love when he had made it known he liked you. The kiss had been proof of that. Though you were still waiting for some proof that this would actually work, considering now Seonghwa didn’t want to be alone with you.

“Is he going to stay the night again?” Eunbyeol asked, ignoring her father who was trying to coax her down the apartment hall.

You shook your head again, bending down to her level. “No, we’re going out to eat, like a date.”

She frowned, looking down at your hands for a moment. “So you like him better than Daddy?”

Locking eyes with Seonghwa, you both seemed equally shocked by the statement. “Eunbyeol- that’s not a nice thing to ask.”

“The answer is no.” You got out, standing up and offering her a small smile. “We are going on a date to see how much we do like each other and see where it goes. If it works out, you’ll see him more.” You glanced up at Seonghwa. “Um, is it okay to have her around him? Or anyone I have over? I don’t mind, and I don’t think they would, but she is your daughter.”

Seonghwa gaped like a fish out of water for a moment before nodding and looking away. “That’s fine, she said he was really nice. And if you trust him… then I trust him with Eunbyeol. Now love, aren’t you hungry? We gotta get there soon if we want our usual booth.”

Apparently appeased with the conversation, Eunbyeol turned and rushed over to her father and took his awaiting hand. She waved goodbye before the two started talking about what to eat. You didn’t need to go with them to know exactly what they would order; and that, as usual, Seonghwa would have to wipe some sauce off the young girl’s face. 

You knew she purposely made a mess to have him dote on her like that, as she was much more careful when eating with you: and told you her little secret. She did a lot to garner the attention from her father, things she knew would bring a smile to his face or make him laugh or call her cute.

Part of you knew you would do the same to be on the receiving end of his affection like that.

For the nth time that week, you really hoped whatever Yunho had planned would work. Otherwise, this was going to backfire immensely.

Your anxiety was spiking about that as throughout the week, Seonghwa wouldn’t look at you. Whenever you opened the door when he came to grab Eunbyeol- and you weren’t disturbed Friday or Saturday, didn’t hear a peep from him. So when Yunho came to pick you up, you spent the entire time ranting to him about how stupid he was and that this totally wasn’t working; all while he helped you pick out an outfit and get ready for your makeshift date. 

He made it up with the food, leaving you to question if he was doing this entirely to try and win you over.

“Oh no, I’m not going to be a dick like that. I wouldn’t be opposed to trying this out for real, but you love someone else and while you continue to love that person, it would be unfair of us both to try and make this work.” He had told you while paying for the meal: which he insisted on doing himself and wouldn’t let you see.

He had purposely dragged the dinner out late, nearly three hours as you arrived back shortly after ten. Because it was late, he insisted on walking you to your door, chuckling as you grumbled even more that you didn’t think the food was going to cover the emotional turmoil of your stomach until this was resolved. Only for him to stop you at the end of the hall, a smirk on his lips. “See?”

“See what? Yunho- oh.”

“Told you it would work little Damsel. If this works out, you pay for dinner next time.” He whispered by your ear before turning back to the stairs. “I’ll leave you two to it.”

He was gone seconds later, leaving you to stare down the hall at the lump that was Seonghwa sitting at your door. Your hands felt like shaking as you exhaled slowly, preparing yourself as much as you could. If he was sitting there, this couldn’t be good. At all.

Yunho was so sure this was going to work out, and your own hope was getting the better of you. Why you trusted Yunho when he was practically a stranger was beyond you but it was too late to question that. One more deep inhale and you headed down the hall, heels clicking on the floor.

You cleared your throat to try and get the lump’s attention. “Seonghwa? Is everything alright?” You asked when he didn’t lift his head at first.

When he did, the bottle of soju in his hand told you plenty of the situation. Softening, and feeling quite guilty, you knelt down next to him, tucking your dress under you. “Seonghwa, how much did you drink?”

He lifted the bottle, one of the larger ones, to show it was half empty. “Just this. I don’t remember being a light weight though.” His speech had only the slightest slur to it, yet you couldn’t tell if that was from the alcohol or the tears in his eyes. “Just needed a little courage, that’s all.”

You frowned, pulling the bottle out of his hands. “For what?”

He stared up at you, eyes glistening with tears and emotions as he searched your face for something. “To make it through the night alone.” He whispered it so softly, his voice shaking and hitting your heart with a big impact.

Fuck, this whole thing had been a bad idea. He looked wounded, and you felt like it was your fault. “Come on, I’ll keep you company for a bit then?”

“What about your date?” He asked, letting you haul him onto his feet just to tower over you even hunched as he was. “Did he-?”

“He went home, the date was a bust anyways.” Taking your keys out you helped him stumble into your apartment a bit, taking the soju away from him as he kicked his shoes off with better motor movement than you expected.

“I’m sorry, he seemed nice.”

“He is, and it’s not like we don’t plan to try again eventually… Just want to be friends first.” You called back, giving some honesty to the situation should this really not work out- had to keep your options open, even if that was years down the line.

If Seonghwa didn’t give closure in one form or another, you had a feeling you might be stuck catering to him and his daughter for years to come just as you were. You couldn’t just leave them like this, not after Eunbyeol’s confession and now this?

It of course worried you that might be the way things turned out, weighing on your mind as you made your way to the kitchen to get him some water. In which you nearly dropped the glass when you felt arms around your waist and a firm chest pressed against your back. “Wha-”

“Don’t try.” He buried his face against your shoulder, squeezing tightly. “Don’t… don’t leave me, please.”

The glass clattered into the sink, splashing water around but thankfully not breaking. Your mind though, definitely short circuiting. Seconds turned into a minute as you stayed frozen, and when he finally realized you weren’t answering, he murmured your name like a plea. Then again, and when you still didn’t respond, again but filled with such desperation it had you moving.

Letting out the breath you were holding you turned off the water, turning your head just a bit to get a better look at him. “Seonghwa, if I date someone that doesn’t mean I’m leaving you.” You tried to comfort him, trying not to admit your feelings for him when you were still lacking context for his own.

He turned you in his arms, pressing his forehead against yours as he locked eyes. “I need you.”

Breath catching in your throat, you could only meet his gaze, floundering for any thought that made sense of what he said. Your mind barely caught up when you noticed his eyes flicker down to your lips, his hand cupping just under your jaw before he was taking away your breath quite literally.

The kiss pushed any doubts you had away, bringing forth a whole slew of emotions you tried to keep buried, and you kissed back without hesitation. The groan that rumbled deep in his throat as he pulled your body closer just had you giving into him even more.

Park Seonghwa, the single father next door that had won your heart so easily, was kissing you with such a fiery passion you wouldn’t mind if it burned you alive. In fact, you were welcoming it as all reason seemed to leave you the longer your lips stayed locked.

You couldn't mistake his intentions now, even if you wanted to hear it. That meant pulling away, and you were afraid if you did that this moment would be shattered. So instead you wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers threading in his soft hair as you pressed closer. 

Seonghwa sighed against your lips as he began pushing your skirt up, breathing out your name. The taste had been easy to ignore but the smell of soju wasn't. Unsure just how intoxicated he was, you tugged at his hair to pull him away, turning your head just for his lips to trail across your jaw.

“-Hwa… hold on.” Stumbling out part of his name, you attempted to push away again.

This time he listened, beady lust filled eyes meeting yours as he hummed softly. “Hwa? Call me that more Angel.” He kept his hands just under your skirt, thumbs running over your flesh and making no indication he was going to give you more space.

Inhaling deeply, you brought your hands to his chest as heat ran up your neck at the nickname. “B-before we do anything more I need you to have some water and relax first. I want… I don't want any doubts that this is a completely conscious decision.” You wanted to be sure he could fully consent and yes… talk.

Understanding flashed across his face as he dropped his hands and stepped back. You couldn't help but notice the overwhelming awe in his eyes, which wasn't helping your own flustered state. “Alright, we'll do this your way.”

Something about the way he said it irked you, but for now you shrugged it off and turned back to the sink to attempt a class of water. “I have some Advil in my bathroom cabinet, go grab some alright? Then we'll sit and discuss what this is.”

“Discuss? Angel… it's whatever you want it to be.” Seonghwa hesitated behind you, and now you realized why his previous statement irked you: he was approaching this as if he didn't have much of a say. Was that how he expected relationships to go? Well, probably, if his only one was Soojin and it might explain why he continued to let her walk all over him to this extent.

“No, it doesn't work like that Hwa.” You turned and handed him the water, then gently pushed him towards the sofa. “Sit, I'll get the Advil, and then we are going to have a very serious discussion about what we both want and how we both want to move forward.”

He nodded slowly, clearly a bit flustered as he ducked his head and mumbled about how sweet you were being. Your heart stung for him a bit if he thought basic human respect was being sweet. 

You didn't say anything about it, heading for your bathroom and taking your time to calm down. Trying not to overthink, because what good would that do right now, you focused on taking care of him first.

Returning with Advil, you set it down in front of him before sitting on the sofa next to him, looking him over as he had his head in his hands. “Hwa… here.” He looked up when you nudged him, first at you then the pills. You didn’t say anything as he took them, encouraging him to drink most of the water before you sat back with a little more distance.

You weren’t entirely sure where to start, or how to go about this, but whatever was blossoming between you couldn’t do so properly until the two of you talked. He had a child, one you adored, and an ex that he was still technically fucking, and both left a lot to address. The longer you sat there trying to piece it together, the more anxious he seemed to become, finishing off the water and staring at your hands that fidgeted on your lap.

“Angel… do you not want-”

“I do want you Hwa, don’t even doubt that. But I just, your relationship with Eunbyeol’s mother makes things very complicated. I know what you do with her on Sundays, when Eunbyeol comes over. I heard you both.” The words fell from your lips like a weight off your chest… but right onto his.

His eyes went round, cheeks pale as it dawned on him just what you meant. “You heard- fuck I’m sorry, I don’t feel that way about her I just-”

“Does she blackmail you into it?”

“What? Why would you think..”

“I can tell you’re scared of her Seonghwa, so I can’t imagine you willing to do that with her every Sunday when she brings Eunbyeol back. So why else?” No matter how much you mulled it over, you couldn’t imagine Seonghwa having those feelings towards Soojin; and after what you had heard, it just made sense to think she was using Eunbyeol against him.

When he averted his guilt ridden eyes, you were sure you were right. “She… she threatens to file for full custody. Says that she would win. I don’t want to take that chance. And I want her to have a mother.”

You could understand that, knowing he would do anything for Eunbyeol, however that left little room for you. “And what about you? Eunbyeol needs her father too, and she is aware of what Soojin does to you. She’s eight Seonghwa, she knows that those bruises aren’t right. What are you going to do if she realizes you put up with it for her?”

His shoulders slumped, tears forming in his eyes. “I know that… fuck I know that but what else am I supposed to do? I just pushed through it, didn’t think about it, not until you came along.” He inhaled shakingly, staring at your hand as you took his hands into yours. “To be honest, I never thought about marrying her, we were young and stupid and when she showed me the pregnancy test, I just thought of the baby.”

Of course he did it for Eunbyeol, which just had your dislike growing for Soojin and hurting even more for Seonghwa. You didn’t butt in though, letting him say what he needed to.

“We got married quickly, and I was so excited for the baby. I took her to all the appointments, took up a side job while balancing university, had her stay home with my parents and just rest for the pregnancy. They were happy for me but also concerned… I ignored their concerns, I took her side more and more through the pregnancy. And then… he was born.”

“He?” You gently prompted when he trailed off, seemingly more depressed by the second. Which, to be fair, you didn’t like where he was going with this.

“He was premature and there were some complications. I didn’t… I didn’t even get to hold him while he was breathing.” When his body started to shake with sobs you pulled him into your arms, resting his head on your shoulder. “I just threw myself into schooling and work after that, going through the motions. Things got worse at home, my parents constantly argued with her, to the point they got us a house just to have her out of theirs. She didn’t work, didn’t go to school, and just kept spending the free money I had. I got… tired of it, I was ready to leave, and I think she knew that. Things got better for a bit, and then Eunbyeol was announced.

“I don’t think I loved her, but I loved Eunbyeol from the moment I saw her. She’s everything to me, being a father is everything I could wish for. I’ll do anything for her.” He let out a shaky breath, pressing himself closer to you.

This just confirmed your suspicions, especially knowing all you did about Soojin. You could confidently say you hated her. It sounded like she baby-trapped him not once, but twice.

“Why did you end up leaving then?” You hesitantly asked, wondering what had been the breaking point.

“Caught her cheating. When I blew up about it, she told me she had always done this. How would I know if Eunbyeol was mine? According to her, our firstborn wasn’t; the baby I married her for. I got a dna test and confirmed Eunbyeol is mine, and then I filed for divorce. My parents happily paid, but I haven’t had much contact with them since we moved out. They only saw Eunbyeol on holidays, and I’ve been too afraid to bring Eunbyeol around them more. They don’t say nice things about Soojin and I didn’t want Eunbyeol to hate her mother.”

“Hwa… she doesn’t need to hear bad things about her mother, she can see it.” Taking a deep breath you cupped his jaw and lifted his head to meet his gaze. “You know that day I first offered cookies? She came over not for anything like that, but her exact words were: Can you help Daddy?”

The emotion that washed over his face tugged at your heart, thumbs wiping away the tears that sprung forth. “She said that?”

“Mhmm. She loves you Hwa, and she wants to take care of you just as much as you want to take care of her. And that means you have to do something about Soojin.”

“But-” You cut him off, thumb against his lips.

“I’m not going to pursue anything with you Seonghwa if she’s in the picture to that extent. It’s not fair to me if I have to listen to the man I care about screwing his ex every other Sunday and then coming over to play pretend family with me and his daughter. And it’s not fair to Eunbyeol to pursue anything with me if her mother is still actively sleeping with you and taking advantage of you.” You pointed out, trying to keep your voice calm though it felt like you were giving him an ultimatum, yet it was a boundary you were putting into place for your own mental and emotional health.

You would not continue this if he kept things the same with Soojin, no matter how much it hurts.

He understood, shifting so his hands were flat on the sofa next to you as he moved closer, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. “I can do that, I promise. I want… Angel, I don't want to lose you. As selfish as it is, I don’t want Eunbyeol to lose you either.”

“It’s not selfish… you’re both important to me. I hope you know that.” You turned your head to press your lips to his. “And I want to stay with you both.”

Another kiss as he nodded, moving closer to you. “So you won’t leave? Won’t do anything with that other guy?”

As he pressed closer, you lifted your arms around his shoulders, kissing him back as you nodded. “I just want you Hwa.”

Like a switch he was pressing against you with such an intense need his lips took your breath away. You returned his fervent kisses, leaned into his touches and got lost in him. You couldn’t deny his feelings with these actions, nor did you want to. His hands on your skin as he pushed your dress up around your waist, then on your thighs as he wrapped your legs around his hips.

Now lying beneath him your skin felt like it was on fire with need, while he touched you with an intensity that matched that need. Kiss after kiss, touch after touch, minute after minute. “You taste so sweet, can I have more?” He murmured against your swollen lips when he finally pulled away enough to let you breathe.

Not that you could, chasing his lips for more of him with no regards for your lungs, so you nodded as an answer. A whine left you as he put more distance between you, just to shriek as he yanked your underwear off and jostled you in the process. “Hwa?”

“Just want a taste.” His head between your legs in seconds was not what you had expected from his words, but any protest died with the fat stripe of his tongue over your cunt.

Pushing yourself up on your elbows and looking down, further protest and breath died on your lips when eye contact was made. The heat in his gaze completely transformed his features and twisted your stomach with arousal. You hadn’t even been aware he could make such a face, let alone at you.

You couldn’t look away, not even as his lips latched onto your clit, or when his unbelievably long tongue pushed inside. You watched his eyes roll back, felt the moan in the deepest parts of you and listened to the sounds of your slick against his face as he continued to devour you.

Tugging your legs around his head you could no longer watch him; not only did the angle not permit it, but it just felt so good. He definitely knew how to use his tongue, pulling moans out of you that just seemed to encourage him more and more. He wasn’t without his own sounds, and not just the slurping and slick of you on his lips, but deep moans that had your brain short-circuiting further.

There wasn’t a single thought in your mind when your climax hit, soaking his mouth. He pressed impossibly close for every drop, his nose rubbing against your overstimulated clit and driving the high longer until it was almost painful. “H-Hwa! W-Wait!” Tugging on his hair you pulled him off, attempting to catch your breath. He wore a fucked out expression, your slick on his nose and chin while his tongue flicked around to lick up every drop. Oh it was long and pointed and you could vividly remember how it felt in your cunt, causing you to clench around nothing in its absence.

He was panting just as heavily as you were, pressing soft kisses to your inner thighs. “Can I go again?”

“W-What? No Hwa-” You paused, biting your lip at his dejected expression, “I want to make you feel good too.”

His shock was evident, only furthering your desire to please him. You could only imagine the number of times his pleasure had even been considered over the years, which was something you wanted to change drastically. Taking advantage of his shock you freed yourself and climbed onto your knees on the floor, situating him as well.

“Wait, Angel, your knees will hurt-” He grabbed your wrists to stop you.

“You’re worried about my knees?” Of course he was. “Give me a pillow then, I’ll be fine. And no more protests.”

He hesitated for just a moment before handing you a pillow with a shy expression. The duality of this man was going to give you whiplash considering how moments ago he had your legs shaking while he licked your cum off his face without an ounce of shame. He didn’t relax as you adjusted the pillow beneath you, in fact he tensed up once you diverted all your attention to his pants. 

The shame on his features deepened as you pulled his pants down, freeing his cock that had been bulging the fabric out for some time. “I know it’s small but I promise to make you feel good anyway I can.”

“Small?” You shrieked out, glancing up at him with wide eyes. “Oh my God Hwa, did she tell you it was small? Did she really make you focus on her pleasure alone?”

The apples of his cheeks darkened considerably, his soft eyes averted from yours. “Was she wrong?”

“Fuck yes. It’s going to be a challenge to fit you.” All your attention was on his dick standing proud and free inches from your face. Definitely above average, thankfully not a monster cock you would worry about hurting you, but there was a chance he was going to ruin you for anyone else. “Your pleasure matters too, and to me.”

He was clearly flustered by your words, but made no further protest. What he did do was nod shyly, clearly flustered, and gripped the couch at his sides. Wrapping a hand around his base, you placed soft kisses to his tip, looking up at him to soak in his expression. His brows furrowed up in concentration, staring down at you with a soft part of his lips.

You just knew he was going to look so beautiful when he came undone by your lips.

You kept your eyes on him as much as you could, taking in every subtle change of his expression and breathing as you lowered your mouth, stroking what you couldn’t fit. Your cunt dripped at the thought of him inside you, hitting all the right places as easily as he hit the back of your throat.

The whiney moan he let out of your name just added to the growing mess between your legs. His reactions just fueled you to ignore the stretch of your throat and the burn behind your eyes, bopping your head a bit faster and pressing your tongue up against the sensitive flesh. He writhed beneath you, heavy pants mingling with soft whines as he was torn between rolling his eyes back and watching you with such a beautiful expression of contorted pleasure.

“Angel please-” His voice was raw, rolling into a deep groan as his head fell back again as you pushed down further, gagging around the majority of his cock in your mouth and squeezing the base. You could taste him, could tell how close he was to exploding his load down your throat and you were debating just where you wanted it when he decided for you.

His hands slipped into your hair and he pulled you away, cock throbbing but he didn’t cum yet. You whined, just to be pulled up onto his lap and his lips crashing onto yours again. You mumbled some protests, but he swallowed them all up in his frenzy. Each kiss was as heated as the last as he worked off your dress. “Hwa please-”

“Don’t want to cum in your pretty mouth. Not right now. Need you too much.” He whispered against your lips as he tossed the dress aside. You held onto his shoulders as he jostled you closer, his pants being kicked off the next second. Any questions you had were answered when he had you pulled down around his cock, stretching you out. You cried out, looking down between you two to watch him push the rest of the way in. “Fuck Angel- Feel so fucking good.”

You marveled at how deep you felt him, as well as how full, shifting a bit just for you to both tense up. Oh he was hitting all the right places, and he was loving how you felt if his heavy pants were any indication. His grip on your hips were tight, the two of you taking a moment to adjust, just marveling at the other.

He switched it up just as quickly as if catching a second wind, flipping you onto the couch and pushing your leg up and onto his shoulder, kissing you again as he dragged his cock out, hitting all the right spots to have you almost instant putty in his hands.

“Fuck you look so beautiful like this Angel- feel so good too.” He moved his lips to your neck as he thrust his full length back in, dragging out and doing so again until he had a steady rhythm. “Didn’t know it could feel so good- ah- please keep making those sounds.” 

You hadn’t even been aware of the whiny moans leaving your lips with each thrust, so lost in how it felt and his own little sounds that nothing else had registered. You were well away now, back arching as a thumb of his began to rub at your clit, his lips against your calf as he had leaned up enough just to watch you.

It hit you that he was still focusing on your pleasure, from his thumb on your clit to the way he shifted to make sure each thrust hit your sweet spot. It almost upset you, if not for the little mumbles he made accompanied by a light blush on his cheeks. “Feels so good, could watch you like this for hours. Angel- my sweet Angel.”

Even as he brought you to a climax, his strokes slowed to a lazy but deep pace to keep you at your high longer but without overwhelming you, even as you made a mess on both of you and the couch.

He practically halted to let you catch your breath, in which you whined and protested, cupping his face in your hands and staring him down. “H-Hwa please… fuck me like you want too. I’ll enjoy it. Promise.”

He seemed hesitant, brows pushed together as if he didn’t understand what you were saying. “Angel-” You cut him off by rolling your hips up, whatever he was going to say devolving into a groan. “O-Okay.”

The force he was suddenly thrusting into you stole your breath away, brows scrunched up in pure ecstasy as you cried out for him. He arched forward, bringing his head to your chest and you immediately latched on. Oh he was making such sweet sounds, almost shy, his balls slapping against your ass with each harsh and quick thrust while he held onto you where he could.

Your nails dug into his back as you held on, crying from the intense pleasure and loving every second of it. You had been right, he was ruining other cocks for you, nothing could compared to how well he was fucking you right now. No toy or previous partner. And no porn could compare to the porngraphic whines he mumbled against your chest either.

Even without his thumb on your clit he quickly had your legs tightening around him in a climax, back arching again as you cried out for him, head spinning from the force of your orgasm. It was clear he wasn’t used to fucking for his enjoyment, as soon as you came around him you could hear him cry out, the sound mixing with your own as his cum was pushed into you with each stuttering thrust until you both were left trembling in each’s others arms with the aftershocks of pleasure coursing through you.

Pure fucked out bliss the two of you were, taking several moments to catch your breath and come down from the high. He scattered like kisses along your chest and collarbone, up your neck and to your lips. “Can I stay the night?”

“Yes… I’d like that Hwa.”

He spent quite a bit of time cleaning you up and taking care of you after that, not letting you do anything but answer his questions about clothes. You told him it was fine to sleep naked, and the two of you ended up laying in your bed naked and clean just staring at each other with soft smiles.

You were the first asleep, curled against him.

You awoke to banging on the door, several muffled shouts and a warm body against you. You couldn’t possibly fathom who it was until Seonghwa sleepily muttered “Eunbyeol-” and rushed out of bed. He scrambled for his clothes while you sat up, listening more intently once the bedroom was open.

It was Soojin yelling for someone to open up.

In a panic yourself, you got out of bed and grabbed your house robe while Seonghwa was rushing around looking for his shirt. You made it to the door before him, calling out for her to stop banging before you swung the door open. Soojin’s familiar face on the other side was twisted with obvious displeasure.

“The good-for-nothing isn’t opening his door. Is he here?” She instantly spat, pushing past you without a care just to scoff a few feet in at the sight of Seonghwa awkwardly pushing the shirt on. “Well I wish I could say I’m surprised but not really. Come on, I spent far too much time trying to find you.” She turned as if to leave, sneering at your neck which you assumed had hickies from last night. “You don’t mind watching the Princess for a bit right? Couple hours?”

Your eyes shot wide open, unable to believe the audacity of the woman. It was clear that you and Seonghwa had slept together and yet she was asking you to babysit so that she could get fucked by him? Anger surged through you, scoffing and narrowing your eyes ready to go off.

“We aren’t doing that any more Soojin.” Seonghwa blurted out, smiling at Eunbyeol who was awkwardly standing in the doorway behind you. “Hey Princess, can you go sit in the next room for a minute? Put on our usual cartoons?”

The girl nodded, moving to rush past her mother who snatched her arm and yanked her back roughly. Both you and Seonghwa acted quickly, but as you were closer, you yanked Soojin’s arm off her and turned her to face you quickly. “You will not lay a hand on her like that.” You hissed out, holding her still while Eunbyeol ran to her father. You knew it was the first time Eunbyeol had been grabbed so roughly by her mother, but if how she treated Seonghwa was any indication, it was only going to get worse from there.

“How dare you! I’m her mother! A fucking skank like you has no right to tell me what to do with my child!” Soojin ripped her hand out of your grip, swinging back to slap you but it never came. Seonghwa grabbed her arm from behind, holding her up and perhaps standing to his full height in her presence for once. “Seonghwa?!”

“Don’t talk to her like that, she’s a far better mother to Eunbyeol than you have ever been! You’re going to leave, with no benefits or money or anything. And don’t even threaten to try and take Eunbyeol from me, as I will already be seeing you in court to not only fight for full custody but a restraining order. Do you understand me Soojin?”

You could tell she was scared of him, nodding quickly and whimpering. You couldn’t believe you saw Seonghwa taking action with your own eyes, expecting it to take more effort, to be a longer battle.

Surprisingly Soojin left, slamming the door behind her and leaving the three of you frozen from the tension.

Eunbyeol broke first, bursting out in tears as she ran to her father. “Daddy! I was so scared!” She cried as he swooped her up out of habit, latching onto him like a koala.

“I’m sorry Princess, I know I was mean to Mommy-”

‘No! Mommy was mean! She’s always mean! She leaves me all alone when I’m at her house, brings over strange men that look at me funny and I just- I hate Mommy! I want her to be my Mommy-” She pointed in your direction, angrily wiping away her tears. “Please don’t make me go back to her. I want to stay with you two, always. Please Daddy.”

He ended up having a very long discussion with Eunbyeol, one you made hot chocolate for the three of you for and joined in because otherwise Seonghwa looked like he was going to faint. Eunbyeol had been strong, keeping a lot of her mother’s actions a secret but she spilled them all. Each one had Seonghwa gripping your hand tighter, his knuckles white and not an ounce of color in his face as she spoke. He managed to keep his expression just one of concern, the horrors Eunbyeol said not reflected even in his eyes. But you knew, you felt your own parental horror over the things she said.

So started what would be a long trial, not only for custody, but criminal charges against Soojin and a few of her boyfriends that had exposed Eunbyeol to questionable things started. He had a damned good lawyer, his parents got involved… and you were by his side at every hearing, every lawyer meeting.

You had friends that questioned why you were going through so much for a guy and his kid? After all, kids weren’t your thing, Dad’s definitely weren’t either… But Seonghwa and Eunbyeol were family. Simple as that.

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[heartsfromia]

the only exception — k. soonyoung

pairing: non-idol! soonyoung x f!reader

word count: 4,834

genre: romcom, fluffy, age-gap, older!reader x younger!soonyoung uwu

warnings: nothing really, just don't fall in love with a guy younger than yourself (speaking from experience)

author's notes: reader is a few years older than hoshi. i never proofread guys im sorry (i should tho)

There was rarely ever any good when Soonyoung gets a call from his mother on a Friday afternoon. Don’t get him wrong, he knows his mom tends to call at random times of the week—mainly to make sure he’s eaten while living alone, close to campus, and far from home, or if he needs any money to pay bills or any other expenses. Most of them are a ruse to cover up the fact that she misses him, and his presence at home. And ever since he entered his final semester in college, he could feel his mother’s presence sitting on his shoulder, whispering to him to find a girlfriend, find someone to settle with.

However, when it comes to phone calls specifically on Fridays, Soonyoung has noticed a pattern. Since it’s the last of the five week days, and the weekend is at their fingertips, he found that his mother would call him to ask if he was free for a lunch with his parents, and guests.

Who might those guests be? Parents to whoever it was his mother was planning on arranging him with. The years might go by, traditions might be forgotten, but when it comes to Mrs. Kwon, she’ll always stick to the tradition of marriage before hitting 25.

Soonyoung knew the moment her name appeared on his screen at exactly three in the afternoon, that she has another willing parent on her hand that would like to meet him for their child.

With a heavy sigh, Soonyoung took a step out of the library where he was hoping to spend his time in before his next class, before sliding the call and placing it by his ear. “Eomma, what’s wrong?”

“Soonyoung-ah, are you free tomorrow? Your father and I want to have lunch together,” she asked, her tone chipper than usual—another sign of an arrangement.

“With you and appa? No one else?” Soonyoung egged, causing his mother to chuckle lightly.

“How did you know?” She laughed, Soonyoung rolling his eyes and suppressing a sigh from leaving his lips. “There is a friend of your father’s that I want you to meet, he has a daughter that’s around your age and is on her way of becoming a lawyer—I want you to meet her.”

“I’ve said so many times, you don’t need to do this, I’ve barely gotten the hang of college, let alone plan a wedding,” Soonyoung protested, his hands moving in grand gestures around him in frustration.

“You are 20 years old, and you don’t have a girlfriend, what are you going to do once you finish college, Soonyoung?”

“I don’t know, maybe get a job, build my credit, invest in a future and then maybe consider marriage,” he explains, his exasperation over this repeated conversation evident in his sarcastic tone.

“You know, at your age, your father and I were engaged.” Soonyoung groaned, rubbing the ache that was forming in his temples as he hears his mother go on a rant how his parents had met when they were in their twenties, before tying the knot at the ripe age of 22. Despite the obvious generational differences, and how back then, marriage felt like an obligation rather than an option, his mother was adamant on having both her kids—Soonyoung and his older sister—to be wed off before they hit 25. To which she hoped she’d have grandchildren running around before her own children hit 30. It was an entire plan in the Kwon household.

“It’s different now, eomma,” he reiterated, “I don’t need to get married so quick, can’t you focus on Minkyung instead? She’s engaged, right? So you can bother her instead.”

“Yes, she’s engaged, but she’s still working and she doesn’t want to get married this year,” she explained, “right now, I want to focus on finding someone for you, do you really want to stay single until your thirties?”

“If I could,” Soonyoung muttered, but luckily his mother didn’t hear it.

“It’s time that you try to settle for a lovely girl—”

“I have a girlfriend already, eomma, and I don’t think she’ll be happy to know that I’m being set up on a blind date,” Soonyoung informed, the words slipping out faster than he, himself, realized and before he knew it, the damage was done.

His mother was silent on the other line, seemingly unconvinced, so Soonyoung added to the lies. “I met her a couple of months ago, I wasn’t sure if it was serious enough to tell you, but I’m happy with her.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? I wouldn’t have gone through so much to find someone for you, Soonyoung-ah!”

“I told you I met her a couple of months ago, I wasn’t sure if it was serious then.”

“Is it serious now?”

“Yes.”

“Then I want to meet her.” And this, everyone, is why you shouldn’t lie to your mother.

“You want to… meet her?”

“Yes, of course, if you’re telling the truth then the lunch tomorrow doesn’t need to happen,” she explained, and for a second, Soonyoung was overjoyed. Before he realized what that entailed. “Does Sunday work? You can bring her, and we can have lunch at a restaurant.”

“Sunday?” He repeated, stunned. That was two days from now, he has to find a girlfriend in two days.

“Yes, I will make a reservation for four and you can bring her along.”

“Wait, eomma, you don’t—”

“Yeobo, I told you to— ugh, I’ll see you Sunday, Soonyoung-ah, don’t forget to eat dinner!” Before Soonyoung could make up an excuse. another lie, to avoid having to meet his parents with his apparent girlfriend, the phone call disconnected and all he could hear was the racing beat of his heart.

Returning back into the library, he walked back to the table he occupied with his friend, Seokmin, a distant look on his face as he sat back down.

“Where did you go? I almost thought you ditched me,” Seokmin stated, before realizing his friend was not listening. He tapped Soonyoung’s shoulder, causing him to jump. “What the hell happened to you?”

“I need a girlfriend.”

Stunned, Seokmin stared at his friend before looking down on himself, then back at Soonyoung. “Well, I don’t fall under your requirements, so…”

A low groan rumbled in Soonyoung’s throat as he covered his face in frustration. “How am I going to find a girlfriend before Sunday?”

“Is it your mom again?” Without removing his hands from his face, Soonyoung nodded. Seokmin threw his head back in laughter, earning glares from people who were studying quietly around him, the man sending apologetic looks around him. His eyes scowered the relatively crowded library of campus, an idea appearing. “What about finding one here? I’m sure someone out here is bored enough to be your girlfriend for a day.”

Soonyoung lifted his head, glaring at his friend. “That is a… good idea.”

Bewildered, Seokmin lifted his brow. “Really?” Soonyoung ignored him, body turning left and right as he tried to find anyone that looked alone and approachable.

“Soon, you’re not actually going to—” But before Seokmin could finish his sentence, his friend was gone and heading to a table where someone was seated alone, eyes focused on a cellphone instead of a book, or laptop.

That person was you.

You found yourself walking to a nearby university’s library on your day off, your apartment serving no purpose to clear your mind of boredom, and since you didn’t have any work to do, you chose to play a video game on your phone instead. The crowded atmosphere made you feel more productive about your day even if you were just on your phone playing games.

However, your focus on the offline game was broken when a presence appeared beside you, tapping your shoulder timidly. You looked up, finding a guy with a small smile on his lips as he greets you, “Hi, is this seat taken?” He gestured to the empty chair beside you and you shook your head, assuming he wanted to take to his own table, but was surprised when he sat down.

“Can I help you?” You asked cautiously, saving your game before placing your phone down.

“Yes, actually,” Soonyoung began, fidgeting with his fingers. “This might be a weird request, especially since we don’t know each other, but is there a possibility you’re interested in being my fake girlfriend to meet my parents on Sunday for lunch?” Soonyoung almost said it in one breath, and once the words were out, he held said breath, awaiting for your response.

The most expected response was to be cursed out, called a weirdo for thinking that his request was appropriate to ask the first girl he saw alone in a public place. He held his breath, waiting for the slap, or insults, or both as he stared at you processing it.

“Sure.”

“Yeah, I understa— what?” He was taken aback by your quick agreement to his bizarre request. “What did you just say?”

Your lips pursed as your shrug, turning to face him. “I said sure, I don’t have much going on in my life, anyway.” You were telling the truth. Your everyday routine was a back and forth of work and your apartment, because you weren’t necessarily happy at your job either, you never felt the need to connect with your co-workers about non-work-related things, minimizing going out.

The guy beside you also looked desperate, and you didn’t get bad vibes from him either, so it didn’t seem like a lose-lose situation.

“Really?” You nodded curtly. His hand rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous chuckle slipped past his lips. “Oh, well… Uhm, I didn’t know I’d get this far, to be honest.”

“Is there a reason why you need a fake girlfriend to accompany you have lunch with your parents?” You asked, hoping it’ll guide him into elaborating his plan more in depth than what his initial approach was.

“Ah, well, my mom is trying to set me up on blind dates, hoping that I’d marry before I reach 25, and obviously—” He gestured to himself, “—I haven’t even graduated yet.”

Your eyes widened, sitting up straight. “Oh, you go to school here?”

Soonyoung nodded, confused by your question. “Don’t you?”

You shook your head, his question eliciting a light laugh from you. “No, I’m just here because I’m bored—it’s my day off.”

He blinks a couple times, before asking, “You work?” You nod. “You’re older than me?” Again, you nod and he immediately ducks his head, bowing at you briefly. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.”

“It’s fine,” you uttered, waving it off. “I’m not too big on seniority. You can call me Y/N.”

He extends his hand towards you, and you shake it gently. “I’m Soonyoung, I think I should’ve start the conversation that way instead of, well, dumping it all at once.”

“It definitely kept me engaged in the conversation,” you reassured with a light chuckle. Before Soonyoung could utter another word, a guy approached your table, noticeably looking at Soonyoung before he glanced at you, with an nod of acknowledgement.

“I’m really sorry, Y/N, but I have a class to get to,” he apologizes, eyebrows drawn together in guilt. “Can I have your number? So we can further discuss our plan of action?”

“Sure, let me write it down.” He handed you a binder, opening it on to an empty page where you wrote your number and name. You then asked, “What about we meet outside the library tomorrow?”

“Oh yeah, sure, that’s easier,” he agrees, “around eleven, is that alright?”

“Yeah, it’s cool with me, Soonyoung.”

His smile widened, and he stands from his seat. “I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

You mirrored his smile, nodding. “You’ll see me tomorrow.”

“So… you just said yes?” You nodded, busy with blow drying your hair. You were meeting with Soonyoung again today, mainly to discuss of your game plan to when you’re expected to meet with his parents. Admittedly, you never really sat to think of the entire ordeal, you just agreed. Chungha, when hearing about your situation, couldn’t help but stare at you in bewilderment, especially at how nonchalant you seemed.

“Yeah.” Your eyes locked with your co-worker-slash-roommate through the mirror, her eyes blankly staring back at you as you blinked multiple times. “What?”

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” Hearing her statement, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes, a dry laugh escaping past your lips before you put the hair dryer down and turned to face her. But before you could get a word out, she continued. “You barely know the guy, and you agreed to be his fake girlfriend to lie to his parents, and then, what? Should I emphasize that you don’t now him?”

“His name is Soonyoung, and he goes to the university nearby,” you answered, feigning innocent as you smiled at Chungha.

“And?”

“That’s why I’m meeting him today,” you told her, “we’re supposed to talk about how we’re going to lay it all out for his parents—talk about he and I met, what our plans for the future—”

“And what are those plans, Y/N?”

You lifted your shoulders to shrug. “I’m just going with the flow.”

“Exactly, Y/N,” exclaimed Chungha. “You don’t “go with the flow”—” she air-quoted, and you roll your eyes again, “—you plans things, you’re organized, I don’t get why you’ve suddenly agreed to become some stranger’s fake girlfriend out of the blue.”

“Maybe it’s that, Chungha,” you stated calmly. “Maybe I’m tired of being organized, doing things according to plan. For once, something really interesting is happening in my life, and to be honest, I just don’t want to think of the consequences over agreeing to do this.

“I’ve met the guy, albeit briefly, but I met him, Chungha,” you informed, “my radar to be cautious wasn’t blinking bright red or ringing any alarms, and later today, will confirm that I don’t have anything to worry about.”

Your friend stared at you, processing what you had just let off your chest. She’s known you since you both started at your company—you trained together, you got through the same struggles together in the past year, admittedly, she knows you well enough to raise her own suspicions over this entire ordeal. She knows that you’ve been burnt out from work, and the mundane routine of going to work, then back home, with barely any time for yourself. Despite wanting to reel you back to normality, Chungha only sighed. “Just keep me updated, Y/N.”

“I will,” you uttered, a grateful smile sent to her.

There was a beat of silence before Chungha spoke up. “You said he goes to the university nearby?”

“Yeah.”

Another beat of silence. “I didn’t think you’d go for younger guys, Y/N.”

“Oh, shut up.”

Your arm lifted a third time, checking your wristwatch to see that it was forty minutes past eleven—past the meeting time with Soonyoung. You were seated in the cafe besides the library, the iced tea you had ordered long gone, the ice melting and the condensation creating a small puddle surrounding your glass. No texts, no calls, radio silence from Soonyoung, and as the minutes ticked by, you’d begin to think that Chungha was right.

Maybe agreeing to something as out of the blue as a fake girlfriend proposal wasn’t the best idea. Maybe you should’ve just stuck to what had been planned. Maybe you shouldn’t have gone to the library, that wasn’t planned. You were bored at home, and needed fresh air, so you walked around, stumbled upon the university library and well, that’s that.

Heaving a sigh, you stood from your seat and pulled the strap of your bag over your shoulder. However, as you were pushing the chair back into the table, quick footsteps approached your table and an out-of-breath Soonyoung, sweat dripping from his forehead. “Y/N, I’m so sorry!”

“Are you okay?” Brows furrowed together in worry, you placed a gentle hand on his shoulder as he bent over to regain his breath.

“Y-yeah,” he heaved. “I had a—”

“Soonyoung, sit.” Obediently, he pulled the chair and sat, leaning back into the chair and inhaled deep breaths. You stayed quiet as he regained his composure. “I’ll get you water.” Without sparing him a glance, you headed towards the door of the café, but Soonyoung took ahold of your arm, stopping you mid-step.

“I’m sorry I’m late, Y/N.” The sincerity behind his eyes was similar to what you saw in him yesterday, the glimmer that made you agree to the proposal he had for you. Without uttering a word, you only sent a small smile, pushing his hand from your arm. You enter the café, buying him a bottle of water and returned, placing the bottle in front of him.

“I’m guessing you had a last-minute thing to do?” You asked, playing with your assumptions from how he was out of breath and ran from the opposite direction of the main entryway of the library.

Downing half the bottle, he nodded. “I thought it was going to be a brief meeting for a group presentation, but apparently they began talking about other classes, and I lost track of time. And before I knew it—” He paused, finding you staring at him, intently listening. “—I’m sorry, I have no excuses, I should’ve told you I’d be late instead of making you wait here without any info, Y/N.”

“Thank you, Soonyoung… for owning up to your mistake,” you uttered, notably shocked by his statement.

“Let me pay for your drink, Y/N, or I can buy you lunch?”

“It’s fine, Soonyoung, seriously.” You waved off with a chuckle, finally letting the tension disappear. “So, what’s the plan?”

“Eager, aren’t we?” He teased, earning an eyebrow raise from you. “Sorry… uhm, yeah. My parents are quite chill, nothing too traditional—they usually like to make sure I’m dating someone that is capable of getting along with others…”

“The bars are quite high, huh?” You joked, the both of you laughing.

“I think my mom is the one that possibly doesn’t believe I have a girlfriend, that’s why she wants to see for herself,” he explains. “I’m the youngest, and even though you might think that would be plausible reason for my mom to not want me having a girlfriend, she’s different. She believes being in the early twenties is the perfect age to get, uhm… married.”

“But we’re not getting married, right?” You asked, already knowing the answer.

“Of course not, we’re not actually dating either.” You nodded in agreement, laughing with him. “But showing my mom that I have a girlfriend will get her to lay off me for a bit, and I won’t have to expect any brunches with potential in-laws anytime soon after tomorrow.”

“I see,” you mumbled, nodding, letting the information process for a bit. “But, by showing me, wouldn’t she be asking about us? Our plans and everything. I mean, you did say she thinks you should be marrying at this age, no?”

“That is true,” he realized, “but I’m sure if we establish that the relationship is still quite new and we’re still playing it safe not to take a life-long commitment just yet, she might understand.”

You let the idea marinate briefly in your head. What you told Chungha was true, you were tired of the mundane routine you’ve had all this time, it’s put you in a rut that you’ve always struggled to get out off. Maybe this was the world’s way of saying: “hey do something so your life isn’t just a monotone routine of work and sleep”.

It’s not like being in a fake relationship with Soonyoung would be long-term either, you’re sure that after the brunch with his parents, that the two of you would meet-up to keep the lie up for a while, before eventually parting ways and he’ll have to deal with whatever future in-law brunches because he’d have to break it to his mother that the two of you have broken up.

You’d like to think of it as doing it for the plot, your year was getting boring and it’s already past the third quarter.

With a sigh, you leaned forward, placing your clasped hands on the table, locking eyes with Soonyoung. “Alright, let’s set the ground rules and how we’re going to do this.”

Maybe in another life, you were an actress because how did you even get through the brunch without sparking any suspicion?

It started off rusty. You and Soonyoung had thought up the whole backstory of how you two met—your route to work fell into his routine, where you both met at a coffee shop, and he had accidentally spilled coffee onto your white shirt one day and profusely apologized, insisting he should pay the laundry bill to which you allowed it. It was a cute story, 50% inspired by Chungha’s last failed situationship, but it helped make your “love story” seem more real than what happened in real life. You obviously couldn’t tell his mom that her son just sat by your table and asked you to be his fake girlfriend.

You took into account the backstory, how many dates you’ve gone on now and how long you’ve been dating, but you forgot your own self. You forgot to discuss whether or not you’ll be faking your identity—saying that you were working in one of the top 3 consulting firms in the country, or if you were actually older than Soonyoung—you weren’t sure how his mom would react to her son dating an older woman.

So you played yourself. You told Mrs. Kwon where you worked, your day-to-day and how you were able to juggle meeting with her son, in the midst of your schedule. Conflicting emotions arose during the brunch, and the fear that you never acknowledged came into fruition—Mrs. Kwon was sweet, and she liked you. Conversation with the elder woman flowed smoothly, her crescent eyes and the smile that seemed stuck on her face the moment she saw you enter the country club, until the moment she wrapped her arms around you, uttering the words, “I hope we can meet again soon!”

As the afternoon had sunk in, it wasn’t just your interaction with Mrs. Kwon that drove you to silence, it was Soonyoung as well.

If you thought you were a great actress, then he had already secured his Oscar trophy with his performance.

“How was it?” Chungha had asked immediately when you entered the door of your apartment. Her excitement dimmed to stun and morphed to concern upon noticing your dazed face. “Hey… Y/N? You okay?”

You returned to reality when she snapped her fingers in front of your face, blinking your eyes repeatedly as you regained composure. “What did you say?”

“I asked how your date was? Or, “fake date”,” she asked again, using her fingers to quote. “Did his parents buy it?”

“Yeah… they did,” you uttered, voice trailing, “but…”

“But…?”

“I think I bought it, too.”

Her brows knitted together. “What?”

You shook your head, your fingers aggressively running through your hair as you exhaled a heavy sigh. “I don’t know, he just– we were in the middle of brunch, and his mom asked him what made him decide to give us a chance, and Soonyoung just– he just—“ You couldn’t process what had happened into words, articulating what you felt at that moment felt so complex—something you hadn’t felt in a while, maybe even ever. You can’t recall the last time someone made you feel this… valued.

“He just, what, Y/N?”

Your mind drifted to that moment, when it felt like everything between you and Soonyoung were real… The warm rays of the sun shining through the vines, tracing the outlines of his face, the light hitting his eyes just right to accentuate the golden flakes in his eyes. The way his lips moved as he articulate every single word, with a sense of sincerity that seemed to be too genuine to be said just for a fake relationship.

“Even though it feels like we’ve just met… I don’t know, I just felt that you would be the one. I mean, it feels like you’re the only one patient enough to deal with my spontaneous ideas and out-of-this-world proposals, that I feel whatever we might face during this… that it would be all worth it.”

His words echoed, the image of his honey-dripping eyes looking back at yours, unbeknownst to his mother’s eyes but your hands intertwined beneath the table, his thumb rubbing gentle circles as his cheeks puffed up in a sweet, innocent smile, as if the words were uttered were true and real—that what you two had was real.

“Y/N, for the love of God, please don’t leave me hanging—” Before Chungha could finish her plea of desperation, your phone vibrated between the two of you, Soonyoung’s name and face flashing on the screen, awaiting to be answered.

“Give me a second, yeah?” You rushed out, without waiting for Chungha to respond and climbed off your bed, leaving your best friend to stare at you with sorrow. You escaped to the hallway outside your apartment, swiping the screen and pressing your phone to your ear. “Hello, Soon?”

“Hey, sorry, I know I just dropped you off, but I’m downstairs because I bought something to say thank you for your help today,” Soonyoung informed, causing you to straighten your back, surprised he returned and with a gift.

“Oh, sure- uh, give me a second and I’ll be down.” You hung up, rushing back into your apartment to put on a jacket, ignoring Chungha’s questions of where you’re going and who called, before you were out the door and going down the elevator. Soonyoung was seated in the lobby, a box on his lap as he watched the elevator number go down before stopping, opening and revealing you with a soft smile and bright eyes. He mirrored your smile, standing and approaching you, extending his arms to pass the box to you.

“It was kinda a last minute thing, I just wanted to let you know that I really appreciated your help today,” he uttered, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, “I hope you like custard-filled donuts.”

You tried suppressing the grin on your face, your cheeks warming at the sight of little note he wrote on top of the box. ‘Thank you for being a real one and playing my fake girlfriend <3’. “It was really not hassle, Soonyoung. I did have fun.” You sat down, patting gently on the spot besides you and he sat besides you. You opened the box, revealing the freshly baked donuts, offering him one which he smiled gratefully before picking up one and taking a bite. You followed en-suite.

“Did she believe it?”

Soonyoung glanced towards you, custard on the corner of his lips that made you stifle a laugh. “Yeah, she did,” he spoke, wanting to answer but still in the middle chewing as he tried to speak without opening his mouth as wide. Your chuckle shook your shoulders, before reaching out to wipe the custard at his lips with your thumb. You pretended to not notice the red that spread across his cheeks to the tips of his ears.

He cleared his throat, trying to hide how flustered may have looked, only causing you to smile wider. Payback for what you pulled earlier, you couldn’t help but think.

“By the way, Y/N…” You faced him, finding his features strewn with worry—brows etched, a crease created between them as his eyes looked back at you in guilt. “I know we talked about it keeping the boundaries, as well making it vague, and avoid being too sentimental, but I got caught in the moment and… and I was just so grateful that you would take up my offer that I didn’t know what came over me, you looked really pretty, too, and you smelled nice- I mean, wait that was a bit out of pock—“

Your lips pressed against his shut him up immediately. For a moment, he was taken aback, before he melted into the kiss with you.

“I like you, too, Soonyoung,” you whispered once you pulled away. A child-like shine sparkled in his eyes upon hearing your confession, something bubbling in his chest that caused a bright smile to break out, his cheeks seemingly fluffier than before.

“So, we can keep doing this? For real this time?” You nodded, your cheeks flushed as you came to the sudden realization of something, chuckling to yourself. Soonyoung cocked his head to the side, inquiring, “What’s funny?”

“I just…” You sighed happily. “I just never expected myself to fall for a younger guy…” You bumped your shoulder with his, adding, “You’re the only exception.”

He threw his head back in a hearty laugh, smiling back at you. “Well, I’m honored to be the one and only, Y/N.”

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Yandere Coworker (part 13)

Thank you @i---believe---in---pink for commissioning this chapter.

(2331 words)

tw: cyprus kissing you without consent, a bit of injury , afab reader

Masterlists (+commission info), part 1, part 14

You apologized.

He was silent, focusing on maneuvering the car safely, but you caught how his stern, grey eyes widened a bit in surprise. But aside from that, there was no other reaction from him.

You looked out of the window and curled yourself to the door. Cyprus continued driving quietly.

You nodded off, closing your eyes, and allowed your body to gently sway along with the movements of his car. The constant humming of his engine is making you sleepy, or maybe it was your eyedrops? Or perhaps it's the fact that Cyprus isn't talking for once. Whatever it is, you find yourself struggling to stay awake.

Eventually, you managed to wake yourself up again as you detected a change in your environment; the car stopped moving. You blinked multiple times and focused your bleary eyes, realizing you were back in the underground car park. You grumbled, about to rub your eyes, but resisted when you realized what you were suffering with. So you endured the discomfort and unbuckled your seatbelt.

Then, you felt a tap on your shoulder. Making you turn around without thinking, only to have your lips mashed with his. You let out a muffled scream, and Cyprus seized his chance to slip his tongue into your mouth. You couldn't escape, because Cyprus was progressively climbing over to your seat, trapping you against the door and his muscular chest. His hands were fervently rubbing all over your body; a hand roamed under your shirt and another pushed the back of your head towards him. Your hands were free, but your hits and scratches did nothing to him, or maybe you were holding back and not causing actual harm.

He positioned himself until you're sitting on his lap, you could kick all you want but it's only harming the air. It's fueling your chagrin that he angled you in such a way, that you couldn't even deal any damage towards his car.

You opened your eyes the entire time, noticing that Cyprus had removed his glasses. It's unfair that he has such long, pretty, and dark eyelashes, it's especially accentuated when his eyes are closed and you're this physically close to him. It's also frustrating that he's actually a god at kissing, it's undeniably enjoyable despite being a violation of your autonomy. He knew where to run his tongue to send tingles down your spine, he knew the pace to mold his lips with yours and he knew where to touch with his fingers to fluster you to the maximum.

Sensual smacks and soft moaning occasionally slip through the gaps between kissers filled the car, shuffling and rubbing of fabric also could be heard. But not to the world outside. And you are eternally grateful for that.

You ran out of breath, hitting him a bit harsher than usual. It did the trick, Cyprus got the hint and reluctantly parted his lips from yours with a very audible pop. His grey eyes fluttered open to see you disheveled and dizzy, your cheeks were heated up to an almost uncomfortable degree, and it's not due to a fever. You're panting and gasping greedily for air, it's jarring to see how Cyprus is breathing fine as if he didn't hold his breath for about a minute and a half. A slappable smirk found its home on his handsome face as he chuckled at you.

"Apology accepted." He said as he wiped excess drool from the corner of your lips with his thumb. "And you really need practice; you ran out of breath already?" Cyprus continued as he hugged you close, nuzzling his nose against the side of your face. You whined, trying to pry him off you, but all he did was laugh and press a kiss on your jaw. "You are so not getting through foreplay. You were right, we should just fuck right away instead."

You yelled that you're not going to have sex with him. He still wouldn't let you escape his arms, though, keeping you in place as he peppers your head with appreciative kisses. "Of course, you're not. Because we have a farmer's market to explore. Though, I don't mind a quickie..." He purred in your ear.

You called him shameless. "Only for you." He replied wittily as he gently groped you in different areas.

You called him disgusting. "Ouch." It was a nonchalantly teasing response. You then told him you don't care about his feelings or well-being, if your words hurt, then it's too bad. He merely smiled and hummed; "Mhmm..." Yet, he still wouldn't let you go from his bear cuddles.

You told him that he shouldn't have too much contact with you, because you have pink eye.

"I have grey ones. Your point?" He snickered, kissing the crown of your head.

You said he could get infected!

"And?" You stared at him incredulously.

You said that he's going to get sick and miserable!

"And?" His grin grew the more you talked.

You said that it wouldn't feel good and-- then you saw what he was trying to get you to admit. You couldn't believe that you fell for it, twice.

Cyprus simply laughed, he didn't even need to tease you for caring about him despite saying otherwise. You're humiliated enough and he didn't want you to burst into tears right before exploring the market.

"You know, princess. One of the steps to kicking an addiction is to find another coping mechanism." He stroked your hair while staring at you lovingly.

You asked him where is he going with this conversation. But your words were cut short when he pushed your head into his broad chest, making you take in his scent.

"I don't need to carry a pack with me anymore. But I'm now addicted to you." He mumbled into your hair, letting out a sigh of pleasure as he relished in your presence. "I'm not complaining, you're definitely way healthier than cigarettes."

You were about to say something, but he cut you off. "You're the best thing that has ever happened to me, baby. God, I can't imagine my life without you in it."

You wanted to snark back, however, something stopped you. And you think it's due to the serenity he held in his face.

"You make everything so good. How does my pretty girl do it?" He rambled on. You didn't reply, because you knew it was just a rhetorical question.

He continued cradling you in his arms for a few more minutes.

--

"Princess."

He called to grab your attention. You were distracted by the live animals being sold.

You turned your head to the side, only to have a piece of orange press against your lips. Looking up at his face, Cyprus had his sunglasses clipped on and he was chewing. No doubt, he was eating the orange he bought earlier; it's impressive how he could peel them while walking, and not drop a slice or its outer covering.

"It's great. I never see this variant in stores and I have been hunting for it for a while now. Try it." He prodded your mouth with the juicy piece, you're not going to lie, it does look succulent and sweet.

You hesitantly took it in between your teeth, he let it go so that he could peel more of the oranges for you and him.

It was delicious and seedless too, and you secretly wanted more. But you don't think it's a good idea to try and ask something of Cyprus. You don't have to, as if he read your mind, he wordlessly fed you another piece.

You and he strolled through the stalls, Cyprus was mindlessly feeding you and himself the peeled orange slices. Well, he's mostly feeding you at this point, and you didn't even realize you ate three whole oranges already.

You could see why he wanted to come here, they sold a variety of different fresh produce. Most of which you have never seen before. A unique take on street food, pickled goods, and handicrafts were also prevalent there, it's an overall lively place. Maybe it isn't that bad after all, you liked the vibrant colors, the smell of pretzels and blooming flowers definitely gave you a new experience. The air is much cleaner and lighter here, unlike the polluted city.

Cyprus trailed behind you, peeling another orange for you while enjoying the sights too. He stuffed the peels in the plastic bag where the oranges were from. However, his eyes were mostly trained on you: the sight he enjoys the most.

You felt his hand getting closer to your face, thinking that it was another orange segment, you swallowed the remnants of the previous one and parted your lips for the fruit to enter.

"Ow!"

That wasn't an orange.

You apologized in reflex for biting his finger, but then you blamed him for sticking his index in your mouth, why would he do that?

He rubbed his digit with his thumb while laughing, unclear at you or at himself. "Did you really need to bite that hard for an orange piece? It's not like the damn thing would bite back."

You said that doesn't matter, you wanted to know why he did what he did.

His response was to shrug. "I just wanted to see something."

He wanted to see how strong of a bite force you have?

"Yeah, maybe. That's not all, though." He smirked, bending down to peck you on the forehead. Cyprus dodged your swats effortlessly.

You asked if it's a sexual thing.

"If you want it to be, but I usually prefer to do the biting." He lets out a guffaw when you tried punching him on the arm.

You asked again, why he did that.

Cyprus smiled at you. "I know you trust me."

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. That's such a false statement, it's sickening. He couldn't be further from the truth, Cyprus is the last person you would trust with anything. Why did he think that way of you?

He slung an arm around your shoulders, pressing you to his side as the two of you walked.

"You weren't paying attention when I fed you for twenty minutes, baby. I could have fed you dog shit but you didn't see me in that light. It's cause you trust me not to fuck you over. That's why when I brought my hand to your mouth, you bit me- thinking it was just another slice of orange."

You blinked owlishly at his reasoning. What? Isn't that... the bare minimum? Even strangers wouldn't feed you something so terrible, why would he be any different?

There was an amused look on his face as he snorted. "So you're telling me... if a random guy just starts poking your lips with an orange slice, you'd just... eat it? And let him feed you for a full twenty minutes?"

You think you can see the grave you somewhat dug yourself in. You just said yes just so you could save whatever face you have left in this rebuttal.

And that made him laugh out in glee. "You're so fucking funny, doll. Admit it, I grew on you. And you like it when I take you out on dates like this. Even if you had to be a whiny brat at the start."

You immediately deny it out of reflex.

"Yeah right. You're blushing." He playfully ruffled your hair.

You deny it again, you're feeling increasingly embarrassed as time goes on. Damned Cyprus and his teasing.

He chuckled, kissing you on the temple as you tried your hardest to defend yourself. But you end up stuttering and making more of a mess than it already is.

"You know I love you, right?" He muttered in your ear, brushing his lips on the shell of it, making you shiver.

You didn't reply. This only made his smile wider. "I know you love me too."

You said you don't.

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that, beautiful. Keep denying your true feelings for me, it totally wouldn't come out sooner or later." Cyprus rubbed your arm up and down. You feel deflated, but you must keep walking to keep the foot traffic flowing.

Then, a food stall caught your attention. They're selling your favorite treat but with a creative spin on it. Their products look edible enough for you. However, the prices were absurd, it was written in chalk, on a blackboard easel next to its food truck.

"You can just say you wanted that." You were snapped out of your thoughts. You turned your head to see Cyprus was already fishing his wallet out, to retrieve the money needed to purchase a dish. "The amount of mind reading I have to do..." He grumbled under his breath.

You lied and said you didn't want it. He paused, putting his hands on his hips and giving you an unimpressed look. "Really?"

You said yes, really.

He rolled his eyes, clamping his hand around your wrist. "Come on, we're getting you one of those." Cyprus dragged you in the direction of the food truck.

You said you really didn't want it!

"Yeah, and I'm Chinese." He retorted sarcastically. "I know that look."

You asked, what look?

"It's like you're physically incapable of telling me what you want. I had to adapt and find ways around it. Come on, a line is forming behind us, which one did you want?" The sun was shining too brightly, so Cyprus stood in front, blocking the scorching rays for you.

You and he stood right at the front of the food truck, where the attendant looked at you expectantly. Her fingers are already positioned on the screen of the digital cash register.

You sighed and pointed at the item on the menu.

Cyprus smiled with satisfaction, he went ahead and told her your order.

You watched him pay for the overpriced treat as if it were a piece of cheap candy.

[the-froschamethyst4]

Choking

➤ Day 2

𖤐Pairing: Ghost x Neighbor! F! Reader

𖤐Pronouns: She/Her

𖤐Warnings: Smut, NSFW, Choking, age gap, P in V, language, aggressive behavior, some eating out, some boob grabbing, ass slapping, fingering, kissing, passing out

𖤐Summary: Ghost felt horny after work. He was bored and wanted to have some fun, so he asks his neighbor Y/n to help him just a bit on his situation

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5:00PM

Simon Ghost Riley just got off of work. He was bored the entire day working. He only did Traffic Stops at work and everything was boring and earlier today when he checked his phone something had popped up.

He followed his neighbor Y/n's Instagram account and what popped up was her in a red two-piece bikini laying by the pool at their apartment complex.

Her legs looked perfect, they looked smooth and shiny. One photo was then of her chest her bikini top was small and the triangles just barely covered her nipples.

He opened the door to his apartment and rubbed his tired eyes and messed with his crotch as his dick was hardened by his little neighbor.

Now, you're also probably wondering why he follows her on Instagram, well...she gave him her Instagram to get a hold of her.

Ghost didn't have Instagram and barely knew how to use it; he didn't have any sort of social media. He thought that no one should know about his business, not even his own friends from work, and was wondering why she just didn't give him her phone number instead?

He removed his uniform and looked down at his boxers seeing his friend standing up. He grabbed some sweatpants and walked out of his apartment going across the hallway to his little neighbor's door.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

The door opened and he looked down at Y/n who was in black booty shorts, and an over-sized t-shirt that went to her mid-thigh.

Ghost could barely control himself.

Holy fuck

"Oh hi, Simon. What can I do you for?" She asked all innocent and kind to him.

"Hey, Y/n...umm~ I was wondering if you can help me with something?"

"Oh okay, like what?"

"I have some furniture to move, and I was wondering if you could help me?"

"Oh yeah, let me get some socks on and I'll be right over," she gave him a sweet smile, one that makes Ghost melt every time he sees her.

He went back to his apartment and messed with his crotch again, but it was hard and sensitive. He bent over and his arm was against the wall as he moved his hand from his crotch.

"F-Fucking hell," he groaned as there was a small knock at the door, he knew it was Y/n and he opened the door letting her inside.

"Hey, I'm all set," she walks inside.

"Right..." he shut the door. He looked down at her as she really did seem like she wanted to move stuff around but really...that's not what he wants.

Ghost towered over Y/n making her turn when the light was being blocked.

"Oh hi," she said, looking up at Ghost.

"Hi," he picks her up and with instinct her legs wrapped around his waist and her arms went around his neck. Ghost's hands rested on her waist.

"W-What are you d-doing?" She asked.

"You posted a picture of yourself on your Instagram, and I've been wanting to fuck you all day long."

His lips landed on hers. They started to make out and Y/n wanted to push him away but deep down she didn't really want to. Ghost started to walk to his couch and sat down with Y/n now on his lap.

His hands went from her waist to her butt. He started to massage her butt earning a soft moan from her. His hands then went up her shirt removing it over her head and tossing it on the floor at his feet.

He pushed her on her back, he unhooked her bra and removed her shorts tossing them. He looked down at her naked body.

"You don't wear panties under your shorts?"

"I was home. So, there's no point in wearing them..." she looked embarrassed.

"Don't be embarrassed, love," he bent down close to her neck and kissed it also leaving some small purple bruises on her neck.

Her legs wrapped around his waist as she felt cold air hit her body and made the hairs on her arm stand up and her nipples hardened against his chest.

He licked his middle and ring fingers and slowly shoved them inside her lower half. She bucked her hips up and moaned his name, he kissed her lips, and her moans were muffled into the kiss.

He sat up and wrapped his big veiny hand around her neck. Her little hands held his as he was holding her tight but not tight enough to cut off airflow.

"Ah~ S-Si," she moans as he shoved his fingers faster inside of her earning a loud moan from her lips. He smirks as he squeezed around her neck just a bit tighter and his fingers moved faster.

Her lower half sounded wet, she moaned and gripped at his hand that was around her neck and her other hand gripped the one pushing his thick fingers inside of her.

"A-Ah~" she huffed out a moan as she felt herself about to cum on his fingers which she soon did.

He pulled his fingers out and sucked them clean, his hand around her neck stayed there. It was still tight, and she could barely catch her breath now.

He sat up and removed his sweatpants and removed his boxers as well. His dick sprung out and Y/n's eyes widened at his huge dick.

He pushed himself inside of her and she moaned as her walls were being stretched.

"AHH~!" She moans as her hands clawed at the hand around her neck.

"Si-Simon," she moaned. He didn't listen as he thrusted quickly in and out of her. Her legs squeezed around his waist.

She now could barely breath. Ghost kept going and moaned when he could feel her tighten around his dick.

"H-Holy hell," he moans.

"Mmm~" she whines clawing at his hand. "S-Si I-I can't b-breath," she cried. When she talked it felt like her breath was just being taken away and she couldn't catch her breath.

Ghost looked at Y/n's face and saw how red her face was. He quickly removed his hand and he started to cough, it sounded hard, like a flu cough, and she took deep breathes.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he bent down close to her face and kissed her temple. She was still taking deep breaths.

"I-It's okay," she said as she rubbed at her neck, and he was slowly thrusted in her now.

Her arms went around his neck as he held her waist. He put all his weight on her as he was now lazily thrusting inside of her.

He felt himself twitch inside of her and he pulled out watching cum leak from her.

He bent down and licked between her folds. Her thighs tighten around his head moaning and gripping his dirty blonde hair. He smacked her thighs leaving a handprint on her thigh. She moaned when he smacked her.

He moved his mouth and pulled her close to his dick. He brought her leg up and kissed her inner thigh.

"Ah~ S-Simon," his hand went up her stomach and groped her breast. She moaned as he also pinched her nipple. She moaned and grabbed his hand.

He kissed, sucked and bit at her inner thigh and did the same to the other thigh.

"Si-Simon."

Simon then smacked her thighs again and she moaned again, he smirked and started to become a little more aggressive. He turned her over, he sat up on her knees and brought her ass up and her face was pushed into the cushions of the couch.

He pushed her face into the cushions, he smacked her butt and squeezed her butt as well.

He moved down and licked between her wet folds, she moans and gripped the soft couch cushions. He pushed his fingers back inside of her. She moaned into the cushions, and he smacked her ass again.

"Si-oh my god," she let out a breathy moan.

Ghost's eyes were dead as he listened to her moans. He stood back up and pushed his dick back inside of her and gripped the back of her neck and brought her up as her face was against the side of his. His left hand went to her throat and his right hand went to her left boob squeezing her and holding her up.

She was a mess when he started to thrust inside of her. Her hands went to the back of his head and gripped his hair. He pushed her back down on the couch cushions and kept moving in and out of her.

"Ah! Ah! Ah!" She kept moaning as she felt herself about to cum again.

Ghost could feel her about to cum too and moved quicker and watched her squirt onto his dick and on her lower stomach.

"You are such a messy girl," he said, pulling out and running his fingers between her wet folds and licking his fingers and her clean.

She fell flat on the couch and Simon smirked and chuckled at her.

"Come on, love, let's go get you clean," he said, pulling her up and taking her into his bathroom running a bath and placed her into the tub and he got behind her in the hot water.

She was so relaxed and leaned back and hit his chest and let out a satisfied moan.

He rubbed some soap in a loofa and started to rub it on her skin.

"Thank you, Simon."

"Please call me, Ghost if you want."

"Ghost?"

"I'm a LT in the Military and a deputy for the Police and my codename is Ghost in the Military."

"Oh, I understand." She smiled at him.

"That...that smile of yours. I love that smile of yours. Every time you smile at me, it makes me melt. I'm so glad, I was able to..."

"Fuck me?"

"Yeah~ I was trying to find a better way to say it, but you took the words right out of my mouth," he smirks. "Also did I hurt you when I choked you?"

"I mean...I'm okay, it just took my breath away a little, but I'm okay, I promise, I'm okay," she said.

---------

"So, I'm guessing you never had any sort of furniture to move?"

"No, no, I didn't, sorry I trapped you here."

"Don't say that. You didn't trap me," she smiles.

"But I'm sorry that I did that though."

"It's okay," she said as she opened the door. She was ready to go back home.

"Hey...if you want to, later tonight you can come back over, and we can have dinner."

"Yeah...I'll come back...what time?" She asks.

"Umm~ in an hour maybe?"

"An hour?" She questioned.

"Yeah...we can make the food together," he leaned against his doorframe.

"Yeah, I'll come back soon," she smiles.

"Good...ummm~ see ya' later."

"See ya," she smiles.